He Calls Me Batya: God, Help Me

I have waited six months for the news I received yesterday. However, nothing about the day even came close to the way I imagined it playing out.

I intended to take the entire day off since my dad was still going to be in town. I figured we could do a little Christmas shopping in the morning before my 2:15pm appointment. Plans changed last Thursday when I learned that the television show, Nashville, would be recording on campus Monday and Tuesday. Although my part ended with minimal planning assistance, I believe in leading by example.

One of the first things I did when I woke up Monday morning was gather the clothes I planned to wear to the doctor. Rarely have I given this much thought: jeans, t-shirt, cap. Easy enough! As I assessed my t-shirt wardrobe, though, I pulled out the shirt I knew I needed to wear. It is brown with the word "Believe" on the front.

I had an extremely difficult time "believing" throughout the course of the morning. Shortly after arriving to work, Mike and I took a walk to the heart of campus to see how the production was going and to make sure everything was running smoothly. One of the officers got an attitude with me about an email I sent him asking for clarification on a report. Although I meant what I told him, I expected more from him and the officer who actually wrote the poor report, I handled it very badly. I got very angry, defensive, and stormed off. After taking a few moments to cool down, I returned to where he stood and apologized. I explained that my nerves and stress over my upcoming doctor's appointment was getting to me. He apologized as well and we were able to successfully move on.

My nerves were not getting any better, though. With everything else well under control, I decided to enjoy the pleasant weather and go for a walk around the perimeter of campus, hoping to get my emotions in check and calm down. Instead, the further I walked, the worse I felt. I played out every possible bad scenario.

If Mr. Meluch told me I was going to need more chemo or start radiation, I would start saying my goodbyes. There was no way I could handle going through this anymore right now. People may have credited me with being strong, but my strength ends here. I had had enough.

If he was going to tell me I needed a bone marrow transplant, I would ask to do it in San Antonio. There is no way I could sit at home for six weeks without working. I would go crazy. At least in San Antonio, I could have my family nearby.

Just when I thought I could not take it anymore, God reminded me of His words to me that very morning. My mom gave me a daily devotional written as if Jesus is speaking directly to me. Monday's words read:

Do not be surprised by the fiery attacks in your mind. When you struggle to find Me and live in My Peace, don't let discouragement set in. You are engaged in massive warfare, spiritually speaking. The evil one abhors your closeness to Me, and his demonic underlings are determined to destroy our intimacy. When you find yourself in the thick of battle, call upon My name: Jesus, help me!! In that instant the battle becomes Mine; your role is simply to trust Me as I fight for you!

I looked up and said, "God, help me! It's yours now!" The anxiety only increased as they day wore on, but at least I was able to stop playing the "what if" game.

My dad met me, Mike, and Terry for lunch. My stomach hurt and I had no appetite. My stomach had been upset all day and my neck and shoulders were still sore. They are always sore after the shot the Tuesday after chemo week. It was lingering longer than normal this time. I thought the stomach ache was because of the brownie sundae I had for desert Sunday night! With no appetite, I ate light.

When we got back to the office, I still had a little over an hour to kill before going to the doctor. I could not focus on anything, though. Instead of even trying to work, I wasted time on Facebook. A friend of mine posted the exact same message as my devotional from the morning. I knew God was trying to tell me something. I thanked her for the post and attempted to let God have my anxiety.

"It's just so hard," I admitted to Him.

I think my sister nailed it best when she summed up her anxiety for me. She said as long as I was going through chemo, I still had a fight. I was still doing something. Now, it is truly and completely in God's hands. It is out of my control.

When she told me this, I remember thinking, "This is where true faith comes in." Now, though, I was having difficulty releasing the control to Him. I am a control freak and in this moment, I had no choice but to wait on Him. Proved nearly impossible.

I went ahead and got changed and planned to leave early. I decided I would rather wait there than here. If I waited there, maybe they would see me early. Mike could tell I was extremely tense and he tried to joke with me and reassure me. He even tried to give me a hug. I told him I could not hug him because if I did, I would start crying and I did not want to cry.

I was also sick and tired of everyone texting me, messaging me, and telling me that I would hear only good things from the doctor. I was hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. I did not want to hear everyone's happy thoughts. What if they were wrong? Every cancer patient and every loved one wants and expects to hear good news. Not everyone does, though. Until I heard it from the doctor, I wanted to hear nothing from anyone else.

As I left, another co-worker asked me where I was going. Without looking back and with all seriousness, I said, "I"m going to find out if I'm going to live or die." I ignored their reassuring remarks.

At the doctor's office, I did get in a little early. The nurse taking my blood took my temperature twice. I usually have a temperature around 96 degrees, but it was 99 degrees. She asked me if I was okay. I thought she was asking if I felt okay because I had a slight fever. I said yes. She said the reason she asked was because I did not look okay. I told her I would be okay after I talked to the doctor. She smiled and understood.

As we waited for Dr. Meluch, I shared some of my concerns with my dad. He said he expected nothing, but good news. He commented on the fact that my mom was here when I found out I had cancer and he was here to find out I was cured. I grabbed a few tissues and told him I thought I would cry no matter what he told me. I was on the very edge of loosing all control.

Lucky, Dr. Meluch did not keep us waiting long. He asked me how I was doing. I said, "I don't know yet." I could tell by the look on his face that it was good news. He examined me and everything looked good.

The PET scan and CT scan came back negative. I still had a few enlarged lymph nodes, but the could be scar tissue, nothing to worry about. My lung function test came back 7% worse than the last test, but this is still not bad. I am still a bit anemic, but my blood count is good.

He said my form of cancer has a high success rate, but I was even better because I responded so well to treatment. All looks good. He credits my age and fitness level prior to cancer for how well I did during treatment.

He then explained what next:

People who have gone through treatment are susceptible to developing a second form of cancer within the first year. I am less likely because I did not go through radiation, but it is still possible. For this reason, he recommends leaving the port in for one year. If it bothers me, we can talk about taking it out sooner, but we need to wait at least three months. I have no issues leaving it in.

I need to make sure I give myself breast exams once a month and I need to start having mammograms once a year. Apparently, breast cancer is often the second type of cancer to appear. Again, it is most common after radiation.

I have to come in once a month for the first year for blood work and to get my port flushed out. I have to go back once every three months for a CT scan. He said we don't have to do the PET scan every time.

After the first year, we can take out the port. Then, for that next year, I will come back every three months for testing. After year two, if everything looks good, he will declare me cancer free. Then, I will only need to come back once a year for five years.

My immune system will still be weak and I will still need to take precautionary measures against getting sick like I have been. I will have to do this for the next year. He said I'll have ups and downs like I did while in chemo. Now, however, I will gradually get better and better. He said next month, I may be mad at him because I still feel bad, but I will probably feel better than I do today.

He wanted to send me to physical therapy to help build me back up physically. Not only am I physically weak from six months of chemo, but my lungs need to be built back up as well. He gave me the option of going through Belmont for this. Basically, it would be like someone who has never worked out a day in their lives starting a new workout program. I am going to talk with the fitness staff at Belmont to help me.

After he finished preparing me for what's to come, I asked him a list of questions. My two most important questions were when could I start teaching RAD again and when could I start taking Krav Maga again. I knew as long as I had the port, my participation in Krav would be limited because I cannot get punched in the chest. I was not expecting what he told me, though.

I can teach RAD as long as I don't participate in the demonstration portion. I should stay away from Krav Maga for now. I should pace myself and start with the physical therapy. It may take as long as a year. It may be sooner, but I cannot start back in January like I thought.

After meeting with Dr. Meluch, I went to get my port flushed. Before I did, though, I walked back to him with another question. He had not actually told me my prognosis. All I knew for sure from the conversation was that I didn't have to go through chemo anymore.

So, I asked, "What does all this mean? I know we don't say I'm cancer free yet, but what do I say?"

He looked at me and smiled and said, "You are in full remission. For all practical purposes, you are cancer free. I'll tell you again in two years!"

I was happy, no doubt about it, but surprisingly, I did not cry. As a matter of fact, I had no real emotion. As we talked, the pain in my neck, shoulders, and stomach went away. The anxiety went away. Obviously, that was stress I had been carrying for a while. But, I did not react the way I expected to react. I did not feel the way I assumed I would feel. I prepared myself for bad news, but now that I heard the greatest news, I felt nothing. I expected to hear angels sing or to life to somehow seem profoundly different. Instead, I felt light yet empty.

Before we even left the doctor's office, my phone went crazy with congratulatory texts. I was very appreciative of all the love and support, but I did not share their joy.

In the car, the song, Good to be Alive by Jason Gray was on the radio. He sings:

Live like there's no tomorrow

love like I'm on borrowed time

It's good to be alive

My dad brought my attention to the song and said how appropriate for what I had just been through. I did not know it at the time, but this song playing at this very moment made him cry. I suppose I was too busy driving and caught up in my own bewilderment to notice.

On the way home, I got a very disturbing phone call from a friend who experienced quite a scary domestic incident the night before and needed help. I called Mike and asked if we could use him and his truck to help this friend move out of the house. Being the true friend he is, he agreed without question.

I planned a celebration dinner with a few of my friends for 7pm. Because of this incident, I backed up the time to 7:30pm. However, as the time drew nearer, I was in no mood for a celebration.

Even with news that should have excited me, I was still feeling a bit agitated. I made myself more agitated because I was mad at myself for not being happy like I thought I should be.

After we dropped my friend off at a relative's house, I REALLY did not want to go "celebrate," but more than that, I did not want to explain to anyone why I cancelled. I'm glad I went to dinner. By the time we actually got there, I was exhausted, but it was nice being surrounded by people who cared about me and thinking about other things for a while.

When I got home, before I went to bed, I had my prayer time. I could not vocalize my feelings, but I knew God understood my frustration. He reminded me once again of the devotional this morning and told me Satan's little minions were just using today's events to try to get to me. I had told my friend earlier in the day that God must be trying to tell him something. God told me He was trying to tell me something as well.

My life isn't going to miraculously change just because I have been declared cancer free. If I want to change, I am going to have to make a daily effort to change. I can’t keep repeating past mistakes and hope for a different future. Satan is always going to be around trying to sabotage God's work in my life. It's up to me whether to give in or not.

I had also been struggling with old emotions and past decisions. I struggled between wanting to go back and wanting to move on. God also used yesterday's events to give me an answer. The past is the past for a reason.

This morning, although the anger was gone, I still felt empty. I could not fully grasp it until I talked with my sister. She told me she and her family went to dinner last night to celebrate as well, She, like me, could not feel happy, She, being the eternal optimist, could not figure out what was wrong. During dinner, she saw a friend who has kept up with my blog. She shared her feelings with her friend. Her friend told her she could not be totally happy because she was guarded. I thought this was the perfect way to describe it.

Guarded.

It was in talking through it with my sister that I was able to figure out what was wrong with me, why I wasn't reacting the way I thought I should.

1) Even though I knew I would still have to go to the doctor once a month for the next year, I wrongly assumed that in a month's time, when the chemo was out of my system, I would be back to normal. I thought, come January 1st, I would be teaching RAD and going to Krav Maga again. Although it makes perfect sense, I did not anticipate the long recovery time.

2) My fight is not yet over. I am fine now, but what about in three months from now? Six months from now? I can still develop a second cancer and have to start all over. It's happened to a friend of mine.

3) I've been consumed by cancer for so long. I've been sick for years. Can it actually be over? I can't wrap my head around that fact. What will that be like?

4) Survivor's remorse. I lost a friend to cancer this year. My sister's friend lost a five year old son to cancer. I have friends who have to go through more treatments and radiation. I have a friend going through cancer for the second time and struggling. Why did God take them and spare me? Why am I the one to get good news? Why is my family celebrating while Michael's and Tynan’s families are facing their first Christmas without them?

I figure getting past this will be like getting through the divorce. My counselor told me the first year would be hard. During the second year, I would look back and remember what I was going through the year before. By year three, it will be old news. I'll feel whole again. This is year three, the third holiday since the divorce. The was right about how I would feel each year.

I can't decide if I am in the middle of or just starting year one as it relates to the cancer. Either way, I am thankful for today. If I remain cancer free, I hope I can do right by the second chance I am given.