Journal of a
Living Lady #53
In my last column I told you my about my current dilemma in choosing quality of life over quantity. I had decided several months ago to go for quality for whatever time I had remaining for my well-documented metastatic cancer. At the time it was the right choice.
I did choose to remain on light chemotherapy, a little radiation, and some pills to keep me functional for as long as possible without losing too many good days. I don’t regret the decision as I have had several decent months. This has enabled me to continue writing this column without interruption and allowed me to continue teaching my adult Sunday School class. I can only do that when my mind is relatively clear and I have a normal amount of energy at least part of the day.
Unfortunately my health has been declining for several weeks. Subtle changes in weight, stumbling, and weakness have become more noticeable.
Because Charlie’s graduation from college is getting closer, fourteen months from now if all goes well, my decision has changed. While I would still like to have quality of life, I am willing to endure the side-effect and indignities of aggressive cancer treatment if it means I might can make it long enough to see Charlie get that diploma.
I asked last week that you pray that it wasn’t too late to slow the course of this disease. While there aren’t any guarantees, my doctor believes it is worth the try and didn’t waste any precious time getting started. I had my first six hours of chemotherapy on February 28th.
My oncologist has encouraged to set some short-term goals. She has encouraged me to travel while I am able. If money weren’t an issue, there are quite a few places I would like to visit, but if I never get to those places, it is okay. The ocean is still one of my favorite relaxation spots and is within our budget with a little pre-planning and help from the Internet.
I have gotten some wonderful cards and e-mail from you readers. I rarely share them because, though they are sincere, my Mama taught me not to stretch my arms patting myself on the back. However, I feel strangely compelled to share the following.
Several months ago, a man and his wife, total strangers then, drove all the way from Alabama to visit me in the hospital on a day when I was very sick. I tried to be hospitable and cheerful, but frankly was having a difficult time of it.
The man has kept in touch and sent me an email after reading last week’s column. I only share it with you so you can know how God uses the encouragement of strangers, friends, and family to keep me going and to give wisdom just when I need it.
He says, “…I don’t feel the pain and the nausea and weakness and the hopelessness/futility of a painful drive down a dead-end street, but I need to tell you in all honesty that your journals are an on-going inspiration to me. There is simply no way that you or I can even assess on this side of Glory the impact they will have on eternity.
‘My real opinion, dear friend: that impact will be more than worth whatever pain is required of you to carry on until God closes the door that no man can open. The ones which so eloquently tell of pain with humor are precisely the ones which show me the most of the grace of God.
‘It would grieve me to think I might contribute in any way to your pains, but I really, really do have to be honest and tell you how much your journals mean to me and, no doubt, to others.
‘It is natural to be unassuming and not take credit for a positive spiritual impact on eternity, but please, dear lady, do recognize the Spiritual Gift that GOD has given you which is weekly building the kingdom of our Lord here and in eternity, though your exercise of that gift through your journals…” Bob Cleveland – mighty@bellsouth.net
The thought that I could be a blessing to others through this illness makes it all worthwhile. Thank you, Bob, and to all you others who encourage me and make me smile, sometimes through the tears.
Someone else wrote, in jest I hope: “My fingers are crossed, my legs are twisted into a knot. I will not eat until you are doing well.”
I wrote back: “All is well, my friend. Get on with your life.”
