Day 47: Wearing yourself thin: What Not to do

Because life was not complicated enough, we flew home for Thanksgiving to see family. In our defense, we bought the tickets long before we knew about my cancer or our move schedule. We will fly home today and tomorrow the movers come. We have been packing for two trips, taking pictures of the walls, cleaning basements and garages and ensuring the house is ready for inspection. To say there are a lot of moving parts is a bit of an understatement. 

But With coming home, I got to hug my mama. Even though I'm 39 years old, I still want and need and love my mama. Her hugs make it worth it. 

And we got to go back to my alma mater #Clemson University to attend our rival football game. It's been over 2 years since I've been back and I was astounded by the changes and additions to campus--it still feels like home. When the Army is done with us, Clemson is one of those places I could call my forever home.....there is something in the hills. My happy factor was bursting. 

I got to see some surprise friends I did not expect to see and I got to cry all over my old roommate and get hugs from so many wonderful people. We got to visit with many who have supported me from a far the last several weeks. And I guess I still don't look like I have cancer cause everyone still says I look good :D

I got to see my Tigers win their football game. It was great to see those around us whom we have sat with over the last 16 years (on and off) and now their kids are grown and in high school or college. I still look 21--I'm confused that everyone else is looking older!  Ha!

And I had to fall asleep during half time. I'm sure everyone thought I was a terrible fan but that's what my body does now. And by evening my back was a knotted mass of pain. There were times I had to walk off the tears. I dislike (yes, still do) the interference of my disease on my plans. I've managed to get a cold, I'm pooped and my back will take at least a week to get back to manageable but to hug my friends, shed tears with those I love and see "where the blue ridge yawns it's greatness" was a weekend of thanksgiving for me. 

The real world returns tomorrow but my heart is full (even if my body aches).

Sometimes you over-do it and push your body to its limits for a chance you might not have for a long time. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

On this day of Thanksgiving, I remind myself I am blessed.  In the midst of everything going on, we are still blessed by God, our families, our friends and the love we have.  Remember the sick, the hungry, the lonely, the oppressed, those who are a far and those who continue to work on this day.  Remember our soldiers, our sailors, our marines, our airmen, our nurses, doctors, police officers and firemen.  Remeber the young, the old and those we may have forgotten.  God Bless us all.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!  And don't forget your Christ Walk today!  You need to burn off that slice of pie!:)

Day 49: God Advertises in NEON SIGNS

Let me just put this out there if you haven't realized it yet:  I believe in God.  I believe that God is all around us, and I believe that God walks with us every step we take.

I've been going through a lot lately.  Digesting a cancer diagnosis is not quite as palatal as digesting a piece of chocolate cake.  But we still need to digest it and work through whatever has been thrown at us to conquer.  I've known theologically through all of this that God was with me.  I've known it in my heart, but at times my heart was so hurt and so angry and so disillusioned that all that negativity was keeping me from feeling the love of God during this time.

I think this is normal.  I think God understands that.  I think God knows that we are so fragile, so sensitive to our emotions that we need time to process and digest before we can realize that adversity can result in cheesecake even when it feels like a fallen souffle' (I may have food on the brain going into Thanksgiving)......I digress....

With that said, we are fragile and because we experience life through our senses, we need to feel, touch, hear, smell, taste and see God to sometimes believe that God is with us on our journey.  Sometimes it takes a looooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggg time for us to see those neon signs in front of our faces, but they are there.  Sometimes the hardest thing about faith is believe in God and knowing God is with us without those experiential senses tied to it.  Just because we cannot feel, touch, smell, taste or see God sometimes, doesn't mean that God is not there.  But then there are times, our sense are overwhelmed with God right there, right with us and the moment we need it most.  God comes to us through Grace.

I've said it once, I'll say it again:  I am far too flawed to understand the WHY THINGS HAPPEN in the world, but I believe in Grace.  Grace WILL prevail at sometime.  Grace Happens through People.  And I can show you an example of where I got to feel, touch, see, hear and taste Grace in action in my life.  God came to me through Grace.

Grace happened to me last week.  Grace showed up in my life like a big neon sign for a cupcake bakery.  Grace came to me frosted, with pink roses and sunshine and smiles and promises THAT EVERYTHING WAS GOING TO BE OK.

Grace rocks, people.

Grace came to me in the form of a letter.  You see, my husband and I are moving from Kansas to Virginia with the Army.  We've been holding off on my treatment (with the approval of my doctors) until we get to our new duty station.  We knew about this move before my cancer diagnosis.  In fact, we had put down the contract and earnest money on our new home the week before we found out the news.  In my gut, I knew (remember grace!  listen to your gut!) that we should move anyway and we would figure out how to do that around the cancer.

But the move was an added complication to an already complicated mess and it didn't help with the struggles with anxiety I continued to have.

But then this letter came.  This beautiful letter that had grace coming from it out of every sentence.  You see, the executors of the estate that we were buying the house from had found my blog.  And they had reached out to me from my blog email address (christwalk@courie.com) to send me a message.  You see, the previous owners of the house were a lot like me and Treb.  He was a retired military man--a WWII decorated veteran and his wife was a nurse like me.  They were a strong Christian family with deep ties to the area we are moving....and Gail told me in this letter that this house was meant to be ours.  SHE SAID MY CANCER WOULD BE HEALED BY THE LOVE IN THAT HOUSE (Ok, so that wasn't what she wrote, but the message I received!  God's grace sends messages!).  Gail has told me I can share the letter with you all so you too can see that GRACE HAPPENS.  Grace comes like an advertisement in Neon when you need it and I desperately needed this message from God that everything was going to be ok:

Hi Anna:                            

                              I understand you are the new owner of my late uncle's home, as our family fondly refers to the house on P Lane.  My cousin Don the executor of my Uncle John's estate, shared your Face Book page with me.  Wanting to know more I went to your blog page. I am touched deeply.                             

                              Since I have not met you I was not comfortable posting on the blog but I feel compelled to reach out to you.  I want you to know about the tremendous love and blessings and celebrations that were shared in your new home.  The home where you will rest your head, where you will return after your treatments for the cancer which has invaded your body, where you will recuperate and God willing, beat this beast, where you will raise your children, where you will nurture and strengthen your marriage, where you will seek and find the peace of Christ.                              

                              My dear Uncle John and Aunt Wini, my mom's only sister, showed me the true essence of Sacramental Marriage. Never have I witnessed a couple more devoted to one another or more in love.  Nothing was more important to either of them than their love for the Lord, their love for each other and the love they had for their children.  Their doors were always open to our large extended family as well as the hundreds of friends my cousins had.  Not only was their door open but their hearts as well.  Their love was so great that it could not be contained within their home but spilled over into the community and beyond, in service to the poor and the homeless, in the establishment of prayer groups to bring others closer to the heart of Jesus Christ, in ministry to the sick and home bound.  The list is long.                                    

                              I believe with all my heart and soul that God has a plan for each of us and that His plan is perfect.  Many times we can't comprehend this or see His light because of the darkness that we allow to overwhelm us.   But I am certain that it is no coincidence that my beloved Uncle John was called home a few months ago and that his family home was available just when you needed it.                             

                              So, Anna, know of my prayers for you and for your family.  May you find comfort knowing you now reside in a home that has been blessed in so many ways.  May you continue the legacy of love for the Lord, for your spouse, for your children and for the Kingdom which began so many years ago by John and Wini Tracy.    May God bless you and give you strength.     Paix, Gail.                                   

                              Senyè,

                              Mwen te tande yon nonm di "Mwen ba ou kè mwen."  Men maten an mwen santi ke mwen pa kapab ba ou sèlman kè m'.  Mwen ba ou tèt mwen tout antyè.

                              Lord, I heard a man say "I give you my heart."  But this morning I feel I cannot give only my heart.  I offer my whole self.

 

Even as I re-read my post, I am brought to tears.  God sent me a sign through another person that I desperately needed in the middle of this chaos and I (and my husband) were touched beyond measure.  God does send signs.  Yes, some are bigger and bolder than others, but I know if we open our hearts to these signs, we will see them and we will be comforted and brought peace. God never promised me a rose garden in my life, but he did say he would be there with me through it all.  When we love one another, we are sending God-signs to each other. And when I got this God-sign from Gail, my anxiety and fear abated.

 

I cannot thank her enough.

 

Paix!

Day 42: Crazy Things that happen when you have Cancer (or other diagnosis)

So this is what I call my "kick cancer's a$$ tea." It's not bad, but I don't really like it. I'm a coffee drinker at heart. But just about everything you read about Green tea talks about it's butt kicking anti-cancer properties. So each afternoon I sit down with a cup of my tea and imagine it kicking my cancer's a$$.  This is only one of the many crazy things I've started to do in this journey of healing and faith.   I've discovered that when you feel out of control with your life, that controlling the small things is quite empowering. Drinking my tea, whether or not it works, makes me feel like I'm doing something other than sitting here waiting. 

I also decided one day that my Keurig coffee maker was a culprit in my cancer diagnosis. It up and got itself sold. No more coffee dripped through cancer causing plastic for me!  When I told the lady that I sold it to that I was worried it was causing my cancer, I thought she would throw the thing back at me. She was very gracious with my crazy cancer thoughts, but I learned some of your crazy, you keep to yourself. 

Along with the Keurig, all the plastic in my house turned evil overnight. The plastic storage containers went into the garbage, I tossed my BPA-free water bottle and opted for a glass one. I've begun looking at my water faucet through squinty eyes--there might be cancer chemicals in my water. We might just need a water filter in the future. 

I've started taking a organic whole foods multi-vitamin and digestive enzymes. Those suckers are supposed to eat up all the junk in your gut that might cause cancer. Bring on the probiotics!

The next to go was any deodorant in the house. No more aluminum deposits for me!  No siree--I promptly purchased an all organic deodorant that leaves me smelling great but doesn't do a whole lot for sweating. 

In a moment of possession, I tossed my mascara too. I've got a nice organic tube of mascara now as well. Organic brown. It works great and now I won't get eye cancer. I will neither confirm, not deny, whether my other beauty products will take a hit in the future.  I am eying all products the same way I look at my water: with suspicion.  

I have determined I will embrace my grey and forego any chemical treatment of my hair. It's just one of those things I can control. 

We already eat very organic and I'm not huge on processed foods to begin with, so our journey down the real foods approach to living started long ago. We really have an overall healthy house. In fact my son recently said to me: "mommy, there's something I don't understand. You are the healthiest of all of us, why did you get the cancer?"

It's a question I ask myself a lot. Things just happen. A lot of things in life happen that we cannot control. A lot of things happen that we will never understand. A lot of things we have to just have faith in God that a greater purpose is in store for us than we can ever fathom. 

In the mean time, with those things I don't understand, nor can control, I will continue with the sort of things I can control. They may not work and they may look like crazy cancer girl thoughts/actions/craziness to you, but to me, they are things that make me feel like I am doing something to beat the beast. 

Day 39: "So, How are you?"

If there were three words more loaded with conflicting answers, I am not sure what they would be:

"How are you?"  

There should be a guidebook on how to answer this one. "The Dummies Guidebook to answering socially appropriate questions."  They need a special chapter for those of us with something going on. I feel like a deer in headlights when approached with it. Is it someone that really wants to know?  Is it someone that can handle full kahuna?  Is it someone that will understand "how I am" changes with moment to moment?  Or is it someone that I need to reassure that everything is going to be ok?  I often wonder if it's socially acceptable to really answer "how I am" in an honest manner--do people really want to know? Some  days I am not really sure how I am because I'm still in the dreaded waiting place. How I am and how I want to be are two different questions. 

"I'm okay" covers a lot of ground with anyone going through something. It's also the lottery ticket out of a conversation if you don't want to answer the question straight up. There are some people you just don't want to get into how you are and then there are other people you need to buy them a new shirt because you've just blubbered everything out on their shoulder. 

So how am I?

I am beyond blessed. God sent me a freaking neon signage saying "It's going to be okay" that I will blog about at a later date, but it has put me in a calm waiting place rather than an anxious one. For any of you doubters out there.....there is a God, he does care, and I am confident in his plan..even when I don't get it. 

I am tired.  Frequently just tired. Mentally and physically tired. I love going out and being social, but it makes me tired. I am much more selective about what I do and whom I do it with because I am tired.  I often take a nap in the middle of the afternoon before my kids get home so I have energy for them. Because they remain my priority. If I don't take a nap, I don't make it past nine most days. I'm learning to manage my energy levels so I can do what I want to do.  My body controls my life right now. I'm learning to surrender to its needs. 

I still hurt. It's manageable, but it is still there. My tumors sit on top of a nerve I think. After a day of working at the computer, my shoulder is a tortured mess of tangled fibers. I swear by acupuncture, massage and yoga stretches. And Advil. We cannot forget the Advil.  But I am rarely unaware of the parasite that sits on top of my clavicle. It reminds me daily that yes, it's still there and yes, I have to wait to get rid of it. 

I still get anxious, but each day it's better. I am not going off the deep end, even when I have a bad day and let it all out for everyone to see. If you want to know how I am, don't freak out if I tell you the truth!  :D  It can be a loaded question!  Ha!  I still swear by my walks and talks with God. The best advice by far I've been given is to pray for others during this time when my anxiety is overwhelming. It works. And I practice this. Life is more than just about me. Praying for others takes me outside myself. 

I am weak. While I am coming out of the toxicity of anesthesia, and my body heals from all the surgeries, I'm working on my fitness level, or rather what remains of my fitness level.  I ran about 500 ft for the first time. My first push up was an utter failure, but I am learning to modify and listen to what my body can do. This is especially hard for me. I just ran a 1/2 marathon in May and spent the entire summer doing a 100-day burpee challenge. I'm used to being strong, not weak. It's humbling. I wrote a chapter on this in @ChristWalk--Christ walk for where you are now. And that's what I am trying to do. No, my fitness level is NOT where I would want it to be, but I am plugging away with it daily. It's a journey, not a sprint. 

I am still waiting.  Waiting, waiting, waiting. I don't wait well. And because our life is not complicated enough, we are moving in three weeks to a new home and we are in the throes of managing movers, cleaning, and getting rid of things. We are registering kids for new schools, closing on a house, and still waiting to find out what they will do with me.  I still have far more questions than answers which makes "how are you very difficult" to answer.  There are so many moving parts in the waiting place right now. 

I evidently look good because people tell me this all the time. Like, "wow, you don't look like you have cancer."  I'm not really sure how to answer that one....how are cancer people supposed to look?  I jokingly tell my doc that I don't look bad because a) makeup is amazing and b) I still (STILL) question that I have cancer. If I hadn't read the path reports, I'm not sure that I would believe it cause I felt fine until they started messing with me.   But yeah, I look good. They haven't done anything to me yet, so when I look like a cancer patient, I guess I'll let you know. But this is a great lesson, we have no idea what people are going through solely by the way they look.  Makeup and clothes make for great armor around whatever you are carrying in your heart. 

I have a sick sense of humor. Gallows humor puts cancer in its place. I won't apologize for cracking jokes about my cancer even if it makes someone uncomfortable. When I can make jokes about death, dying, and cancer it allows me to face the cancer and tame the beast. It's a "take that" response. So if I drop my cancer into a conversation like a bomb, don't cringe. Let's beat that beast back together. I've learned my friends are scared just as much as I am. We aren't going to tiptoe around this crap. We are going to slap it down and own it. 

I have amazing friends and family. I'm certainly hoping I haven't hurt any of their feelings about the "how are you question" because EVERYONE asks this out of a sense of concern and love. I don't get upset when questions come from a place of love, even when I'm really not sure how to answer it.  People mean the best when they ask you how you are even if it makes you a little crazy to answer it. Some days you want to answer it with a four letter word or two, even when it's not polite to answer that way. It is what it is. When you have no control over your life, it's a roller coaster of responses. 

"How am I?" Is a complicated question. I am a lot of things. And it depends. It depends how I am at any given moment. It depends on what is going on around me and it really depends on how much you really want to know. 

That's how I am today. How are you?

The New Edition of Christ Walk: A 40 Day Spiritual Fitness Program

Is now available!  Hot off the press at Church Publishing Inc, you can get your copy now!  It will make a great Christmas present and get you ready for a new year of faith and fitness!  I'll be walking it every step of my new journey with cancer and I hope you try it too!

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Day 32: Making Bad Good

Today I had the opportunity to go back and serve at an outreach opportunity that I have been involved at my church. Once a month, we host a free community meal. I have been understandably absent the last two months and I have missed my kitchen peeps. Cooking in the kitchen for this meal is truly one of the highlights of my service to God. It is a physical expression of everything I believe. It was so good to be back in the kitchen. 

And my kitchen peeps told me they missed me. My salty humor and all. And I missed them. It was a bittersweet day because a) I didn't have the energy to stay there all day and b) it was my last time serving before we move. 

I've found that in the midst of the chaos of my life; the grief, the anger, and the pain, there are two things that make me feel real and normal again: 

1) Serving others. Everyone has sorrow going on in their lives. Yeah--I've got a doozy of crap on my shoulders right now, but looking outside of myself keeps me from wallowing in self pity. I'm human people--I can make this all about me with the best of them. Serving others reminds me that I am not the only person in pain, with tragedy or with frustrations. We are all in this human condition together. 

2) Exercise. Physically--after cooking all morning--I had to come home and take a nap. I've found my cancer makes me tired. I either take a nap or go to bed really early. It is what it is. Today I got a nap and a second wind and headed out for a walk. I miss running and weight lifting, but this is my Christ Walk now. And I know when I have not been able to walk. My mood is down. I feel physically drained and I don't cope as well with my anxiety and fear. My walk keeps me off my personal roller coaster. And it makes me feel normal and alive. As long as I walk, my cancer may be my personal parasite, but it's not owning me. I own it. And when I walk, I am able to pray. I am able to pray in some really deep ways that I am unable to do alone in my room or as I lay down for bed at night. I am able to cry behind my sunglasses and tell God how much I would really like to just put my head on his shoulder and rest. I am able to say that I really just don't want to die. I know I'll have my place in heaven, but I have so much more to do here. I am comforted on my walks that God is with me and I am free to be me. Tears, anger, frustrations and fears and all. And I always come back feeling better. 

So I think the two things I've learned to cope with this, no matter how things progress is that to continue to serve others and to walk with God and pray and cry will get me through my bad days. 

Cause as everyone asks "How are you?" My honest answer is there are bad days and good days and I think that continue no matter what. 

For today, I give thanks because

Today was a good day. 

Multiple Days: The Number One "No-No"

Information can be hugely helpful in any disease process.  Information can also make you crazy.  I have a VERY hard time with doing research on my cancer on the internet.  The data and information available makes me anxious, fills me with fear and leaves me feeling defeated. There is so much information out there and you have to figure out what is good information and what is not good information.  I really recommend you let your cancer posse do this for you.  I know I cannot do it on my own without ending up in a very bad place in my mind and heart.

For me, the number one no-no is to get on the internet and start googling lymphoma.  It scares the hell out of me.  I can take only short bursts of information before panic takes over.  It's the sure-fire way to beat down my warrior attitude.

But every so often, I start to think I am strong enough to handle the information and I go searching.  And invariably, something comes up that scares the hell out of me and it makes me fall apart.  And as a former oncology nurse--the knowledge I have from oncology 15 years old does more harm than good.  The specialty has come so far from when I worked in oncology practice. But my memories and knowledge were far more of sick people that were fighting for their life than those we helped.  And I remember selfishly at that time wondering why any one would put themselves through this treatment. Prior   to my children, I remember telling my husband that I would rather die than go through any of the cancer treatement I saw during those years of practice.

I want to apologize to every one of my patients for that thought.  I have kids now.  I have more experience and friends and goals to accomplish.  I understand you will do ANYTHING to have more years with those you love.  It's a fierce desire.  I will fight unfailingly for time with my family.  It's not that I am afraid to die, or afraid of God.  It's just that I love my kids and husband that much.  We have so much more we want to do together.

You see, my disease is considered incurable.  Yes, I will get remission, but this is my life now.  And scientists quote numbers of 5 to 10 to 20 years.  But this isn't good enough for me.  My children will be 29 and 27 with 20 years...I want more.  More, more, more.  And I pray about this insanely.  I want to see my kids grow up and my grandkids and enjoy retirement with my husband.  I hold on to this want fiercely because it is based in love.  I cannot think that God will not understand this becasue I love my family so fiercely that I cannot and will not let them go yet.  God commanded us to love one another. It is this fierce love that calls me to fight. This cannot be wrong. 

But this love is also the center of my fear. I  am not ready to go. I am not ready to consider my mortality but when you are diagnosed with cancer and begin to ready the various websites--that fear creeps in because all you love is threatened. 

And all the research on the internet feeds this fear. When you feed a fear, it becomes larger than it really is. You build a monster in your mind that feeds the cancer and gives you one more thing to fight in this battle. 

When my fear gets so great, I cry. I'm not the strong warrior people see. I'm a mess. I curl on the couch. I may have kicked the couch on occasion and I rale at my situation. Fear is of the devil. It's not pretty. It's red noses, boogers, slobber, many tears, hot flashes and cold streaks. Fear takes your breath and freezes your mind. Your voice is raw from crying and screaming and your body aches from the grief. Fest is so much bigger than it really is. I MUST remind myself that MY GOD is bigger than MY FEAR. 

If the internet feeds your fear, get off of it. Give your fear to God. God is asking us to trust him through these times. I am being called to put my faith in something I cannot see or feel. And I am reading over and over in the Bible how God assures us that we will be delivered. God will be my strong rock and a castle to keep me safe and lift me up in his time and deliver me from my fear and comfort me when I am down and heal me if I put my trust in The Lord. 

I just need to stay off the internet in the interim. Don't feed the fears. 

Day 30: One month In

It's day 30 on this Journey with Cancer.  My life has turned into an ongoing roller coaster ride.  It's one high after a low after a high after a low kind of ride.  It's exhausting.  There are good days and there are bad days.  I have to remind people that even when I have a bad day, it doesn't mean that I am not fighting, or that I don't believe I can't beat this, it's just that some days you have a bad day and it sucks the life out of you.

We are in waiting mode.  I hate waiting.  As Dr. Suess would say, "And then you come to the dreaded waiting place."  Waiting for an answer.  Waiting for a treatment day.  Waiting for a treatment plan.  Waiting for information.  Waiting for a doctor.  Waiting for results.  Waiting for news. Waiting to heal.  Waiting for a moving date.  Waiting.  Waiting. Waiting.

Right now, we have to wait for our move.  My doctor here won't start me on treatment in the middle of the move, and my doctor in the new place won't make a decision until I get there on what that treatment will be.  We have gone from "you must get there by the beginning of December to start treatment--you can't wait!" to "We'll make a decision about your treatment when you get here.  Just let us know."  To say this is conflicting messaging is an understatement.

I have two very different doctors with two different opinions on what to do and neither of them gives me any sort of peace.  So, I am pulling on God for patience, because God knows I have none of my own. And I sit in this waiting place, where one doctor seems very comfortable with waiting and watching for me to become symptomatic and all I want to do is kick this parasite out of my body as fast as I can.  If I could claw it out of my chest I would. Watching and waiting doesn't resonate with me for a number of reasons. And I disagree with them completely when they say I am assymptomatic.

One doctor would start treatment in 2-4 weeks.  She would treat me if I was not moving--but moving gets me closer to family and help and good schools and a good job for my husband.  And since my cancer is so slow growing and indolent, the move doesn't seem impossible.  But then I wait some more.  And wait and hear things like "this cancer isn't curable."  "We'll get you in remission but you'll relapse."  And my mind gets spun up on "this is my life now," and, "this is not how it's supposed to be."

And then there is the other doctor.  The one I haven't met yet.  The one I am putting my faith, and trust, and life in her hands that I have not seen.  I am putting my faith in a woman from 2000 miles away and hoping that she will see me as a person and not a patient.  I am clinging to this belief that she will fight for me as hard as I am fighting to live a life with my family without cancer.  I have to hope and pray that I am not just another clinical trial to her. I have to hope and pray that she will have my best interest at heart and that she will become one with my cancer posse.  I have to pray that God has this all under control because I have NONE of it under control.

I'm in a roller coaster in my mind, my heart, my spirit, my soul and my body.  I am either high or low and I struggle to find the equilibrium.  And each day I walk.  I walk to get myself off of that high or out of that low.  And I walk to pray and I pray to continue to be able to walk. And I wonder, wonder wonder what my life will be like.  This waiting place makes you feel like you are in a stuck place.

And I still just want it to go away.  People, I have plans, and cancer wasn't in any of them.  And it

still isn't.  I want this crap out of my body now. And this makes waiting a tortuous place.

So the questions you are asking:  "What's the plan?" "What's next?" "What are you going to do?" I don't have answers. Because no one can seem to tell me what the plan will be. We will move and then we will hopefully find out what it next.  And so I wait, and I pray.  Maybe in this interim of waiting, God will make my cancer go away. Maybe God has bigger plans for me than I can understand.  I still pray for the cancer to go away.  I know God hears me.  I am learning to wait and see what those answers will be.