Walking through those familiar doors, my heart raced remembering the sights and sounds I had thought I had buried and forgotten. It was so strange being here again, thankfully I could feel the firm press of my husband’s hand gripping mine, or else I might have hesitated and not have had the courage to go through those doors. Knowing he was there, gave me confidence I didn’t think I possessed.
I remembered the corridor leading down towards the lab. The desk and waiting room were unchanged. I half expected to recognize a face, a nurse, a doctor or a patient, but even though the place seemed familiar, the people there had changed. I waited for the smell that still haunted me nineteen years later. It had been a part of my whole cancer experience in 2001, when chemotherapy treatments wafted in and around and through me. The smell was unmistakable and yet I did not smell them now.
I was ushered through another door and into an examining room. I had prayed for this day. Three weeks of medical tests, and doctor visits and follow-ups had led to this appointment at the Tom Baker Cancer centre. It was nothing I ever wanted to repeat again, but here I was nineteen years after breast cancer now facing surgery to remove a large mass growing unhindered on my right ovary.
All the doctors, including the one I met with that Monday, were non-committal about the mass being cancerous. She said only a pathology report would confirm that, which meant I needed invasive surgery to remove it. I had already prepared myself for that. I had done my research. I knew what lay ahead of me.
I certainly do not like the prospect of surgery. I don’t think anyone does. Still it’s a means to an end. Surgery will hopefully put an end to the unpleasant symptoms I’ve been dealing with now for over a month. It will also determine if the mass is benign or cancerous. Praying for the former, but preparing myself for the latter.
The worst is the waiting. It’s been one waiting room after another these last few weeks. It’s waiting for lab results, CT scans, and ultrasounds. It’s the wait for an actual surgery date (which I haven’t gotten yet). It’s waiting for phone calls from doctors and from the hospital. It’s being put on hold while I wait. I’m not only “on hold” on the phone, but also on hold participating in various activities and events I’d been looking forward to, but have to wait with now until I’ve completely recovered from surgery.
Our 40th Wedding Anniversary cruise had to be cancelled.
It’s hard waiting.
A young friend posed a question on FB yesterday: “Life has SO MANY waiting rooms… Tell me, what God has taught you in waiting?”
Here’s what God is teaching me:
- I’m not alone. While I wait, I’m surrounded by friends and family who are waiting with me. I feel their prayers surround me.
- The enemy likes to discourage me, but I am constantly encouraged by God’s Word to ward off the attacks of the enemy.
- God is in control. His timing is perfect. If I must wait, there must be a good reason for it that goes beyond lengthy medical wait times.
- God is my strength. When I am weary, I lean on Him. He’s got me sheltered in the palm of His Hand!
- God provides me with peace. I may not understand why I’m facing this health challenge at this time, but I have peace that God is with me in every waiting room and He will be with me through surgery, recovery and any other treatment I may need.
I appreciate all your prayers, dear readers, as I wait.