My cancer story so far - part 4

So far I have been telling about those first few days after I found out I had cancer and how I and my family dealt with the news.  Today I want to turn a corner and share what has been uppermost in my own mind after the initial shock wore off, and that is, is it possible to live a joyful life with cancer and the threat of death hanging over your head?

I can remember reading something on the internet about colon cancer and they said that most people who find out they have colon cancer see their mental and emotional well-being decline precipitously.  I wondered about that in those first few days.  I figured that even if my cancer was bad I still had awhile to live and I knew that I didn't want to spend the rest of my days mourning and moping around, but I wondered how I would not do that.

So I have wrestled to find a path for joy through the cancer and I think that for the most part, I have found it.  That's not to say I don't have some down moments.  A week or so ago I was researching some of the medications I would be taking with the chemo and all of the literature was discussing how this medication may have prolonged someone's life for a few months and this other one for a few months more.  Needless to say this was a hope-killer as it was discussing life in terms of a matter of months.  When I read that I broke down.  But fortunately my wife came up and laid down with me for awhile and I was able to recalibrate where my hope came from - my hope came from the Lord and not doctors. Another time my we had a gorgeous day here and the weather wasn't oppressively cold so my wife wanted to take a walk.  But this was one of my "fatigue days" and after a few hundred yards I just wanted to go back home - that got me discouraged because it was a reminder of my weakness.

I give you that last paragraph so that what I won't appear to be all spiritual and happy-clappy in what I will write from here on out.  There is no getting around the fact that cancer is emotionally tough (understatement of the year).   Also, I'm healing very well right now - I don't sense that I'm in any particular state of decline right now so that helps.  I want to be sensitive to those who are in a state of decline now or to family members who may be watching a loved one waste away or may have just lost a loved one to cancer.  I want you to know that I don't consider my situation normative for everyone and I understand that your path to joy may look different than mine.

But having said all of that I have a strong conviction that the Christian faith was made for times like this. Christianity is a faith born in the midst of suffering and it is uniquely made for suffering.  And the Christian faith is a joyful faith so it seems to me that finding the greatest joy in the midst of the greatest suffering is the Christian's calling and I take it to be mine.

In fact over the past few weeks I have sensed very clearly that I have a twofold calling.  If I am to die a little earlier than expected then I am called to walk joyfully through the valley of death with my Good Shepherd and to witness to the world that it is possible to have joy and courage in the midst of the most difficult circumstances.  Secondly, if I am to live on for many years then I am called to be a witness to the world that the Lord is the Healer and that my hope and joy are in Him, not in life extension.

Having said all of that, those are merely ambitions right now and I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but those are the things I am aiming for.  For now I would say that I am experiencing a remarkable amount of joy and here's a few thoughts on where that comes from.

When great suffering strikes like cancer or something else idols are revealed, the loves of your heart are revealed and the foundations of joy are revealed.  Though I have been a Christian for almost 30 years now I know that my sources of joy have been more in the gifts than the Giver and cancer has revealed that to me.  I knew it before but now I know that I can't count on a lot of the things that I have counted on before to bring me joy.  Although I hope to grow old with my wife and have good reason to believe I still may, I can't count on that. I hope to see my grandkids but I can't count on it. I hope to see my church grow and thrive and I hope to write books that will encourage many, I can't count on that.  I would love to travel and see more of the world, but I can't count on that, I need to stay close to my doctors. My hopes, my dreams and my ambitions are being seriously trimmed and I am being forced to find hope and joy in Christ alone.

And it works, it is happening. I don't say this with any sense of super-spirituality at all, but I can honestly say that I wake up most days amazed at how blessed I am and how good God has been to me.  In fact, since getting cancer, though I have had some of my worst days, my most "down" days I have had glimpses of joy that I have never had before just as I sit back and contemplate all that I have in Christ. 

I'm also having to rethink death.  I won't say much now because I'd like to do a whole post on the subject of death, but I'll say a couple of things for now.  Back when the prospect of death wasn't so personal I knew all of the platitudes about it, i.e. it represents our home going to be with the Lord, but it was still not something I wanted to experience any time soon.  Back then I could sing with Kenny Chesney, "everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to go now."  Now I think Kenny's song is pretty stupid.  Imagine taking a business trip across country and then calling back to your wife and family and saying "I really want to come home to see all of you, I just don't want to come see you anytime soon, I think I'll stay here for as long as I can and only come home to be with you when I have to and after I've exhausted all of the joys I can out of this place."  How would your family feel about that?  Yet, we Christians say that on the one hand we love Jesus more than anyone, but we want to make we don't have to see Him face to face until we absolutely have to.  There is something seriously wrong with that and I am trying to recalibrate my affections so that the prospect of seeing Jesus becomes a joyful prospect.

Having said that, I am trying to be prepared to die, yet I am planning to live.  The danger in what I just wrote is that we can get so eager to go to heaven that we don't take our responsibilities here on earth seriously.  A soldier may desperately long to come home, but he sees the necessity of his service on the other side of the world and is willing to complete his tour for a greater good for his family and many more.

So I think this is one of the keys to joy - living life with a strong sense of purpose.  I understand that the whole idea of purpose has become cliche for some, but I find my sense of purpose has been greatly sharpened and focused lately and this has contributed immensely to my joy.

Also, I can't help but keep thanking everyone for their prayers and support.  Every expression of love and kindness and every prayer contributes immensely to my joy.  This goes for face to face conversations, cards and letters, e-mails, and blog and Facebook comments.  You all are helping me more than you know.

I'll close with one more thing that has been most helpful, but hang with me for a second while I set this up.  Right now I'm living the good life if you can believe it.  Due to my illness I get to sleep in as long as I like, I have people lining up to help and serve me, and I am generally the center of attention wherever I go. A skeptic would scoff at all of the spiritual stuff I just said and say "well of course your happy, everyone is giving you everything you want."  We even have a joke at my house - my middle son has said that I have a permanent get out of jail card because of the cancer - no one is allowed to get mad at dad.   That is coupled with the fact that I am feeling pretty good for the most part - about the worst thing I am experiencing now is the annoyance of having to go to the doctor all the time and also getting needles stuck in me alot.  But really, in terms of suffering that barely registers.  Also, though I am taking death seriously, the fear of death is not as immediate a concern for me at this moment.  The doctors aren't speaking apocalyptically to me and my oncologist even seems to be cautiously encouraging - at one point he said I may count the rest of my life in hundreds of days, but he has recently been saying I can count it in thousands of days.  So, though the prospet of death is real, it does not seem as imminent.

All of this adds up to the fact that I don't feel like I am particularly suffering right now.  In a week or so I'll be at the six week mark since my surgery which is the expected recovery time, so I'm going to make a concerted effort to start working as normal a schedule as I can, given all of my doctor appointments (my doctor says I am now a professional patient).  So I wonder about the future and will I be able to handle it if I start to decline.  I wonder if I'll be able to handle it if the doctor comes to me one day and says "the treatment isnt' working, the tumors are growing." Or, if they come and say "I'm sorry, we've done all we can do." 

To deal with that I encourage myself with some words that John Piper wrote in his devotional - A Godward Life, vol. 1."   He said that part of living by faith today is having faith that we will have the faith we need to handle tomorrow's trials.  In other words, I probably don't have the faith today to handle the news that "there's nothing else we can do."  But that level of faith hasn't been required of me yet.  I can have faith today that when I need the faith to handle those words, God will make it available.  I and my wife have already survived and thrived after receving the devastating news that my cancer was stage 4 and I can trust that when the time comes to face the imminency of death, God will meet me at that point and give me the faith I need.

For now though I am praying for the faith to make the most of my cancer for His glory and this is a great source of joy.