An Ordinary Life Touched by an Extraordinary God – Part 15

After all the solemnity of that day in 1992 after my surgery, no problems arose until 1998 when the pain started. It was a day in July as we were returning with my mother from a trip to Nebraska. We’d taken her for a small family reunion that consisted mostly of cousins she rarely saw.

We were driving along on the return trip and I felt a definite twinge of pain in my side. As my usual reaction to that sort of minor thing is to ignore it, I ignored it. But it wouldn’t be ignored. As the days went by the pain worsened until I visited my doctor who upon reviewing my medical history referred me to an oncologist, Dr. William Eng Lee.

Dr. Lee is of Chinese descent. I liked him immediately. He’s kind and caring and listens to his patients. The only problem, at least from my point of view, rested in the fact he felt chemotherapy the only answer. I didn’t. The last thing I wanted was poison dumped into my body.

Because I refused chemo and was in pain he gave me morphine. The entire month of August I took morphine. Any time I needed more I just called the doctor’s office. The nurse would say, “I’ll call in and renew your prescription. You don’t need to be in pain.”

What I remember of that August is very little except sleeping. At night I slept in bed. In the daytime I made a nest on the living room sofa and slept there. My husband set up a small table next to the sofa to hold necessities, mostly water and pills, but everyday he clipped off a red bloom from the neighbor’s huge rose bush that hung over the fence into our patio. He’d once bought me a set of three miniature green glass vases and he’d place the single red rose in one of those. Every time I opened my eyes I saw the beautiful rose. It remains to me today an expression of his love.

I got a call from the doctor one day asking me to come in. At the appointed time a friend drove me over since I couldn’t drive because of the morphine. The doctor said he’d talked to other doctors about my case and he’d found a doctor who suggested aspiration as an alternative to chemo.

It seems the cancer when it attached to my liver consisted of a series of fluid-filled cysts so removing the fluid would lessen the pain. Eager to give anything a try I set an appointment for the first of September. Next, I needed to get off the morphine. Dr. Lee assured me any withdrawal symptoms would be minimal.

Unfortunately for me, he was wrong.

An Ordinary Life Touched by an Extraordinary God – Part 14

A few years later we moved to the Denver area to be close to family. One Saturday in early spring all of the family, including the kids, decided to go for a bike ride. The weather was typical Colorado—gorgeous and sunny with a slight warm breeze lifting the leaves. A perfect day.

As we prepared to start out a wave of pain engulfed me. I gripped my middle and knew I couldn’t pedal a bike anywhere. Concerned, my daughter tried to make me comfortable on their bed then they left for their ride as I urged them to go on. Soon I sat up feeling better and wishing I’d gone with them. I puttered around the house for a bit then, like a wave, the pain attacked me again. It came in waves and this felt worse than the first bout. I literally rolled on the floor clutching my middle. It eased up—for a period of time—then hit me, again. It probably wasn’t as bad as the pain of childbirth but a close second.

After the family arrived back at the house, my husband and I went home and on Monday I made an appointment to see a doctor. Strangely the rest of the weekend I’d been spared the rolling waves of pain. When I described what I’d been through she determined it was my gall bladder and recommended removing it since if we left things as they were, I would have more attacks. “Best to take care of it now,” she said.

I agreed, not wanting to endure another round of such excruciating pain. She referred me to a surgeon, Dr. Sally, and before I knew what hit me I was in the hospital, under the knife, as they say.

The operation went well and the doctor pronounced it successful predicting I’d not have to go through that particular pain again. But one fine day while I was recuperating in the hospital, Dr. Sally entered my room followed by my entire family including my brother but minus the grandchildren.

They all eyed me a little strangely I thought and I wondered what was up. Quite solemnly the doctor said to me, “I wanted your family here when I told you what we found. After we removed the diseased gall bladder we discovered small growths on your liver. We had them biopsied and I’m sorry but they are cancer. I have an oncologist I want you to see after you’re home and recovered from the surgery.”

I looked around at the solemn faces on my dear family and thought, so? I said to the gathered assemblage, “I was diagnosed with cancer when you were born,” indicating my daughter. “No one thought then that I would live to raise my two babies but here I am. I raised my kids, which was all I asked of God back then. But now I’ve even seen my grandsons. God has been good to me all this time. It’s okay. The rest is in His hands.”

I don’t know what anyone thought of my short speech but I’d rehearsed it in my head many times in case this day ever arrived and I meant every word. If the cancer had returned I was ready for whatever lay ahead.

When I saw the oncologist, he confirmed to me that the biopsy revealed the cancer was the primary cancer, ovarian. I was surprised after all the years that had passed but thankful that God had spared me through all those thirty years.

What would come next, I had no clue.