Embrace the Suck

Chemo No. 3 - complete.

Our last trip to Anchorage took a sickening turn - long story short, we learned that a bump on our 5-year-old's shin could be cancer. My very first reaction, when the nurse finished one of her sentences (to quote) "... you know, if it's the C word," was to turn to God and say: "Seriously?!"

It's not necessary to write in detail about the priority MRI that Kate had done on a Saturday, how my husband and I tried not to openly cry in the hospital cafeteria during the MRI or how she had a hard time coming out of the anesthesia. I'm sure most of you can imagine. Probably the hardest part was that while we waited for the results, I did not talk about this new twist and neither did my husband. We did not want to put words to our bone-deep terror, and how suddenly, the idea of just me having cancer by myself seemed pretty great.

On Sunday night, back at home, I told him this while we laid in the dark. His response was fierce.

"When you got your biopsies," he said, "I had total faith that they would come back with no cancer. And you have cancer. So now I have zero faith about this. I'm just waiting to get the call about the MRI out of the way so we can get the call about the biopsy that will need to be done."

We held hands, and we cried. My husband ripped off his blue plastic bracelet that read, "EMBRACE THE SUCK" on one side and "GOD HAS A PURPOSE" on the other and threw it across the bedroom.

"What is the purpose in Kate having cancer? There IS no purpose in watching my 5-year-old suffer and go through this."

I agree with every fiber of my being. This is the first time in my life that I can remember actually fearing God's will if it includes the possibility of losing one of our kids.

The next morning, my hubby put on a new blue bracelet. Like me, he knows that God does have a purpose for my cancer, and with every step of the process we are experiencing with Kate. I have no idea how God will use this present reality in the future, but I feel great confidence that He will. I pray that I have the courage and boldness to respond (and obey) when that time comes.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

The MRI results came back on Monday. While the doctor reassured us that he felt "90 percent sure" that Kate doesn't have cancer (even putting her name and that word in the same sentence makes me feel physically sick), he wants to do a biopsy on April 4 to find out if this mass is something that requires removal. We'll just leave it at that for now. But if you think of Kate, please pray for her.

As far as my chemo treatment, it went as well as could be expected. I had a wonderful friend sit with me this go-around - she is delightfully organized and brought a list of topics for us to discuss. As her last item, she included a funny story from a recent trip to Hawaii "in case it was needed" if things got somber. How great is a friend like that? After I shared the news about what was going on with Kate, I got teary. She told the story.

The nausea was blessedly the least that I have experienced yet - but I'm starting to really feel the fatigue that the oncologist's staff warned me about at our first meeting. My last "hard core" treatment of Adriamycin and  Cytoxan before I start the weekly taxol is on March 30. From what I understand, taxol could cause my hands and feet to go numb, and my finger and toenails to go black. But the nausea is supposed to be better.

At nearly 38, I may finally get a crack at going Goth.