Do You Believe in Miracles? I Do...

I just read a book called "The Giver" - a short, thought-provoking, post-apocolyptic novel that takes place in a distant future the likes of which I pray will never take place here.  In the society in which the story takes place, people take a drug each day that essentially protects them from feeling things too deeply.  Consequently, there is no guilt, remorse, regret, or emotional pain whatsoever.  Unfortunately, there is no love, desire, or real joy either.  The author did a lovely job of convincing the reader in the beginning of the story that it was all done for the best.  Of course as the book moves along, the protagonist discovers feelings and realizes that even pain is better than feeling nothing at all.  A nice story.  But maybe there is a middle-ground that healthy people should live in to protect themselves from feeling too deeply - a place that I am no longer familiar with.  One of you out there accused me yesterday of not being grateful that I have a life that allows me to have worries about (things like) "healthy eating."   To that, I say "You never, never could be more wrong."

I asked you if it offended you when I spoke of my faith.  And I pray with all my heart that it does not because I am going to share something very difficult with you right now - provided you are still out there.  The reader of this Blog who called herself "confused" was right when she said that I have battled cancer.  I have had it 3 times.  The first time was over 9 years ago and it was a living hell.  I did not do well on the chemo drugs I was given at all - my vomiting could not be controlled so I tore my esophagus, throwing up blood, but still having to go through 2 more treatments in spite of it.  My white blood cells plummeted, making me so susceptible to  infections that I got them simply by drinking tap water, something that still plagues me now, as the cells have never returned to normal.  The 3rd time was 2 and 1/2 years ago and was a breeze compared to the first time.  I "only" needed surgery and 4 weeks of radiation.  But the 2nd time - well, that was the time I should have died. 

Shortly after I finished chemotherapy, I began experiencing acute pain under my right rib.  I thought maybe my surgeon had broken it during my "big" surgery.  But instead of taped-up ribs, I received a biology lesson - I learned that the liver runs under that area.  And that I had a tumor growing where I felt the pain.  After many tests, including a biopsy, it was determined that the growth was benign and that I would just have to learn to put up with the pain, which I did.  But about 4 years ago, I began to feel pain toward the middle of my chest, especially when I lifted my arms over my head.  In fact, it hurt so badly with a strong pulling type of pressure that, even though I vowed I would never do it again,  I went back to see my surgeon.  This time the news was not good.  After scanning the growth, which was about 2 by 3 cms., I was told, "I'm sorry.  The cancer has spread to your liver (the dome of it, as it turned out).  I am ordering a full-body PET scan to see where else it has spread."  We knew that my body would never be able to undergo chemotherapy again.  I was what they called a  "poor performer" on it.  So, essentially, I had just received a death sentence and I knew it. 

My husband and I held each other and cried, and then immediately called our priest for prayer.  Now here's where a series of miracles began to unfold.  I actually do not feel led to share the details with you - they take the glory away from God, who did the actual healing.  But when it was said and done, after the full body PET scan, not only was there no cancer anywhere else in my body, but the cancer on the dome of my liver was gone as well!  When I went for my next liver scan 3 months later, the radiologist told the poor technician to "find that tumor!"  I told her she would not be able to and explained what had happened.  The radiologist became insistent and then angry, finally concluding that it must have been someone else's scans that the doctor had mistakenly thought were mine 3 months earlier - in other words, there never was a cancer in my liver but in some other poor person's whose films had been mixed up with mine.  But here's the real cool part.  I always wondered why I had to suffer the pain of the benign one under my ribs, which by that time looked like a small solar system - a sun with a lot of little stars around it.  The technician scanned the area under my rib and there, of course, it was.  Then the previous scan with the cancer on the dome was pulled out  - and the sun and solar system were there, too!  There was no mistaking we were looking at the same body.  And no mistaking that a miracle had indeed occurred.

Between the time that I had the initial scan and the results of the full body PET scan came in, several weeks had passed and I was preparing for my death.  I went to a very good Christian counselor who was helping me to come to terms with it.  I cried to him that I could leave this world, my dear friends, and even my "wonderful" husband.  I knew they would be fine.  But I could not bear to leave my boys without a mother.  He told me that, unfortunately, mothers do die and that the children manage to turn out just fine.  This was the hardest thing for me to deal with - I could not accept it.  I selfishly wanted to watch them grow - to keep watching them play ball and sing, to graduate high school, and if I was really lucky, to see them both go off to college and get settled into their careers.  He was right of course - mothers do die.  So what right did I have to live?  

I don't know exactly why God chose to heal me.  (I have an idea and will share it with you another time).  But when He did, I awoke, so to speak, with new eyes.  Everything about the world around me seemed different than it had before.  And it became impossible to take anything in this life for granted.  Will I die someday?  Of course.  Could it be soon?  Sure.   What, you may ask,  are some of the things that changed for me since God gave me a second chance? 

In case you have not figured it out, I  am not shy about sharing my faith.  I know without a doubt that there is a God and have been blessed to have been a party to several other "miracles" since the big one nearly 4 years ago.  (I have shared some with you already).  I have learned not to judge anyone and never to assume anyone is "right" or "wrong" with God.  Only God knows a person's heart.  And I started this Blog, where if you read the posts in order (and skip the political or whimsical ones if you choose), you have all the information you need to know to figure out how much you should weigh for your bone structure, how many calories you should consume each day to maintain, lose, or gain weight; what you should eat for optimum health, etc.  It's something I wanted to share with you.  I am a Nutrition Counselor who used to work at an awesome clinic but it did not survive the current recession.   

The hardest part of experiencing a miracle healing, to be honest, is that I sometimes feel survivor's remorse - guilt that I am here while so many others whom I have watched battle cancer, including my loving brother, are not.   What are the ramifications of having been saved from death?  Besides all the other things I have shared with you in here, I sometimes feel people's pain more than I know is normal.  But it's all good - it helps me to know how to pray for them.   It's part of what I have become.  You can't go through something like I did and not change.   

So, when you say that I am not grateful for my life, I am truly sorry that I have given you that impression.  I am grateful for every breath I take and know that every day is a gift.  I will try to keep my politics to myself (they are born out of an almost crushing passion), but, as for my faith, it just might appear in my posts every now and then.  Can't help that...