It’s been over ten years. That’s a circled-on-the-calendar date for those diagnosed with cancer. A true reason to celebrate. In anniversary terms, if five years is Silver, ten years is Golden.
I never invited the word ‘Cancer’ to join my vocabulary. I first recognized it as the enemy as a child, long before I was ready. Strong and powerful, shrewd and deceitful, it took too many of my loved ones, just as I was getting to know them. I hated it.
So I banned it, from my own existence, anyway. Cancer was on the prowl, seeking new victims on a daily basis, but I kept my eye more on the victims than the enemy. I celebrated with those who beat it; though it seemed to take pieces of them along, even as it recoiled in defeat.
But one day it showed up in my life. On my lab report. Inside my neck, to be exact. . The diagnosis was a shock, though I was too groggy from the surgery to notice. My family, however, was not. It was a rough day for them.
Looking back, the month leading up to surgery was a whirlwind. A couple of pesky questions from the doctor, a cat scan that ‘required further investigation,’ and I penciled in exploratory surgery on my ‘to-do list’ for the week before Christmas; right after my kids’ exam week, with just enough time to recover and enjoy the holidays.
In all that great planning, I forgot to pencil in ‘Malignant Tumor’ for December 19, 2001. As a matter of fact, I put little thought into much of what the doctor had to say, in advance. We discussed possibilities, glossed over the worst-case scenarios, then focused on recovery time.
That same doctor had my full attention in the months that followed. He became the ruler of my ‘to-do list,’ and eventually, we decided that they had caught it early, removed all of it, and no further treatment was needed. In other words, I was one of the few to escape with ‘just a little bit’ of Cancer. And it was gone. Unlike many of my friends and loved ones, my life would not be ruled by treatment regimens that stole pieces of them in daily doses.
My story pales in comparison with others. My tiny brush with cancer was allowed to be just that; a blip on the radar screen, rather than a before-and-after lifestyle change. Or worse. Because of this, I rarely mention it. It doesn’t seem fair to those who have it much worse. Or to the ones left behind from those who lost their battle.
Still, it left me with a story to tell. And to ignore the Cancer would be to ignore the healing.
Cancer didn’t alter my lifestyle, but it did change the things we allowed it to change; changes that needed to be made. Most important, it removed my ‘to-do lists’ and replaced them with people, instead.
And then there was God. Before, During. After. Through the anticipation of every future test result, He reminded me that life is, and always has been, completely out of my control.
That is a lesson I don’t need to forget. So, God left me a little reminder.
It’s in my smile; that quirky, crooked thing.
In those discussions with the doctor, before the surgery, I never once remember him saying “I’m going to cut into your neck, and sever the nerve endings, forever. Afterward, no matter how hard you try to stretch your lips across your face, it won’t work. That smile will be crooked for the rest of your life.”
It’s the thorn in my side. And I’ve learned to embrace it.
It’s as if God said to me, “I’m going to heal you and give you a million reasons to smile, but I’m going to allow it to be crooked. Just to be sure you remember….”
And I will. I promise.
Your smile is beautiful!
Excellent, uplifting, article. Thank you so much for taking us along on your experience and then to inner peace and victory in Christ.