Cancer Courage

Let me just throw right out there in the front that I still don't want to do cancer or its treatment. I'm praising God for his work and struggling with the reality of the process simultaneously. I am hoping to strike a healthy balance between the positive attitude I really do have (the sincere faith in positive process and outcomes both physically and spiritually) and a bit of I just get to gripe because it's not fun to have cancer.

Physically speaking I'm still mostly just tired. I continue to have symptoms of the cancer itself and the Graves and anemia (I don't know who gets credit for which things) but as far as cell destruction from chemo I'm just noticing a few tiny things. My tastebuds are failing me, even a pickle at lunch held no flavor. It's weird. My fingernails are peeling and cuticles are easily finding the corners of things that leave little sore red spots. May be some brain cells going because I keep forgetting "What I walked in here for." So you can sum me up as a lazy bum with no taste in need of a manicure. : )

A sweet friend gave me a bag of her previously used chemo head hats (which she told me to keep as she never wants nor intends to use them again). That bag and shopping for new items to cover the coming shine has caused a great deal more nausea for me than any of the meds have so far. David, though he realizes the baldness is promised, said he is praying perhaps I would somehow escape it. Let me make it clear this prayer is for my benefit not a selfish thing on his part - in fact he jokes that he can't see what I look like anyway (David is also among the suffering of a debilitating disease, he is going blind from cone rod dystrophy). I would be most happy to receive that miracle of hair with chemo in the blood! The friend who gave me the hats is one of the toughest, hardest working most practical persons I have ever known. Servant is her middle name, even this tough cookie who will climb on any roof to hammer on a new one, crawl under any house to dig out a new cellar or take the dirtiest, most difficult chore off anyone's to do list, told me the bald issue was a most difficult part for her. It's just a tough thing to face. 

I know that it's just vanity. I know it's absurd to wish I could have some boils on my toes or something else painful or of suitable to replace severity rather than go bald. I also know I will get used to it. I know my friends who I have seen go bald from chemo were not freakishly ugly faces I protected my eyes from the dreadful appearance of. After the initial surprise they were just beautiful, wonderful them. I know that is how others will see me. I know everyone including complete strangers will know what's going on and have no negative judgment or rejection. I know it will really be fine. I still just can't imagine how I'm going to finish my preparations and look in the mirror and think that I'm all set and ready to go show the world how the mornings ritual turned out. 

I have been asked about whether I want a wig. Maybe I will change my mind but for now it just gives me a notion of itchy claustrophobia. I can imagine my kids horror when their friends see me rubbing a wig back and forth the top of my skull while moaning relief. Or worse, pulling it off to scratch all over and fan the sweat with it then plopping it back on and inquiring if it's straight. For now the plan is hats and scarves. There have been tears and there will no doubt be plenty more as the hair pulls from my head, but then it will be me and then it will grow back. I just have to do it, that's all there is to it.

Here's the good part. I know suffering produces hope. Hebrews 5:1-5 is my promise in this experience. I imagine that Jesus no more relished the auctioning off of his clothes than the crown of thorns when He was begging escape from His coming persecution. While I yearn to possess the humblest of humility, I dread the suffering of losing my pride. And while I know humility is a mysterious creature, (if I think I possess it there is a fundamental flaw - if I claim its there I simultaneously shoo it away) I long to know the fruits of its lingering about me. Pride, in my mind, is much like cancer. I didn't know the mutated cells were growing in me. Eventually, in increasing symptoms, they would reveal their ugly selves. If I ignore the cancer, it will just keep growing and consuming me. The sin of pride is the same way. I might not know its there, but it reveals itself, bit by bit, and unchecked will continue to grow and consume. 

Like symptoms of cancer, however there were symptoms of pride. Scripture exhorts so often to be like little children. Children are not vain. I have such great memories of giggling at my little toddlers running through the house stark naked and completely ignorant of their humility. They learned though, first because it was obviously appropriate to teach them not to run around nude and then life began to teach them which logos should be on their shirts. Laughing at a 15 months old fat thighs is delightful for everyone. Laugh at a 15 years old fat thighs and innocent humility is chased away and replaced with consuming vanity. Unfortunately, this process takes place much younger than 15 years old. Self image begins to form much sooner and not just as potential external vanity, but as an inner value which in naivety is high but in life's school of hard knocks can become low. Be like a little child, the scripture exhorts, because it is then that humility is embraced unaware by the soul unwounded. Don't get me wrong, I'm not expressing pity on my imagined terrible life of hard knocks. I'm just your regular old selfish, dysfunctional American girl. 

While I have this journey of God pursuing me and me Him, there has also been simultaneously this parallel occurrence of hardening taking place. A hardening of the heart that grew with worldly experience. A beautifully manufactured protective covering expertly constructed to protect me from, well, the knocks that were blowing holes in it all the time. I'm confident I never hid myself because of feeling safe and secure but from feeling vulnerable and exposed. While I yearn to die to myself, the world constantly presses me to preserve myself. So, for the most part this protectiveness just seems smart. Who goes to movies to see the superheroes die? I like those heroes because no matter what gets thrown at them they grow miraculously stronger and walk in victory - like gods, I like that. Independent, invulnerable, indestructible gods. I want to be a god. Yep, I admitted it. I want super powers too. I have even told my kids I have super powers, how else would I know, "What they were doing in there." Moohaha. No matter how much I want it though, I am not a god, I am dependent not independent - I am created not Creator. Here is the conflict, how do I be a humble, vulnerable, loving, dependent follower of this God I want to love AND be a humble, naive toddler invulnerable to knocks. Aaaaa, I get cancer. I face death (so, I'm not dying but when the blow of that word hits lets just call the spade the spade - no treatment, no living), I face suffering - the side effects of disease and treatment.

Alright, that was a lot of words that may or may not effectively communicate a train of thought connected to some reality that is actually happening in my life. That reality is that I am learning to die to myself. Learning to give up my godness. To stop protecting and and clinging to me and die so that I may enter into peace with God, rejoicing in His Glory, enjoying His Kingdom love in faith today.

What does that look like? Still watching, but as I've said before I believe it will look more and more like the fruits of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness and self control - SUPER POWERS.  Here is that beautiful mystery of Jesus again, by giving up my godness, I do become godlike. Who wants a mean, grouchy, strife filled, impatient, cruel, rough god who throws fits? Umm, apparently I do because when I deny unity with God, embrace separation to exert my own godness, that is just how I act. But, when I die to myself - ta daaaa, not only do I lose fear of knocks and gain childlike humility but I become this really loving, lovable wife, mom, homemaker, daughter, business owner, driver, customer, person in victory. 

And so, I am bracing myself to face baldness with courage. I really, really don't want to lose my hair and eyebrows and eyelashes, BUT all the super heroes give up something for their courage. Something that genuinely hurts and costs. Honestly, it's a small thing to simply accept the gift of grace offered me in Jesus, given through His much greater suffering. It's truly a privilege to even have the option to grab at courage as I learn to die to myself and walk in real super powers.