Fear Itself

Fear. It really is such a small word, and yet, it rules with an iron fist. It’s the small voice in the back of your head whispering in your ear: “You’re not good enough.” It’s the poison pumping through your heart telling you to run, to hide, to give up. It’s the seed of jealousy, and the root of hate.

Sadly, fear is also part of every one of us. We’ve all been crippled by fear at some point or another in our lives. I am no exception. I fear failing grades. I fear broken relationships.I fear my own weakness. I fear I’m not enough.

I fear, yes, but I love too, and that is what makes all the difference. Love is the comforting voice whispering: “I’m still here.” It is the seed of hope, the root of compassion, the fruit of forgiveness.

Love is the conqueror of fear. It is what held Jesus to the cross. It is the root of God’s unwavering grace, the grace that reminds me daily, even when fear seams to choke out all hope of light, that I am enough. Love is what tells me I am more than my faults and my weaknesses. Love assures me daily, I am indeed far more than my fear.

The Path Between Healing and Healed

Starting the healing process is like letting out a sigh, a breath you’ve been holding for far too long. Healing is physical. It’s emotional. It’s spiritual. Healing takes time.

My mom’s mastectomy was a complete success. She practically bounded right back into the swing of things, but healing is far more than waiting for the stitches to be removed. Healing is more than a faint scar.

Now that chemo has begun I realize that sometimes healing is painful. Sometimes healing is hard. It is not the absence of pain, nor is it the absence of fear. It’s standing firm even in the face of suffering. It’s laughter as well as tears.

Sometimes healing can come in the form of a woolen cap, a hug, a tear, or a laugh. Healing is a process, not a destination and there is a long road between healing and healed. Chemo has just begun for my mom. I won’t lie and say the path ahead is not daunting. However, I know that my family and I will get through this. I know that there is a light at the end of this tunnel and I know that someday, perhaps in the not so distant future, my family and I will get to say “healed”, as opposed to “healing.”

Dear Stranger

Strangers in a waiting room don’t really seem like the best prospect for conversation at first glance, but for me it was the kindness of a stranger that got me through the first couple of hours in the waiting room at the hospital yesterday. I don’t know your name, or anything about you really, but I’m wishing you and your grandmother well nonetheless. Your grandmother’s surgery is the reason my mom’s surgery got delayed the first time around, but I’m glad she was able to get the procedure she needed. Sometimes it’s the little things that get you through the hard times, and sometimes it can be something as simple as a kind hello and a bit of small talk.

Thank you, Stranger.

Long Road Home

There is nothing quite like seeing someone you love in pain. Whether it be emotional or physical, seeing someone you love suffer is awful. However, sometimes pain is the first step to getting better. Unfortunately, this has been especially true for my mom.

After several hours of delays she got into surgery and did great, but that doesn’t mean it was simple or easy, getting a mastectomy is no small thing. Because of how late the surgery ended up being she had to stay the night at the hospital. Not ideal, but I know it’s for the best.

Despite the difficulty of seeing my mom in pain after surgery, I know that it’s the first big step to seeing her well. The hardest part is over, and for that I am grateful. I cannot wait to see her again tomorrow morning and I can’t wait to see her safe and sound at home.

The Waiting Game

There are few equalizers in life, but hospital waiting rooms are one of them. There is no such thing as rich or poor in a hospital waiting room. We’re all here for one reason or another, but really, when it comes down to it, one of our loved ones is hurt and we are waiting for them to get well.

After giving my mom a hug and bidding her farewell for preop I fight back some tears and scurry down the hall for a caffeinated distraction. Thankfully the people at the espresso stand know what a London Fog is. I head to the waiting room, and sip my drink. Thank God for small creature comforts.

I strike up a conversation with a kind lady in the waiting room. We don’t give details, but I overhear that she’s here for her grandma. More shocking, however, is when the doctor comes in to update her on her grandmother’s process.It’s my mom’s doctor. I realize now why my mom’s surgery was bumped back to noon. This lady’s grandmother is the emergency procedure that my mom had mentioned earlier.

It’s easy to see other patients here as just other procedures,especially when said procedures are the reason for set backs and time changes,  but they’re not. Each procedure has a face, each one a name. I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks for my family and I, but I know it’s probably been rough for the lady and her grandmother as well. We all have different roads, but they’ve all led us here: the waiting room.

Hours pass, and my Dad and I are still waiting. Despite the fact that this place seems like a well-oiled machine there are several set backs before my mom’s surgery can begin. We get the message a little after 2:00. My mom is in surgery and now we wait again, but this time for the healing to begin.

One Step and Then the Next, Gets You Where You’re Going.*

 

Breast cancer is a fairly common thing in Washington; however, no matter how many statistics you hear or how many of your friends get it, you never expect it to happen to you. The phone call telling you that you have breast cancer still comes as a shock. Well, that was the phone call my family got when my mom got breast cancer a little over eight years ago.

My mom has always been a healthy lady. Any and all who know her personally know that she is quite the health buff. She had literally no risk factors other than her age. Honestly, when she went in for her first mammogram none of us really thought much of it. It was just routine, something everyone has to do.

The next few months following that first check up were not routine. As it turned out, the doctors had found precancerous cells that would progress to full-blown cancer. Surgery and radiation treatments would follow. The scary thing is that my mom originally wanted to wait a year for her first mammogram, I shudder to think what would have happened had the doctors not caught the cancer when they did.

It came as a shock to all of us, but we kept our faith and actually became much closer as a result. To this day I still remember skipping the last class of the day every Friday to accompany my mom to radiation treatments. The receptionists and I struck up a friendship and would proceed to discuss Tolkien and swap recipes every time I would stop by.

After radiation was done my mom was safely and happily in remission. My mom and I proceeded to get involved in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure just about every year, and year after year the tests came back clear. I had gotten used to her going in for her check-ups; I wasn’t as nervous anymore when she went in for her mammogram, it had been a little over eight years after all.

However, after eight years in remission, my mom found a lump. My family and I are now going down this road again. My mom’s a fighter; no one that’s met her can deny that, and I know my family will stay strong through her surgery and treatments, but I’ll admit, I’m scared.

There are times when it’s just me and my thoughts and I play the “what if” game. I’m tired, and I know my family is too. I’m scared and I know they are as well, but going down this path again, while frightening, is not about the fear; it’s about how you keep faith and stay standing. My mom’s surgery is slated for the 14th of this month. People tell me that when dealing with something like this you have to take it one day at a time, but I’ve found that it’s not one day at a time; you take things moment by moment.

 

*Swan Song by Robert MaCammon.