It’s a Choice

3/11 Sleeping has become difficult for me again. I didn’t fall asleep until 4:00 am last night. Ugh. Sleep is when our bodies clean house and repair...heal. I need sleep. Writing has become difficult for me again as well. Thus the long spurts without any communication. Figuring out how to put together a coherent string of thoughts and ideas proves quite challenging lately. Besides the fact that I have this cancer cloud hanging over my head, I’m not even sure what to think anymore. 

So, I tried to stop thinking. And I started doing. Going down the list of my stressors one at a time, tackle it and check it off. But when I do that, then there is less time for me to do my at-home therapies which take large chunks of my day. Most require me to be on my back, which is where you would find me 3-6 hours a day. Therefore making it difficult for me to be productive checking off my stressors list. Horizontal, on my back, also makes it hard to write on paper, research on the computer, or hold up a book to read. Difficult or not, here I lay, on my back, journaling via my phone. My slick hands, a little greasy from coconut oil, betray me. From them, my phone tumbles down careening into my face. Sandwiching my lower lip between my teeth and the suddenly heavy, “stupid” phone. As if it is the phone’s fault. Isn’t that the human way? Blaming something outside ourselves. Blaming something we can’t control. Futile. Caustic. Dis-“ease” producing mindset. What can I control? What can I change? Me. And me alone. And right now it feels like I can’t even do that. I keep trying physically. It’s a mountain of frustration though with no safe, tangible markers to measure my progression or regression. It’s like riding my bike at night, downhill through the forest...without breaks. Without breaks because time doesn’t halt for cancer. At night because there is so much darkness and corruption in the cancer industry. And I write “industry” because they are in it to make a profit. Not individually as nurses or doctors, but corporately, nationally, globally. If you start doing some digging, it’s horrific. Most doctors who are in it to truly get to the source of individual’s cancer are harassed, handicapped with ridiculous regulations, run out of their respective countries, and some even mysteriously dead. So where does that leave us sick and worn people to go for our answers? I don’t know. And here I am stuck. But I continue to try to climb out of this pit I find myself in. Which reminds me of Richard Wurmbrand, who was persecuted for his faith. His Russian torturers leaving him in an underground pit for years. And what did he choose to do? Sing praises to his God. “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD God Almighty.” He explained, “If the angels in heaven can worship around His throne 24/7, I can down here in this pit.” (Side note for those of you nearby: you can catch the movie about him Monday, March 26 at 7:30 at our local theater. We will all be humbled, inspired and grateful, no doubt.) So what CAN I do? I offer up the sacrifice of praise. I try to complete the therapies I can without stressing myself out. I press on to complete the race God has made out in advance for me the run. I seek resources and help. I choose hope. I choose joy. I choose trust. I choose courage. I choose to get up and do something about it.