Marissa Henley

Encouraging weary women to hope in Christ alone

One Cancer-Free Year

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One year ago today, on my dad’s birthday, a surgeon removed the remaining cancer from my body. Thanks be to God, that nasty cancer hasn’t been seen around here since.

Today feels like a birthday, because in many ways, Life After Cancer feels so different from what came before. Mercifully different from Life With Cancer, but also not the same as Life Before Cancer. Mostly better that life before, but with new challenges that accompany my now-complicated medical history.

I’ve been reflecting on this cancer-free year, and how it compared to the year that preceded it . . .

A year of making memories instead of missing milestones.

A year of joyful birthdays and other events celebrated in person rather than on video-chat.

A year of being the mom who showed up for everything, not to be an overachiever or super-mom, but just because I live here and have white blood cells.

A year of hearing people tell me I look good and wanting to reply, “You’re just saying that because I have eyebrows and eyelashes again!” 🙂

A year of thinking, “This time last year . . .” and giving thanks for health and normalcy.

A year of friendships with cancer warriors, celebrating healing and miracles, and pleading with God on behalf of those who are still waiting to celebrate as I am today.

A year of emotional pilgrimages back to MD Anderson, but leaving each time hearing: “No evidence of disease, see you in three more months!”

A year of adjusting to the physical, emotional and relational changes that come with cancer survivorship.

A year of struggling to figure out how God wants to use me and my experience in Cancer World for the good of others and for His glory.

A year of fighting the tendency to slip back into complacency and old habits–an effort powered by the Holy Spirit, with failures covered by the blood of Christ.

A year of giving thanks and praise to the Lord for His perfect plan–past, present and future–because of His never-ending goodness and faithfulness. He is all that we need.

Happy birthday, Dad. I love you tons. And happy Life-After-Cancer birthday to me. To God be the glory!

Romans 8:28: For we know that for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.

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Therefore

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Romans 12:1-2:  Therefore, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God–this is your spiritual act of worship.  Do not be conformed any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is–his good, pleasing, and perfect will.

Our pastor has been preaching through Romans.  It has been so good.  I think if I could only have one book out of the Bible, I’d pick Romans.  I could read every day about what a wretched sinner I am (Romans 1 and 3), how God chose to save me through the death of His Son, Jesus Christ (Romans 3:23-25, 5:8, 10:9), that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ (Romans 8:1), and that NOTHING can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:38-39).

Last Sunday, we arrived at Romans 12.  The big “Therefore . . . ”  News as fabulous and life-changing as the Gospel requires a response.  And Romans 12 tells us that our response of gratitude for what God has done for us is to offer our bodies as a living sacrifice and be transformed by the renewing of our mind.

I’ve been thinking about these verses for a few days now and pondering how my mind needs some renewal.  When I first found out that I was cancer-free and finished with treatment, I was overflowing with joy.  Anyone who asked how I was doing would get an earful about all the wonderful things God had done.

But as time goes on, discontentment and anxiety start to creep in.  I stop being thrilled to have hair and start to envy the long, beautiful hair of others.  I look around me and feel jealous of those who don’t have to go to Houston every three months for a CT scan, who don’t have to think about cancer returning, and who blissfully assume they will hold their grandchildren someday.  I start to hold on tightly to my own plans instead of being thankful for today and trusting tomorrow to the Lord because He knows best.

I hate sin.  It is so ugly.  Especially mine.

When I read, “offer your bodies as living sacrifices,” it sounds like I need to give myself, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, to the One who created me and His perfect will.  I need to say, “God, because I have received your mercy and grace in Christ, I know You are good and Your ways are perfect.  You can let this body be devoured by cancer or live 50 more years–whatever brings more glory to Your name.”  Do I have the courage to say that?  Some days I don’t, some days I do–only by the power of the Holy Spirit.

To offer my body as a living sacrifice, I need my mind to be renewed.  I’ve decided that when those envious or anxious thoughts creep in, I will focus my mind on something God has done to show His faithfulness to me, especially during my 9-month-long cancer battle.  I will choose not to be conformed to the pattern of this world, but be transformed, so I can proclaim that God’s will is indeed good, pleasing and perfect.

To God be the glory.

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Scans

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There are many difficult aspects of life in Cancer World, even when you live there as someone who is blessed to be currently cancer-free.  For me, the quarterly check-ups are one of the most difficult parts.  When you’ve had cancer, especially one as aggressive as angiosarcoma, you know your cancer-free status can be snatched away at any time.  A lump, a symptom . . . the possibility is always lurking, but never as ominously as when you go for those scans.  I will make trips to Houston every three months for a CT scan of my chest, abdomen and pelvis to check for a recurrence.  My scans are coming up soon.  And I’ll be honest, it is a struggle to keep the anxiety from taking over.

It feels like I’m standing on a beach.  The sand beneath my feet is my cancer-free life–being a normal mom who gets to drive her kids to school, go to Wal-mart, show up for stuff even when someone with a cold might be there, and take care of her family.  I can hear the waves of recurrence threatening to wipe my cancer-free life away, but it’s dark.  I have no idea whether I’m inches from those waves or whether they are way off in the distance.  I have no idea when the tide will roll in.  Will it come with this scan?  Or the next?  Or not for 20 years?  The darkness is what makes it so difficult.  If I could just see those waves, maybe I could get myself ready . . .

But then I realize that I’m not standing only on sand.  Beneath that sand is the Rock, and it cannot be washed away even by the most ferocious waves.  That Rock is Jesus Christ.  Hebrews 2:8 reminds us that everything is under His control.  And I John 3:16 reminds us that He loves me so much that He died for me.  That is one powerful, comforting combination.

This is the remedy for the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm me at times . . . God’s character and His promises to me.  He doesn’t promise that the waves won’t come.  But He promises to meet every one of my needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19).

I’m so thankful for that Rock.

If you would like to pray for me, please pray that the perfect peace of God would guard my heart and my mind and that my mind would be steadfast on Christ.  You can pray for comfort for me as I go through the CT scan and await the results, for wisdom for my doctors, and that my life would bring glory to Jesus Christ, my Rock and my Redeemer.

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What If

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A year ago today, I was anxiously waiting for a biopsy that had been scheduled a few days later.  It is emotional for me to look back at those days right before my cancer diagnosis on October 25, 2010.  There is a temptation to dwell on it, as if I can somehow will it to turn out differently, to re-write history and get a phone call on that day that there was no cancer.  By grace alone, I am taking those thoughts captive and refusing to stay stuck on the “what-ifs.”

But it is an interesting question:  What would life look like today if it had been an infection like they originally thought?  What if that phone call on October 25 had gone the other way?  What if I had continued the antibiotic and gone on with my life?

What if I didn’t know just how much I truly have to be thankful for?

What if I didn’t understand the power of prayer and Scripture and the Holy Spirit to comfort you in the most dire of circumstances?

What if I didn’t realize how incredible my church family and friends are?

What if I was still driven by my to-do list and squeezing in quality time with my kids in between, instead of the other way around?

What if I didn’t know how many people love me and care about me?

What if I didn’t know to take time to make green slime and go for ice cream and say yes when they ask for just one more story?

What if I had never met our nanny or my Houston family or the oncology clinic staff or my cancer posse?

What if I was still oblivious to the needs of the sick and hurting in my community?

What if I weren’t committed to talking with my kids every day about God’s character and how we can trust Him?

I didn’t get to choose the outcome last October.  And that is definitely for the best, because I know I would have picked the easy road and missed out on all the blessings God had in store with the trial.  He planned each and every day for my good and His glory, and I am thankful.  I was reminded this week of a Charles Spurgeon quote that I heard somewhere back in the chemo fog, and it resonates with my experience:

“There is no greater mercy that I know of on earth than good health except it be sickness; and that has often been a greater mercy to me than health.  It is a good thing to be without a trouble; but it is a better thing to have a trouble, and know how to get grace enough to bear it.” 

Thank you, Lord, for each and every mercy you give, and the grace to bear those that are difficult.

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