The Monster lurks

I'm a cancer survivor.

I've been encouraged to share my testimony about this most recent chapter in life. Not because I want to revisit all the details (I don't, really), but because at some point it might be useful. Should that come two years from now, my memory of events won't be nearly the same.

Right now I'm recovering from major cancer surgery. I won't be able to return to work for another 2-3 months, so there is plenty of free time available. Life is a little scary right now, honestly, but I've had time to come to terms with it. I'm alive, which was certainly in question about a month ago.

How did this come about? Nobody ever plans on writing this particular testimony. But it began last April, Easter of 2009:

Just after Molly's sister, Nellie, came over and cooked us a fabulous Easter dinner. She did so single-handedly, feeding about 30 of us (friends & family). What an awesome job she did! However, after the feast I felt myself coming down with a flu. Two weeks later, still with a flu in full swing, life was getting pretty miserable. There were a ton of things around the house I wanted to get done! I had that flu for about a month, and toward the middle of May the symptoms finally started to fade.

During this time I had to rely on our oldest son at home, Darian, to take care of most the physical chores. With school and his social life coming to a close, he must have reached a breaking point of sorts. His way of avoiding chores started becoming obvious (to me), and I found myself coming down on him to just get these things done! It didn't help, things kept piling up, and so I decided to bite the bullet and do them myself. There was a little bit of resentment mixed into my decision and I've asked God for forgiveness since.

However, mowing our (highly overgrown) yard and shovelling in some holes about made me pass out one day. After getting done, I sat down for an hour or so sweating and shaking...don't forget, I was on the tail end of the flu. What does this have to do with cancer? It was actually the first symptom. After this traumatic little episode, my guts felt wierd and it scared me a little. Three days later, I became even more worried when I couldn't use the bathroom. After a week I had stopped eating entirely and went in for the dreaded doctor's appointment.

Without running extensive tests, symptoms indicated a folded or twisted intestine. Entirely reasonable after a bout of flu...weakening my body...followed by unusual exertion. After two days of drinking magnesium citrate, things began working again and I went on a progressive diet to restore normal functions. I was soooo relieved (pun intended).

This worked, but not well. After two more weeks, almost eating normally, the same thing happened again. More magnesium citrate (hey, it worked before), and back to a liquid diet. This happened over and over, perhaps every two weeks, and the trend wasn't lost on me. I approached my new pastor and elders at church to pray for me over this. Another doctor's appointment. More extensive tests were scheduled, and I began to fear that a surgery would be necessary. Much, much more praying followed.

A strange, new fear began to grip me. A conviction that, should I ever have surgery for this problem, I would die. I didn't know where this came from, but it didn't seem to be rational. If anything, my mind was operating in fantasy land OR my enemy was throwing some darts to try and torment me. I prayed against this fear and firmly discounted it, but it would grip me from time to time. Wouldn't seem to go away.

I also recognized my tendency to be resentful toward Darian. That wasn't rational, either. But it's human nature to blame someone for our misfortunes if we can. More prayer, more appealing for forgiveness to God himself. In all honesty, it wasn't Darian's fault I did those chores. True, he was slacking near the point of rebellion...and to ignore this would be tantamount to giving him permission, not being a good parent on my part...so blaming him for everything afterwards wouldn't be really fair or productive. Ahh, parenting! Someday I'll get good at it.


This trend continued into our all-church picnic. I'd been honored to be asked into ministry for our church, Julie and I had the task of facilitating cell groups. Which was really fun for me, as we got to know our small group leaders, keep in contact with them, and find ways to help. Not that I considered myself the best-suited for a job of this nature, but the rewards were entirely worthwhile! Anyway, one thing we tried to do was find ways to serve our church and our community. The all-church picnic was a neat way to bring people together and we'd worked a few weeks putting things together. What a blast! So many people helped, and so many people enjoyed it, that I was truly overjoyed with the whole process.


The symptoms returned with a vengeance after that exertion on a hot day. I'd also tested my diet, and over-ate a little bit. The very next day we were going camping, and it took all of my energy to recover from the picnic and pack up to go. It began to get painful after we'd set up camp. We'd forgotten some important things and the rather primitive conditions were made even worse. After two nights, the intestinal pain was so bad that I asked Julie if we could go home, ending our camping trip a day or two earlier than expected. At least the kids had fun. The next week at work, I found walking to be difficult and painful...but intestinal blockages will give you those symptoms. I managed as best I could, keeping in mind that a cat scan was coming up the next Monday and more things should be revealed.

It wasn't to be...