Friday, July 23, 2010

Not nearly.

I have no silly stories of witty words today. I spent the day at the oncologist with my mom. My mom, as I mentioned, is 55. She looks a good bit younger. She always has. Up until a couple months ago she exercised every day. Sitting at the cancer center, it seemed impossible to me that she would have anything in common with the other fragile looking patients we saw there. But she does. The verdict is in. She has stage 3b lung cancer. They are rushing to start her on extremely invasive chemo and radiation schedule in a week.

I am a terribly emotional person and I spent a lot of time praying today that God would give me the strength to be strong and calm for my mom. He did and I think I was able to be what she needed. We even managed to laugh some. I'm so grateful for that and for the prayers of some very dear friends that covered me today. But then I got home and googled the prognosis for Stage 3b Lung Cancer. And I can't stop crying. It's nearly midnight and we're leaving tomorrow for a week of vacation. But I cannot pack. I cannot sleep. I just cry.

People do this all the time. Every day. Mourn. Help their loved ones through these things and then carry on with the necessary and mundane. But I don't know how. I'm not as strong as I thought I was. Not nearly as strong.


  1. None of us arr stong enough on our own. None of us. That is what our friends and God are for. Hugs.

  2. Joy, you ARE that strong. You might not feel like you are but I, and anyone else who knows you, know you are!

  3. Oh Joy. I'm so sorry your mom is facing this. Google can be a bad thing, especially at times like this. We always have hope in Christ, no matter what Google says. The outcome is in His hands.

    I have an acquaintance, (someone I used to work with who is the Pastor's wife at the school where I worked for several years) who has stage 4 metastatic pancreatic cancer. I don't know if there is a worse diagnosis than that, survival-wise. She is fighting, though, and every day I am moved by her faith and trust. I know she has to break down somewhere, but she continues to give Him praise and glory, even in the face of this. He is lifting her up and carrying her through, and I know that He will do the same for you and your mother.

  4. I am so, so sorry...

    I know that I was not at all prepared to handle watching my father battle cancer. It was painful and unsettling and even confusing at times. No matter how "adult" we are, there is something horribly jarring about seeing our parents in a position of weakness and struggle.

    This is one of those "put one foot in front of the other" times. Try not to go too far into the future, and don't linger in the past. Just live in the present moment with your mom and face only those things that you have to face today.

    I am sending you lots of love and prayers!


  5. the only way you learn, unfortunately, is to muddle through it. Which is what everyone else does, as well.

    I've been thinking a lot about the stuff that Kyla wrote about... about singing hallelujah even when you don't feel like it. About trusting and moving forward with as much joy as you can muster, through the pain, and trusting that there is true joy on the other side. Not the joy of this world, but a joy and peace that only comes from God.

    "And even though
    It all went wrong
    I'll stand before the Lord of Song
    With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah"