I Have Cancer, But it Doesn't Quite Have Me

The adults in the household have spent most of this past week crying together, scrambling to make sense of anything, and going through the motions of our daily routines, relatively unconvincingly. I felt like I was working through the five stages of grief backwards, going straight to acceptance initially and then working my way back to depression. Things didn’t get any better when an appointment fell through. It was a consultation with a bowel surgeon, during which we hoped to learn something, anything, more than we already knew. We got there and were told it wasn’t this Friday, it was next Friday. We went home more defeated than ever. I went straight to bed and slept for five hours.

My only thought was of the story in the Bible about the four friends who let the cripple down through the roof to Jesus, who forgave and healed him when he saw "their" faith. God can heal me and meet my every need when all I have are the prayers of my friends and my own "groanings that cannot be uttered." I needed that assurance. Thank you all for standing in the gap.

Then things began to get at least marginally more encouraging. Karen went home from our visit to the surgeon and called the general practitioner (GP) who made the initial diagnosis. She got more detailed information from him about what’s going on and what to expect as the next few steps. The surgeon we’re seeing next Friday, the 16^th of March, will examine me and the existing test results and decide on that basis if they need a colonoscopy first or just go straight to surgery. He will also need to fill out some paperwork to try to convince our insurance company that the cancer is not a pre-existing condition, and should be covered. At the same time, the GP has sent paperwork to the main government hospital in town to try to get me in there for free if the insurance company doesn’t come through. The GP said we should have paperwork from a surgeon at the government hospital sometime in the next week about scheduling surgery there. The GP assured us the extra week from the miscommunicated appointment with the private surgeon won’t make a significant difference in my prognosis.

My friend and employer Kevin Crowther lost his father to cancer a few months ago after a long battle. He's convinced the diet and dietary supplements of a naturapath kept his father alive for years, until his father went off them, so he paid for me to see the naturapath yesterday (Saturday).

I've never been a big believer in such things myself, but I figured I'm like the old reprobate who was on his death bed. The preacher comes to his bedside and says to him: "Renounce the devil." The old man shakes his head no. The preacher puts his hand on the old reprobate's head and urges more loudly: "Renounce the devil!" The old man says weakly: "Preacher, I'm just in no condition to antagonize anybody."

So I'm saying yes to any advice that isn't mutually exclusive with the advice of medical doctors.

The naturapath is a Christian and after he spent a long time explaining what his recommended approach does and why it works, he said that three mental attitudes are also key elements in recovery: prayer, gratitude and laughter.

So since that visit, even though I'm not having a physical symptom-free day (and symptoms seem a lot more serious now that I know they're cancer and not just indigestion or acid reflux or irritable bowel syndrome), still I feel a lot better mentally just because I've added gratitude and laughter to prayer on my list of acceptable things for my mind to wander around in. And it feels better, between the further details we got on Friday and the recommendation that we're already implementing from the naturapath, to actually have a plan, a strategy, to understand what the next steps are, and to be doing something proactively instead of just laying around being a victim.

I’m eating what I’m told to eat, taking all the supplements, going for a walk after each meal as recommended, and I’m praying, laughing and being grateful.

Money is still a pretty scary thought. I don't see any way to get and do all the needed things without significant unexpected money, but we aren't quite to that day yet.

Otherwise, things are as good as can be expected until I've had surgery and then seen the oncologist after he has the surgery results. That's when it looks like I have the next chance to get an updated, more informed prognosis. So that’s our first chance to get official confirmation of a miracle.

Thank you for loving me and praying for me.