My story. Part 3: In the meantime.

Remission is a loaded word. On one hand, it's great news. It means that whatever treatment the doctors used is working.  The cancer is either gone or drastically reduced.  On the other hand, the possibility lingers in the back of your mind that the cancer CAN comeback.  It's not a total bill of health.  It's a breather.  You've won the fight and now you get to take a break. 

Maybe the war is over.  Maybe it's not.

Anyone who has ever lived through this nightmare will tell you that every doctor appointment, every test, every CT scan, every phone call is a reminder that your life will be forever scarred by cancer.  You can't escape it.  You can't get back to where you were.  Ever.

For my family, it meant that we cautiously inched forward with our lives.  Every day, week, month, year that went by meant my dad beat the odds.  What was a death sentence now turned into renewed life.

The winter of cancer moved to the back of our minds and the spring of new hope became our heartbeat.  My dad gained his strength and began his running and bike riding again.  He was so healthy in his remission that he entered in the Missouri bike race and rode the entire width of the state.  He was a picture of health.  He had even more of a reason to live now than he ever did before.

My mom was a picture of strength and beauty.  Never have I seen a woman that strong.  I didn't appreciate it then, not even close. She and I had major issues.  We fought a lot.  Looking back, I know it was a combination of my teenage rebelliousness mixed with the weight of cancer and finances on her shoulders.  Still, I wish it would have been different for us.  Cancer stole so much.

Together my parents grew in their relationship with the Lord.  They were getting stronger every day.  I still didn't get it.  I still didn't understand how God could allow this to happen.  Walls started to build up around my heart.  Walls that would take years to come down.

Daily life moved on for me, too.  I met a boy that I soon fell in love with.  Skip was the best thing that had ever happened to me.  He pushed me to get my grades back up and care more about school.  He was everything to me...probably too much so.  I gave up friends and activities just to be with him.  I never had anything that was just for me.  I regret that so much.  I wish I would have known that a healthy relationship needs a balance.  He had his interests and I made them mine.  I was pretty needy.   I firmly believe that God gave Skip to me at such a young age because He knew I needed an anchor for my past and my future.  High school sweethearts that end up getting married are the exception and not the rule.  I am definitely thankful that we made it.  I know it doesn't always work that way. 

The years of remission blended into each other and we became more confident that dad was truly healed.  I no longer jumped when the phone rang.  I no longer worried about every doctor appointment.  I also no longer prayed for him.  I was busy in college studying to be a nurse and we had made it FIVE years without a cancer scare. 

Life was moving forward.

One day between classes, I was in my apartment alone.  I knew it was a check-up day but I hadn't given it much thought.  In hindsight, I should have made the time to go to the hospital with my parents.  But honestly, I was done with the cancer. 

So very very done.

I was studying for a chemistry test when the phone rang.  I will never forget that day.  It was cold and snowy.  My mom said the doctor confirmed our worst nightmare.  The CT scan showed another tumor.  Surgery was scheduled for the next day.  It looked bad, maybe even worse than the first time.

I don't think I even hung up the phone before I ran out the door.  I just started running.  Running away from that news.  Running away from the CANCER.  Running away from the pain of going through this again.  Running away from hell.  I don't know what made me stop running, but I when I finally did I realized I was miles away from home. 

I was miles away from the remission that I had grown comfortable in. 

I was miles away from the horrible phone.

I was miles away from anyone that could save me.

I was miles away from sanity.

I remember screaming at God.  Angry, hateful words. 


"IF YOU DO THIS AGAIN, I WILL HATE YOU FOREVER!!"



Links:
Why I am doing this?
Part 1: The phone call
Part 2: The horror