One day at a time

Allow me to introduce my circumstances.

Four years ago I was diagnosed with stage III rectal cancer. I tell people when asked, that I had the most glamorous kind of cancer. Especially once the rectum was removed and the surgeon equipped me with a lovely ostomy bag. After a year of treatment, I was told I was cancer-free. Woohoo!

Last May I was diagnosed with cancer again. Same kind, new location. Only now it’s considered metastatic. No grades or stages, since it’s the same type (adenocarcinoma). I’ve been in treatment since then and will be until at least June of 2020, but probably longer. I’ll definitely have maintenance chemo for a while after full-time treatment ends, maybe for life. Woohoo.

The first round with cancer, which lasted a year, I considered it an adventure. And why not? I’d never done this before. And every good adventure consists of companions, treasure, a journey and a dragon. Cancer certainly qualifies as an adventure.

The oncologist seemed to think we’d beat this thing and come out on top. Granted, chemotherapy takes a person to the edge of death, but I was well taken care of by the medical field, my family and friends. So it was an adventure!

This time cancer has been a grueling marathon, one I hope to finish. Last time, my motto was “one day at a time.” This time I understand what that means. I’ve been scared out of my mind. I’ve cried more tears in the last year than in most of my lifetime. Treatment has been more aggressive, and my body knows it.

One day at a time? That’s been the game changer for me. I have so many bad days. But not all days are bad days. And I have people who love me taking care of me. A good friend recently reminded me of a scripture portion that resonates strongly right now. The women who first saw the resurrected Jesus responded with both joy and fear. Both were appropriate responses to days of pain and sorrow, followed by a shocking, happy reality.

I spiral into fear at times. After my last surgery, they found that the tumor had shrunk to almost nothing. Hooray! But they found live cancer cells when the removed parts were examined under a microscope. This was after seven chemotherapy treatments. The chemo works, but it didn’t eradicate every last cell. I was terrified.

We went back to chemotherapy. Subsequent scans show no tumor growth whatsoever, and I continue with aggressive treatment. Cause for joy. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster.

Where do I find joy? I find it in pockets and moments every day. I find it in conversations with friends. I find joy in tiny realizations. No, I can no longer hold my favorite duck, pet the goats or scratch our pigs’ bellies (pigs love a good belly scratch). But I can still do some housework most days (it’s amazing how good housework feels when there are things you can no longer do). I can still weave tapestry some days. I can still communicate with the people I love. And my sweet Hunny still makes me laugh every day.

This will sound crazy, but there’s a scripture which keeps me moving forward with a positive attitude. James 1:2 says, “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” I swear, this trial tests my faith every blessed day. And every day produces endurance. So I take one day at a time. If I didn’t know Jesus this would be a different story, a different trial. And very little hope would exist.

Thanks for letting me share. Sharing also brings me joy. Do you have someone safe with whom you can share? Let me know. And take life one day at a time. Don’t let the pain and sorrow stack up. Shed yesterday and start fresh today.