Share the Prayer

I love blogging.  When I started I thought I would write fun stuff about my kids, my husband and homeschooling.  I thought I might share an occasional craft idea, organizational ideas, a recipe or something really Becky-Homecky.

I never planned to have cancer and blog my way through it last year.  I certainly didn't plan on blogging through cancer this year, but it just showed up the third time. It's like a zit on your wedding day - you don't want it, but because it's there, you gotta' deal with it.

Part of the reason I don't like blogging about cancer, is I just don't like cancer.  I don't like doctors.  I don't like hospitals.  I don't like shots.  I don't like medication.  I don't like anything about the medical profession.  I didn't go into that field for a good reason, but I was drug from the sidelines into a game I didn't try out for.

Another reason I didn't want to blog about cancer is because it is boring. Let's face it, when we ask an older person who they're doing, and they launch into a 20 minute discussion on topics ranging from hip pains, bunions, lip sores, mucus, stitches to bowel troubles and  medications, ALL of our eyes want to roll back into our heads.  We try to engage for the first few minutes, but after that, most of us are doing the "smile and nod" thing.

But really, I just don't like talking about myself. I would much rather tell funny stories about my hubby and my kids.  I would rather inspire you all to be more hospitable.  I would rather share a treasure the Lord has given me from the Scriptures.

A young friend of mine, Becca,  who was recently diagnosed with lung cancer, feels that same discomfort.  When you have cancer, you end up having to talk a lot about yourself.  It is good because it means people love you, are praying for you, are asking about you, but it draws you into a place of attention you wouldn't have chosen yourself. 

So, as I debated on whether or not to blog through this bout of cancer, I realized this simple thing.  My blog is titled "Momma Mindy's Moments."  For now, the Lord has allowed cancer to fill my moments.  As much as I have peace that the Lord has allowed me to have cancer, I finally have peace that the Lord desires me to write about my cancer.

Since today the only day this week without doctor visits, I wanted to put other people in that position of love and prayer support my faithful, dear readers have given me. The love and faithfulness in prayer that has been extended to me has been a huge help, encouragement and a blessing.  I want to spread the love and ask you to pray through these names below.

Pray for Becca, momma of two little girls.  Stop by her blog and encourage her.

 Then, while you are praying, add Charlcie to your list. She is going through the exact same series this week, with the scan on Friday. She has had two bouts with thyroid cancer and is obviously, desiring a clear scan  Friday.

Also pray for a young mom by the name of Elisha. She was diagnosed with thyroid cancer while pregnant with their fourth child. She was able to deliver the baby safely, had surgery,  nurse baby, and will have Radioactive Iodine treatment in March.  She will be going off her artificial thryoid  during this time, which can be very challenging.

Pray for Wanda, who completed her first bout of treatment for thyroid cancer and is still clear. Her husband, Larry, is suffering a lot of health issues at this time.

Remember, Liba, young Mom of four in Israel, round one of thyroid cancer that had spread to  lynph nodes in her neck. She was going through the same testing I was this week, as well.

Marlena, a young mom of one whose thyroid cancer was also extensive, but is in remission.

Michelle, a beautifully mommy who had a 9 hour surgery to remove a tumor on her spine.  Had a previous brain tumor.

Lisa, mother of 9, went through breast cancer last year, and has given me great ideas to take charge of my own life with diet and exercise to fight back.

Pray for RivkA, another blogging friend in Israel, who has battled cancer long and hard.  Her stage zero breast cancer mysteriously metastasized to her bones, liver and lungs, then her brain.
Her blog states,

Diagnosis: Cancer is a "chronic illness." You can live with it.

Translation: I hope to be on chemotherapy for a LONG time!

How's that for some contagious optimism?


So, as you have blessed me and prayed for me, I ask you to pray for my friends.


1 Timothy 2:8, "I will therefore that men pray every where, lifting up holy hands..."

1 Thessalonians 5:17, "Pray without ceasing."


I would also encourage you to leave prayer requests below if you have anything that needs to be brought before the Throne of Grace.

And as we pray, let's worship.  Let's praise and thank the One whos hands bears the marks of His dying love for us!

Halleluia!

Day Four is Over

It's All Perspective

At the beginning of January, when my husband turned 46, my stomach turned just a teensy-weensy bit anxious.  I was going to turn 46 next,  in August.  We'd crested the hill of middle-age and were going down the slippery slope to 50.

It sounded so old.  I was trying to convince myself that age doesn't matter, and all that stuff, but the lines on my face, the little double chin that disappears only when I tilt my head a little too far back to look normal and the wrinkled hands have proved the adage, "I'm not gettin' any younger."

But, with the return of my cancer for the third time at the end of January, I suddenly found 50 lookin' really good.

Now, I WANT to turn 50.

It's all perspective.

Our spiritual perspective can be distorted at times, too.

With my diagnosis came a rush of peace and joy and presence of the Lord.  I felt so uplifted, and I knew we would be able to endure yet another round.

Wednesday afternoon, circumstances found me alone in my home for four hours.  I could clean, organize, write, cross things off my To DO List with a vengeance. I've discovered that cancer has brought out the nesting instinct just like pregnancy.  Only now I come home from the hospital empty handed.

One of those items on the list was to call the hospital where I will be getting my treatment.  During my initial surgery and hospitalization for RadioActive Iodine 1-131, I had some very, very bad experiences.  They made several major mistakes. I just needed some affirmation that they were going to take care of me this time.
After talking to Molly for about 20 minutes, I was assured that things were different, there was a new room where I would be isolated for three days, I would have access to a DVD player, there were new drinks to choose from even with ice, and I could bring my computer.  Whew.

Before I could even cross anything off my list, I got a phone call from the hospital.  I was a bit surprised. I hadn't given them my full name.

It wasn't Molly, it was the scheduling department.

"Is this Melinda?" 
"Yes."
"You have a  body scan scheduled on Feburary 19th and we need to reschedule it."
"Reschedule?  Why?"
"The hospital isn't open on the 15th, so you wouldn't be able to do the full series of shots.  We need to reschedule."
"Why aren't you open?"
"It's President's Day and the hospital is closed."

In my mind I'm thinking, "How stupid can you be?  You've known for MONTHS its President's Day, how do you end up calling me two business days before my testing begins to tell me you're not open?"  I had made my appointment the same day I was diagnosed and had begun the diet immediately.

Instead, I bit my tongue and said with honest politeness, "Do you know how horrible this is?  I have to be on the low iodine diet for an extra week and now have to put off the testing for my cancer another week."

No sympathy.  No voice inflection.  The monotone repeated, "We need to reschedule. Your body scan is now on the 25th."

I didn't want to let her off the hook.  "Fine, I'll reschule for the 22nd to the 25th, but you have to know this is really affecting my life."

I was also thinking about the three lumps that grew in three months.  The new timetable put it at one full month from diagnosis to testing.  We still have treatment after that. These little things are growing too quickly for my comfort.

No sympathy.  No assurance. Just that same uncaring voice adding one more week to my sentence.

I hung up and for 30 seconds cried, but it took too much energy.  The hospital, the one I was trying to gain confidence in, had failed again. I worried that if I couldn't trust them for something as simple as scheduling appointments only on days the hospital was open, how could I entrust them with the actual treatment?  I was upset.  In fact, I surprised myself.  I took cancer from the Lord, but I couldn't take the calendar change from the Lord. I  had survived the tornado and been blown over by a whisper.

For days I had been mentally preparing myself to take heed lest I stumble.  Lack of faith  frequently follows a spiritual victory. There is something about the Lord getting glory that satan just doesn't like.  I was trying to beware, we cautious, to guard my heart and my soul.  My temporary lack of faith put me in good company with Elijah, Jonah and many others.

In my deepest disappointment, the Lord spoke to me.  He reminded me I am to have NO confidence in man.  I am to trust in Him alone.  He is the one who is going to heal me, if it is His will.  The medical staff will be instruments used for His purposes.

"And,"  I added under my breath, as I heard His voice, " if I'm healed, it will not be BECAUSE of the medical profession, but in SPITE of them."

It's all perspective.



(This blog has joined other at the FAB Friday at Blog Schmog.  Read how other bloggers have learned to turn lemons into lemonaid!)