One Step At A Time

I woke up this morning feeling rather stressed. I was plagued with thoughts that, broadly speaking, said "What am I doing with my life". I know that might seem quite bizarre, given my present circumstances as I should be focusing on recovering, however, I hate not know what the plan is. When others go through similar anxiety provoking periods I preach "One step at a time"; I now publically acknowledge and admit to being the chief hypocrite of this statement and its ethos. 

A brief interlude: To relieve the stress of my current thought predicament I turned to do what I always do - clean. Unfortunately, that wasn't really possible and would be highly frowned upon if I was found on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor. But not all was lost. Sitting on my windowsill was a pile of letters that I received from the bank, benefits and such like organisations. The answer was staring me in the face. I could partake in a favourite pastime of mine - filing! I love filing. I love ring binders, file separators, staplers, hole punchers, which in my opinion is an ingenious invention, paper clips, index cards, I could go on but I'm guessing you get the gist. I hate disorganisation. I hate having things just hanging around without a proper place. When I was living with a particular friend, I was sitting in her room while she was picking up her folder. To my horror, a massive bunch of bank letters fell out of it. I just couldn't take it, I even offered to file them for her. In the end, I never got round to it, but I would always glare at it every time I saw it. Another thing I hate is when people move my stuff that I've intentionally placed in a certain order which, by the way, happens every morning when my room is being cleaned; I find myself watching them intently fighting the urge to tidy up after them, it is a daily exercise in self control. Anyway, I borrowed a hole puncher and stapler and entered into administrative heaven. I was so happy with the outcome of my file seperated ring binder, that I actually sat and looked at it for a little while with a big grin on my face. But I digress, just thought I should share the madness with you first. 

The sorts of things that I want answers to are where am I going to live once I'm fully recovered, what am I going to do, when do I fully recover, when can I start making plans without the threat of readmission stalking me. But in the midst of my circular argument something pierced my thoughts like an arrow. It was a passage from the Bible that suddenly came to mind. Jesus said do not worry about tomorrow because today has enough troubles of its own. I must have heard that passage hundreds of times but it would always make me grimace in a way that conveyed well thats easy for you to say, you're God! But today for the first time, that little verse resonated deeply within my soul and I finally agreed with Him. The former part of that passage talks about how God will look after your needs because He is a dad who loves His children. I have always struggled with that, always trying to take control. But today I was reminded, how, even though I have suffered greatly in my life, He has always provided for me, both materially and spiritually. I have no reason to believe that He will not continue to do so.

There was one other verse that jumped out to me that day. It is Proverbs 3:25-26 and says "Have no fear of sudden disaster, or the ruin that overtakes the wicked, for the Lord will be at your side, and will keep your foot from being snared". This verse is not necessarily talking about the physical disasters, but also spiritual. God never promises that tragedy won't come. I used to get angry that I had to endure much suffering while others, who I, in a proud heart, deemed to be less deserving than myself, lived a happy life with no trouble. The truth is that disaster doesn't discriminate between the so called good and the bad, it comes to all people. The difference here is that He promises to stand beside His children. I used to pray, "God get me out of this" but I realise my mistake. The prayer is "God get me through this"; and as surely as the sun will rise, He does.

The Event - Part Two

It is official, the transplant has been completed. It started at 15:30 and finished at 18:00 which is a lot longer than most; Normally, for this type of transplant, it would be done and dusted in about half an hour. For your entertainment, I have taken a few photographs to walk you through the process. Health warning: there is blood involved, if squeamish, do not continue further. 

This is the "Dalek" It contains my transplant cells

This is what happens when you open it - good old fashioned liquid nitrogen pours out.

This is what comes out of the Dalek - two incredible small bags of cells; they hold about 20mls each.

The bags of cells then go into this water bath to be defrosted and warmed up to body temperature.

So in hindsight, this is kinda funny. The bags of cells come in another sterile bag encasing it, shown here. It is so you can take out the smaller bag, with the cells, and still maintain a sterile field. Unfortunately, during the defrosting process, the inner bag split releasing the cells into the outer bag which you can see here. I was unaware of this at the time, because the nurses literally legged it out the room to speak to a doctor. So instead of sucking up the cells with a syringe from a neatly contained smaller bag, they were doing it from the bigger one as you can see here. Thankfully it makes no difference to my treatment; although it is kinda funny that I was joking with them before hand to make sure they didn't drop the bag!

This is them pushing the cells into my line. They use larger needles for this process to all for the size of the cells. They had to keep changing needles every 1-2mls because the needles kept getting block. There 40mls in total to be infused which equals a lot of needles and a lot of time.

So there we have it, the story of my transplant. I feel fine at the moment, although I am tired and my stomach feels a tiny bit funny. So now it is a waiting game. It should take about a week for all my blood levels to drop to zero and then another four weeks for them to recover. During that time, the transplanted cells will somehow magically find their way to my bone marrow and know that they are supposed to turn into bone marrow cells.  It's absolutely mind boggling when you think about it. We also worked out the the children, from whom these cords belong to, will now be two and four years old. To them, their parents and the medical team, I would just like to say, thank you for saving my life.

The Event - Part One

Today is the day - it is the day of the bone marrow transplant. This is what the last seven months have been leading up to; this is the hopefully the miracle cure we've all been waiting for. It is due to happen in the next thirty minutes. How am I feeling? I don't know really. I don't feel scared nor do I feel excited, maybe a little indifferent. The week leading up to this has been tough. I really struggled to settle in and I think I was in a bit of denial about the fact that I was a patient again. Physically, the chemotherapy and the radiotherapy weren't that bad - I haven't thrown up yet which is always a good indicator of health. But I've had a wee wander off the ward, back up to the friendly face of ward 94, over the last couple of days and it has done me the world of good. But this is it now. There is no more galavanting allowed and now I am truly restricted to my room. Anyway, I'm signing out for now but stay tuned for The Event - Part Two.

Chapter Four

In some ways, this chapter is the beginning of the end. The last seven months, retrospectively, feel like a blur, it feels like I was watching somebody elses life. It has been a hard transition, coming back here that is, especially since I've had such a long time on the outside. But, after a turmoilous week, I feel as ready as I can be. The room I'm in is nice by hospital standards, but I do miss the creature comforts of the young adults ward upstairs. That said, one of the nurses that was on the ward upstairs is working on here temporarily so at least I know her and have her to talk to. I've unpacked and settled in, and as you can see, my internet is working! That is an answer to prayer and a huge relief.

I've only been on the ward for two hours and have already been AWOL. But in my defence, it was only a quick sprint off the ward and as from tomorrow, I promise to try to be on my best behaviour. Tomorrow is the start of the chemotherapy regime. Initially, I thought I would be having chemotherapy for only some of the days, but as it happens, I will behaving it every day for the next week, which is slightly unfortunate. But I accept that it needs to happen. I'm not looking forward to the weeks ahead, but I know that He will get me through it.

Watch this space. 

Radiomonster

Before the feature story, an update - I got the internet sorted for when I go into hospital. 

The main thing that strikes fear into my heart about the bone marrow transplant is the radiotherapy. It's probably because I've never had it before and because I know too much for my own good. I don't remember ever feeling like this before I had chemotherapy three years ago. I have, and still do, view chemotherapy as less potent than radiotherapy. The type of chemotherapy I had for the Hodgkin Lymphoma had the so called promise of minimal long term side effects attached to it. Radiotherapy, on the other hand, will have long term side effects that can manifest now or several years down the line. I wont bore you with all the consequences of radiotherapy now, instead, I'll let you google it for yourself so you can have the pants scared off you that way. Radiotherapy is the sort of thing that keeps you looking over your shoulder. As morbid as it sounds, I do feel that when the time comes for me to die, however many years that may be, it will be because of a side effect of the radiotherapy; but for now, I am allowed to cheat death, at least for a little while. But it is a peculiar feeling; knowing that the choice I'm making now is potentially going to be the death of me. I guess, we've all gotta die somehow, I would personally opt for an instantaneous death but I don't really have a choice in the matter.

Today, I had my test dose of radiotherapy. They give you a test dose so that they can observe the amount of radiation absorbed at different points on your body. They do this so that they can prescribe the correct dose of radiation for when the time comes for me to have my treatment dose. The dose they gave me today was tiny which meant that I didn't feel any effect of it. Although, I do have a headache which could either be psychosomatic or stress related, or maybe a mixture of both - I have already ruled out a brewing infection from the differential diagnosis. Allow me to describe my experience to you. 

I arrived at the department, to be told that the machine that I have been allocated has been "playing up" today but not to worry. Blood pressure starts to increase from already elevated pre-anxious state. I then walk into the changing room and the first thing I see is a sign above the sink. It read as follows: "Patients, please do not spit blood into the sink, ask for a sick bowl". Palpitations now present. I make my way into the treatment area where I am greeted by four friendly staff. Palpitations beginning to subside. I am then asked to lie on what I can only describe as a giant blue bean bag which inflates to mould into your body shape once you are in the correct position. Heart rate rises rapidly as I try to get on sed bean bag in a dignified fashion that doesn't involve frontal flashing. I should add that there are both male and female staff present. I am asked to contort myself into an odd adaptation of the foetal position while they stick electrodes on me in places I rather not mention. The fight or flight response has given way to the lay down and die response. I am then told to lie as still as possible while the fire the beams at me. Unfortunately, fight or flight response kicks back in and I now have to fight the urge to jump/roll off the bean bag and run away. 

So that was my experience in a nutshell. I have been assured, that there will be significantly less faffing on the day of my treatment dose as they now have all the pre-measurements they need. Todays' experience has been the emotional tipping point for me. I have found myself overwhelmed by sorrow and all I want to do is hide in my room and never come out. But I know that's not possible. I'm trying my hardest, in these last few days of freedom, to make the most of it and enjoy myself. But I cant. I feel like I have completely lost control of myself. I can't sleep properly; I haven't been able to sleep properly for a while but the difference is that now, once again, my dreams are haunted with cancer. I am stress eating like there's no tomorrow - ironically, once I get admitted on Friday, as far as eating is concerned, there probably will be no tomorrow. I don't know. I'm exhausted and I haven't even begun. Once again, I am reminded of when Jesus was in the garden of Gethsemane a short while before he was about to be handed over to face his death. In a small way, I feel like I share some of that pain; but there is hope. The hope is of deliverance. I don't feel very hopeful at the moment, but thats ok. I'm assuming Jesus didn't either in that moment. If it's good enough for Him, it's good enough for me.

The Final Countdown

It would seem that my time of freedom is fast drawing to a close. I have enjoyed my time out of hospital immensely and I am ignoring the fact that the countdown to the biggest challenge I am to face as of yet has begun. Up until yesterday, I was in blissful denial as to what was to come. Yesterday was my last day at church for quite a while and I think that's when my wall of denial started to crack. Today, the full realisation has hit me and once again I find myself in a state of anxiety as I pace up and down the house; much to the cats' confusion as she patiently follows me around the house waiting to find my resting place.

I go in for the bone marrow transplant this Friday (19th July). When I go in, they will start a week long intermittent diet of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. The purpose of this pre-treatment phase is to kill off all my existing bone marrow so that the stem cells in the transplant can graft on and develop into new bone marrow. I will receive the actual transplant the following week, the 26th July. Receiving the transplant itself is pretty uneventful, it is just like having a blood transfusion. After that, I will spend the rest of the time in recovery. This is the period of time that is the most dangerous which is when I will get infections. There are many complications that could happen during this time of recovery, the main and most likely one being graft versus host disease. Since, through the transplant, I am effectively receiving a whole new immune system, my new immune system may detect my body cells as foreign and start attacking everything in my body. In a way it is the opposite process to an organ transplant - instead of your body rejecting the transplanted organ, in my case, my transplant, which is my immune system can reject my body. 

I will be in hospital for a total of six weeks. I will be in isolation for that whole time which means that I wont be able to leave my room. To reduce the risk of infection, I am only allowed two visitors for that whole time; they are allowed to visit every day but it has to be the same two people. Unfortunately, I may not have internet or phone signal due to the impenetrable fortress design that is the Bexley Wing. So it is likely that i'm not going to be able to communicate to the outside world in the normal way, but I am currently figuring out ways around this and hopefully I will be able to keep you updated through the blog. After I leave hospital, it is highly likely that I will be very weak and still unable to see lots of people. The total recovery period after the transplant is six months, so there is a long journey ahead.

For those of you who would normally visit me but now can't, there will be a box in the foyer of church where you, if you would like to, can put any cards/letters/gifts etc in and one of my two designated visitors will bring them to me in the hospital. For those of you who are further away, you can either send post to the hospital, address below and please note that I am on a different ward to before, or to my postal address which I can give you upon request.

Stari Gunarathne

Ward J89

Bexley Wing

St James Hospital

Leeds

LS9 7TF

So I guess that's all there is to say really. I am terrified but all I can do is hope. I choose to hope.

  

Healing

Do I believe in the healing power of God today? Yes. Have I ever been instantaneously healed? No. Have I seen other people been healed in an instant? Yes. Does God heal everyone? No. Does that mean that He is not good? No. One of the questions that I have had to battle with through this episode of cancer is why doesn't God just heal me and make the pain go away? Is it me? Do I not have enough faith? Is He angry with me? 

Just before I was diagnosed back in January, I, and many others, prayed fervently that God would heal me instantaneously so that I didn't have to travel down this torturous road. But, as we know, the answer was a big fat no. It has taken me a while to gain peace about this issue. When I got the diagnosis, I was suddenly confronted with many questions about God's nature and why He allows suffering. But here's the truth; all the pain and suffering in this world is not His fault and is not of His doing. This is not the way that God intended His creation to be. When sin entered the world, through our rebellion against God, it tarnished and set out to destroy God's perfect world. God grieves over this more than we can ever imagine. But, there is hope. He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to this earth as a human to conquer satan, his servants, his works and effects, which He did on the cross. This has profound implications. It means that because satan has been defeated, God's creation is no longer damned for eternity. When Jesus comes back, we know not when, then satan will be thrown into Hell where he will suffer for eternity. At that time, God will restore creation back to its perfect state and those who follow Jesus will live with Him for eternity where there will be no more pain and suffering.

That's all very well, but why didn't God heal me? Well, in actual fact, He is healing me. All healing is miraculous, the time scale is irrelevant. Healing through medicine is just as God given as healing instantaneously. It is only now that I have started to understand why God has chosen this path for me. The work that God has done in my life and in those around me through cancer is incomparable. That does not mean to say that God made me get cancer, rather, He will turn something horrid into something beautiful, not allowing the suffering to go to waste. I am a completely different person to what I was six months ago, and it is definitely for the better. 

I have often asked why I had to go through the pain in order to be changed. I don't have a satisfactory answer to that, but there is one thing I've noticed. I can tell people about the lessons I've learnt the hard way but out of the masses that hear my words, it is in only a very few that those words sink into their hearts and produce a lasting transformation in their lives. In most people, it makes them think for a little while, but then it fades into the background and becomes something theoretical. Theory does not produce transformation. It is theory applied to the heart through the knowledge of God's love that produces transformation; it is a transformation that will withstand the test of time and trial. If at all possible, open your heart to what you hear. I would highly recommend learning from the lessons of others rather than going through them yourself. 

In this life, all healing is temporary because at some point, we will all die. But there will come a time when Jesus will wipe away every tear from our eyes. That is the day that I long for, but until that day comes, I will live my life for Jesus and doing the works that He has set out for me to do in the hope that when I see Him face to face, He will say, well done, good and faithful servant. It is then, that I will be home.

A Collection Of Reflections

While I am out of hospital, and also when I am in I guess, I am completely dependant on other people; a pill that has be quite a challenge to swallow. I have always valued my independance, knowing that I didn't have to burden anyone else with my needs, but the tables have turned and I have gone from one extreme to the other. The sacrificial love and care that I have, and continue, to receive from those around me is overwhelming and unparalleled; I would be well and truly stuffed if it wasn't for them. I will never be able to pay back the generosity that I have been given nor can I sufficiently convey how grateful I am. But receiving has been a hard lesson for me to learn. If I'm honest, I still find it hard and uncomfortable, but I have come to discover something about myself. I think pride lies at the heart of the issue. I think it is my pride that stops me from receiving; I guess, when it comes down to it,  I don't want to appear incompetent or incapable. Maybe I'm scared that if I were to let people in, they would see who I truly am and see me for the fragile fraud that I really am. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, I'm speculating. The truth is, I have never been independent, even though I have fooled myself into believing it to be so. I have always needed people, be it family or friends. Moreover, I have always needed God. I can't do this by myself. My proud psyche of self sustaining capability is the reason why I have found it difficult to receive, accept and submit to God. I don't know how to fix that, but I'm positive that if I tell God about it, not that He doesn't already know, He will do something about it and change my heart; that's my prayer anyway.

Receiving has not been the only challenge for me; being completely reliant has been just as grueling. I'm not the sort of person who would choose a backpacker holiday moving from place to place, but as it happens, in some small way, I think I'm experiencing it while being back on the outside. While I'm out of hospital, I can't care for myself, which also means I can't live on my own. So far, I have been housed and looked after by three different families. It has been a great blessing to be able to live with them for a short while. Even though I know I will never be out on the street, it is disconcerting not knowing where I will be going next. I was thinking about this the other day and a passage from the bible came to mind. Jesus was sending his disciples out into the surrounding towns and villages and he told them that they were not to take any supplies with them, not even an extra shirt, and they were to rest in the houses of those villagers who would offer. Well, I have two(ish) suitcases and I know the people who I'm staying with, so I'm already in a much better position than the disciples, but I think I can relate to how it must of felt for them not knowing where they were going to rest their head. But what it is teaching me is total reliance on God and trust in those whom He has provided for me.

I don't know why or how these things I think about come to me. I don't purposefully set out to think about my flaws and failings even though many of my blog posts would suggest I do. I know it must seem like I spend most of my time being morose, but it is not the case. Most of the time, when I am with people , I do genuinely feel happy and for a short while I get to forget about my life; for me, it is a welcomed distraction. It is when I'm alone, mostly at night, that I have no choice but to face up to the war raging within me. I do wonder at times if it is healthy to use distractions to escape the pain. I guess it depends on the nature of the distractions. But ultimately, at some point, the emotions will need to be accepted otherwise they will manifest in different and more subtle ways. I noticed this a few days ago. I found myself, getting extremely angry and jealous of the apparent ease of other peoples lives. Although I know that everyone has their own struggles to face and although I would never wish for the lives of others to be filled with hardship, I find myself seething. Seething at the fact that I just don't seem to be able to catch a break. I find myself asking the unhelpful question of Why does this have to happen to me? It is unhelpful because there is no answer. It is unhelpful because it is the wrong question. The question I should be asking is... Well, I haven't figured that out yet, but when I do, I shall let you know.

So there you have it, my collection of reflections. There is some comfort though, even though my reflections are news to me, they are not new to God. He has always known me for who I actually am, warts and all, but still loves me not because He can change me into someone worth loving, but because He is who He is
.

End of Chapter Three

At long last, the end has arrived; I get to leave hospital tomorrow for about five weeks. It is a strange feeling, I am so relieved at being able to leave, but at the same time there is a part of me that is scared about being back on the outside. It is a completely different life in the real world and it will take me time again to find my feet and adapt. As I am back and forth between hospital and the outside frequently, I find adapting to these environments quite exhausting and emotionally draining. I always tend to overestimate my energy levels when I'm on the outside, maybe this time I will get it right, well, at least for some of the time. So it is a bit of a rollercoaster, but still, I am absolutely elated that I'm getting out of here.  

So what's next? Well, I had this amazing idea, that since I have a good while off, I would go on holiday out of the country. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do in my head. But my plan was foiled when I was told that I would still have to come into hospital once a week for bloods. Grr. Plus, I will probably have a few clinic appointments dotted about to make sure everything is ok, and to make sure I hadn't been "irresponsible" and done something like leaving the country I suppose. I'm sure there's a conspiracy to keep me to keep me on a leash. When my five weeks are up, I will be back into hospital for the dreaded bone marrow transplant. It has been provisionally been booked for the 17th July but things can change. They have a potential match for me, but nothing will be definite until the very last moment.

That's all folks, signing out!

The Time Between The Times

The last few days, even though they have been dreadfully painful, have brought desperately needed healing to my soul and clarity of mind. I feel like my life currently depicts a microcosm of the time between the times. I am in a state of suspension, as it were, knowing that the end of this saga will eventually arrive but not knowing when. Likewise, on a larger scale, I know that one day, there will be no more pain, suffering or death, but I know not when. 

My current affliction has challenged how I live. It has forced me into a state of waiting which, as it happens, I greatly dislike. There is a temptation to wish away this time between the times until it is over so I can get on with my life, but this is a season to be grasped by both hands. Through this season, God is teaching me how to be completely reliant on Him; this is something that I have never been able to do. In this season, nothing is in my control and nothing is for certain. But, when you think about it, it is also very true of life on the outside. The only way I can get through this is to trust that God will look after me each day. By no means does this mean to say that I may take liberties and do nothing. What it means is that, while I am learning to wait, I learn to prayerfully consider my next steps before taking them. This is certainly not my default position; I'm more of an act first think later kinda gal which is fraught with disasters waiting to happen. 

I am still very much a novice at this discipline, but I know now how to live in the time between the times, regardless of the scale. Wait. Pray. Act.

In The Heart

My pain is real and my heart is hurting, but this I know with all my heart, mind and soul - my God, my Saviour Jesus Christ is real, is tangible, is true and has overcome all pain suffering and death. This is the paradoxical truth. I asked many "Why" questions in my last post Behind The Smile, but it is not the final word. My heart is suffering, but at the same time I have found peace. Not a superficial "feeling" type of peace, but one that holds me firm, one that anchors me in the storm.

When I had cancer three years ago, I often told God that He didn't love me because He was allowing me to suffer in such a horrific way. There is a difference this time round. I know God loves me, not because of what happens in my life but because of what He did for me when He was on the cross. Jesus went through all the pain that I went through and much more because He loves me. He felt the sting and still bares the scars. As He hung there being crucified, mocked and hated, there was love in His eyes and forgiveness in His heart. He didn't have to go through what He; He chose to because He loves me. This is why, when my life crumbles I run towards Him and not away from Him, because He is the only one that not only understands, but has and will overcome this broken world.

Jesus has painted a great canvas and the cross is the centerpiece. At some point, all of us will arrive at that crossroad. Trouble will come, I know this well, but God is good - it is the great paradox. Following Jesus does not mean that you avoid trouble, but it means that when trouble comes as it will for all people, there is  an ever present anchor that will never fail.

My suffering and pain, beit in cancer or otherwise, does not have the final word because it has been overcome. The final word is in my heart and His name is Jesus.

Behind The Smile

A smile is a versatile facial expression. It can be used to express happiness, joy, comedy and love; but equally, it can express or cover up disgust, hate and sadness. People tell me that I smile a lot. A little girl once said that it would be really hard to tell if I was actually sad because I would still smile. She is right. Most of the time, no one knows that I'm hurting, no one sees the pain; my smile is my mask.

Behind the smile is a desperate sadness, it is a pain that cannot be put into words. I am left with this feeling and I don't know where it has come from or what to do about it. It seems to have a protective mechanism; when threatened with exposure; the pain, like a puppeteer, contorts my face into a smile to combat the vulnerability that is attempting to take control.

I hate my life. I hate what has happened to me and what continues to happen to me. Why must I carry on? Why do I have to do as I'm told? Why do I have to continue to fight? And for what? What good does it do for me? What do I gain apart from more scars? Be positive, I'm told. What other option do you have, I'm asked. I am suffocated by my struggles and all I want to do is scream. This is as honest as I can be about how I'm feeling at the moment. But there are no answers that will take this burden away from me.

I write this with tears streaming down my face. I knew that this eruption was fast approaching. I could feel it gathering momentum over the last few weeks but especially the last couple of days. I tried my best to stop it from surfacing but it is cunning and chose to manifest itself in other ways. Irritation, trouble sleeping, non compliance, and the feeling of a constant lump in my throat were just a few of the signs. I tried to get ahead of the game and resolve the issue before it dissolved me. I tried to give myself space, because that normally works, by escaping off the ward last night so that I could remember what it was like to be free but unfortunately, I was spotted, twice, so had to return. Next time, I must take a mask. I wanted to keep walking, never to return, but there would be nowhere to go without being immediately being frog marched back to hospital. I know what I did was reckless and I know I shouldn't have put my physical health at risk like that, but I was desperate, I wanted to be me again. I have no control over anything in my life and trying to regain it is futile, as I have found out.

I guess this had to happen. I guess, at some point, I had to grieve over the pain and the loss. This is the pattern; once the immediate physical threat has subsided or kept at bay, I unconsciously start to deal with the emotional baggage until it surfaces to the conscious. It guess it is probably better to deal with one onslaught at a time, maybe I should be grateful.

This time, I have no epiphany, no hope inspiring words of encouragement. Just grief. But it is grief that is necessary for healing. This is part of the storm. I've know what's behind the smile and now you do too. Maybe it is the first step to knowing comfort.

In Loving Memory

This entry is dedicated to Aaron and all those who love him. May your soul rest in peace.

Dear Aaron,

Even though my words will disappear into the ether, I write them in memory of you. I did not know you well, I have only spoken to you a couple of times on the ward, but I want you to know that you were in my thoughts and prayers. When you came into hospital a little while ago, I guess you knew that you wouldn't be coming back out. I don't know what it is like to know that your time is running out rapidly; to have your life taken by cancer so young. I don't know how you coped or how you felt, but I prayed that you find peace, I hope that came true. It is clear that you are loved dearly and you will be missed sorely. The pain that those closest to you are going through is unimaginable but I hope that they can find comfort in knowing that you are no longer suffering. May all those who read this letter to you keep your loved ones in their thoughts and prayers.

We miss you but maybe we shall meet again.

All My Love,

Your Comrade In The Fight Against Cancer

Straight To The Point

Just thought that you would like to know that the clot that was in my heart has now gone and my heart is healthy again! Thank God!

The Shadows

Today I find myself at the pinnacle of confusion. If I were to describe my last week in one word it would be ambiguous. Blurred would suffice too, I have had this feeling lingering in me, over me and around me; I am unable to pin it down. I can't really describe it; the closest description would be a deep pit of melancholic quality that confuses and clouds judgment; a fog, perhaps. Irritable. Unsettled. Scared. Everything inside me is telling me to run, but this prison is an impenetrable fortress. I find myself thinking about what life could have been, wanting what life could have been. I lose myself in thoughts of a kinder life, a fairy tale if you will. But fairy tale endings don't exist. Is there an eject button? To be honest, I would settle for a skip button. I have come to far to turn back but the path that lies ahead holds unspeakable horrors. Why must I travel forward? Surely there must be another way. I have entered the wilderness where dreams die and nightmares prevail. It is like I have suddenly awoke to find myself lost. In some way, I guess this was inevitable. At some point, my fears would catch up with me and I would be faced with two choices, destroy or be destroyed. But I am not ready. I am not strong enough to fight this fight. 

Others marvel at my positivity and outlook, but the truth is bleak. The truth is that my light is fading. I feel a small part of me die day by day. I have masked it thus far; now it has surfaced. Yet, I shall not yield to this soul destroying monster. But, I am fighting an invisible enemy. I can not tell you for sure what has awoken this monster; there has been no defining event, no sudden attack. It lives in the shadows. It's nature unknown but its effects powerful. 

The key to fighting an enemy is to know its weakness. It would transpire, that in order to take a shadow captive, the weapon of choice is Light. Shine light on a shadow and not only does the shadow disappear, but culprit is exposed; more often than not, it is exposed as a miniturette, a fraction of the size of its shadow. What is my shadow? I can only offer a suggestion. I think my shadow goes by the name of Responsibility. But not the responsibility that is rightly mine, but the responsibility that I have imposed on myself. Being a patient has been a huge challenge for me. All my interactions and roles have been blurred and my boundaries have been breached. I am in an environment where I am constantly switching between roles of patient, colleague, friend, counsellor, motivator and empathiser. It is this that has been secretly siphoning away my livelihood. I don't know why but I feel responsible for the people that I interact with. I feel like I have a duty of care to them in whatever shape or form that it may take. There is something deep inside of me that passionately compels me to be a friend to the friendless, to laugh when they life and cry when they cry, be it with a patient, friend or colleague. 

The truth is that this is not my responsibility, but it is my heart. The effects on my own well being would be completely different if I wasn't a patient. This is something that I forget, or maybe ignore. I hate being a patient because for me, it has connotations of being a victim and of being useless. There is a deep seated drive inside of me that urges me to always be useful, to always fight, fight even to death. The role of patient is in complete contradiction to who my mentality says I am. But I am wrong. Every soldier needs time off the battlefield to be ministered to, to recover from the wounds sustained. Whether I am currently on the battlefield or in the army hospital is debatable. But one thing is for sure, there are times

when I need to be sure that I have taken myself off the battlefield and allow myself to recover be it physically or emotionally.

The lesson has been learned and the shadow has been taken captive. The Enemy has been defeated; all it took was a little Light.

People

People. They come in all shapes and sizes; a funny breed wouldn't you agree? But what is really interesting about this species is their personality. The age old argument of nurture vs nature is still relevant. But maybe the choices that are made, either for us or by us, shape personality; maybe who we are is a reflection of our choices. 

People watching is a fun past time of mine. Sitting by a window in a coffee shop and watching people going about their life interests me. What are they thinking? How are they feeling? Where are they going? It is possible to tell a lot about a person without even speaking to them, but it is when you converse with them that you find out if you were actually right. 

Being a patient in hospital can reveal much about, not only yourself, but others too. People from all walks of life, without exception, come through these doors every day. As an inpatient, it is a privilege, and a debatable

blessing, to be able to meet so many people. We all have different stories, we have all made different choices that has led us to this point were our lives will intersect for a little while. One phrase that is thrown about here is just be true to who you are. An interesting concept but unfortunately not incredibly helpful. For example, if who you are is confused and broken, should you then live your life being true to that? The truth is, we are all, myself included, are confused and broken. As I listened to the painful stories that made up a life, it dawned on me that there is no difference between the person talking to me and myself. But for some reason, we are on very different trajectories.

I think that this is a result of one single choice. It is a choice that was made that changed the direction of my life. There is no other reason why my life has not ended up like most of the stories I have heard apart from this one choice. I chose to let someone else make the choices for me. But not just anyone. I chose someone who will make the right choice every time; someone who always, without fail, will do what is best for me, even if it means enduring hardship for a little while. His name is Jesus and He is God. It is only now, when I look back at the journey I have travelled can I see where He has intervened and where He has made course correction adjustments. It is a hard thing to do, give up the driving seat, and it's always painful at the time; but I know I will never make another choice because I know God and I trust him which is more than I can say for myself.

Which Way To Go

Most of you will know that I have been wrestling with the decision regarding the bone marrow transplant. I have now made that decision. In light of my odds improving due to the cancer being in full remission, I have decided to go ahead with it. The whole process still scares me and the complications are very real and daunting, but sometimes, when the facts are confusing and the future unknown, you just need to go with your gut instinct. All I can do now is trust that God has prepared me for what lies ahead and will take me through it. What’s next? Well, they are still looking for a definite match; they have a potential match but they need to do further testing to confirm it as a definite match. If all things go according to plan it is likely that I will begin the transplant process in mid July.

But at least that’s that. However, there is another decision to be made, one that came out of the blue. I was told recently that there might be a way to preserve my fertility through egg harvesting. They process would take about two weeks. They would stimulate my ovaries with hormones so that it will produce about ten eggs. Just before they ovary is about to release the eggs, a needle will be inserted and the eggs will be collected. The eggs will then go through a freezing process and kept until they were needed. Later on, when I decided that I wanted to get pregnant, those eggs would be thawed and fertilised using IVF. The fertilised egg would then be placed back into my womb with the hope that it will implant into the uterine wall and continue on to full term.

Sounds good so far. Erm, not quite. The success rate for one egg going through this entire process and becoming a baby at the end of it is two percent. Since they take ten eggs, the total chance of success is twenty per cent. For me that was a deal breaker. I am not overly keen on IVF in any case, mainly because of the emotional price you pay when going through it, so case closed...or so I thought. Even though I would not opt for IVF now, how do I know I won't change my mind later down the line? How do I make a decision about a child that belongs not only to me but to somebody else when he is not there? Regardless of how I feel about IVF, the question still remains. Do I go for egg harvesting in the event that I change my mind later on?

As with any procedure there are risks associated with the egg harvesting procedure. If I were to have it done it would need to happen at the end of this cycle of chemotherapy and before the bone marrow transplant. But to be honest, my main concern is putting my body through unnecessary strain before a very harrowing procedure such as the bone marrow transplant. But am I being short sighted, selfish even? I don't think so, but how can I be sure? Later on down the line, if I look back at this choice and regret it, I need to be able to justify to myself why I made the decision that I did.

I'm not going to go for egg harvesting. There is only so much medical intervention my body can take. If I was starting off from a one hundred percent healthy position, then the outcome of my thoughts may have led to a very different ending. But the thing is, I love the concept of adoption and God has granted me peace with no regret. A child is a child and whether you love that child or not is governed by a choice, not genetics. Love, isn't

 that funny feeling in your stomach, nor is its purpose to make you feel better. What then is love? Love is patient in the face of stubbornness and kind when provoked. Love does not hold wrongdoings against you. Love is humble and rejoices when others succeed. Love is gladly serving those who hate you. Love is a protector of the truth and a warrior against the snares of destruction. Despite the bleak circumstances and in the face of adversity, love always protects, it always trusts, it always hopes, it always perseveres and above all, it never fails.

Love is a choice. The default emotion in any one of these situation would be anything but love. If this is what love is, then it sounds impossible to do. True. But there is one who has done it. There is one who has been in all these situations yet still chooses love. His name is Jesus and He is God. He is the one who enables us to love in the way that He loves us. I have been adopted and am loved by the King. It is because of this that I will choose to love whichever child that may be entrusted to my care in whatever way because love never fails.

Chapter Three

Or maybe I should entitle this post "Chemo On The Rocks". Can't quite decide. The start of this cycle brought me crashing down to earth from my happy cloud of denial with a snap crackle and pop. Allow me to explain. I came back into to hospital, after a wonderful two and a half week break, on Thursday 16th May. I had my Hickman line put in that day, and I have to say that out of all the line procedures I've had done, that one was definitely, pardon the pun if you will, a cut above the rest. But the success of that was to be short lived. I started chemotherapy the next day, fully expecting it to go smoothly, without properly preparing myself for what was to come. In my mind, I was still in holiday mode. Alas! The sound of shattered dreams was all that remained. I had a reaction to the chemotherapy which was similar to the encephalitis I had back in cycle one. The symptoms were more or less the same although the intensity was thankfully significantly less. Needless to say I was quite ill and not a happy bunny. On top of that, they are also treating me for an infection. They are not entirely sure what it is, or if indeed I do have one, but my body seems to be responding to the treatment. I've had some time to recover, so I'm more of a happy bunny but still not a bouncy one.

I haven't had another dose of chemotherapy since Friday, but they have decided to restart the whole regime  again tomorrow at a lower dose. I really hope my body can tolerate it this time; if not me and the docs will be having some words! As always, will keep you posted!

Turning Point

Could it be? Have I spoke too soon? Could this really be the turning point? Well, to be honest, I think that it is a mini turning point or maybe it is the equivalent to turning in deep thick mud as oppose to smooth ice. So. Some good news and some bad news. Let start with the bad news first shall we. There is something wrong with my eye. The docs think there is some sort of inflammatory process going on. It's not really affecting my vision, so that's good. The silver lining to this episode is that they want to let my eye settle down before starting anymore treatment which means I will definitely have this coming week off out of hospital and may even have the week after that - in total, I'm guaranteed to have two weeks off but may have three. 

And now for the good news. In my lasts posts I was talking about how the cancer is in remission in terms of when you look at it under the microscope but not in remission when you analyse my DNA. I had the results of my bone marrow biopsy today and it shows that I'm in total remission in both categories! I can't tell you how relieved I am to here that. I sort of still can't believe it, part of me worries that they have got the wrong patient! So this changes everything. It changes how I view the decision on the bone marrow transplant. I am now leaning more towards having the transplant; I know I will be accepting all sorts of horrible risks, but at least the risk of me dying has significantly dropped.

So there we have it. A turning point.

The End Of Chapter Two

The end of this chapter could not be more welcome. It was a surprise, a brilliant one at that, when I was told that I will be able to leave the hospital tomorrow. Originally, due to the intense antibiotic regime, it was looking like I would not be able to have a break from the hospital at all and they would just start cycle three when they were ready to. But now I get a break, probably for a week; could be slightly more. I still have to come back to the hospital everyday though to have IV antibiotics but at least it is just once a day as oppose to six.

What a ride. When I leave tomorrow, I will have been in here for fifty days exactly; a new record for me but one I have no intention of breaking. What started off as being an uneventful non interventional cycle turned into one big mess. Funny how the winds can change like that. When I look back on the events of the last fifty days it feels like a dream; it feels like someone elses life. I can't believe I endured what I did, but that in itself is a testimony to God's providence and strength; without Him, I am nothing. There has been great pain in this cycle, both physical and emotional, with hard choices still to be made. Oddly, I have peace about it; a peace that sinks deep into my soul. In a strange way, what has happened has become normalised and I don't feel devastated or destroyed. I now know that the darkest times are yet to come, but for now I shall live to find the diamonds of joy that each day brings. God has brought me through this far and I have no reason to believe that He won't continue to drag me through, albeit kicking and screaming, what is to come. If there is one thing I've learned this cycle, it is that no matter how desperate life gets, it is God who is in control. What is more, the safest place to be is under His wing so that is where I will stay.

The Real Rock And The Hard Place

I wrote this post on Wednesday 24th April - just like the last post, I needed some time and space before I shared this part of my journey with you

So it would seem that being infertile was the least of my problems. I have just had my appointment to discuss a bone marrow transplant. They are looking at giving me cells from umbilical cord blood and there is a potential match available. Good news over. I didn't realise how harrowing the process was going to be. The actual transplant itself isn't bad, it is just like a blood transfusion, it is just everything else. The purpose of the transplant is to give me a whole new immune system. A week before they give the transplant, they will give me a week of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. The purpose of this is to give the transplant the best chance of adhering to my bone marrow. After they having given the transplant, I will be incredibly vulnerable to infections, more so than I am now, and it is for this reason that I will be kept in isolation for a month. It is highly likely that I will get infections during this time, which will have to be treated aggressively. Other likely side effects include vomiting and diarrhoea, and the transplant rejecting my body - because I am getting a whole new immune system, this immune system could decide my body is foreign and it will then attack all my organs. As well as the risk of other cancers developing, other long term side effects include, debilitating diarrhoea, recurrent infection, infertility and early menopause and relapse of the cancer.

Get ready for some statistics, there are some shockers:

Best Case Scenario

Chances of cure with transplant: 60%

Chances of cure without transplant: 30%

Chances of death during transplant: 20%

Worst Case Scenario

Chances of cure with transplant: 30%

Chances of death during transplant: 60%

I am currently in the worst case scenario category due to the complications I have such as the Infective Endocarditis. Sobering statistics aren't they. There is also a chance that I can relapse within the first three months of having a transplant. If this happens, it will mean that my condition is terminal. However, if I reach the two year mark without relapsing, it is unlikely that I will relapse with this particular cancer in the future. The hope is that, by the time it comes to having the transplant, I will be in the best case scenario category because my current complications would have resolved and hopefully the genetic abnormality that is causing the cancer would have gone.

So I don't really know what to do. I have a month to decide so I guess I need some time to think about it, and I need to see what happens with the results of the bone marrow biopsy and the infection. I was trying to think about what scares me most about this whole transplant process. There are lots of things, mainly the long term side effects. Dying during the transplant doesn't scare me, it is the effect that it will have on my family and friends that does. Even though I would hate to have chronic pain and disabilities, the thing that scares me the most is that I would become bitter as a result of it. I know that must sound strange, but I guess  what I've realised is that the thing that makes life bearable, whether you have life catastrophes or not, is joy. If it wasn't for knowing God, I would have no joy, I would be a bitter old hag. 

To be honest, I don't know what to do. I think that if my risks move more in line with best case scenario then I will have the transplant; if they stay the same as they are now then I won't take the transplant. But I am really unsure; all I can do is pray for clarity. The future seems very scary and the storm that I thought couldn't get any worse has risen to the challenge. I hope and pray that there will be a turning point, an end to this sickness in this lifetime. Even though my life seems like such a mess, I know God is looking after me. Whatever happens, I will trust Him.

Blood Is Thicker Than Water

I wrote this post on Monday 22nd April - just needed some time and space before I shared this with you.

I can't have children. Words cannot describe how this feels, it is like being kicked in the stomach; devastating does not suffice. They say you always have a choice; in my case it is a choice between a rock and a hard place. It is the bone marrow transplant that will make me infertile. Be careful what you wish for, a bone marrow transplant isn't looking so appealing right now. I was hoping that maybe I could take my chances and not have the transplant. If the cancer came back, then I would go through chemotherapy again and then have the transplant. Unfortunately, I am told that if the cancer relapses, it will be significantly more aggressive and harder to treat. So if I have the transplant, then I will be infertile and run the additional risk of developing other cancers, but if I don't take the treatment I run the risk of this cancer relapsing and not being cured. A rock and a hard place.

Since the first cancer, it has always been in the back of my mind that I may not be able to have children, as I'm sure you've gathered from my previous posts, but I did always hope. I have friends who can't have children either but I never understood what that felt like, I couldn't emotionally go there. I absolutely adore children and have always wanted to be a mum. There is so much going through my head; most of which I know is not true but the pain is still felt in my heart. The thought of not being able to carry my own child is grievous. It is not only the fact that I won't be able to have children, it's knowing that my husband won't be able to either. I know this is not true, but it somehow feels like my fault. Does this make me less of a female? I know the answer is no but the thought of going into early menopause and having to take hormone replacement therapy for the next thirty odd years feels like my femininity is being robbed. 

I've always liked the concept of adoption and I think it's because it is incredibly biblical. When you are a Christian you have been chosen to be adopted into the family of God and you become His son or daughter; you have all the same rights, and responsibilities I should add, of a child of natural decent. An adopted child of God is not born to God in blood, as in a natural birth with a mother, but we have been bought by blood. In order that we could become children of God, Jesus had to die on the cross, thereby shedding His blood, so that we could be purchased from the jaws of eternal death. In a similar way, if one day, I have the privilege of adopting a child, that child would have been chosen by us to be our child. That child, who started life by being rejected for whatever reason, will be redeemed and forevermore know a life of love. It is true that my child would not have been born of my blood, but that doesn't make him or her any less of my child or any less loved and wanted. The beautiful thing is, when you are adopted, there is no difference between blood and water.

It'll Be Alright On The Night

"And you must always remember there's one good thing about being trapped down here: It'll save funeral expenses." Puddleglum The Marshwiggle

For those of you who have read The Chronicles of Narnia, you would have already become acquainted with this delightful and hope inspiring character Puddleglum from The Silver Chair. He is known for his spectacular ability to fixate on the worse case scenario while putting a crass positive spin on it which has the effect of making the situation seem even more hopeless. 

I've been thinking about the concept of worst case scenarios recently and I have come to the conclusion that such a thing does not exist. Why? It is because no matter how big the disaster you encounter or can conjure up in your mind, it could always be worse. I have to admit, that the worst case scenario often springs to mind when I am faced with a hard situation.  Granted, not every disaster I have thought about has come true, but quite a few significant ones have. 

When I am faced with a new symptom of unknown diagnosis, I automatically run through a list of possible diagnosis it could be. It is just how I'm wired. I don't think it is wrong nor do I think it is harmful. I would like to suggest that the harm is in fixating on the outcome be it good or bad. You can't control the thoughts that come to mind but you can control what you do with them. There is a difference between accepting that something is wrong and then grieving, and being overcome by it. When I was told that I had an infection and I was told what bacteria was grown, Infective Endocarditis automatically made it onto my list of differential diagnosis even before the doctor discussed it with me. It was a pretty big blow even before the official diagnosis. I did hope and pray that it was not, but my prayers would always end with an acknowledgment that God is in control and He will make everything alright. But that did not mean I was expecting Him to take away the current suffering, it meant that the outcome of my current situation isn't the issue. He makes everything alright by giving me the faith, strength, peace and grace to cope with whatever comes my way. The problem with setting your hopes on a positive outcome is that it is not grounded, it is false hope. The problem with convincing yourself that the outcome is negative is that you will be miserable and will become bitter. Trying to convince myself that the outcome will be positive is just as futile as convincing myself that the outcome will be negative because the future is unknown to me.

The cancers that my body has had to endure along with its complications is likely to have long lasting effects. There is no organ of my body that will not be effected either in the short term or long term. I have played through the scenario in my head of what it would be like if a major complication were to occur, say for example, not being able to have children, and it hurts. The truth is that this could happen. I don't know what the outcome will be. But there is one thing I do know. God always has my best interests at heart because He is a loving father. When I chose to follow Him, I gave Him my life. Often, I have cried to Him and asked Him how much more will He take from me? But when I think about the sacrifice He made and the price He paid so that I could have a relationship with Him, that storm in my heart is calmed as I realise that giving my whole life over to God and allowing Him to do what He will with it will never come close to the sacrifice He made for me. That is how He makes everything alright. This is where the peace lies. When we entrust our hopes and dreams to the One who loves us more than words can describe, we find peace because the trust in God as a loving Father who always works for the good of His children trumps everything else.

The phrase It'll Be Alright On The Night is interesting because it assumes that hardship and disasters will occur right up to the dress rehearsal. But ultimately, when the curtains rise and the show is performed for real, things will go well. Life is the disastrous rehearsals, but when it comes to show time, when we meet our Maker, it will be alright on the night.

Called To Be Single?

It feels like I'm taking a huge risk in writing this, but then again what's there to lose? It's not like I'm pouring my heart out to hundreds of people across the world. I had an interesting conversation yesterday that has sparked these thoughts. I was talking to a christian lady about being single; she had a very compelling story to tell. She has taken temporary vows to be single. Now, I have never heard of this before, so after enquiring she told me that it was an intermediate vow you took to committing to be single, before you made the final vow later; this is to give you time to test and make sure you have been called by God to be single. I guess you could liken it to the difference between getting engaged and getting married. 

She told me how when she was younger she desperately wanted to be married but nothing seemed to happen. Eventually she got to a point when she started to re-evaluate the concept of answered prayer. God always answers prayer; the answer is always yes, no or later. Often we only think that God has answered our prayer when the answer is yes. But maybe we would subject ourselves to significantly less grief if we accepted the answers of  no or later. Eventually she got to the point where she could ask the question "Has God called me to be single?" and now she is in the process of seriously testing this call.

There were a few things in her story that resonated with my and quite a lot that just put fear into my heart. I don't want to remain single and the thought of it scares me. I remember a few years ago, genuinely saying to God that if He wanted me to be single for the rest of my life then so be it. After I had given that over to God I felt a sense of joy. I look back at that event and kick myself; what if God actually does take me up on that offer, what have I done! But when I reflect on that event further I remember that my motivation and subsequent joy arose from my desire of wanting to submit everything in my life to God; even the most important things to me. I have often prayed to God that if He would call me to a life of singleness that He would give me peace about it and enable me to follow that path. I have not received that peace and so I have always taken this to mean that the answer is later. But then, maybe I am just trying to find a loophole,  maybe what happened all those years ago was a glimpse of what is to come. Only time will tell.

I do often try to figure out why I am single and I know that many of my single female friends have the same thoughts. The first thought is that is there something wrong with me. The next thought is am I being too fussy? After that, my mind wanders and thinks do I need to go somewhere where I am more likely to meet someone? The final thought that goes through my head is am I supposed to be single? I normally counteract all these thoughts by telling myself that what will happen will happen according to God's will; but it does feel like a bit of a cop out.

There is a possibility that I'm refusing to listen to an answer of no, but I don't feel I'm called to be single. I do desire to be a wife and a mother but the hope of that coming to pass is fading especially given my current circumstance. People say to me that I will get out of hospital and this will be over eventually but do I really know that for sure? I don't know what lies around the corner; I don't know how long I'm going to be in hospital for. I used to think that at least I will get a couple of weeks out between cycles but given the recent infection, I'm likely to miss my window out. But even when I do get out, I find it almost impossible to have a proper deep and meaningful conversation with anyone because there are so many people I want to talk to.

Singleness is often despised and mocked, but the truth is that being single is no less meaningful than being married. Taking a vow of singleness is just as binding as a vow of marriage. I don't know if the answer to my question is no or later but I can only pray for the courage to ask the question and be ready to accept the answer. It's not going to happen overnight, but I trust God to handle me with care and give me the faith and peace that I need for whatever lies ahead.

One Way Street

Give and take. It is a well established and accepted partnership. If you give to others in whatever capacity, then it is deemed acceptable to take or receive; you've earned it. Taking, without its counterpart, is frowned upon; however giving selflessly is praised and regarded as sacrificial. Giving and taking is supposed to be a two way street. 

I've always struggled with this concept practically. From a very young age I assumed the role of the Giver. I enjoy giving and meeting other peoples needs; I guess knowing that I have done something good to help someone else gives me a sense of purpose and maybe makes me think that I'm not such a bad person. I find it hard to accept help or gifts from others. When I have received from others it has always been accompanied by as sense of guilt and a need to pay them back somehow. When I really need help and have no option but to accept, part of me feels like I've failed. I have always been fiercely independent, priding myself on my ability to cope with the curve balls of life on my own. I guess I didn't truly trust anyone to help me; at some point people will always fail you and that wasn't a risk I could afford to take. I think in a way, I had also adopted a mentality of survival of  the fittest; if I couldn't deal with a situation then I had lost the game.

This mentality is posing a problem for my current situation. There is no way I can go through cancer on my own. I am limited physically making practical issues a challenge such as washing and dressing, walking, getting food etc. I find it difficult, even when I'm in hospital to ask for help; I dislike having to ask the nurses to get things for me when I can't manage myself. I have been overwhelmed by the support, care and encouragement I have received from those around me. There is no way I can pay back such kindness and generosity and the words "Thank You" are so pitifully inadequate in expressing my gratitude. 

Sometimes I think it is easier to receive from God than it is from people. I think it's because I can't physically see God or maybe I don't fully appreciate the gifts that He gives. But when I think about it more deeply, I catch myself trying to pay God back by maybe doing good things; as if that would stop me being indebted to Him. But the truth is, there is nothing I can give to God that isn't already His. I can't earn His love nor can I pay God back for dying on the cross for me so that I can have a relationship with Him. For someone who likes to give in return, this is mind blowing. All I can do is to take, to receive and in gratefulness, honour him. 

Travelling on the One Way Street of receiving is hard because it requires me to be humble, acknowledge my need for help and relinquish my false sense of super woman independence. I am learning this lesson slowly, very slowly, but it is an important lesson to learn. Giving is important, not in order to pay back, but in order to reflect God's endless generosity and loving heart. When we give like God gives we share a piece of His heart and we find joy and freedom.