Being Transparent is Healthy

At least that’s what I tell my students. Are there limits to this transparency? I’m sure there are. What should be the limits of my own transparency in the midst of my cancer? I’ve lost some objectivity and I'm not so sure. So I’m following my gut here – which is terribly ironic since it is my gut that has gotten me into this trouble. But I’m trying to be as open and honest as possible here on my blog these days.

I know I’ve promised not to make this all about me. And someday, as things settle down, I’ll reduce the cancer posts and write on other stuff. But enough of you have asked for updates that I feel compelled to keep ya’ll current. (And honestly, I cherish the idea that so many people are thinking of and praying for us.)

We are in a holding pattern until around Thursday next week. I’ve had a slew of tests, exams, pokes, and prods. And I have a few more to go. All of the results will come in around mid-week and then I’ll have another consultation with my oncologist. I am looking forward to that day in nervous anticipation – as I assume that’s the day I will get some numbers; something concrete to wrap my mind around. I’ll get the stage of my cancer (how far it has progressed) and I’ll get a cure rate. I want to know (1) my stage number and (2) the likelihood that I’m going to survive. I want the numbers. And waiting for them is hard. So if you are looking for specific ways to pray in the next few days – pray for patience and peace and we continue to live with the unknown and we have to wait.

And pray for this…..

This is hard enough to hear rattle around in my head – let alone verbalize it to Shanda (which I’ve done) or write about it on my blog (which I’m now doing). So bear with me.

I know that I can handle anything that happens. Seriously. I’m in God’s care. I can handle the pain and side effects that will occur as a result of my chemotherapy, which is probably going to be pretty brutal. Maybe you’ve already read my take on these things: I don’t deserve any different. Others have suffered incredibly more than I will. God loves me and nothing can separate me from His love. It will be hard, sometimes very hard, but I can handle it. That’s not self-centered pride (I don’t think). That’s the assurance and hope I have in Christ.

I also know that if treatment does not go well and I don’t make it – the alternative is being with Jesus. See? I’m going to be OK.

But I’m having a hard time thinking of my family – particularly my sons. Shanda is a strong woman and while it would be incredibly hard for her, she would be OK, too. But I’m struggling with the idea of my sons growing up without a father. If I let those thoughts linger - for even a moment (like now) - the weight of them nearly crushes me. Even though I know in my head that God loves my family far more than I do and would take care of them, in my heart I can’t bear the thought of my sons growing up without their dad. Please focus your prayers as I try to live out Philippians 4:8 and as I seek the promise of Philippians 4:6-7.

Ugh. That wasn’t fun. But it was transparent. Your prayers are a lifeline for me. Thank you all!