The Miracle We Prayed For Came True. My Heart Is Still Catching Up.
A week ago we got the news that my husband no longer has cancer in his body. In March the cancer was everywhere. From the nodes surrounding his heart to the orange size tumor in his neck to the marrow in his bones.
In April he “fell off the cliff”; as we waited for testing it felt like he was slipping from our hands. He ate maybe 500 calories a day. He lost so much weight. He slept all but a few hours a day and he could barely walk up the stairs.
I would hold him while he curled in pain, wondering why this was happening to him as our kids watched TV upstairs.
“Is dad dying?” my 7 year old whispered as we sat in our evening circle time before bed.
“No!” I stated forcefully. “No, he’s sick and he’s going to get better.”
I repeated that phrase as my mantra: to Nate, to myself, to God as a plea. “He’s sick, but please make him better.”
One day I dug around in our file cabinet until I found our life insurance policy. I knew we were paying for it every month, I knew it was in there—but I just needed to put my hands on it.
“I’m not going to need you,” I said aloud as I tucked it back into it’s place and shut the drawer firmly.
When your heart braces for bad news
Two surgeries and twelve rounds of chemotherapy later, we were braced for more bad news. We were told to expect good news, his doctor was very optimistic about his treatment regimen’s effectiveness. But still, we held our breath.
After a year of bad news it was all our bodies knew to do. We hoped for good news, but had begun preparing for the worst—for more treatment, for more surgeries.
And then…”no signs of active cancer in your body.” The other shoe we were waiting for never dropped to the floor. In the lobby on the way out, we paused and looked at each other.
“So that’s it?”
“We’re done?”
It turns out miracles feel surreal. Relief isn’t instantaneous.
Unraveling the weight of cancer
Cancer came to us like a soaked wool sweater. Heavy and unnatural. The weight of it crushing mentally, physically, spiritually. We wrestled. Despaired. Wrestled some more.
(Carrying the weight also made us stronger. In the midst of so much bad, my senses for goodness were heightened.
“Look at that sunset!”
“Oh, my gosh, it’s a baby bunny!!”
“I can’t believe they would give that much.”
“Doesn’t your baby sister smell so good in the morning when she wakes up?”
It was like cancer became the holy highlighter that underlined the sweetness of life.)
But back to the end.
I thought we would wrench free of cancer and throw off the weight of it into a pile at our feet. Then we would burn it and dance on it’s ashes.
Instead, cancer-free has felt like someone grabbed a loose thread of that heavy sweater and is slowly unraveling it.
We’re feeling lighter, but not free. There’s still the feeling like we are cancer’s bitch: doing her bidding as she bides her time. She’s lurking around every corner, waiting to pounce.
In bed before falling asleep I slide my hand over to rest on Nate’s arm. “He’s going to live.”
I used to say it as a prayer, a declaration. Now I’m touching it as reality, albeit one my body is still not fully convinced of–that bracing instinct unwinds slowly. The miracle we prayed for came true. And my heart is still catching up.
P.S. There is no neat bow to wrap up this season. No golden nugget of wisdom to pass off. There are still scans ahead, check points to be met, and strength to rebuild. But what a gift to live.
So happy for you, your husband, and family. May God continue to bless and heal. ❤️ G
Thank you friend!
I’m so happy for your husband to be free from cancer! What a gift from God! He is so good.
My husband is going through cancer treatment right now. He has a scan next week. Could you pray for him? We would appreciate it! Thank you for all the encouragement in your posts!
I will definitely be praying! That waiting for progress reports is incredibly difficult.