So, I wasn't doing nearly as well as I thought I was with the prospects of being diagnosed with breast cancer (of any form). I have this ridiculous paranoia that when I speak of my fears and angers that I am not trusting God. How many times have I encouraged someone to, "just trust God," to take care of them. Although I informed my friends of my situation, my response was "it will be what it will be." I even tried to laugh it off with the thought of getting an upgrade. However, the reality of what was going on inside of me was apparent as Monday drew closer.
For some poorly thought-out reason (or actually no thought given), I drove Jay and my mom to my Monday appointment. That was not a good idea. I could hardly focus on driving, my speeds were really out of control and I fretted the entire way that we were late. My heart was racing, my stomach churning and I can not begin to tell you what the mundane car chatter was about. I was so tense, my shoulders and upper back carrying the load. I practically ran to the office, leaving my family behind. The waiting room was suffocating, I could not sit still. The "patient information room" was even worse. My stomach continued its roller coaster and I thought I might vomit. My head was spinning as the reality of what I faced seemed to keep smacking me. The doctor came in and introduced herself to all members of my party (mom, dad and Jay). To quote her, "I really believe we have nothing to worry about." I wanted clarification. "So, it is nothing?" My body almost folded in half. I flopped back on the sofa I was sitting upon. The bile still rising to my mouth. It was over. I was done. Was it really true? As I wrote earlier, the doctor confessed to me that she was very relieved. She did not expect the results I received (a fibrocystic condition that presented itself a little oddly). She was very worried. I will go back in 6 months for another follow-up.
The question is: If I truly believe that God takes care of me, if I trust Him completely, should my reaction have been so severe? I thought if I verbalized how I was really feeling, I would hear the same words that I have told to countless others - obvious, but not helpful words at the time. I would be labeled, perceived as weak spiritually. I would be seen as the boy who cried wolf, worrying over what was unfathomable. To write this is difficult, but I am laying it all out on the table. I know God is in control and He will take care of me, but that does little to minimize the stress and anxiety of what I know the journey of cancer to be. Shouldn't it be different?