***Update July 6, 2029: Discussion with radiologist was fairly positive. She said that if Dave has to have cancer and surgery, he is in the best position for that. She said he is Stage 2 on a cancer scaling; on a Gleason scale he is an 8, but it’s so very early in the process that it’s not some of the grade 8’s that you would read about online (which she told us not to do). He meets with his doctor at the end of July, and they discuss his options again. And then they will schedule his surgery for sometime in August. He has a bone scan on Thursday, but the doctor thinks that will be a negative result, just like the lymph glands. So looks like at the moment it’s all contained in the prostate. They caught this really early, and the actual aggressive cells were only 10% of the total biopsy results. Whew, that makes me feel much calmer. Dave feels better too, but now he has to deal with the surgery and all that entails.***
Wait a minute, letters aren’t colors! Oh, really? Well, let me ask you, does your world change colors when you experience different life events? It does? Aha! So, letters and words do make colors. I can distinctly remember events in my life through the years that I refer to as “gray” periods.
I would venture to say that not many folks can say their lives haven’t changed color by the ‘C’ word—cancer. We’ve maybe lost loved ones, dear friends, or experienced cancer personally. For Dave and me, it was family members–my mother and brother, his father. These losses colored our worlds for a time with the grays and blacks of grief.
Now, we are facing cancer up close and personal, with Dave’s recent diagnosis of prostate cancer. Man, I hate even writing those words (excuse me a moment; I have something in my eyes). There you have it–the man that I have loved and lived with for two-thirds of my life, has cancer. Now, before you go all Marcus Welby on me (younger generations may need to Google this reference ) , I know all the statistics that say that this is pretty easily contained and that at his age, prostate cancer will not likely be the thing that “takes him out”– his words. That does not really help. Inside the body of my beautiful husband, an enemy is lurking. And I don’t like it one single, itty bitty little second.
As a believer, how do I face this? God knows my sadness and fear in this moment, and He’s not disappointed in my emotion. If I were to be angry with Him, shake my fist in His face (God forbid!), and turn my back on Him, He would just sit and wait patiently for me to turn back around and run to to Him. I understand, I believe, and I trust that God is bigger than any disease, including cancer. I trust God to do His will, for His purpose, in every circumstance of my life. I teach this to other believers, because I so strongly believe it. God is every moment my Comforter.
In times of anxiety and sleeplessness, I quote one of my favorite verses, found in Psalm 94:19 – “When my anxious thought multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul.”
Dave has really been a trooper, and his response provides a bit more calm to my heart. He refers to cancer as “body rust.” Once it starts, it doesn’t stop, so there needs to be some kind of serious intervention, or it will just eat right through us. If left alone, the affected part can cause total breakdown. Sometimes treatment is called for, and sometimes the rusted part needs to be completely removed (e.g., his prostate). Yeah, he’s pretty wise like that. I think I’ll keep him.
No matter what, when my world gets rocked and turns gray, God is and remains in total control of my life, of Dave’s life, and of your life. This is not a platitude, my friend; this is truth.
Be blessed, and remember, it’s all about HIM.