Some days I feel so normal, whatever that means. Some days there are moments I can forget I have cancer. My body seems to be working just fine. I can make it through the day without napping every hour. I can weed for hours on my hands and knees on a beautiful August morning. I can pick vegetables for pickles, jams, jellies and salsa. I can cook and eat what I prepare. I feel healthy.
Then, the doubts. What if I feel so good my medicine quit working? After all, it was the chemo pills that caused my nausea and other not-so-pleasant side effects. I’m not tired all day long while my body recovers from surgery. I’m not going into the lab for tests every two weeks. My veins have time to heal. I haven’t been in the oncologist’s office for so long that I feel like I don’t know him anymore. I’ve spent the week caring for my grandchildren in the longest de ja vie moment of my life. I’m normal — or am I?
My life has been broken into chunks of about three months. That’s the time between scans that allow the physicians to see what’s happening inside my body. For that short period, I feel normal. Then, with the approaching MRIs or CT scans comes the doubt, the worry, the dread.
Then there’s this verse from Matthew 6:25-34: “That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? …”
It’s a difficult thing to remember that 90 percent of all the things you worry about don’t happen anyway. However, a person tends to dwell on the “what ifs” of situations like this. My friend Karen said, “God isn’t going to take you one day sooner than He planned.” There’s some comfort in that because we all know our days on this beautiful planet are numbered.
I was whining a bit to one of my newfound connections from 50 years ago. There’s catching up to do when you haven’t spoken to someone in 50 years. I do not like my anxiety about my disease becoming the topic of every conversation, but it does weigh heavy on my mind some days.
And then, he said something like this, “If everyone throws their troubles in a big pile, you would be taking yours back.”
It took me 24 hours to mull that statement over and it became pretty clear how intuitive it was. I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS STUFF TO DEAL WITH DAILY. Given the choice of troubles, I guess we would all choose our own if given a choice to trade them with someone else.
I’m still pondering the message here and am working diligently to focus on the moment. In another two weeks, it’s back to Rochester for an MRI. But for today, I have a nice drive home from Huron, some school shopping with the granddaughters, and a bountiful garden to process this coming week.
So I leave you with this: Proverbs 12:25: “Worry weighs a person down; an encouraging word cheers a person up.”
Let’s all make a point of cheering up the people we meet this week with our words. I’ll start.
“To my readers, I want you to know how loved I feel reading your comments of prayers, support, and love. You are the best. Have a blessed week.”
INDYchildrendotme 
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