Beginning to Thrive

Today was monumental.

For the first time I truly looked at the daunting stack of insurance claims that have accumulated over the past 7 months. Don’t misunderstand, I have had a tireless army working on my behalf since the beginning, mainly composed of my parents and a few fearless and compassionate friends. But today I sat down with my mom. I laid eyes on the million (yes million) of dollars that are due in my name. I did something I haven’t had the bandwidth to do yet-- face the facts of what happened. It felt both tragic and satisfying to grant my mind permission to read through every biopsy, every hospital stay, every medication prescribed – and the dollar amount associated with each. Tragic because rarely does someone my age have to witness the paper trail of their escape from death. And satisfying because I am beginning to feel alive once again despite my unwanted visit in the kingdom of the sick. 

A few months ago a random lady at Target encouraged me that there would be a day when I would wake up and cancer wouldn’t be the first thing I thought about. I cried as she spoke those words over me because at the time I was in the thick of chemo and had just sat in the dressing room for 10 minutes gathering strength to walk to the check out counter. My purse was bulging with blue throw up bags and multiple nausea meds. Target was my one experience for that day to feel normal before I crawled back in bed to just lie still. I couldn’t imagine the day when my life wouldn’t completely revolve around cancer. Around surviving. But I cried at the hope she gave me, because even though I didn’t think I would ever experience the bliss she spoke of, I dared trust that she was right. 

Today it hit me that the day that lady spoke of had come without me even realizing it. As I looked over that huge stack of insurance papers I recognized that cancer had slowly transitioned to the backseat of my mind as healing became my new goal. No longer was I listening to the hustle and bustle from my lifeless position on the couch.  I was the one calling and negotiating and sorting. I was finally looking back on the treatment phase, not looking forward to the finish line of chemo. 

My life still revolves around adjusting to this new cancer-tainted reality, but it isn’t like it was this summer. I don’t want to just survive the day anymore. I want to thrive.

Ahhh thriving, that word seems to glisten with promise. As I write those words I feel myself admit how eager I am to be truly well. Yet, I still have so far to go in this undefined phase of healing. I am tempted to apologize for the lapse in updates and prophetic insights over the past few months. But I won’t. How do I articulate for the world things I do not yet personally understand?

This summer was filled with traumatic moments, ones that could only be processed with writing and sharing. This healing phase so far seems to be quite different. I find comfort in the stillness and simplicity of just being. I soak in life’s moments without regard for time or responsibility. I go throughout my day slowly and fully, letting myself enjoy the process of coming back to life. Those of you who have towed the line between life and death know what I mean. 

I savor the way my coffee tastes in the morning. I constantly run my fingers through my short hair with deep joy. I periodically take deep, full breaths because air in my lungs is a sweet gift indeed. I enjoy sunsets, stars and falling leaves with a new adoration of my Creator. I no longer shy away from my chaotic bundle of emotions because they remind me that my heart is beating. I act silly and weird every chance I get because life is too short to worry about what people think of you. And it really is fun to make your loved ones giggle.

Everything around me buzzes with a distinct purpose and excitement. I feel like a small child again as I rediscover this world and my place in it. 

With all of that said, unfortunately healing from cancer doesn’t come with a 12 step plan or end with a nicely tied bow. When people ask, “How are you?!” I feel at a loss for words. Do I tell of the moment I feel ready to conquer the world or 10 mins later when I just sit on my floor for way too long? My life is still unpredictable and messy, even in a phase that is filled with rich hope. 

So I beg for you to keep praying. Don’t let my lack of updates send the message that everything is fine now and you are no longer needed. It is quite the opposite. My family and I are all reeling from the trauma that we just endured. We are now navigating the uncharted waters of a new normal, one that isn’t filled with books and advice. Pray for clarity on how to move forward in every area of our lives. Pray for peace and hope to fill our hearts on the days when things feels overwhelming. And pray for us to remember that God allowed us to be where we are for a purpose, even when it feels uncertain. 

If you are reading this and have been praying for me and my family, thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you are in the middle of a battle, whether for your health or soul, take heart. There will come a day when your current situation is not the first thing you wake up thinking about. 

I’ll close by once again saying what I claimed that when I was diagnosed, in the middle of chemo, and even when I was at the end of my rope: God is good. Now as I am starting to watch God piece my life back together, that phrase is still more true than ever. He really is good, no matter what.