People were sincerely encouraging when telling me I had the best cancer to have, or when I read that my brother’s heart bypass surgery was common and highly successful.
Almost three years ago, I discovered the truth that when the cancer was my own, there was no comfortably “good” cancer I could have. The disease was more complex than six letters. My cancer battle jumped into my top priorities, even replacing classroom instruction time for six weeks of radiation. Doctors will not tell me I am “cancer free,” although they are pleased and confident after my treatments.
When I knew my brother’s heart would be stopped and restarted, his “common” surgery became not so commonplace.
Many people have worse problems in their bodies than my brother and I do, but the health processes of both John and me have still grabbed my attention. Neither of us nor any of us has a guarantee of tomorrow or a disease-free future. Mortality is a reality.
I wouldn’t trade places with anyone. Some would call me lucky because I had simple prostate cancer. I call myself blessed by my merciful heavenly Father. Doctors are positive, but they are imperfect prognosticators.
After having walked with my first wife while she suffered increasingly for nearly forty years, I have grown more compassionate. My own physical challenges have added to my capacity to care.
In addition to gaining compassion, my heart also seems to gather more enthusiasm for life with each morning. For those of you who do not enjoy such a positive outlook as I do, I sympathize with you as you suffer in your own unique struggles, while I am accepting each day that I live as a God-given gift of better health to share with others.
I’ve been told that my joyful outlook on life sounds “crazy,” but my outlook is sourced in the Supernatural. The Creator of the Universe has been and is my personal Companion, and His presence is as real to me as my own flesh.