Can You Hear Me Now?

                 I read this quote today and it spoke to what I am experiencing in this season of multiple myeloma: 

“Sometimes being silent is better than telling others how you feel. Knowing that you are being heard and not understood could be more painful than expressing your feelings.” C. Tang

               Let’s talk about my hair. I know in the big scheme of things, hair is superficial, at best. But, for a cancer patient, it is much more.  Hair represents healing. Hair represents some semblance of normalcy. The norm is that once you lose your hair and it starts growing back in, it comes back different – usually curly and darker. And, once you’ve had that cut off, your hair returns to normal.

               Not so for me. Because there is no cure for MM, and my oncologist opted for me to continue low-dose chemo for the rest of my life or a cure is found, my hair does not have a chance to return to normal. 

               I set out last week trying to find someone who could understand this. Each time I inquired if anyone could do “chemo hair”, I got the standard answer. “Once we cut it a time or two, it will be normal”. No, it won’t. My hair is 13 months past remission and new growth. It. Is. Not. Normal.

               Hear me, please.

Then understand me, please. I have cried multiple times this week trying to find someone who will hear me and understand what I am saying. Every morning when I look in the mirror and see this hair, I am reminded of my disease, of the lifetime of chemo, of the control I no longer have.

I have finally found someone new to help me with my hair. I see her on Saturday. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 

Jeremiah 29:12

Fear

               I am not afraid to die. What I am afraid of is living. Living with constant aches and pains. Living with the fear of myeloma recurring. Living with the financial burden of never-ending medical expenses.

               I am ashamed of my fear. As a Christ follower, I know that we are told to “fear not”. We are told to “cast our cares” on the Lord. I have visualized kneeling at the feet of Jesus and laying my burdens down. The thing is, I have to do it multiple times during the day and night. And, I still feel this way.

               I am ashamed of my fear. I am ashamed of the weakness that fear exposes in me. When you are in the middle of an episode of fear, it is difficult to see beyond it. My dear friend, Dawn, strongly dislikes the use of the words Always, Never, Everybody. I get that. I also get that when you are dealing with a disease that has no cure, always, never and everybody feel like natural choices.

               I know all the answers. Pray and believe. Meditate on the Word. Cast your cares. This too shall pass. Simply choose not to be afraid. Some days, just one of those tactics is enough to hold the fear at bay. Other days, some combination of two or more is employed. And some days, you just have to ride it out.  That’s my today.

               I will fear no more. I will give my brokenness to my Savior, for He is more than able to calm my anxious spirit. I will meditate on Isaiah 41:10 - 

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

               This too will pass. My fear will eventually be replaced with a sense of peace – you know the kind – that passes understanding. It’s coming. And I will wait patiently.

Pruning

               This weekend was the first time since my diagnosis that I have felt up to doing some work in our flower bed.  Our crepe Myrtle’s were looking pretty bad. After all, they hadn’t been pruned in over two years. The weather here was spectacular on Sunday, so I got up early (when my energy level is at its best), got the pruning sheers and went to work.

               What a chore. There were hundreds of tiny branches sprouting all up and down the trunks as well as several larger ones growing at odd angles and from places lower on the trunk that needed to come off.  Our HOA limits the height our trees can be, to prevent clogging the gutters on the roof. Our middle Myrt was taller than the roof line and needed to be cut down. Additionally, the Myrt closest to the house has to be at least 12 inches from the foundation. Several branches needed to come off to accomplish this.  Finally there was the task of gathering the branches to dispose of them. I should have worn gloves. My hands and forearms look like I lost the battle, but I didn’t. 

               When all was said and done, I was very pleased with the work I had done. And, I know the work I have done will help to keep them healthy and blooming for seasons to come.  As I stood there, looking at my handiwork, I was reminded of the scripture in John:

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. John 15:1-2

               God has been pruning me through this journey. He has removed all the small branches that are so easily distracting. They aren’t bad things, but things that distract me from my purpose.  When you are sequestered for weeks on end, you have plenty of time to think about what’s important in your life. Loving the people God has put in your life, finding forgiveness for them and for yourself, and being thankful for every moment – the good ones and the bad ones alike.

And then there are the bigger branches, the ones that grow along the trunk unnecessarily, drawing sap from the branches that need to grow stronger. Some of those hurt, I’m not going to lie. I’ve always done what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. I don’t have a spouse I have to consider. I make my own money. But, over the years, there have been things that have taken root in my soul that needed to be gone – pride, the need to be right, the desire to be the expert at anything I do. You know the kinds of things I’m talking about.

Even this blog is a part of my pruning – being honest about my struggles is hard. It’s wrapped up in my desire to not harm the cause of Christ – which, in itself, is a worthy goal. But when that goal turns into checking every few minutes to see if anyone has read or liked the blog, then it is not serving its purpose. Not in me, at least. My sincere prayer is that the blog reaches someone who needs encouragement. That’s the branch I hope bears fruit.