Today is a waiting day. Today is the day after my blood was taken, loaded into a blue-topped vial, and sent off to some unknown place where a nameless person will run my all-important tumor maker. The results should come back today. Good, bad, or indifferent, I should get a call sometime today....so I just have to wait. It is an excruciating, repetitive process. The waiting day has existed every 21 or 30 days for the last four years of my life. It is always a day of anxiety......mixed with a bit of fear.
There is that "F" word again. Fear. What is it exactly that we, as chronic cancer patients are afraid of??? I know the first thought into your head is probably that we are afraid of dying, but for me, that is not it. I found it hard to put my finger on until I saw a documentary on PBS about a month or so ago. Dawn and I had talked about this documentary. It followed four cancer patients in different stages of their journey. At least two of the patients were terminal. I did not watch but a few minutes and then changed the channel to more uplifting subjects like crime scene investigations. Dawn watched the whole thing. It bummed her out, to say the least.
But in the few minutes that I watched, someone asked a patient with pancreatic cancer (who was desperately trying to find treatment options because standard treatment wasn't working), what
she feared the most. Her answer, without hesitation? Letting the people she loved down......having to disappoint them with bad news. Losing the battle that those around her expected her to win. Cheering your heart out the whole basketball game and losing on a last-second shot.
Bingo
That is my fear. That is what makes the waiting day so hard. That is why fear grips me when the phone calls are bad. The burden of being the warrior, the survivor, the winner is sometimes too much to bear.
I am so afraid that one day I will have to tell my 21 year old daughter that, try as hard as Mama
did, she can no longer stay in the fight.
I fear the guilt I will experience if I have to call my prayerful, faithful friends to say that our miracles have ended.
I am so saddened by the thought of leaving a husband alone in a big house with so much stuff that will scream out reminders of our life together that I wasn't strong enough to continue.
I cannot stand the thought of my medical team spreading the bad news among themselves,
disappointed that I wasn't "that one patient" who beats the odds. Regretful of the fact that they have grown to love me like they do.
Ask a cancer patient. Most of them can tell you about this fear and guilt. The strong desire not to disappoint. The guilt of not being able to be strong enough, determined enough, positive enough, and most importantly, faithful enough.
I have been so blessed in this journey....a journey no where near its end....that it seems strange that I am still gripped by fear on this day of waiting. I know that it is because I am so surrounded, so covered with love, support, effort, prayer and medicine, that failure would be devastating to us all. To be the cause of such disappointment, sadness, and defeat is what I fear most of all. People tend to wonder how I continue to live like I do, fight like I do, have faith like I do. There are many facets to the answer to those questions. One my motivators just happens to be a strong fear of failure.
So, as always, when I am afraid, I turn to the God who strengthens me. He brings me comfort and peace, no matter what day it is. He will remove my fear, yet again, never tiring of His soldier having chinks in her armor. Just as David did, when the enemy was near and he was tired, I will turn to a loving and faithful God who understands my battle better than anyone.
Like the Psalmist, I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust. (I) will not fear the terror of the night nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness." Ps 91:2,5,6
And suddenly, the day is bright, the sun is calling, the fear of the day is lifted.
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