I had chemo today. So I’m suffering. My body feels weird. Tired. Achy. Queasy. Uncomfortable. The cold bothers me in weird ways. My hands and feet feel stung, or electrified and then go numb. My eyes sting. Sneezing is horrifically painful.
I walked for ten minutes for the health benefits that movement can provide. It was hard. Icky and sweaty and not fun.
I feel bored at the prospect of being confined to my home until the toxins dissipate or the weather warms. I feel a little isolated at the moment. I want soft, warm things around me. I want to sleep for four days. I want quiet. But I want company. Friends. I want macaroni and cheese and good bread even though they aren’t really in my self-imposed whole food, semi vegan, semi paleo diet. I wish I could drink something besides the thousand varieties of tea I have. I miss sugar. I miss ice cold drinks. I feel like crying but tears physically hurt my eyes.
So, that’s the real deal of how this point in the cycle feels. I want to experience my suffering in a particular way. I want it to be characterized by three things:
1. Authenticity. I want to be honest. I want to share the truth of my heart. I want to live out loud and let you see. We can benefit from each other when we are authentic about our fears, anger, frustrations, limitations, failures and need for one another. A falsely positive person is a fraud and of use to no one. I want to be as transparent as I can, especially about the rough stuff.
2. Hope. Yes, I suffer and experience fear. But. I have significant hope. Hope that I will grow old. Hope that this will become a significant chapter in a long, dynamic, adventurous life. Hope that others will glean important truths from my experience. Hope, because God’s ultimately got me. I am loved. I matter. I bask in the glory of hope. No matter what, I have hope.
3. Wisdom. I intend to become wiser…deeply wiser…through this. I don’t want to miss a single lesson. I’m paying attention to how I operate, how I think, how I love, and how I can grow. I’m watching for how God moves and how He answers prayers and when He seems silent.
So, in the name of authenticity, I’m suffering. And it sucks. In the name of Hope, it will be better in 5 or 6 days, thankfully. In the name of wisdom, I trust God with my suffering. He is down here in the midst of it with me. What a blessing.