Personal Journey Entry # 51

The journey we have been on since January is founded on my surrendering to Jesus Christ and walking with him as he unveils his plan with every advance or setback. It has been a test of faith and patience, as we have had more setbacks than progress, and the wait for treatments has been the most excruciating part of the process. I have experienced very little pain from the cancer, but the wait has a pain of its own. Tomorrow is a date we have been waiting on for months. We will have an endoscopy performed by Dr. Hillary Tompkins, who found my cancer back in January. She graciously granted my request that she do the final scope, hopefully closing the circle on this journey to remission. 

This week marks a turning point for us, as I have surrendered to another reality. I have been trying to fool myself and others into thinking I was in much better shape than I actually was. It has been far easier to say, “just fine,” than to admit the reality. The fatigue finally won, as I pulled myself off the bus route on Monday. I no longer felt safe behind the wheel of my bus while transporting someone else’s blood and treasure. This was a tough decision, as driving was the last thing that gave me a purpose, and physically, I am not able to do much that is considered normal. The recent heart issue has seen to that. Even the simple act of eating has become an adventure, as nearly every solid food causes my esophagus to close and I choke. Thank God coffee is not a solid food, and ice cream sandwiches have become my go-to nourishment. They are called a sandwich, right?

This is not a complaint or an exercise in self-pity. I don’t have the time or energy for either. This is simply a confession of the truth I have been hiding. I am excited about my engagement tonight with a local GOP group and hope I can get through my 15-minute presentation without stumbling or letting my emotions get the best of me. And I ask you for one more prayer that tomorrow, Dr. Tompkins does her thing and meets us in post-op with a big smile. I have one last wooden angel that I saved, and I hope that when I give it to her tomorrow, she will embrace it with the same significance I do. It is a symbol of our powerlessness and our role as performers in the master play written by our Savior. I hope tomorrow has an incredible ending to this act.