The Lack of Thinking About Cancer Keeps It in the Dark – 21

September 26, 2016

My grateful walk to the end of the driveway this morning, 11 a.m., was cut short. I walked out the front door and realized that it was hot. I knew it was supposed to be very warm today, but thought I would try it any way. It wasn’t too bad when I was walking along my house, but then I turned the corner and the burning air from the desert hit me. The end of the driveway no longer was a destination. The retreat to the inside of my house was quick. I took a quick look at the thermometer and it read 98 degrees. And it will climb further before the afternoon.

Life goes on when cancer lives with you in a much more normal way than most imagine. It depends so much on your thinking process. If you live your life thinking about your life rather than the cancer, the cancer has to struggle to control neurons that it needs to send messages to your immune system to let it grow. If I live with faith in my personal physician, the Great Physician, I think about the power of a healing touch, a night of rest, the taste and joy of dinner with my family, a Sunday filled with conversations with my church family, and waking up in the morning to the gift of another day.

Cancer cannot take the joy out of your life unless it consumes your life. I believe the “Secret” is keeping it in the dark places it occupies, not talking about it and giving it control. Yes, I see the lesion on my breast every time I take my shower or change my clothes. But I see it diminishing in size; I see it stop oozing; I know that is when the Great Physician has touched me. My regular doctor gave up two years ago when he saw the bone scans and the other tests. I remember his suggestion that I enter hospice; the time would be short and very painful. He wanted to be able to pull the plug rather than having my sons in the position of having to pull the plug.

I do not know how many times I have to tell him the Great Physician is in charge of that activity. Living with cancer is not an isolated activity at 95. Imagine the wear and tear on all the parts of my body, mind, and soul. Every day is a miraculous gift; a gift that can only be opened by me.

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