2011 July 11: An Old Email Letter Found

2011 July 11



[This is an email letter I sent to friends back when I was first suspected of having bladder cancer. I recently found it buried among other things in my documents folder. It made me wonder who this person was, because I don't feel I have this level of faith and trust at the moment.]

Feb 22 2008

Dear family, friends and wonderful intercessory pray-ers,

This is just a note to let you all know that everything went well on

Friday with the surgical removal of the bladder tumor that was only just found last Monday.  

I am feeling pretty good, and only have some pain (which is relieved

with extra strength Tylenol) upon urination. I am keeping well hydrated, which will help the healing process.  The tumor will be biopsied and results should be available in 5 working days. I will let you know what happens when I know.  For right now, I am at peace, because God has me in His hands and I am ever so aware of His presence.

Throughout this whirlwind week, things have happened that I know to be 

Providential. The discovery of the bladder tumor during the course of

an examination for something completely unrelated...the availability of

both the appointment with the urologist AND the surgical time, due to

cancellations by other patients...especially considering that the urologist was booked through mid-March...the presence of  people in my path to testify personally about the nature of this type of cancer (if it turns out to be cancer).  There are no coincidences, only God incidences.

The doctor said candidly that this type of tumor is cancerous in 80% of

cases.  Well, that means it's NOT cancer in 20%, right? I'm hanging onto that!  But, the Doctor and some of those 'others' who passed through my life this week, also said in not so many words, that if you have to get cancer, this is the one to have, because it is generally a contained type which does not spread.  So, either way you look at it, it's good news.

There are so many things for which I am grateful. The love and kindness

shown to me has been a wonder. I am blessed to have such support.  From my dear brother who was the first to see me immediately after the urology appointment when I was scared and approaching a meltdown, to Raymond who has been my rock, to my wonderful friend and SIL, Barb, who took the day off work, took me to the hospital and then kept Raymond company during the procedure, to all my praying friends and cyber pals.  God has blessed me with an incredible support system!  

As a good friend said just the other day, "If God brings you to it,

He'll bring you through it". To that I say, "Amen!" 

The graciousness of my employer in the midst of this situation is also a blessing.  This has created havoc in her life, yet she made phone calls on my behalf to ask for prayers. 

The week before all this began, we had one of the most relaxing, wonderful and enjoyable vacations EVER, in the 4WD area of Currituck County, North Carolina.  That was definitely a gift from God. He was lying the ground work of peace and comfort, of learning to rest in Him that I would need so desperately during this week just past. 

Praise God with me!  He is good all the time. He is in control all the time. We have His promise that He is with us always (Matt 28:20).  Never have I been more sure of that promise than during these last two weeks.

In Gratitude for His Peace,

JeanMarie

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[Followed by this email one week later]

2008 Feb 29 More on Bladder Cancer

Dear friends,

The biopsy report came back positive for cancer.  However, it was low stage, low grade and contained: all excellent news! In addition, the tumor was growing out & up, which means it didn't infiltrate surrounding tissue. I have a CT scan scheduled for 3/7, a post op Dr's visit ion 3/18, and barring anything as yet undiscovered, I will see the urologist every three months for the next two years. It's all good!


On 3/5 I have a gynecologic appointment to address issues that lead me to have the original ultrasound that found the bladder tumor.  Hopefully all will go well with that appointment, as well.  After talking to both my PCP & Urologist and asking the questions that I awoke in the middle of the night mulling over, I fell very sure that the two problems are completely unrelated.  Since they both revolved around abnormal cell growth, I had many questions.  I thank God that I have a long-term relationship with my PCP and feel comfortable asking her anything, even those questions which may seem insipid, or unnecessary.  Plus, there is a comfort in the fact that she knows me & my husband and sees us a whole, complete, entities, not just the sum of our "parts".


Thank you, all of you. It has been a great comfort to know that you have been praying me through this process.  I am blessed to have so many good friends and prayer partners.  I thank God for each and every one of you.


Apparently, if you must have cancer, this is the one to have.  Seriously, because it was low grade, low stage, and contained, it is extremely unlikely that I will need any further treatment.  The need to be followed closely is due to the good possibility that this type of tumor may re-grow.  However, by frequent visits to the urologist, any new growth can be spotted early and removed in his office, without further surgeries and anesthesia. 


Cancer has long been a dreaded fear of mine. My Mother died at age 49 from lung cancer.  I often thought that cancer would take me at a young age and spent a good portion of my 49th year living in dread. I have lost friends to the disease and have seen other friends and family plod through the diagnosis of "cancer" to come out the other side, scathed but alive.  I am no longer afraid of cancer.  This experience opened my eyes to what possibilities there are in living without fear, knowing that God is in control. 


Again, thanks to all of you and may God bless you.


Love,

JeanMarie

Shared Post

This started out as notes. I wasn't sure if the notes would be for a blog post on Mind Flotsam or on Me And Ray And A Dog Named Grey. In the end, I decided to simply post it as is, on both blogs. Yes, I am lazy :) But, the longer post I have been trying to work on for weeks detailing Daddy's illness, surgery, discovery of cancer, and our journey back to Pittsburgh, just doesn't seem to be coming together. So here is something, anyway. ~jm

2013 Apr 7 Notes for possible blog post

One of my Facebook friends is Jamie The Very Worst Missionary. I also subscribe to  her blog posts. Today her blog led me to the website of her church, Lakeside, in Folsom CA. That in turn led me to blog posts by the pastor. Which led me to sobbing at my table as I read about the pastor's Mom and her passing.

The posts were poignant and funny, to use the pastor's word: Bittersweet.

One reason I was so touched by the posts, is that my own Daddy is dying. And to quote Brad, "we're all dying, but this is different". Very different when it is someone you've loved all your life. 

Selfish: he's 87 I have friends who lost their Dads at much younger ages. I don't care! I want my Daddy! (I seem to fluctuate between the bossy former nurse, the oldest child organizing things, and the terrified eight year old. that exclamation came from the eight year old.)

Selfish again: he told the oncologist, "Doc, I've been around long enough" He seems to accept his mortality. I have trouble with that.

Selfish & guilty: well meaning friends ask if my Dad knows Jesus. My response has become: in a Catholic way. Cop out? Truth? I fear bringing up the topic of Jesus, redeemer and salvation, because I don't want to alienate my Daddy.  We are talking more than we ever have in all our years. Not just about sports & superficial stuff. For the first time, Daddy is sharing with me stories about his feelings, things he loved doing, his friends, his interactions with the parish priest, Fr Matthew Kebe, when Daddy was a teen & an adult, and lots of other personal insights. I do not want to approach him in any way that will close off this flow of  interaction. I fear if I say something about Jesus, he will shut down on me and all opportunities will be lost…

Trying to maintain trust in the Lord: perhaps I  am grasping at straws, but I see this mornings sequence of Jamie's post and where it led, as a sign that God has it all under control. I also saw that same sign in Daddy's sharing stories about Fr Kebe with me on Easter. 

(Partially because when I was having difficulty, many years ago, accepting my former pastor's declaration that he would not baptist me, my friend Martha shared something she had written regarding not re-baptising an adult who had been baptized as an infant. She sighted the work of the Holy Spirit, and how we can never really KNOW, which caused me to think about Fr Kebe. I had not thought of him, maybe ever!  Yet, after reading Martha's paper, he came to mind. And somehow, knowing what a godly man, priest, he was gave me peace that even if my parents were having me baptized at 3 weeks old out of Catholic convention, the faith and dedication of the priest bringing me before the Lord, and HIS connection through the Holy Spirit were enough to allow the Spirit to work in me.)

Anyway, I am trusting that through the same Holy Spirit, God will give me words when the time is right, to talk to my Daddy about the redemption offered to all through Jesus death and resurrection. Perhaps our shared remembrances of Fr Kebe will be the door that leads to that conversation...   

Where I Stand

It occurred to me this AM that not everyone who knows me knows of the life transforming event that took place several years ago.  What made me begin to ruminate on this was a casual comment by an internet friend in response to my comment that "God is good" and "Prayer is powerful".  I realized that her comment was not meant to inflame, nor to critisize, but it did cause me to discern a need to explain my faith, at least a little.

This is my story, in part.  Go back with me to springtime, 1994.

It was the Saturday before Easter and Raymond's parents and siblings, their spouses and children were gathering at his parent's home in Conneaut Lake, PA. Due to having no dogsitter available for Jake and Blue, the plan was for me to drive Raymond up and return home for a quiet weekend alone with the dogs. Raymond would get a ride home on Sunday afternoon from his brother. For loads of reasons, I was thrilled by this plan. Looking forward to quiet time and planning to attend an Easter sunrise service in the local park, I throughly enjoyed the ride home, singing along with the radio and anticipating peace and quiet.

On my way down Mairdale, a street that runs along a local park, I stopped to watch a herd of deer browsing and felt thankful to have happened upon the sight in the city! Maybe I could get used to living on the North Side. 

I spent an uneventful evening reading and playing with the dogs, who had lots of energy after being in the car for over 3 hours for the drive up to and back from the lake. I ate what I felt like eating, watched TV, and was generally thrilled with my plans for peace and quiet. 

During this period in my life, I was also searching. I 'knew' there had to be more to life than working, paying bills and living in a place I hated, even though I wasn't sure what 'it' was. Part of my search was the need for something deeper, and I thought, something spiritual. Since I was a fallen away Catholic, I thought that perhaps, attending a sunrise service, out in nature, on Easter Sunday morning might be a place to begin.  So, I went to bed, full of anticipation, setting my alarm for 5:30AM.

When I arose the next morning, I was no longer filled with anticipation. Rather, I was deep in despair, for no apparent reason.  I do not remember coming downstairs to the living room, but I do remember that I had begun to cry.  Actually, I began to sob uncontrollably. Did I feed the dogs? Did I make coffee? I do not remember. I do remember, at one point, looking at the clock and realizing I had been crying for hours!  The thought formed in my head that this was how my life would be...tears, sobbing, emotional pain that I couldn't escape from.  There seemed, in my mind, to be but one solution. I should kill myself. No drama in making the decision, it just seemed like the next logical thing. Can't stop hurting, then simply end your life. It all seemed so matter of fact.

Then, I looked down at Jake and Blue who were laying at my feet. These were dogs I loved like they were my children. They went everywhere we went.  Plus, I was their caregiver. Not that Raymond didn't love them, too. He did. But, I was home with them since leaving my job at a nursing home. Raymond loved them, but he never remembered to fill the water bowl. I was the one who fed them and made sure Jake got his thyroid meds twice daily and they both got their heartworm preventative and gave Blue her Bendryl when her allergies kicked in in late September.  Raymond would never remember everything! My dogs would suffer if I wasn't there to care for them.  

OK, the answer came to me in a flash, a micro-second! "I'll kill the dogs, too." Again, no drama. Simple, Matter-of-fact. Like it was the next logical step. 

Even as the thought occurred to me, I heard a voice say, "YOU"LL DO WHAT????!!!!!"

Those simple words were enough to snap me back to the moment and make me realize how deep into the depths of despair I had fallen. How could I even think such a thought? 

I have no memory of exactly what I did next, but in the morning, I called my PCP and made an appointment for that afternoon.

As I sat on the exam table, telling my story, sobbing, yet again, the pain of actually thinking how  close I had come to ending not just my own life, but that of innocent creatures who loved me and depended on me was overwhelming.  My doctor, a kind, gentle man looked me in the eye and said, " I want to put you on Prozac."  There must've been a look of horror on my face, because he quickly added, "Please, let's try it for a month. If it doesn't help by a month's time, we'll try something else."  My look of horror must not have been subsiding, because his next question to me was, " Would it make you feel any better if I told you I've taken it and it helped me?"

I started the medication that day.

About three weeks later, Raymond commented on how I seem to have "changed".  I remember that my reply to him was, "This must be how normal people feel all the time." He asked me what I meant by that. The only way I could explain it was by comparing then and now, before Prozac and after. Before, I felt like I was at the bottom of a well. I knew there was light somewhere in the distance above me, but it was so far away, I couldn't even really see it. And the wells sides were so slick, that I couldn't climb out. I was stuck at the bottom, unable to climb, even if I tried.  But, now, three weeks later, I was in the light! The medication had somehow managed to lift me from the depths of that slick sided well where I had periodically found myself trapped. 

In thinking about that day of dark despair, I am convinced that there really was a voice that day. I think there was a spiritual battle going on in my living room. I think the voice I heard was that of my creator.  I had become so entwined in my emotional pain that the enemy used that to his advantage. My Lord and Savior knew me so well, that he knew exactly how to shock me back to reality, simply by saying, "YOU'LL DO WHAT?????!!!!!!"

I wish I could tell you that's when I came to faith in Christ. But it wasn't. For several more years, I searched. But I know that the voice was the beginning. And I am forever grateful for a God who loves us each where we are, but, as Max Lucado says, "Loves us too much to let us stay there."

So, my dear internet friend, yes, I know that drugs are good, but believe me when I tell you, so is God!