To the Rescue!

 Go forth without fear, 
for He who created you has made you holy,
has always protected you, 
and loves you as a mother.  (Clare of Assisi)

When the enemy comes in like a flood, 

the Spirit of the Lord will put him to flight (Is. 59:19)

(Amplified Bible translation) 

Recently I found out that the lung cancer I had in 2010 has returned.  Since I am now 83, and since I have had 15 wonderful years following that bout with cancer, I decided that I would prefer to have two good years remaining to me (the cancer is slow-growing) without chemotherapy.  I could not see the option of maybe 2 years of debilitating chemo, at which time I would be 85.  Since I have osteoporosis and macular degeneration, any remaining years beyond chemo does not sound promising.  The best I could hope for might be maybe 3 more years, and the quality of those years seems doubtful.

During my first battle with cancer, the Lord took over the fight; a great peace descended on me even before I heard the diagnosis.  As I drove to the doctor's office for the results of a CT scan, I listened to Charles Stanley's talk on the radio:  How to Handle a Crisis.  The text of his sermon was Psalm 59:2 --- I will hide under the shadow of His wings until the disaster has passed me by.  The verse sustained me throughout all the episodes of surgery and recovery --- but actually, the peace had been given to me as a gift weeks before, and it never left me.  It was truely a gift from the Holy Spirit.

Once again, when I heard the latest diagnosis, I had no fear or anxiety.  I felt that God had been preparing me for the past two years for death, and I felt ready for it.  With my first visit to the oncologist, I asked her to help me navigate my death as gracefully as possible without chemotherapy.  Because of my age, she agreed with me and assured me she would do that.

Proverbs 16:9, however, sheds a different light on my determination:  A man's heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.  During the second visit to the oncologist, following a PET scan, the doctor was euphoric.  It seems that I have a rare genetic mutation in the cancer that only 15% of lung cancer patients have. "It's like finding a needle in a haystack," the doctor said excitedly.  The reason for her excitement is that there is a drug that targets that mutation, and we know that the drug destroys the tumor.  Instead of a long period of chemo by infusion, I would be able to take a pill at  home for 3 months, at the end of which the tumor could be destroyed.  I began to think that God had a better plan than I had.

However, the drug has serious side-effects which give me pause:  it attacks the liver, causes pancreatitus, bone pain, significant weight gain, swelling of the legs and feet, photosensitivity (I would not be able to work in my garden) and sensitivity to caffeine.  That's just the beginning!  I began to wonder if it's worth it, even for only 3 months.

As my doubts and fears began to grow, I spent time in adoration seeking the Lord's answer.  Before leaving last week, the last thing I wrote in my notebook was a famous quote from Julian of Norwich, given to her by Jesus in a mystical revelation:  You shall see for yourself that all things will be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

The next morning, realizing that I needed to talk to the pharmacist about this drug, I was hit with a wave of panic and fear.  Suddenly, after weeks of peaceful acceptance, I could not stop crying.  Desperate for a sense of calm, I opened one of my books at random and read the quote from Jullian of Norwich that I had written the day before.  I wanted to accept and believe, but, like Peter, I was still overwhelmed by the danger and the threat of chemo.  Finally, I decided that I needed to begin recording my blood pressure, as directed by my doctor, and I searched for a small notebook in which to record the numbers. Rummaging through my office, I came across a tiny notebook I last used in 2017.  The last entry in that notebook was --- you can guess it --- the quote from Julian of Norwich!  Slowly but surely I was beginning to believe that God was trying to tell me something (see the second quotation at the beginning of this entry).

Does God speak to us?  Maybe we are not listening or recording His voice.  

This is not the end of the story, but because of its length, I will continue in the next entry.