Today I have an oncology appointment. It’s routine. They’ll do blood work, ask lots of questions, check for anything out of the ordinary, and plan scans. January and February are always full of routine scans and procedures just to make sure nothing’s returned… or new.
Some days I think I’ve gotten used to this. It’s become our way of life. Oncology and cancer and blood work and CT’s and -oscopies have become part of our vocabulary. We’ve accepted it–well, mostly. This is part of our story, part of our journey, and we are being made better because of it.
But days like today, there is dread and fear and pain and ache. I don’t want to set foot in the cancer center. I don’t want to see dying people. I don’t want to be reminded of what this all means. I don’t want to taste the bile in the back of my throat while the doctor checks over me, fearful of what she might say.
But most of all… I don’t want to go to my appointment and come home and check my phone for the umpteenth time forgetting that there will be no text or call or email from Kim. Because that’s what we did. We touched base somehow after everything to see how it went. To see how each other was doing. I dread walking through these next few months without her, because she was a support for me in a way that few can be, because she walked a very similar road. And we walked together. But now I am walking this part of the journey alone. And it is a heavy burden on my heart.
On the way home from taking the children to school this morning, one of my favorite songs came on my iPhone, and I sat at the traffic light, and I cried those great big heaving sobs.
Because I am not walking alone… He is with me. He brings perfect peace.
It may take me a while, but truth always encourages.
I hope this encourages you this morning… wherever you are, whatever struggle you might be facing, whatever pain is hidden deep in your heart.
Because encouragement was meant to be shared.