Surrender
My husband had cancer in 2008. I know, it boggles the mind. While we caught it early, and had the absolute best doctor we could have possibly had, my mind went straight to the worst-case-scenario. It was overwhelming in every sense of the word.
Shortly after his diagnosis, we were at church, where I was consumed as usual, with the looming possibility of unimaginable loss that had plagued me since his diagnosis. As I fretted, in the pew in front of us, there was a father holding his daughter. The little girl was about two and very cute, which was what initially got my attention. Then I noticed something else. She had no fear whatsoever that her father would drop her. It did not even occur to her that being dropped on the hard pew and floor from six feet off the ground, was even a remote possibility. She had NO fear. She knew instinctively that she was safe with her father. Clearly, this is hard wired – this trust. I have never once seen a child fearful in the arms of their parent. Shouldn’t this be how it is with God and I? The answer is yes, and so I simply took a lesson from the girl and surrendered my very big fear to God, my Father. I re-discovered what this two year old knew and had not yet had un-done by life! This surrender was a complete release of fear. In it’s place was an unbridled trust that God would carry my family and I through this, if I let Him. I surrendered what I didn’t have anyway – control. Peace followed!
This week was spent at Sloan Kettering for part one of my 7th round of treatment, where I was reminded very clearly of this somewhat foreign concept (to adults) of surrender. All of us pediatric cancer patients have a ‘port.’ The port is the point through which all chemo, meds and hydration flows. It is installed just under the collarbone under the skin and has a valve that is inserted right into the jugular vein. Without direct access to this large, tough vein, nine months of high dose chemotherapy would burn holes through your other veins. Many children receive their treatment in a large playroom at the Pediatric Day Hospital. John and I were awaiting our treatment room when a nurse approached a four year-old boy playing near us. She had his needles and his chemo with her - an unmistakable sight. The nurse was coming to access his port, and start his chemo. As she approached, he confidently-almost absent mindedly pulled his shirt up so she could insert the needles into the port and start the chemo. Amazing! When a nurse approaches the teenagers, or me, there are moans and groans, fear, anxiety, sometimes hiding, etc… Why not be more like the boy? Why not surrender to treatment? That’s what kills the cancer, which is why we are all there, right?
Last week, it was time for John’s annual PET (Positron Emission Tomography) scan. This scan shows any cancer activity in the body. The prospect of our children having two parents with cancer was more than my body and mind could handle. I was struggling with the mere possibility of it all, it was nearly debilitating. There was no better answer to the anxiety than to surrender the outcome. The result was he remains cancer free! I don't believe my surrendering changed the outcome -that was prayer- what did change was my level of stress.
This is not ‘waving the white flag’ kind of surrender. It is a very powerful and liberating release of control, that is not-so-much mine anyway. Surrender is not the same as giving up. I am not for giving up! I am for recognizing the truth in a certain path and allowing the universe to carry me along with it, like floating along a river. When I start feeling like I’m swimming upstream, and it’s a struggle to accomplish what should be simple, I take it as my cue that I am going the wrong way. This struggle is a sign that it is time to surrender and ask God to show me His way.
John is cancer free for three years now, thank God! Like him, I have great doctors and lots of love to see me through this sometimes harrowing, almost always colossally uncomfortable journey. What has been so valuable, is the rediscovery of the gift of peace and healing you can give yourself – surrender.
Shortly after his diagnosis, we were at church, where I was consumed as usual, with the looming possibility of unimaginable loss that had plagued me since his diagnosis. As I fretted, in the pew in front of us, there was a father holding his daughter. The little girl was about two and very cute, which was what initially got my attention. Then I noticed something else. She had no fear whatsoever that her father would drop her. It did not even occur to her that being dropped on the hard pew and floor from six feet off the ground, was even a remote possibility. She had NO fear. She knew instinctively that she was safe with her father. Clearly, this is hard wired – this trust. I have never once seen a child fearful in the arms of their parent. Shouldn’t this be how it is with God and I? The answer is yes, and so I simply took a lesson from the girl and surrendered my very big fear to God, my Father. I re-discovered what this two year old knew and had not yet had un-done by life! This surrender was a complete release of fear. In it’s place was an unbridled trust that God would carry my family and I through this, if I let Him. I surrendered what I didn’t have anyway – control. Peace followed!
This week was spent at Sloan Kettering for part one of my 7th round of treatment, where I was reminded very clearly of this somewhat foreign concept (to adults) of surrender. All of us pediatric cancer patients have a ‘port.’ The port is the point through which all chemo, meds and hydration flows. It is installed just under the collarbone under the skin and has a valve that is inserted right into the jugular vein. Without direct access to this large, tough vein, nine months of high dose chemotherapy would burn holes through your other veins. Many children receive their treatment in a large playroom at the Pediatric Day Hospital. John and I were awaiting our treatment room when a nurse approached a four year-old boy playing near us. She had his needles and his chemo with her - an unmistakable sight. The nurse was coming to access his port, and start his chemo. As she approached, he confidently-almost absent mindedly pulled his shirt up so she could insert the needles into the port and start the chemo. Amazing! When a nurse approaches the teenagers, or me, there are moans and groans, fear, anxiety, sometimes hiding, etc… Why not be more like the boy? Why not surrender to treatment? That’s what kills the cancer, which is why we are all there, right?
Last week, it was time for John’s annual PET (Positron Emission Tomography) scan. This scan shows any cancer activity in the body. The prospect of our children having two parents with cancer was more than my body and mind could handle. I was struggling with the mere possibility of it all, it was nearly debilitating. There was no better answer to the anxiety than to surrender the outcome. The result was he remains cancer free! I don't believe my surrendering changed the outcome -that was prayer- what did change was my level of stress.
This is not ‘waving the white flag’ kind of surrender. It is a very powerful and liberating release of control, that is not-so-much mine anyway. Surrender is not the same as giving up. I am not for giving up! I am for recognizing the truth in a certain path and allowing the universe to carry me along with it, like floating along a river. When I start feeling like I’m swimming upstream, and it’s a struggle to accomplish what should be simple, I take it as my cue that I am going the wrong way. This struggle is a sign that it is time to surrender and ask God to show me His way.
John is cancer free for three years now, thank God! Like him, I have great doctors and lots of love to see me through this sometimes harrowing, almost always colossally uncomfortable journey. What has been so valuable, is the rediscovery of the gift of peace and healing you can give yourself – surrender.
Amen! that JG is cancer free! I wish I was closer to you and ur family during this time but thank you for blogging about it. It helps those who love you but can't be closer keep up to date.
ReplyDeleteThank God for the wonderful news! I know that you will have the same wonderful news soon! God Bless you and your family and keep you forever in his love and care. Happy Easter to you all.
ReplyDeleteCancer free, YES yah hubby! And your faith "surrendering" as the child does in his/her father's arms is beautiful poetry to all of us-i will surrender as well and feel safe! Your 7th will be, as always, held in the palm's of our Lord,a very safe place :)
ReplyDeleteHi Ann!
ReplyDeleteJust wanted to send you some really good vibes from Chicago. I can't imagine how hard this is to go through as a mom and the difficult position it puts you between wanting to give care and needing to be taken care of.
My Maeve is 9 months past her last MAP chemo, and I just want to share with you how fantastic she feels -- hair is long enough to be very stylish, energy level is extremely high, just a slight limp but her spirits are great. I know teens probably handle things a lot differently but I wanted you to know that you too will be feeling really great too eventually. Keep looking past the finish line!
Amy Williamson - ACOR
Maeve's mom