A Time to Review
Two years ago almost to the day, on a Friday evening (April 27, 2007), I awoke from the fog of anesthesia looked at my wife who sat next to my hospital bed and asked the following question: “What did the doctor say?” As she looked at me, the pause seemed like an eternity. I could see a change come over her countenance. Also, in the room were my son, daughter-in-law, and grandson, my daughter, mother, sister and brother-in-law. I had entered surgery with the hope that the procedure would only reveal a benign structure that would require a cosmetic dissection and a rapid recovery. Now, I could see the tears beginning to cover her eyes. “Tell me,” I said. But she didn’t have say anything. Soon, she uttered the words that would change my life forever. “You have cancer.”
My emergence from anesthesia has always been an interesting one. I am very energetic, talkative and some say funny. Though bearing the possibility of despair, I was unsurprisingly positive – an extension of my normal demeanor. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll be fine!” was my immediate response. Obviously, at that time I was in no state of mind to assess my condition or understand the gravity of the situation. I was awaking from three and a half hours of surgery. A tumor located beneath my right Eustachian tube was removed as well as several cervical lymph nodes leaving an unsightly scar from my right ear to my chin. Pathological tests revealed that the tumor and lymph nodes were cancerous. The prognosis was for a better than 50% chance of complete recovery after an extensive series of radiation and chemotherapy treatments that would result in excruciating pain and test the limits of my faith.
In a recent sermon at my church, Pastor Vatel illustrated the plight and plea of God’s relationship with his children in Psalm 77 (NIV). Verse 1: “I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me.” Verse 14: “You are the God who performs miracles; you display your power among the peoples.”
Two years later, although my memory is still scarred by the experience, my hope is alive and my health has continued to improve! The reassurance of God’s continual presence, love, and care reinvigorates me. When God intervenes, the prognosis does not matter. What appears to be a curse becomes a blessing. Despair is only a delusion. Anxiety gives way to hope. Fear is replaced by a transcendent joy, and sorrow and gloom dissipates as an excitement for life ensues. That is the legacy of the reassuring presence of life, love, and hope of a living Savior. You have all played a major role in this experience. Your prayers, concern, and encouragement continue to boost my spirit. Thanks for another year of life – to God and to you!
Love and blessings,
Len
