I am often reminded that God isn’t some genie in a bottle, ready to grant our every wish. We pray in the hope that our petitions will be granted, but we also have to remember that we don’t always get what we want. Sometimes, in fact, we get what is meant for us according to His will. I suppose that’s a pretty succinct profession of faith, but I can say that the only way to handle something challenging like an ongoing cancer battle is to find that place of acceptance. It is where peace dwells.
Last week, I finished the required six rounds, twelve IV's of the most brutal chemo regimen I have had so far. There were detours, difficult moments when I considered giving up and letting the disease have its way with me. But I suppose the will to live is strong motivation, so in spite of transfusions, infusions, and disillusions, I survived. And I had the follow-up PET scan, the medical report card, a few days later.
I had hoped for the equivalent of “straight A’s,” clear images and subsequent release from further treatment. I would have even settled for the protocol they refer to as maintenance, periodic chemo to keep the bad cells at bay. Instead, I will need more poison pumped into my poor, overtaxed body because, yes, there is progression. The beast is relentless, but so am I.
I have learned that the body is weak, vulnerable. Mine feels particularly feeble some days. Oh, how we like to think that we are invincible, the strongest animal on the planet. (We aren’t.) But none of us is immune from physical breakdown nor the pain and suffering that accompanies it. It really is an undeniable part of the circle of life.
What makes us superior, however, is the human spirit, the life force we call the soul. And it is well with mine.
Keep on praying. I continue to believe that long-term remission is coming. Hope springs eternal.