Don't Die While Alive

Three years ago today was more than Tax Day or Good Friday. It was when I became cancer-free. However, I didn’t realize it until the test results confirmed the news almost two weeks later. I had a hysterectomy due to the high likelihood of endometrial cancer. For the weeks following surgery, I had only one job: to recover physically and not worry about the pending lab work or potential treatment plan. Easier said than done.

My life forever changed that day, and I’m grateful for it. Several milestone moments can and should change us. Cancer is most certainly one of those. The past three years have been full of significant events, making life difficult and stressful.

Since October 31, 2024, there have been so many that I can’t keep track of them all. Nor do I want to. It began with the phone call adult children know will come someday but simultaneously assume will never come.

My mom died. We weren’t ready, and it was completely unexpected. My world shattered, but the world did not. I’m still mad about it.

The loss of a parent is another life event that brings great change. I know it did for me and many I’ve spoken to. Professionals tell us not to make significant decisions in the first year after a deep loss. They don’t tell you that sometimes you’re forced to because life doesn’t wait for you to start living again.

As I write this, we are neck-deep in a home-repair issue beyond our ability to manage, which has removed access to half of our home. Additionally, I’ve been in great physical pain with no choice but to press on moving heavy furniture and the contents of an office and craft space, some of it up a short stairwell. This last weekend, I could no longer lift my left foot up to climb the stairs or get off the floor without assistance.

We are trying to sell our car to pay for repairs on the newer one we got, and it just threw a code, so we cannot sell it to most people without repairing it first. Ugh. Someone tried to break into the canopy on our truck, damaging the lock, so we can’t access the carpet in the bed, that “might” help with a small part of the basement problem. Ugh. I could continue the list, but I’ll spare you the full knowledge. The dog goes in for his annual exam next week, and let’s say I’m more than a bit anxious due to the way things are going.

How does this long list of attacks tie into celebrating the day I became cancer-free?

Because I let life’s hardest moments remind me that even when I believe I am alone, God’s here, wrapping His arms around me. I don’t feel that for the first bit while I react and crumble. Several of these happened when I stopped my day, spoke quietly with God, apologized for not living out what I believe He created me to be doing, and renewed my dedication. BAM…car threw the code! BAM…water leak! BAM…furnace stopped again! I’m scared to say “yes” to God again, but I did promise Him I’d write, so here I am.

I panic, I cry, and then I trust God again. God has not provided assistance with the basement, but you know what? We have spent more time together the last two weeks while working on moving half of everything we own. The car is unsold, but maybe the right person isn’t ready for it, and it will be there when they are. I don’t know God’s plans, but I’m trying to stop forcing my plans – it’s not going so great.

Today, the day of celebration, started with uncontrollable sobbing that left me gasping for breath, as leftover mucous from double pneumonia began sliding down my cheeks and throat. I didn’t care. I knew today was special, but I had watched a streaming show about cancer and death (Please don’t ask me why I did that!) and watching the loss of my tv “friend” ripped everything wide open, allowing my soul to bleed out on the floor of the shower like Niagara Falls. 

The hospice nurse shared a description of what death looks like. I watched her curl up in her mom's arms as they cried together, knowing I could not do that when life gets hard. Eventually, I watched the actor take her last breath – it was all exactly like the final moments with Mom, a death I had yet to grieve much at all, and here I was, watching what I lived as if I were a visitor to the television hospital. 

Then came the tears for being a cancer survivor and the realization that I could have died. More tears for so many friends who have died recently and others who have cancer battles or are now a motherless or fatherless adult child.

I wondered if I should become a hospice assistant or a death doula. I wondered why I was not doing the very things I believed God wanted me to do. I did more searches for houses for sale. I made a decision to move far away and not tell anyone I was leaving. I considered taking up rum. I banged on my Djembe drum and slammed my Dammit Doll a friend gave me while slowly losing all energy to remain upright.

I walked outside. I wailed until I couldn’t breathe. I scared my dog. I gave up. I found my resolve. I quit. I found my determination to survive. I applied cold compresses to my eyes as the tears finally subsided enough, and the headache moved in with only minutes to spare until I would be face-to-face with a friend who could read my emotions even without the purple-rimmed swollen eyelids.

Two months ago, I helped a friend build his website to launch his new mobile massage business. In exchange, I received a deeply needed massage this morning to start a day of celebration and contemplation. (On a side note, I can now climb up the stairs without effort – this guy is fantastic if you need some deep tissue work in the East Portland corridor – bonus that he comes to you!)   ThorsTouch.com

I was exhausted by the time Thor came to my rescue with the massage that would bring me physical relief and an emotional positivity that rubs off and reminds me that life will be okay again. We didn’t even talk about what was on my mind; we didn’t need to. I don’t have many people around me these days, but I’m quite selective of who I allow near enough to influence me. I no longer listen to the crowd, and that came from having some life-altering events, so I am thankful for those, even the ones that hurt.

Your priorities shift. Your desires change. Your understanding of what is truly important is clarified. Things in this world have less and less influence on you when you start going through these moments. I went to church Sunday for the first time in six months, and the sermon even touched on not being a part of the world. I believe we can use our hard things to help us with that. I am confident that God uses them to draw us closer to Him. Maybe that’s why our circles get smaller as we age and probably part of why we suddenly want to dispose of most of the objects we own. Nothing matters like it used to.

It’s similar to the rally that can come during the dying process. If you get that chance, enjoy the rally before you die.

Enjoy soul-purging before life kills your spirit. Don’t die while you’re alive.

 

 

 One More Thing...

Celebrate your milestones. Make the changes in your life that are good for you. Don't lose your people.

Take care, and remember, I'm always here to pray for you if you have a need or request.

Lois Lynn

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