Felt good enough this afternoon to venture out to Gilda's Club and met with 2 other PC survivors! Both diagnosed last year and still living life! One is Stage 4 the other Stage 2B, like me. The guy, like me, went back to work after his surgery & when he completed chemo & radiation. That's been my plan & I have a countdown to when I am through with chemo! ONLY 6 more infusions & then back to my "new normal" life! I can not wait to be back at work! Chemo is progressively harder as you go...boo hiss! But there is light at the end of the tunnel and it is NOT an oncoming train! It's the brightness of my future without the evil witch in me!
Now onto my thoughts about this evil witch, called Pancreatic Cancer. This is an EVIL cancer. Think about what breast cancer was 40 years ago. That's what we are still facing with Pancreatic Cancer. The statistics for surviving PC have not changed in my lifetime. How can that be in America? Only 6% survive to 5 years. That's pathetic!
Help me understand WHY we have ignored Pancreatic and Ovarian cancer, both known as "silent killers"? Can WE change that for our future generations? I pray we do.
A friend of my sister's is facing a different, very difficult diagnosis and has been sharing her, "Talks with God"...here is one from Dede...it spoke deeply to me and gave me peace knowing I'm having very similar talks with God & Christ. Thank you for your continued prayers, support & love. I'm not going to lie, I'm still very afraid sometimes, but my own "discussions with God" bring me my own kind of peace.
Love y'all!
Love you more! Infinity! No take backs!
A Talk with God & Dede
June 17, 2013
I am hoping to find out if I'm going to live or die today. I have spent three months not knowing and I really want to find out something – whether good or bad – I just need to know. God, I am afraid. I do not know what is going to happen today.
But I do.
I know you do.
Will you trust me?
Yes. Again. But this is hard. Mostly I am praying to continue to feel your presence and trust in your love for me. But I would be lying if I said I didn't want to live. I really do want to live, God.
Let me write the story.
I don't know if I like your ending.
You will. It ends with me and you together.
I like that, God, but could we end up that way in 40 years and I die then?
Let me write your story.
I cried last night, afraid.
I know. I was with you.
I was afraid on the ride to the doctor yesterday. I drummed my fingers in the air out the car window and looked at every tree You made, terrified that they would hospitalize me and I would never get to be outside again. I thought about how sad it would be that the last outside world I would see was suburban traffic, strip malls, and mostly treeless streets.
I know. I was with you. I was sitting right beside you. Jesus was on your right side and I was on your left. We were there. You felt us.
I know. I remember.
So why are you afraid now? I'm still with you here in your bathroom, with you half dressed, praying when you should be getting ready, giving you the words only because you listen despite everything.
Could you just give me a hint? Does this end up as a tragedy? Do I die soon?
How can it be a tragedy if you end up in my arms?
Due respect and I hear you, God, but I am not ready to let go of my own children yet.
I was not ready to let go of mine, either.
Don't say things like that, God. It makes me think that I am going to die.
I will be with you if you are. Be still. You're half dressed, half ready for work, cleaning the bathroom, and trying to listen to me. You're nervous and afraid. You are being like Martha. Finished getting dressed. We can talk in a minute. Then be still and listen.
Okay. Okay. This would be a good dress for my funeral.
Just get dressed. Good joke.
Maybe? Was that a hint?
Trust me, child. I have a plan for you. It was determined before you were born or even conceived. You cannot change the plan. It is my plan for you. I wrote it as any loving father would write it, with care for every detail. It has twists and turns and chaos, and chapters of hardship and straying and chapters of love and redemption. But ultimately, across it all, my love for you never fails, no matter what. Even through death.
Jesus died at 33, right? Could you at least give me until Quentin is 33? Could you please give me 14 years?
You're bargaining. I asked you to trust, not bargain.
That isn't easy, God, when you are afraid you are dying.
It is never easy. It isn't easy for people even when they believe with certainty that they are living. They still don't trust me.
Point. It is hard to argue with you. You always win.
I am not arguing with you. I'm just talking with you.
Look, can my prayers this morning even make a difference? I have prayed for your presence and I feel you with me all of the time. But what if I drop to my knees and pray for a miracle? For your healing? To live?
You are free to pray for whatever you like.
Okay. I will pray in order of what I need. First:
Dear God, I pray that I will always know Your love. I pray that not a day in my life will go by when I don't hear Your voice, see Your face, trust Your words, and feel Your love. I pray that my heart will always know with absolute confidence that it is You. And may Your love for me translate into love for all of those around me. May others feel Your love through me.
Second, I would really like to live.
I will grant you the first prayer. Who cares about the second one, then?
I do. My kids do. What good can I do if I am dead?
What good did Jesus do after he died?
Point. But quit talking about Him. Every time you bring Him up, you make me think that I am for certain going to die.
He is my son. Parents talk about our children because we love them.
Let me talk to Jesus, then.
Will you finished getting dressed and get out of the bathroom first?
Okay.
Hello. It's Jesus.
Hey, Jesus. I had all this stuff to say to You and was going to ask You many questions about dying young and beg for You to intervene, but now I'm not really sure my words and questions matter. Instead, I find myself just sitting here with You in Your love. Jesus, I do feel Your love. And I am still scared. My mind drifts back to scary diagnoses, inconclusive tests, and concerned doctors who offer me drinks of water as they share test results full of medical terms that I can't pronounce.
Let them all go. Just sit here with me now. Feel my love for you. Stop talking. Let me heal you. Just sit in my love. Feel how clean and whole and at peace you are.
Okay. Jesus, I can hear you talking to God – "if there is any way to pass this cup, then pass it. But your will, not mine, be done." Thank you for the prayer on my behalf. Thank you for sitting with me this morning and sharing your love.
Do you see the world opening up before you? Do you see what is happening as people heal each in their own way that they need to heal? Can you see the miracle that is your life in Me?
I can.
Trust me for the end of the story. I promise: it ends up good. I will never forsake you and you will always know my love. What else could you need?
Nothing.
So let everything else go. Put it aside – all of it – even your life. It doesn't matter. Be clear in my love for you and stay focused on me. The only thing that matters is my love. And the more you let go of – even letting go of your life – the more of this love that you will know. Someday, you will give up all of it – your children, your husband, your friends and family, your house, your health, everything you know and love, to be with me. And you will do it willingly and consider it a good trade.
I would really like to do that later, God, but not now.
Trust me. I am not against you in this. We want the same thing. I want you to end up in my arms for all eternity. Letting go of the things you love on earth is the only way to get there. It will take some time, but you will be able to let them go. The more you let them go, the more space you will find for my love. And the more you find my love, the more at peace you will feel until you will want nothing else but this love.
Okay. I love You. I trust You. Part of me is hoping that you mean that all of this happens when I am 87 and not 47, but Your will be done. Anyway, spending eternity in Your love sounds worth it all. Amen then, God.
Amen.
I love it when You say Amen.
I love it when you say Amen.
Amen.
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