Treatment 7 & A Story

Today I completed treatment 7 of 8 and found myself nervously quiet as we drove toward the cancer centre. Panic was trying to eat at me but I knew that God had graced me to get into that chair last time and he would do so again. A friend who happened to be working in the hospital dropped by with Starbucks while I was having my pre-med IV run. Then the fun icing began and God graciously walked with me through the entire three hours.

Oddly the emotions have hit me more this evening in unexpected waves. I remember standing on the end of treatment one and assuring everyone that there was no way I could do this seven more times. Yet, here I am on the end of treatment seven knowing that I only have one more left. The finish line is in sight and I am confident that I'll finish this hellish ride. It truly feels like the last leg of a marathon where you break through the "wall" that leaves you certain you can't finish and suddenly have a surge of adrenaline that propels you toward the end.

Today I've been thinking about two women who have heavily impacted my run. One is my sister who is celebrating her birthday today. A birthday that once upon a time we weren't sure she would live to see. Alicia fought her cancer battle with such a quiet grace and never complained (at least not to me). She consistently turned back to the Lord when she was discouraged and was a source of encouragement to everyone around her. She has been with me from my diagnosis through my entire war and has been a model that I have looked up to each and every day since my diagnosis. I am so thankful that I was given the gift of her beautiful example.

The second person who has been heavy on my mind throughout this journey is someone that I only knew for three years. Her name was Barb Hempy and when I met her in 2001 she had just been diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer. I was just 16 at the time but her life made a massive impact on mine in that brief time. I remember shortly before her death paying her and her husband a visit. As we asked her how she was processing her impending death she chipperly said, "Oh, I'll be fine. I'm not concerned for myself at all. My biggest concern is who is going to help my husband pick out matching clothes!" A mix of laughter with tears filled the room and I marveled at just how quiet her spirit was. She could see her finish line and knew her true Treasure was waiting for her on the other side. In 2004 I was attending a junior college while finishing up my senior year of highschool. My dad arrived to pick me up after my day of classes and I found a pile of my piano books in the front seat. I looked at him puzzled and he said, "Barb is dying but she just won't let go. Her family thought that maybe she would relax enough to die if you came and played the piano. Would you be willing?" My obvious answer was a yes and we immediately drove to her home. When we walked in the door I was shocked by the skeleton that I saw in the bed. Her beautiful eyes were closed and sunken deep in her head. She was skin and bones and her once vibrant skin was a sickly grey. Friends and family surrounded her bed weeping. I sat down at the piano and opened my book to her favourite song, As the Deer. While I played I processed what I had seen and heard. I contemplated how strange it was that I had been asked to help this beautiful woman die. I ached knowing that my songs were my goodbye message to her. As I played she suddenly stopped her unconscious thrashing and calmed. Her breathing quieted and within three songs I suddenly heard the most gut wrenching cry I've ever heard in my life. Barb had left her bed of suffering and pain. Her ears had instantly gone from hearing my playing to hearing the glories of Heaven. My dad told me I could stop and when I did the sobbs were finally allowed to wrack my body. Suddenly I heard Barb's husband begin singing, "Great is thy faithfulness, oh God my Father. There is no shadow of turning with thee. Though changest not, they compassions they fail not. As though has been though forever will be." I remember standing there in awe. On one side of the bed were family members who did not have the full confidence and assurance that they would be accepted by God at their death and the very presence of death and loss left them in a state of complete chaos and fear. On the other side of the bed stood a man who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that both He and Barb were accepted before God because of Jesus' righteousness and there was full confidence that they would see each other again. This produced a song and prayer of praise to the God Who never changes or shifts. This was grieving with hope.

As I was thinking about this beautiful couple and their impact on my own cancer journey I was reminded of one of my favourite passages of Scripture. Psalm 16 says:

Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.

I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord;  I have no good apart from you.”

As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones, in whom is all my delight.

The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply; 

their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out or take their names on my lips.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; 

indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel; 

in the night also my heart instructs me.

I have set the Lord always before me;

because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure.

For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption.

You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy;    

at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

When I read this Psalm I think it beautifully sums up Barb's life and it has consistently been a source of encouragement and refocusing through this journey. No matter the outcome God is my refuge. I have absolutely no good in and of myself but because of Christ's righteousness on my behalf I am clothed in "good" and am protected by God. While there are many things that I could cling to, my children, husband, traveling, memories made, etc. The Lord is the one I choose to satisfy me above everything and everyone else. He has given me a beautiful inheritance as a child of God and, despite the scars and ravishes of this world, He has ensured that what is coming in the next life is Himself and will be pleasant beyond all comprehension. While I walk through this life He gives me counsel, instructs me, walks before and behind me and because of this I have no need to be shaken. It is because of all of this that Barb modeled a glad heart that was able to rejoice and live her final days securely knowing that God would not abandon her or surprisingly reject her once her time on Earth was done. Instead He had assured her of eternal life and she basked in His presence both on Earth and the moment she took her final breath. Now she is experiencing pleasures forever more standing before the God she adored and fully satisfied with Him alone.

So, as I stand so close to my final treatment I think of her. As I wonder if my cancer will return within the next 5 years and take me I think of her example. As I think of what it means to live with intention and joy knowing that death could be waiting for me tomorrow I bless the Lord and choose not to be shaken. I live with the certainty that at the right hand of God are pleasures beyond my wildest imagination. No matter what tomorrow holds I am choosing the path of life.

"Oh Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief."