21.) Feels Like Roulette

I’m learning not to ask cancer patients, or anyone walking in the shadow of their own mortality, how they’re feeling—unless I am fully prepared for the answer, because there is a high likelihood that they just might tell me; or, sensing my insincerity, they’ll just lie. It’s funny, sometimes, how that, when people ask me how I’m feeling, and I start to tell them, their face begins to glaze over and their eyes take on that “deer in the headlights” stare.  Or, they begin to get fidgety and start looking around like, “Oh no, he’s actually telling me, somebody get me outta this.”

Meanwhile, I’m thinking:  “Haha… I’ve got you now!  Soooo, should I keep on talking for the pure pleasure of punishing you for having the audacity to ask? Or, do I show you some mercy and quickly set the brakes, and just say, ‘but, you know what, all-in-all, I’m feeling great!’ and just leave it at that?”

Being the compassionate person that I am—well, most of the time, with most people—I typically just lie from the start and tell them, “I’m feeling just fine!” Which is all they really want to hear, anyway.

But sometimes I’m tempted to be just plain mean to those who are totally clueless and, when they ask how I’m feeling, I want to get all grumpy and say to them, “Well, have you been to my website lately and read my blog? Because, if you cared enough to have done that, then you would know about the hospital stays, the crazy hormone imbalances, and the upcoming radiation treatment. And then, at least, you could ask me a more specific and intelligent question!”  But then I hear sweet Taylor Swift’s (2011) voice echoing in my mind, singing: “Why you gotta be so mean?”— doouughh!!!

Something that is really hard to deal with, at this point, and that is hard to talk about, is the uncertainty regarding my future plans and goals. Looking back over my writing, I note that I’ve made some rather bold statements about not letting cancer define me or be the controlling factor in my life. Those statements were obviously posted on days when I felt a whole lot better than I do right now – ha! Again, I can already relate to Jeff Tomczek’s (2012) insight when he says, “…cancer will always be a part of you. It will define how you see the world moving forward. You’re going to feel like the future is a funny thing to think about because the present is going to suddenly seem incredibly important.”

The fact of the matter is, like it or not, this cancer has been a huge disruption to my life; and has changed everything. Just before discovering that I had cancer, I was running 5 days a week (5 miles/day @ 9.00 minutes/mile). Today, I’ll be lucky if I can walk 2 miles. I lost over 60 lbs. during 2012, all the way down to 197.  Now, it’s only mid-January and, despite adopting a vegan diet and eating less, I’ve gained over 20 lbs., back up to 220 – yuck! While I still seem to look sort of okay, and people don’t seem to notice the weight—or at least, if they do, they don’t say anything—it sends a shiver through me every time I step on the scales. I feel so out of control of this whole situation.

Just a “side note” about going vegan. I’ve discovered that “vegan” doesn’t necessarily translate into “healthy.” In fact, many people who are vegan are incurring much higher rates of cancer and other chronic diseases because they’ve simply substituted one bad eating habit for another. For example, many give up eating every kind of meat and dairy, but then flood their bodies with all kinds of soy products—which has got to be one of the most poisonous substances we can consume—as well as processed carbs, sugars, glutens, etc… They would do better to eat a little free-range chicken, or grass-fed beef from time-to-time, rather than that poisonous tofu junk!

On another note, I was becoming so confident in my new lifestyle of controlled weight loss, physical discipline, and amateur athleticism that I was already in the process of initiating plans to inaugurate a new health and fitness club called “Missio Dei”—Mission of God—and had begun encouraging people to join me in training, running, biking, and racing in behalf of impoverished children around the world. All of that seems to have evaporated before my very eyes!

During the coming year, my plan was to travel back to the U.S. Mainland to visit family, friends, and churches in an effort to raise additional, and severely needed, mission support funds for our work and ministry here in the islands. I was planning to launch a new, comprehensive missions outreach project that would greatly enhance our evangelism outreach efforts here in Hawai‘i and throughout the Pacific; including the resurrection and continuation of our local Christian home-schooling network. It broke my heart to have to tell my son this past week, after a difficult consultation with my endocrinologist, that the homeschooling portion of the project would likely not be happening. My granddaughter, whom I love more than life itself, was supposed to have been my first new client!

So, for better or for worse, this cancer is changing my life and causing me to reevaluate everything—all my plans, all my goals, all my dreams and aspirations—short-term and long. But one thing I’ve been warned about is making important life decisions while still in the midst of the fire. It is better, I’m told, not to overreact, but to just focus on my health and doing what I need to do to get better; and give the fires time to die down. Then, when I’m in a “better place” and positioned to face the future, I can make critical decisions about the goals and dreams I want to pursue. However, that is so hard for me to do. I’m one of those emotional, passionate, type “A” personalities who find it tough not to overreact, but to simply wait, to put it all in God’s hands, and to let things unfold naturally. I’m too much the doer! And, I feel like, if I can’t get the job done, then I just need to get out of the way and let someone else come in who can.

As a cancer patient, I just need people to know, if they care to know, that these life changes that are happening all around me are not phantoms, they are very real—at least to my mind. Okay, maybe some of them are phantoms; but please treat my phantoms respectfully – ha! And please don’t talk to me about your Aunty Margaret who had some kind of something wrong with her thyroid, but that was years ago and now she’s taking her tiny pills and doing just fine. And don’t say a word to me about thyroid cancer being one of those “good cancers.” There is no “good cancer”—even if, as with papillary thyroid, the casualty rate is only around 11% for people over 45.  It’s still a roulette with 10 chambers and 1 live round… YOU wanna play?

Furthermore, every cancer is different, every person is different, and every treatment is different in its effects, consequences, and outcomes. Everyone who faces a potentially deadly disease, or who is dealing with any kind of serious, chronic illness, is going to endure a plethora of life-changing experiences—physical, psychological, spiritual. And, there will be death—if not physical, certainly the death of dreams, goals, ambitions, and lifestyle; and maybe even a few relationships. None of us are in a position to second guess or presume to know what someone else is going through, or to make light of that; or to tell them how they should feel about it, or how they should handle their unique situation. Nor do we know God’s plan for that person or the endgame He may have in mind.

The best encouragement I can find regarding my own circumstances, comes from the Apostle Paul’s admonition to the Christians living in Rome who were enduring immense persecutions and suffering. He said, “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28, NASB). Note that the passage does not say “all things are good,” or that “only good things will happen,” to those who love God. In fact, in another Bible passage, wise King Solomon said:

I again saw under the sun that the race is not to the swift and the battle is not to the warriors, and neither is bread to the wise nor wealth to the discerning nor favor to men of ability; for time and chance overtake them all. Moreover, man does not know his time: like fish caught in a treacherous net and birds trapped in a snare, so the sons of men are ensnared at an evil time when it suddenly falls on them. (Ecclesiastes 9:11-12, NASB)

God’s promise is not that bad things will not happen to good people. Bad things happen to everyone. But the promise is that He “causes all things to work together for good” to those who love Him.

We can rest assured that, even when things seem to be spiraling out of control and our dreams are dying all around us, God is still in control. No matter how bad it seems to get, He will work it all together for our good.  That promise, by the way, is not for everybody. That promise, the Bible says, is one that God has made to those who love Him.

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So, do you really want to know how I feel—how a lot of people feel, I guess—when battling cancer, or some other potentially life-threatening situation; especially when you’re really not sure just what you’re up against, and the future seems so uncertain?  Well, here’s a song by Rihanna which, I think, pretty well describes where I am at the moment; and where a lot of cancer patients often find themselves:

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Please feel free to comment below; or write to me: mybiblestudy777@gmail.com

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