Last year I was certain I was experiencing my last birthday. Though it was my 50th, I could not bear to do a celebration...I was so weary and sick and worn down and didn't feel I had strength to go on.
And then a miracle happened. My body stabilized and I was given this past year, largely treatment-free and somehow, quite unexpectedly, the days stacked up into a year and I came to another birthday.
January 15th. Its also the day, now four years ago, that my doctor called to say the cancer was back. It was a Saturday and I was sitting in the car with my family, having just finished my birthday breakfast. Five months later another call, this time as we were loading suitcases in the car to catch a plane for family vacation, saying "there's nothing we can do".
Truly I don't have words to describe what its like to reside in that tension. Our family counselor calls it "anticipatory grief", the profound sense of loss, sorrow and anxiety experienced before an impending death or major life change. Loss, yes. Also, so much gratitude to still be here, experiencing life, watching my kids grow into amazing adults. Also, so many moments wondering, how long?? My brain and my heart cannot process that we've been fighting this reoccurrence for four years.
I used to think joy and sorrow needed to be separate, but I've learned that its not just ok, its necessary that I enjoy the joy because its going to help me with the sorrow. I'm not being disloyal to the sorrow because I take the opportunity to have a moment's joy. Actually, I look for joy like its my job.
This year, I was so happy to celebrate my birthday. 51! I love being old! Against the delicately-delivered advice of my teen niece, I am keeping my hair gray. My middle is soft. I like seeing age spots on both of us when I hold my husband's hand. It reminds me, I've witnessed God's faithfulness.
Recently I did a round of scans and labs and follow-ups. The affect of having four months "off" was interesting...when I walked in the building to do the tests I thought, I HATE this place. All of it. Days later, after one of the telehealth visits Shaun shared with me that he was driving and thinking how much he hates cancer. It was unusual because most often we reserve our strength, not for hating, but for getting through...doing the next thing. But also, there's just lots of layers.
We were given the gift of stable results and a continued pause in the treatment that is buying me time. Its all a bonus and I'm so grateful for it. What I know is there is no such thing as an ordinary days.
So teach us to number our days, That we may cultivate and bring to You a heart of wisdom.
