You may remember that after the completion of my cancer treatment in February of 2020, I was hoping to have the port removed, but they told me that because my type of cancer comes back at very high rates, they wanted to leave it in. Since then, I’ve carried it around in my body as a constant reminder that the shadow of cancer follows me. Jodi and I have called it my “thorn in the flesh” as an unwelcome reminder from Satan of one of the most difficult times in my life.
Because my cancer was so rare, the chemo treatment I received was over 30 years old. It was the old fashion kind that makes you extremely sick. I remember them going through a long list of things that could go wrong before we started. It included death and irreversible brain damage. It was so caustic that they had to deliver the two chemicals to the vein just before the heart, where the most blood flows. Anywhere else, and the chemicals would burn me internally. One time the seal around one of the tubes came loose, causing the chemo to get on me, my bed, and the floor. I learned then that the chemicals are so nasty that a spill is categorized as toxic waste with all the accompanying procedures. I was quick to get the chemicals off my skin, but even in that short time, it burned my hand a little. The whole thing is so bad that each of my chemo treatments meant a weeklong stay in the hospital while they administered it. I suspect they do this, so they don’t kill you.
After each of my first couple of treatments, I underwent the initiation right for people who have strong chemo. I spent a portion of the night on the floor of the bathroom naked, projectile vomiting and other things we won’t go into. There is undoubtedly a fraternity born of suffering among those who have had cancer. You can see why I was anxious to rid myself of the port that was a constant reminder of some very dark days.
I know this is only a symbolic victory but sometimes symbols matter. Every day as I showered, I ran my hand over the port, a constant reminder that I had nearly died. I’m happy to have the reminder removed. However, I never want to forget what God has done for me.
I don’t understand why God chooses to work healing in one person and not another. It certainly has nothing to do with worthiness. Yet I am profoundly grateful that God has done this work in my life. When my supervisor, Jerry Kester, anointed me with oil and prayed for me during the 2019 District Assembly, he said something that has stuck with me. He told the Lord that if he would extend my life, I would use the time to serve him. Those words have become a bit of a life motto. It sounds cliché, but after a significant brush with death, I take every day as a gift from God, mindful that I could have, maybe even should have, had a very different outcome. Every day seems to me to be “bonus” life, and it is my great honor to use that bonus life to serve my King.
I don’t know how long I have, but I hope it’s a long time, and I’m doing great physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I love life. I love my family, especially my grandkids, my friends, my team, and my church. I love being a servant of the most high God. I know that every healing is temporary. The scriptures tell us that there is a sickness that leads to death, and someday it will be my turn. Until then, I plan on Loving God with my whole being, loving the people around me like family, and building my religion and my life on those two most important commands. Anything else seems like a waste of my bonus time
