A Sobering Ring
I’ve recently joined “The Cancer Ring.” It’s a group of bloggers writing about either their experience with cancer or the battle of a loved one with this feared disease. If you look to the right of this post, just under my picture and profile you’ll see the words The Cancer Ring. Click on the arrows or rand and browse a bit. You’ll discover the same thing I did: that this cancer thing is for real, it affects people’s lives, sometimes it kills, sometimes it inspires, it robs wives of their husbands, and husbands of their wives, it steals mommies and daddies from children.
But this cancer thing is not unbeatable. There are plenty of stories on the ring that have brought hope and encouragement. Some battles are harder than others, some are longer, but they are winnable.
And then there are the humbling stories, the sobering posts of battles that were valiantly fought but, in then end, bravely lost. This gets my attention. If you click on the words The Cancer Ring you’ll read a letter from a 25-year-old woman, Amanda, to her deceasesed husband, Eric, who died as a result of the side effects of the chemo he was receiving for his leukemia. It is heartbreaking, it is raw, it is thought-provoking. I’ll warn you, the language is not PG, but the emotion behind the words are worth a read. It reminds me, this is real stuff we’re dealing. Real life, real death, a real disease. Her letter reminds me of the void left, the hole in the heart that remains, when a husband, a daddy, is snatched from this world.
I don’t know if I’m being selfish or not, or maybe too dramatic (I’m human and capable of both), but my prayer has been, “Lord, allow whatever you want to happen to my body, but please spare my life.”
Today we meet with the oncologist at 3:15, the surgeon at 4:00. We’ll get our marching orders concerning whether we do surgery first or chemo/radiation first.