Back in the summer I remember going for a doctor’s visit. I was to have a cyst removed from my arm. It was a nuisance for me and I noticed it had gotten larger. Before they could remove it they needed to do an MRI, an ultrasound, and I don’t know what else. After the results they had the go-ahead to remove the cyst. Following the reading of those tests they noticed a spot. A spot on my liver.
Then we had another test and I was sat down and told, that the spot on my liver is okay, but …
No one likes to hear “but.”
Well, they found a spot on my pancreas. That one seemed to concern them more. Concern is contagious. I left with a coat of anxiety covering me. One that would surround me for months.
More tests followed and the results were coming. As I waited my fears grew. My brother Gus had pancreatic cancer and the thought of me following in his footsteps was tortuous. Gus told me not to worry, he would be here to help me. More waiting, followed by tons of prayers.
The results showed the spot on my pancreas was benign. I started to breathe. When I saw the doctor he still looked concerned. I told him the nurse told me that the test results showed it was benign.
“I dont’ know why she told you that,” he responded.
I asked, “Is it cancer?” At least I heard myself ask him that.
“No, it’s not cancer, but it doesn’t matter that it’s benign. What we have to do is closely watch it. We will give you another MRI in December and if it has changed in any way you will require extensive surgery that will involve your intestines. It is a big deal. If it has not changed in 6 months, then we will take another MRI in 6 months to a year.
Somehow that spot was now calling the shots.
I remember when I was a little girl and Spot was a dog. “See Spot. See Spot run.”
Now I hated spots.
The months passed on and while I didn’t obsess about the spot, the thought of it was always in the back of my mind.
Then fall came and we had to say goodbye to Gus. Gus, who had told me not to worry, but I was worried. And facing this without his help.
Finally after getting as many prayers as I could solicit I went for the MRI. Then I found myself waiting again. Waiting for results.
I wanted the spot to be gone, that’s what I really wanted. And if it couldn’t’ be gone I wanted it to have remained the same, but, if it had changed and I needed surgery then I simply wanted God’s Grace. Grace that God gives to help us through difficult stuff. Grace we can’t get anywhere else. That was my threefold prayer.
Well, last week I called for my results. The spot is gone. And I am surprised by my reaction. I am thankful, just quiet. For one day there was no spot, and then it was there, and now it’s gone.
I still hate spots. There are people who pray that their spots disappear but God answers their prayers differently. I have been reminded of a world that has always been there, the world of cancer.
I’m sure God hates cancer as much as I do, probably more. And yet, all of us probably know someone who is receiving news about a spot even today.
One day I’ll live in a land of no spots, no pain, no tears, the place I was made for; I’ll finally be home.