After speaking with a single girlfriend (cancer-survivor), I imagined how difficult it would be to walk this treatment path alone. Of course, she had her support system and so did I — my husband was with me each step including treatment choices, research, and fasting. Also in my corner were my siblings, childhood girlfriends self-dubbed “Team Carol “, local friends, work friends, church friends (who gave me the lovely prayer quilt below), and my panel of cancer-surviving tutors. God was hearing pleas on my behalf from so many directions as I received a steady stream of calls, texts, and cards.
Yet, at its core, the cancer experience was primarily between me, my body and God. I woke up alone, prepped my body alone, studied alone, was infused alone, scheduled alone, and dreamed alone. Only I felt the changes and tweaks my body was experiencing. As the days of treatment turned into weeks, the tally of physical oddities increased — I kept wondering if a tingle or twinge was a new symptom, or just a fleeting reminder of old age. My energy contrasts could be extreme. I would vary from a halting I-have-to-take-a-nap-right-now fatigue to intense how-many chores-can-I-accomplish energy – sometimes in the same day.
My health journal also tracked energy hoping I would recognize a pattern. Was I losing my mind if I felt sudden sadness while sailing through treatments with no serious side effects. My trust/peace muscle was getting plenty of exercise and I began each day pouring out fresh doses of gratefulness. But some days, the looming anticipation of waiting for the other shoe [symptom] to drop seeped into my otherwise peaceful heart.
Out of necessity, I focused on my body (how it’s responding, measuring health markers, counteracting the adverse affects of poison) and my soul (replace fear with faith, exchange tomorrow for today, rejecting the world’s concern in favor of God’s courage). Oh how my mind did bounce around as I shunned the thought of fear, yet washed my hands each time I touch anything or anyone (dogs included) to protect my body’s ability to heal. I had to remember, “Prepare, then trust the preparation”. Surviving cancer took so much focus and energy.
Yet, all this self– focus wore me out – I bored myself. It was like reading the same book over and over again searching for new meaning. I became desperate to pick up another book. My antidote to chronic self-focus was to identify someone I could support and uplift. Must. Step. Outside. Of. All. This. One diversion I used was to note in my calendar significant upcoming events of friends and family (birthdays, graduations, surgeries, travels, new homes, landing a job). Then I followed up with them via call, text, email, e-card, or snail-mail…to let them know I was thinking about and praying for them. Sometimes a small, well-timed gift could brighten their day (flowers from the sale rack at Lowes, overnight delivery from Amazon, a pretty find at a resale shop, share my favorite book). We all appreciate knowing we’re not alone in life and are important enough to be remembered.
