Stamina
I had a CT scan a couple of weeks ago. If you’re familiar with labs and tests like this, you know that the results often show up in your “MyChart” or equivalent before your appointment with your doctor or specialist. My appointment is next week. I looked at the results.
From my limited understanding, it looks like my cancer-affected lymph nodes have grown slightly. That’s the discouraging news. The silver lining I could see was that there didn’t seem to be any indication of new areas with cancer or any spreading of cancer to other organs. I pray that the oncologist confirms this next week.
I’ve had to scale back my various treatments due to the expense, the discontinuation of my state Medicaid insurance and the increase of other household expenses. This leaves me in a similar position to the one I found myself around this time last year. Confused. Not knowing the most effective way for me to move forward.
Having lived with cancer for over a year now (longer if you count the time I had it but went undiagnosed), the one thing I’ve learned is that healing is not linear. Most of the time, I feel good. I feel confident that I am on the right path and I fully and completely trust God and my body’s capacity to heal. Some days, weeks or even months, I withdraw into my fear, and I grieve.
With the scan and my apprehension about my upcoming appointment with my doctor, I find myself in another valley on this road. I’m trying to live my normal life as much as possible, and I’m starting to see that normal won’t get me to the health and vitality I’m after. There’s a balance, though, right?
I need to get up and go to work every day to pay the bills to keep the roof over our heads, the food in our bellies and the clothes on our backs. My job as a chiropractic assistant with a neurological chiropractor provides me with the benefit of regular chiropractic care that has contributed immensely to my healing so far. It also adds a level of stress to my life that I didn’t have before. I don’t see my family as often. The job itself can be stressful at times. I get home most days exhausted, making it difficult to care for myself the way I want, or even need.
I wrote a book, and I’m celebrating that achievement this week. At the same time, there is much that goes into the marketing and promotion of it and the business growth that I’m hoping will follow.
There are no easy answers. So I’m trying to ask myself the same question until the answers become more clear:
If I truly and deeply love myself, what would I do?
This question is leading me to recommit myself to my health and healing. There are avenues I have yet to explore. Some of which are even free or require very minimal investment of my severely limited resources. I’m back in somewhat of a research mode, looking for opportunities my fear had been blocking me from before.
My goal is balance. To live my life with joy and purpose and do what it takes to restore my body to its natural state of vibrant health and vitality. I’m seeking alignment. I’m forgiving myself and others and working to pay off my emotional, spiritual, relational and financial debts. I’m asking for help and receiving more than I expect with gratitude and humility. I’m doing my best.
Cancer is hard. My thoughts keep circling back to consider conventional medical options. I sit with it. I try to visualize and conceptualize that experience for me. It’s still not in alignment. I don’t believe I have exhausted the more aligned alternative approaches available to me. Prayer and meditation continue to show me a different path. This one is easier in some ways and far more difficult in others. The conventional medical path would be more difficult in many ways and simpler and easier in others.
To those who love me, I promise I don’t have my head in the sand. I promise that I’m taking my healing seriously. If cancer is what ends me, it’s not going to destroy me. And I truly believe that cancer is not the thing that will end my story. It’s a long chapter, though, and it requires levels of stamina and resilience I never thought I’d need.
Thanks for following along with my journey. To support me in my healing, visit saradeacon.com/support for practical ways to help.