Fear VS Hope

Big Daddy told me he ran into one of our friends, Debbie, while he was out and about submitting bids. They exchanged the niceties and Debbie asked how I was doing. Big Daddy went on to tell her how well I was doing and that I had even gone back to work. Debbie was pleased and glad for my progress. They talked a bit more and Debbie leaned in, as if to tell Big Daddy a secret.

“Dr. Jason Harris is a friend of mine,” Debbie said.

“Oh, we think he is wonderful. He really impressed us and Pandora trusted him right away. It was a huge deal finding a surgeon for this job and we both just knew, he was the right guy after our first meeting with him.”

“Oh, yes, Jason is a magnificent surgeon and has an incredible sense of comfort that draws people in. I saw him the other day and mentioned your wife. I told him about her blog and how well she seems to be doing, judging by her writings.”

“Yes, I think she is doing very well, even with going back to work, she seems determined to win.”

“As Jason and I were talking about your wife he confided in me something you may find interesting.”

“Really? What was that?”

“Jason told me that your wife was only the second patient he had ever cried over. That she was just the kind of person you love and care for and want good things for, not bad, and certainly not cancer. ”

“Yes, she is.”

And with that, the conversation trailed off and Big Daddy and Debbie said goodbye and headed on their way.

Big Daddy told me this because he wanted me to know that I mattered, even to strangers…even to physicians, surgeons, nurses, and medical staff that see people with cancer every day, week after week, year after year. Big Daddy wanted me to know that I wasn’t always just a number or some statistic, that I did matter and that people, even people who didn’t know me, cared.

What had brought this up?

Perhaps it was the mental breakdown brought on by the insurance adjuster who denied my chemotherapy drugs.

Perhaps it was the way I have to walk through clouds of cigarette smoke to get inside a restaurant that is “non smoking”.

Perhaps it was the onslaught of bills that show up in our mailbox every, single day.

Maybe it was the way that I sit and worry and sometimes even tear up, at the notion that I cannot function in my job because the dots just don’t connect anymore.

Maybe it was because, despite our best efforts, our lives have resumed to a series of schedules, appointments, deadlines, and obligations which leave little time for what we have enjoyed the past six months.

Perhaps he picked up on the fact that I, while excited and eager, am scared to begin my own business. What if it turns out I am not a great photographer? What if no one trusts me to capture the most memorable times of their lives? What if I can’t be taught in these upcoming classes because of the “chemo brain”? What if I can’t be taught because I am not smart enough in general?

Perhaps it was because he could sense how much more afraid I am now than I ever was before about what is to come… Will the cancer return? Will I live to see our grandchildren? Will it matter to make plans? Will I leave a mark on the world like I had hoped? Will I inspire anyone, anyone to be, to do, or to try? Will I be remembered for who I was and what I stood for?

I don’t know the answers to any of those questions…not in a realistic kind of way. I also know that several of you will feel compelled to write or post comments saying I can do it or I am smart. That isn’t what I am looking for at all, so please, don’t feel obligated. I may sound depressed, but I am really not…just entertaining a list of “what if’s”. Does anyone else out there question their mortality? Their contributions? Their legacy?

I do realize the only fears I have are the ones I created for myself and are easily remedied with a prayer or a conversation with someone who loves me. Both reminders that I am not dead yet which stirs a constant and abiding hope, deep within me.

What I have found is that trusting and believing in God makes all things bearable…and that hope is the perfect antidote to fear.

"From the end of the earth, I will cry to You, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the Rock that is higher than I". Psalm 61:2