Thursday, March 3, 2022

Month One of Stage Four. Five Lessons Learned

As you can imagine, I was a little glad to flip the calendar from February to March this week. February was a doozy for us.  Not that there is ever a good time to receive a stage 4 diagnosis, but this specific timing felt especially unkind. 

Traditionally, that first week in February has been one of my favorite weeks of the year. It holds the birthday (Feb. 5th) of both our oldest and youngest daughters and typically it is also the week we are busy throwing our big, annual Chinese New Year party. But, this year, that week went pretty south pretty fast for us. In an amazing, almost herculean effort, my dear friends helped me get through an already planned birthday party for Bella the day after my diagnosis. As my mind was trying to take in the enormity of my news, I was watching my little girl celebrate 14 and my heart ached wondering ... Well, I won't even type it. But you know what I wondered. I know that’s all pretty awful, but it was an unavoidable thought.

And that brings me to my first lesson learned this month —

Lesson One: Protect the Mind

Gosh,  just uttering the phrase “stage four” makes my stomach hurt, my breath catch and my mind swirl. I knew what those words meant without anyone having to explain. And in those first couple of weeks, especially, I wrestled constantly with my thoughts. That phrase was more than permeating me, it seemed to cut me into pieces. I was hearing it over and over again in my mind. I was under a full out attack like never before. Fiery darts were hitting from every angle. Of course the middle of the night was the absolute worst bringing an almost constant bombardment of pure, unbridled fear. But even the busy days were hard. Recently, I explained it to a group of friends how I can be going along pretty well and then, suddenly, a thought presses in and I feel a heavy, weighted blanket drop itself over me. It’s a tangible, physical feeling of dread and is almost crushing. So much so, I have literally hit the floor from the weight of it. 

So how does a woman with a stage 4 diagnosis crawl out from under that kind of heavy?

I have learned quickly this month, the only thing which helps is keeping my eyes on Jesus and reminding myself of God’s truths. I mean it — NOT LOOKING AWAY from Him. It is what I asked of my friends, first and foremost —keep helping me turn my eyes to Jesus and keep reminding me of His truth. Because, man, does the evil one want to set up shop in our moments of fear. He is like a kid in a candy store when someone is dealing with fear and anxiety and awful diagnoses. It is his favorite playground. 

But Jesus has a different message for us. Jesus speaks of what a heavy yoke life is. That’s a fact. Not just for me, but for you too.  In Matthew He says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart , and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Jesus wants to remove our blanket of dread which is heavy and crushing and exchange it for His yoke which is easy and light. He never promises life will be easy and light, but He tells us His yoke is. When we cover ourselves with Him, He will give us rest. 

“For the mind set on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” Romans 8:6 

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5

 

2. Lesson Two: Let Go 

Not let go and give up, but let go and let God. I needed to learn at a whole new level how to let my Savior and Sustainer direct me. Y’all know I like to be in charge. From my time as a teacher, theater director and coach to my time now as a mom and a wife, I like to be bossy. But this diagnosis is showing me there’s a good deal I simply cannot control. It is out of my hands. Period. I must surrender all of it. All of me.

Surrender has been a regular word in my spiritual life. As a try-hard kind of girl, I’ve struggled with it forever. Even though I know I am not in charge, that hasn’t stopped me from trying. I have lived a good deal of my life under the practice of “If I just work a little harder, stay up a little later, dig in a little deeper, go a little further …” That’s been me to a T! Try Hard. In fact, TRY HARDER! I had a friend tell me once that I should write a book called “Grace for the Try Hard Girl.” That was the title we decided upon. And then—I kid you not—like a month later another writer came out with a book called “Grace for the Good Girl.” LOL. Really? There you go. I guess I’ll have to think of another title for my book. 

But here I am each day, arms stretched out before the Lord giving Him the reigns of my life. Each day. Every day. All of it. Over and over and over again. Begging Him to lead me, show me, show up for me. Asking Him to take charge, to take over, to take me through these deep waters. It’s a level of surrender I can’t quite explain. But He’s working it out in me. He’s showing me that He is very much with me and He very much wants to lead me. Last year a verse kept showing up in my life and I was doing a good bit of pondering. “We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.” Proverbs 16:9. Oh yes He surely does. Enough said. 

3. Lesson Three: Go On, Life Must

This has been a month like no other. Unparalleled for sure. It has been a month of getting information.  A month of going to appointment after appointment. A month of gleaning wisdom. It has been a month of grieving deeply. But it has also been a month which has shown me life must go on. Like that birthday party for Bella. I had to put one foot in front of the next. And somedays are like that. Somedays I have to tell myself, “do the next right thing, Jody.” One thing at a time. One step at a time. But, move forward. That’s all I can do. I ask Jesus each morning for His daily bread. Enough strength for that day. I can’t go too far down the road. I can’t look too far in the future. I just can’t. I am to live in the day and go on. One foot in front of the next.

And, dear ones, that’s exactly how we are supposed to be living whether we’ve got a nasty diagnosis or not. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Ain't that the truth!) Matthew 6:34

In classic Jody fashion, I suppose, in the middle of this diagnosis we also dove into a massive kitchen remodel. It literally began the week I found out about the cancer and we decided to go forward with the project as much of it was already in motion. Trust me, we have had our moments of doubt, but we think that was the right decision. It’s been a nice distraction. I haven’t had a stove or a sink or countertops for almost 3 weeks, but, since I’m getting extra meals provided, the timing isn’t too bad. LOL. I’ve had a few friends tell me only I would take on a cancer diagnosis and a full kitchen remodel in the same month. Sigh. But it is a reminder that life does go on. Plans must be made. Projects must continue. It has also made me pretty patient with certain more minor irritations. I mean, who really cares if we have to wash our dishes in the bathroom sink or cut up our carrots in the living room? There are bigger things in life, right?

Honestly, I know some of you think that sounds crazy. And maybe it is. But there’s been something health-giving in running around town trying to decide on the perfect subway tile. I’m weird. I know. 

But the lesson learned is that we must go on with life. Go on, make plans, live life. The very last thing my body or mind needs right now is to crawl into a hole of despair filled with isolation and stagnation.

4. Lesson 4 - Allow Others

The hands and feet of Jesus are exactly that — His body working together to come alongside those in need. We have been felt out overwhelmed with the loving way friends are meeting our needs. It’s been everything from meals to prayer to rides to help with my crazy kitchen renovation. I am also so grateful for the outpouring of words. There’s almost not a day I don’t wake to someone’s encouragement. Almost every single day I am receiving powerful, life-giving scripture from someone. Prayers come pouring in. Y’all are reaching out to my kids and husband and loving them well too. It’s amazing! We have friends across the United States praying and even some across the world. We FEEL those prayers. They are so real. I have always liked to be the one taking care of others, but right now I’m learning to allow others to care for me and it’s beautiful. I’ve had to adjust to this new role, but, more and more, I am beginning to see it as one of the greatest gifts of this new normal.

5. Lesson 5 - Be Grateful 

Okay,  so this is a weird one. No one is grateful for cancer. But there are other things. So many things. And what I learned 11 years ago with my first diagnosis and what I’m learning again now is that cancer is actually an opportunity to become more grateful. When things are going along swimmingly (like we all prefer them) we can quickly become a bit numb. We forget to look. We fail to see. We are busy and distracted and we don’t always stop to pause and ponder. Cancer has a way of crystallizing much of what fills our life. Certainly knowing a stage 4 diagnosis could limit my life here on earth has had a profound impact in making me more intentional in my thinking and, hopefully, in my living!

The truth is, we are all terminal. (Some of us just know it). But none of us escape this life in any other way than through death. The number of my days has already been written by my Creator in His Book of Life. He did that before I was even born. This diagnosis gives me not one less day or one day longer, than what He has written. So, the decision becomes what will I do with my days? Will I continue to grope around in the dark or will I find reason to be grateful? I think it is a question that bears asking for all of us, no matter what amount of time we think we have left on earth. None of us truly know. But gratitude is life-giving. It is joy-bringing. It is more than just “positivity” or “thinking happy thoughts.” Gratitude knows we are entitled to nothing, but all is grace. All is gift. It is not just being passively aware, but it is being present and active in giving abundant thanks. 


A few other things …

I know some of you heard stage four and you immediately thought I had months to live. I don’t know how many months or years or even decades I have. I do know the doctors feel very hopeful that I’ll respond well to treatment and so far I am doing great. But you will just need to plan to see me in the produce aisle of the grocery store and in the carpool line at school and maybe even back out on the tennis court some day. You will see me. You will!

I am not on chemo right now. I take three drugs and one of them is a heavy hitter — chemo type drug — but metastatic stage four is approached differently. Yes it’s serious, but it’s a long haul. It’s a marathon as opposed to a sprint. We aren’t trying to cure the cancer with treatment, we are trying to slow its growth and stop its spread. I’ll happily leave the cure thing to Jesus for the time being. 

I’ve had several friends ask “when will your treatment end?” That's not a bad question. I wouldn’t have known the answer prior to this, but the simple answer is … never. That has been one of the hard things to wrap my brain around. I will forever be a cancer patient managing this. As it is not curable (at the moment), I will always have to treat it. That means daily meds and monthly infusions and lots of scans and bloodwork and tests and monitoring. This is hard for me. I am not all that intrigued with hospitals and healthcare. Trust me, I struggle with locating a bandaid and a couple of Tylenol in my house. I would much rather be gardening or playing tennis or well … anything! But my new full time job is to manage my health. Period. I am watching everything I eat and drink and beginning a more intense lifestyle plan that will promote health and healing in any and every way I know to do. More veggies and fruits, more exercise, more sleep, less stress. You get the idea. More, because I desire More.

So, we step into a new month. We protect our minds, we let go, we go on, we accept help and we live in gratitude. This is it. This is the very best I have for you at this time. I think it is stuff that's not just for this lady typing furiously on her laptop right now. I think it's for all of us. Maybe you don't like everything I wrote, but maybe there's a little something here which might help you wherever you are. I hope so.

Again, I can't say thank you enough for all of your encouragement and kindness to us in this past month. Keep those prayers coming!

I love you all!  jody 

2 comments:

Shea said...

Thank you for writing Jody. I read all your words even if I don’t always comment. I still have awkward conversations with people who ask if ive been “cured” since I’ve been living with a stage 4 cancer diagnosis for so long. Once upon a time (and sometimes even now) I couldn’t have imagined life without a port but here I am, without one for a couple of months now. I actually feel weird going to the hospital less than I have in years….I miss it?!?! That’s crazy. Probably not. It’s probably some other feeling I need to talk to a therapist about.
Anyway. I know how you feel. I mean I’m not you so I don’t know exactly how you feel…but goodness. I resonated with all of your words and I think I even wrote very similar things 6 years ago. I wish I could sit with you and eat and/or drink very healthy and/or unhealthy food/drinks. :) to laugh and cry simultaneously into our wine and/or kombucha….
With so much love-shea

Kristi M said...

Wonderful lessons for ALL of us to live by. Thank you for encouraging me and encouraging others. Sometimes it’s in our greatest woes that we make the greatest difference. Keeping your eyes on Jesus is soothing and peaceful - I wish this for you … calm and peace (and of course healing). Beautiful words during this beautiful season before Easter. May your words breathe life into others. Praying for you and your family!