As far as days go, this has not been a good one.
Around 10:30 this morning, I received word that my cancer has returned.
From every indication, the cancer is just in one 2-cm lymph node somewhere between my belly button and pelvic bone. If that is the case, if the cancer is limited to just this one area, then likely I will have surgery and then radiation. This is the exact course I received three years ago during my first recurrence. If the cancer has spread into other areas, then I will most likely not have surgery and will instead receive chemotheraphy.
A PET scan tomorrow will be the determining factor.
I have cried a river of tears over this news today. Even though my doctors told me years ago that this cancer would most likely come back, I have been cancer-free for so long that we were all starting to breath a sigh of relief. Thankfully, even though I am sure I AM crazy, when it came to tracking down this round of suspicious symptoms, my persistence paid off. Early detection is always a good thing.
I don’t want to have cancer, even cancer that might be manageable. I don’t want to be “the lady with cancer.” I don’t want surgery or radiation, and I certainly don’t want chemotherapy. I don’t want people to have to make meals for me or take care of my dog; I want to do those things myself. I don’t want to be the name on the prayer list at church that makes everyone sad. I want to be the one praying for others.
But since I didn’t get to choose whether or not I have cancer, I WLL choose to accept it. I choose life even in pain. I choose others’ help over isolation. I choose awkward moments over having no one speak to me at all. I choose getting out of bed rather than sinking into depression.
I choose a wobbly faith in a Sovereign God who loves me over cursing God and dying.
I may cry a river a tears, but I pray they will gather in a pool and bring life in a dry season.
Hey, you. Can’t get you off my heart. Stopping by to cover with love. I’m sending up a lot of incense too. Love to you, Charity.
I love you, Charity. So much.
i know words are so inadequate but want you to know I will pray for you. Prayer is powerful and will give you strength to get through the hard times and joy to celebrate the good ones.
Love Ann bringing the bottle to collect the tears!
Thank you for writing this post. We have faced this same news here are about to start the second clinical trial. Your words, brave and special. Thank you for writing through it all.
These things you choose, wobbly or not, ensure that despite test results and diagnoses, you will be far, far more than “the lady with cancer.”
You will be, as you have been, Charity.
Or, perhaps, “the lady with a crazy lot of friends alongside.”
Praying, with all these others. And marveling in the strength of your wobbly choice.
Wow… I am so sorry to hear of your news but so inspired by your response.
You are an amazing lady and I will be praying for you.
I am so sorry Charity. I have read your blog and seen you in so many of the places I love. I feel as though I know you a little bit.
I will be praying. You inspire and encourage. I believe when we make those sorts of choices He steps in with grace and peace we would never have imagined.
I need to bring you a bottle:
Psalm 56:8 (NLT), “You keep track of all my sorrows./You have collected all my tears in your bottle./You have recorded each one in your book.”
I’ll look for a big bottle. And beautiful, too, to match His love for you.
I don’t know you in person but I can know you via blog land and I am praying for your heart right now. Your courage and your fears, and your wanting to live and fight rather than to resign and retreat. Allowing others to come alongside you is a gift to yourself and a gift to them. Take your feelings to God he is big enough to hear them all. Praying for you from a reader in Oregon.
I woke up this morning and my first thought was, “I need to email Charity.” I knew you were getting test results — I was praying and praying that you would get good news. I am so sorry to hear that’s not the case. When I opened my email, I saw a note from David Rupert, who told me about your news. So I came over immediately. I hope you know how much you are loved and cared for, even from afar. I will continue to pray for good results from the treatments. And just know that you are in my heart.
This morning on the porch, while I was exercising, I began to pray. Not knowing what to pray, I prayed simply that you would choose life.
Do you know what it felt like, then, to read these words of yours?
“I choose life even in pain.”
Of course I am crying too.
We pray.
You be surrounded by prayer, and love, and grace, and God’s Spirit.
Words escape me to tell you the pain and sorrow that I feel with you over this evil attack. May your Doctors use all their wisdom against this enemy. Your faith in God will sustain you and your friends are here to pray and give. Do allow those near by you to give of their love to you in tangible ways. You are loved and we care and love you too!
Charity: Zephaniah 3:17 is still true, especially for you. What a great encourager you are. I love that despite the sputtering flow of your river of tears, you are a river of God’s grace and simple joy. Thanks for sharing.
across the miles know that you are loved and cared for. I first started reading you because you a great writer, but as time went on I saw a woman of great faith, depth and purpose. Those are the things that matter most to God. Cling to them sister. I now pray and will continue for you my friend.
Praying for you Charity 🙂 God is bigger than any disease 🙂 He will make this trial a blessing for you somehow. ~ Nikki
Charity, I’m so sorry to hear that. I admire the optimism in your post, and please know that we will be with you to encourage you along the way. Praying for peace and courage for you right now…
Weeping with you tonight, Charity.
I am so sorry. You are making good choices and I pray for strength to keep making them. And remember, God is keeping that river of tears and his heart hurts for you.
I’m praying for you as I write and pray that the pet scan shows just the one spot.
And I’m praying for your heart.
Thank you for sharing this. I add my prayers to the rest. In hard moments I always pray for God’s presence to be more real to me than ever before…I pray this for you today.
So terribly sorry to read this, Charity! Will be praying for you.
I’m guessing the last thing you want to hear is, “I’m so sorry.” Cancer is so stupid. I hate it.
Thank you for choosing to share your news. Thank you for inviting us to pray, to weep with you. Thank you for reminding us that the One who counts our tears is faithful.
Pausing at my keyboard to pray for successful treatment. Praying for God’s glory to be displayed in your life big time.
Oh, Charity.
Oh. Oh. Oh. I’m adding to your river, even as I know it is your river.
I love your spirit and your determination to not be defined by your disease.
Praying for you. With you.
(((Charity))) Thank you for sharing. I hear the grief in your post and see where you are coming from. Know that you are more than just “the girl with cancer.” You are a strong warrior for Jesus, and when I see your name on the prayer list, and then see your smile and read your posts, I’m encouraged.