The past few days have been processed in small increments–only allowing myself to go so far into the depths, and instead staying closest to the shallow end.
Still, I’ve pondered the medicinal side of things, and all the remedies that seemed to only feed the cancerous cells, while simultaneously destroying Bill’s taste buds.
He’s had to endure the cider shots, not at all similar to a jello shot. The oils of old, like Frankincense and herbal supplements. Then there was the angiogenesis inhibitor eating plan that was supposed to combat cancerous cell growth by way of simple nutrition.
There were the big strategies provided by the professionals. Surgeries, immunotherapy, which reportedly cured a former President, and old-time varieties like killer chemo, known for the destruction of everything in its wake.
And, of course my encouragement to think positive thoughts, because positivity is a killer of all things bad, right? Unfortunately, all uplifting thoughts were destroyed the moment the television turned to the morning networks, and a heated political debate ensued over the condition of our world.
Nothing has worked.
Even the new drug approved the day after the terminal diagnosis was administered. When mentioned to his oncologist, his response was it would be similar to switching from Pepsi to Coke. Basically pointless. His cancer brushed away each strategy as if they were mere crumbs on the collar.
Our Hail Mary awaits on Monday.
We travel across the oncology hall to the yet-to-be-approved area of trials. I envision dark rooms with lab-coated doctors with names like Frankenstein and Jekyll, stirring smokey pots of potions to test on frightened patients.
If you cannot tell, I am not entirely excited about this appointment. But, we will enter with expectation and hope for a cure.
In all honesty, my prayer of the moment is if this trial doesn’t work to restore life, then the door remain closed and he is not a candidate. Because I’d rather he not be a lab rat and steal from the treasure of today. Make sense?
I woke up to a vision the other night.
It was the inside of a jewel box. Dark soft material, maybe brown. In the upper left corner were two small words in typewriter print:
Prayer works. Yes, it does. Actually, of all the tried and failed attempts at healing, He is our only hope for cure. And prayer works for more than big miracles.
Prayer works to calm our fearful hearts.
Prayer works to guide us through difficult terrain.
Prayer works to ease discomfort and pain.
Prayer works against the enemy trying to put a choke-hold on today’s peace.
Prayer works behind the scenes in ways we are entirely oblivious.
Sometimes, prayer works to…
I pray because prayer works as a tether to intimacy with our immense God who wants to draw us near, and hold us close.
“Jesus, tug us so close to You that our heartstrings are as one beat.”