One day someone asked me, “What do you want your legacy to be? What do you want your children to know when you’re gone?” As I thought about it, my answer was that I wanted them to know that God is great. And He’s greater than cancer.
I may not be able to grow plants, but I am really good at growing cancer, and I don’t even know how I’m doing it, but it’s back. And there isn’t really anything left for me medically but prolong the inevitable. I’m taking two different chemo pills, and I may get a few spots radiated to avoid Whole Brain Radiation, but I’m out of any other options.
If you are thinking that I should try some holistic options, I have. If you think I should get a second opinion, I know what my options are right now. If you’re thinking maybe I should try more chemo, there are several reasons I would say that’s not an option, but honestly the biggest is that until God is done with me, cancer will keep coming back. My body so far hasn’t responded well to medicine.
Brad and I found some carpenter ants in a pot we had a tree in this summer. We poured ant poison in the dirt, and then moved the pot and covered the ground where we found more underneath. We hoped that we got them and they wouldn’t come back. I realized that’s exactly what we do for cancer. Once we find it we try to kill what we find, and we take out what we can from the source and hope for the best. But we can’t always tell where it’s coming from. They took my breasts, but the cancer had already moved to my brain. And how is it getting there? Nobody can say. Whether you take a holistic or medicinal approach, no one has all the answers.
I wholeheartedly believe that our bodies are one of the most powerful ways God can talk to us and work with us. We don’t really appreciate what we have until we don’t. I also know that we are all different, so while there is often a “right” answer to our journey, God made each of us, and we are individuals.
Here is the most important thing I believe, that I’ve had a hard time saying out loud: I believe there is a path for me and I believe I’m not done here. As far as medicine is concerned that is not true. And I’ve often felt like I was crazy. For one, it’s not everyone’s answer. But I don’t feel like I’m meant to stay for me. I feel like I’m not done with what God needs for me to do. So is this scary? Yes. Do I wonder about my family? Everyday. But I know that if God has a plan, and if I’ve misunderstood and that doesn’t include me being here, then He definitely has a plan for my family.
I do feel so grateful for many things on this journey. The biggest is that I’ve been able to live the last few years. I haven’t been laying in a bed unable to be a mom and a wife. It’s strange to be so sick and not feel sick. But it’s allowed me to live. I don’t have a thousand things I feel like I need to check off my bucket list. I’ve lived a beautiful life. I’ve loved so many, and have been loved by so many. And I’m a wife and a mom. I plan to be here to watch my babies grow. But I know that I’m on a journey and ultimately I will see it through, and do my part all along the way.
1 comment:
Sweet, sweet Utah. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: No one has taught me how to love my imperfect self better than you. If that’s not a testament that God is great, I don’t know what is.
You know, I think you’ve always been my bravest friend. Brave because what is braver than showing up and loving yourself and other people in their perfectly imperfect fallen state? Gosh, I just adore that about you. The same way I adore your giggle, the way you smile and shrug/cock your head to one side when you’re delighted by something you’ve said or done, the way you make people feel at home when they are sitting next to you.
You’re a gift to me and to everyone who knows you. I love you.
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