Friday, April 22, 2011

If I'm being honest, it really sucked... and learning how to trust.

If I 'm being honest, I'd have to tell you what a dark day I had yesterday.  Half of it anyway.  It really sucked, and I don't even like that word, but thats how yucky it was.

But before I start, let me say this, "I am fine.  Really.  I'm doing well.  But its not all sunshine and smiles.  So please read with the understanding, I am only being real and giving you the Dr. Phil "tell it like it is" account of the occasional bad day I have."  









The first half of my day was actually really good.  I went to Target and gathered ideas to inform the Easter Bunny on what he should bring to our house.  And I had lunch with my neighbor Darla, which we never get to do.

But then I went to get the mail and couldn't help ripping into the pretty envelope from the Mayo Clinic.  And there it was in black and white.  My report.  First from the nurse practitioner, Nurse Ratched, oops, did I really just call her that?  Next, from Dr. P.

Let me start off by saying, there was absolutely nothing new in that report.  I've heard it all, and read most of it before.  So I am not sharing anything new.  But, the cyclone of emotion that settled over me was astonishing even so.  Maybe it was the rainy day, on top of more gloomy days already.  Maybe I was just in a mood.  It wasn't like me, but I have to say it WAS me yesterday.

In reality, I completely get what "they" (the medical personnel) have to do.  When you go for a second opinion, they tell you what they think from A to Z.  And I am only at letter B or even C, with my own Doctor. We aren't skipping ahead to Q, R, or S.  But at the Mayo Clinic, they needed to remind me of the whole alphabet, A to stinkin'  Z.  Cause Z?  Really stinks.

So my eyes  skimmed right over the "Patient is a pleasant woman, and seems to be coping well...," and lasered in on the more ominous language.


"Palliative care."  Bam, it cuts through me like a nail on the cross.


"Comfort measures."  Bam.  I recoil with the sensation of pierced skin.


"Incurable."  Bam...  sears me to the core.




For the second time, I want to shout at them, "But I am alive, and I want to live.  Can you not obviously see my two boys alive in my eyes, whom I breathe for?  My husband, my Superman who is every and all things to me?  I am not cancer.  I am alive in spite of the cancer.  Please see ME."


I am a sobbing, weeping, mess, leveled on the floor.


I can't help but think of Easter.  Its Good Friday today.  Why has the word "good" never seemed ironic before to me?  I think I have always pushed past the sadness of Christ on the Cross, to the joy and celebration of the Resurrection.  I've never invited in, the pain of the cross.

How did Jesus feel, washing the feet of Judas who would betray him?  My thoughts circle and swirl around the events of Good Friday.

I sat with it all day yesterday.  My very best "virtual couch" friends were by my side.

"Please God, give me the shift in perspective I need to go back to Hope."

Robin encourages me to read chapter 8 of One Thousand Gifts, and as I do, my faith restores piece by fragile piece.

Ann's words again, a balm to my weary soul... she reminds me "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me."  (John 14:1)  Bible verse after verse she reminds me.

Her words, now pierce me, "I've got to get this thing, what it means to trust... because I can't fill with joy until I learn how to trust."

The last nail hits especially hard and truthful... Bam.  




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To show you I am okay, look what my friend Roxane  brought me this morning "hope" in the pewter cross on the book above.  Roxane blogs at Peace Garden Writer, and Peace Garden Mama, and its worth a visit to her blogs.  Thanks for a wonderful morning, Roxane!

As I go to snap the photo of the cross, I realize the renewed feeling I have, hope- restored.

Have a Blessed Easter everyone!









19 comments:

  1. Just saw this. I'm Robin's friend, Julie. Also reading One Thousand Gifts for the second time.

    On my knees now, praying.

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  2. Some how I have lost track of your blog...just connected to it again and I am in shock. I had to go back through and read all these posts to catch up...how fast life can change! As I sit here thinking about you this Easter weekend, my thoughts go to our Savior Jesus Christ. He prepared the way for everyone of us and his way is full of all healing, the healing of our broken souls.. I know that he is real. He has suffered and died for each one of us, He goes before our face and will yet bless us with more than our hearts can hold.
    Last week, the doctor found cancer on my face and they say it is removed but you know cancer. There is nothing else for us to do... but trust, and He is the one I trust now and will trust forever. All the trials of my life have taught me to trust Him, He alone is worthy of my trust. I put my hand in His, he will not let me down. His way is my way. Vicki, you are so loved and all will be well. Life goes on here on earth and on the other side of the veil, we are all connected. Families are forever, mothering goes on, it never ends. I pray that you will find comfort and peace. I will pray for you..sending you hugs and sisterly love..God be with you.

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  3. Vicky, you wouldn't be human if you didn't have days like that. And, as long as you keep that hope alive inside of you, you will find that you can keep fighting!

    One of my favorite Bible verses that I have memorized over the years and have kept close by is Proverbs 13:12.

    "Hope deferred makes the heart sick: but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life."

    Love and prayers, Eileen

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  4. There are words like "Palliative" and there are statistics, and there are people who defy them every day.

    Vicky - there was a time when my daughter at 16.5 years of age was lying in a coma in a hospital bed. It didn't look good. The looks on the Dr's and interns faces told me more than I ever wanted to know. HOWEVER.. a nurse (an angel!) said to me as I was crying at her bedside.. there is ALWAYS.. always Hope.

    The girl in the bed is now a college junior. Hope restored.

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  5. Yeah! It does suck! The best part is that we have a God who knows that better than we do. I was so happy to read of those that were there for you, who knew where to turn to guide your thoughts correctly, and give you the encouragement that you needed. Angels in disguise, for sure. I'm praying for you constantly, be assured of that!

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  6. God is not in the doctor's reports. God is in you and all that hope you have moving you up and forward is God's empowerment for you to keep fighting. Think of all the positive fighting energy that we are sending to you and know that you are not battling alone. We are all holding you together in our hearts, in our determination and in our hope for BEAUTIFUL AMAZING YOU!!!

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  7. Ah, Vicky, I am so glad I was able to spend time with you today and offer you the smallest splash of hope. That's all it takes -- the smallest splash. Small splashes are capable of spreading into something beautiful and life-giving in the right environment. You are a shining example of life, Vicky. I saw it for myself today. Stay connected to that!

    Thanks again for the lovely, lovely morning. I will treasure it in the weeks ahead and look forward to the next one! Thanks, too, to your dear husband and sweet boys I saw in the car window on the way to the house with the pink ribbons everywhere. :)

    Peace be with you, friend.

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  8. let me echo karen....there is always hope !!
    and that along with buckets of prayers is what we are all doing for you.....everyday, hoping and praying, praying and hoping !!!

    happy easter to you and your family !!!

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  9. Oh Vicky ... who could bear up under the weight of such a wretched letter. It's good that you have moments of complete release of the emotions that are bound to accompany the prognostications. But as others have said, you are not a statistic, many have defied the odds and you can too. Remember how wrong the nurse at the Mayo was about sugar? They are good there but they do not know everything - and they don't seem to keep stats on miracles ... but you have us to remind you that healing happens ... and it can happen for you.

    One of the tricky parts now is to feel all the feelings that are part and parcel of this, while at the very same time, absorbing all the love, light and life around you and keeping your hope and fighting spirit strong.

    Wish I had a magic wand.

    Gentle ((((hug))))

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  10. Vicky, you have every right to be upset, angry, frustrated. those letters seem so impersonal and like you said Bam....now this is a true story....I recieved a letter from a doctor when I became ill saying I tested so poorly that they felt I was below mental retardation levels....that is the exact words. They had me on such high doses of meds and I had fluid on my brain...I have seen many doctors and have found the right medication. My illness is no where near what you are going through. I learned quickly that I knew my body
    better than any doctor. I graduated with 32 credits in high school, we only needed 21. and I decided that if something does not feel right to you, don't give up. Determination, hope and faith is the best gift you can give yourself. Like Bonnie said, feel your emotions and then you trust and have faith once more.
    I too wish I had a magic wand, I pray for peace and strength. sending you love.Miracles happen every day.

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  11. You are not cancer. You are alive in spite of cancer. I love this! A new friend who is praying for you!

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  12. Vicky, I can only reiterate what everyone else above has told you. You are doing this with grace and God! Keep it up...

    **Hugs**

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  13. Live, Laugh, Love. Hope restored. God is with you all the way, and so are we. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Have a Blessed day, and Easter. Your friend,
    Jean
    Edmond, OK

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  14. With you ... all the way.

    May your courage and your hope be found in His words ... living words.

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  15. Your raw honesty touches each of our souls and we are grateful for what it teaches us. Prayers flowing north from Illinois over this sacred week-end.

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  16. It is the still, small voice that the soul heeds, not the deafening blasts of doom.

    - William Dean Howells

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  17. Thank you for sharing from a nail-piercing depths. But if everyone had the outcome they print on the black and white page, no one facing these issues would be here to write of hope and recovery. There is so much more than the scientific word. There is THE WORD. Glad that's where you find your truth, your hope, your strength. Praying and praying. God LOVES to confound the WISE!!!

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  18. There are many things science and medicine cannot explain or do Vicky. Believe in miracles. Really do. You will be totally cured and would need no palliative care. TOTALLY CURED.You will sail through these turbulent waters and see the sun shine again. Keep the faith alive, no matter what. Eat as much as you can, even though you don't feel like it, and rest as much as you want to. Take care..

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  19. You are more than allowed to have these kind of days, these days that suck. Sit with them and the feelings around them and let them in. They deserve to be felt just like you deserve to feel the joy in the good around you.

    Peace.

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I welcome what you have to say. Thanks for taking the time to grace me with your thoughts and words!

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