My faith helped me fight cancer
By BETH DOTSON BROWN
2009-10-12
The diagnosis was devastating, but I never lost the sense of God’s loving presence
T
here was so much I didn’t understand when I was diagnosed with cancer. How could someone so seemingly healthy, at age 42, have cancer? Why should I have to bear this burden?
As I was growing up, I often heard my mother say, “God has a reason for everything.” Most often she would express that sentiment when things weren’t going as she wished. So as I sat on the doctor’s exam table, Mom’s words echoed in my head. I didn’t ponder the reason, however, so much as the journey before me. I wanted to be healed. I wanted to be healthy. I wanted to continue to live. Surely my faith in God and the trust that seemed my only choice could help me reach those goals. God was very present to me in the month of my diagnosis, planting the road markers that would guide me through the next year. I didn’t understand them all at the time, but I did believe that with God’s direction, everything would evolve as it should. As I sat on the exam table waiting for the result of the biopsy, I thought of all the reasons the breast cyst couldn’t be cancer. It wasn’t in my family. I ate a healthy diet and exercised regularly. I didn’t smoke. Yet I had seen the doctor’s concern as the ultrasound technician slid the cool instrument across my sensitive skin. On June 25, I heard those words. “It’s cancer.” The doctor scheduled surgery for July 1. The biopsy had revealed a life-threatening tumor that also called for chemotherapy and radiation. As we discussed the possible outcomes, I remembered my writing retreat, scheduled for the week of July 11. Just a few weeks earlier I had been awarded a summer artist’s residency that included a stay at a retreat house where I could work on the novel idea that had been gradually forming itself into a story. Since childhood I had dreamed of becoming a novelist, so this opportunity felt like God affirming that desire. I explained the residency to the surgeon. “I’m really looking forward to that,” I said. “Will I still be able to go?” “That would be a good thing for you to do,” he assured me, confirming for me that healing doesn’t rely only on medicine. I went into surgery praying for protection for myself and the surgeon, but I wasn’t the only one sending missives to heaven that day. When I learned that friends from my parish gathered at morning Mass to pray for me, I sensed Jesus cradling me in his arms. I believe there’s something healing, if intangible, about the power of prayer. Indeed I felt answered prayers upon hearing the post-surgery report. It was a large tumor, a fast-growing cancer, but it hadn’t spread. When I went to see the oncologist a few weeks later, he said he had never seen someone with a tumor so large who didn’t have lymph node involvement, so he tested my lymph nodes again. They were healthy. Nonetheless, I needed to have chemotherapy, then radiation. So I took a deep breath, asked God for direction, and began contemplating how I would get through the next nine months. It was my friend Kathy who reminded me when I was feeling especially low that God is good...always. She had recently lost her mother to cancer and also spoke to me of the angels God sends to carry us over or around the potholes that mar our road. God had planted one more signpost during June that I was still examining, wondering if I should follow it or not. An editor from St. Mary’s Press had inquired about my interest in working on a book for teens about why people choose to be Catholic. The book would require interviews with people about their faith. Interviewing is one of my favorite parts of my work as a journalist, so that sounded intriguing. Perhaps, again, God was directing my energies where they needed to go.
But I was preparing to begin chemotherapy. Could I actually write a book, my first, while doing that? Was I insane to even consider it?
I turned to a friend in the Catholic press to ask the question. She had survived cancer treatments and assured me it was possible. Next, I asked God to guide me on this decision. This time I felt more than reassurance; it was as if God had pulled up in Cinderella’s chariot to offer me to travel with me. “This is my gift to you. This will help you through the next nine months.” I began chemotherapy at the end of August. I did my first interview for the book a few days later. Every person I interviewed in those early weeks shared the same message about their faith — it sustains me, they said. I needed that reminder. So I worked on the book. I listened to the struggles and joys people encountered through their faith. Their stories encouraged my belief that God would heal me in some way. I also returned repeatedly to the retreat house where I began the novel and I wrote more. That house became a place of escape where I could relax by indulging myself in the fictional world I had created. I began to understand that relaxation provides a way for the mind, body, and soul to heal. And the angels came to me. They arrived through my mailbox, e-mail inbox, and at my door as friends sent messages and cards, came to sit with me, brought me flowers and JELL-O. They came to me during my morning prayer time, which gives me a way to connect with God before starting the day. They came as I prayed the Rosary, drawing closer to Mary and her own example of sacrifice for her Creator. Even though there were times when my spirits lifted because of the gifts God sent my way, there were also days when my body felt so devastated by the chemotherapy that very little could provide comfort. When the drugs left my mouth and throat so raw that I could swallow only liquids, when the chemo overload reddened my feet and hands and made me feel like I was walking on tacks, I felt empty. Abandoned. One day in January as I prepared to go to Mass, I adjusted my wig over my slick scalp and tried to put forward a face that wasn’t so scrunched in pain that it would scare people away. I had to hobble into church because walking so hurt the soles of my feet. When I got to the pew and knelt to gaze upon the cross, I was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude and compassion for something I had never before understood. Jesus was crucified. For us. He was human, so when they pounded nails into his flesh, He must have experienced devastating pain. For the first time in my life, I gazed at the crucifix knowing any ache I felt was only a fraction of what that must have been like for Him. I could feel some of his pain and we were kindred spirits. His example showed me that regardless of what I had to endure, something better awaited me. The following weekend, I found a taste of that. I attended an artist’s retreat at our diocesan retreat house. There I could lose myself in the ways God provides us to create, to express our love for Him. I still shuffled, my feet not yet recovered. The nerve endings in my hands were too sensitive to easily shape the clay into a sculpture. Yet the energy in that space said, “You are God’s artist; indulge yourself. Create for the Creator.” So I created and felt renewed. I ended my chemotherapy soon after and began radiation, which I finished the same month I completed the interviews for my book. It was a wonderful coalescence that reminded me throughout those months that my faith was a part of my healing. God is good...always . I was blessed with family, including a very supportive husband, and friends who provided examples of God’s loving care. My friend Judy had miraculously overcome cancer and encouraged me. My small prayer group walked the dusty road with me, wiping my brow when my tears threatened to blur my vision. All of these people were angels swooping in to remind me that no matter what, God is good and faith can heal. When I needed to remember that God was playing a role in my healing and would not abandon me, I went to Eucharistic Adoration. Our parish is so small that typically there’s only one person in church at a time for Adoration. What joy that intimate time with God gave me! Sometimes I sang. Sometimes I meditated, waiting to hear what God might have to say. I was always reassured of his loving presence. Today I am healthy, not only in my body but also in my mind and my spirit. I published that first book and hope to someday see my completed novel in print. I also carry with me lessons I’ve learned on my journey through faith and healing. I know life’s struggles will continue, whether they relate to health or something else. But I will remember the same mantra that helped me through the most physically challenging time of my life: God is good… always. What I did to draw faith into my healing · Read Scripture with daily meditations · Prayed the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary · Attended Eucharistic Adoration · Went on retreat — alone and with others · Shared my journey with my prayer group and other faith-filled friends · Attended a workshop on Centering Prayer and began practicing it · Recognized the gifts God sent my way in the form of people I interviewed for my workBeth Dotson Brown ( bethdotsonbrown.net ) is an award-winning freelance writer and editor who lives in Lancaster, Kentucky. She is the author of Yes! I Am Catholic and a contributor to A Cup of Comfort for Breast Cancer Survivors . Besides writing for magazines and newspapers, the author also writes for nonprofit organizations. In addition, she writes fiction and enjoys teaching young writers. This article has been viewed 126 times. |
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