Thoughts, Prayers, Fears

*This picture is what my face looked like after the appointment - that's how tight this mask is.

I'll be honest (aren't I always?) - I've hit a wall - a real tough spot emotionally in this cancer journey. Since my diagnosis, I have always thought that radiation would be the easy part. Compared to chemo, it's a piece of cake, right? I mentally prepared for some fatigue (again, I dealt with that already - lymphoma really taught me the meaning of fatigue) and annoying trips to North Portland everyday for treatment. Never in a million years did I think that I would come face to face with anxiousness, claustrophobia, fears of radiation machines, fears of the side effects in the future from radiation, intense fear of cancer itself, etc.. Do you sense a pattern? Fear. It took up residence in my mind the moment they created that silly immobilizing mask last week - I started to view the radiation office and treatments themselves as big as Mt. Everest. This is something I didn't sign on for - I never once up until this point think "I can't do this". Well, I've been thinking it a lot this week. And if it weren't initially for my husband saying "You will do it. Because you don't want to die" and looking at my children and realizing I would have to, someway, figure out how to get over my fears and continue on this journey until it is completed because I do want to hold my grand babies someday. You know what I realized? God is going to have to finish this race for me - I can't do it on my own. And I think that's right where He wants me.

My appointment yesterday was a "set up" appointment. A dry run, if you will, of what each radiation will be like. They told me it would be 30 minutes long and I knew it would be hardest 30 minutes I've done in awhile - well, since last week =). I knew it would involve that suffocating mask and more strangers probing and marking and more pictures, radiation machines and more fear. I woke up yesterday morning and began praying for peace. And to my surprise, I was quite peaceful up until my appointment. Then I started to get nervous - the only way to finish radiation treatments is to go through them - I can't quit, freak out, run away. I have to endure whatever those medical professionals hand to me. Yesterday they handed me a 60 minute session of being in the mask, strapped to the table, listening (because I can't see - the mask it too tight for my eyes to open) to two strangers over me muttering off coordinates of where the radiation beams will be hitting me. Then they would step out of the room and take x-rays. This is when the panic started to rise in me. I just wanted someone to stay with me - to hold my hand. But unfortunately, when you deal with CT scans, PET scans, radiation, no one can be in the room with you - it's a lonely walk. As I lay there listening to my Christian CD playing (they have since marked this CD with my name on it and will play it for each and every radiation treatment), I realized the God of the universe was in that room with me. I'm never truly alone. I also began to pray for those techs working on me that day - perhaps they need to hear the music playing about Jesus. I've forgotten that going into this whole cancer thing, I really wanted to get God's name out there - to glorify Him somehow. And suddenly I've become so distracted with just surviving this rough patch that I forgot there are bigger battles out there than just my own.

All in all, I made it through the appointment with no stalls - no pleads to take the mask off. It was extremely uncomfortable - both physically and emotionally. The experience stretched me in ways spiritually and emotionally I didn't think I was capable of.  And on Monday, I will be back there to start on a road that will probably stretch me even further. But I realize that I need to pray for peace in my heart. I need to let my children see something beautiful through this cancer experience. I want them to see Jesus. I want to exhibit grace and endurance. I want them to grow with me.