Good, Bad, Good

I'll start with the positive things, then I'll whine a little, then end with something uplifting. Sound good?

Okay, here are the positive things:

• Keith got a big grant for school next year, so we don't have to pay for tuition!
• I am running/walking in the Race for the Cure on Saturday for Team Haven. I got my T-shirt today, and the back says S"Haven" our Ta-Ta's. Um, okay. Well, I didn't really save mine, but I guess that's not the point...
• I have the world's cutest kids.
• Our "Lagoon Savings" jar has lots and lots of pennies. It has some bills and quarters in it too, but mostly pennies.
  
• I'm almost finished with the rough draft of my book. And boy, is it rough. There are some sparkling gems buried in it though, which I am very, very excited about.

Now for a little bit of whining:

I've changed the title of my blog, because I've decided today that this war is over, and I've won. The truth is, I've been thinking about cancer way too much. I've spent the last few weeks prodding and searching my body for signs of metastasis, and I'm beginning to drive myself (and my doctor) mad.

First there was the harmless vein that poked out of my wrist, a couple little bruises, and a low grade fever. I figured the cancer was in my bone marrow. Had a blood test, and the nurse told me everything looked normal.

Then a couple weeks ago I found a couple symmetrical lumps in my lower back on either side of my spine. So I decided the cancer was in my lymphatic system. I went to see the PA, and he said that it was probably nothing and we shouldn't do anything about it. So I started crying, and he ordered an x-ray and ultrasound just to make me feel better.

The x-ray and ultrasound didn't show anything suspicious, so I felt a little better, until yesterday. My neck felt a little sore for some reason, so I started prodding around and felt something on my neck where it meets my collar bone. I convinced myself again that the cancer must be in my lymphatic system. So I called my doctor's office again. The PA called me back and said they looked at my x-ray again, and they reassured me that I was going to be okay and that there was nothing wrong.

After I hung up the phone, I started sobbing. It's a good thing Jonas and Liam were at preschool, and Graham was asleep, because I basically broke down. Not because anything is physically wrong, but because I am so tired of being scared all the time. And I haven't wanted to talk to anyone about how I feel, because I don't want to burden anyone. Besides, no one seems to understand anyway.

So I knelt down to talk to the only person who does understand. I didn't say much, mostly just cried. It was one of those times that I "knew not what I should pray for as I ought: but the Spirit itself made intercession for me with groanings which cannot be uttered." (Romans 8:26)

I prayed, and cried, and then I sat there and listened. A peace came over me, and words came to my mind, reassuring me (for the hundredth time) that I am healed; that I'm going to be okay; that I am going to be around for a while. I was reminded that I need to be patient as my body continues to heal.

I've also been thinking a lot today about a story Gordon B. Hinckley once told. He was talking about how he was discouraged on his mission, and he received a letter from his father saying, "Dear Gordon, I have your letter... I have only one suggestion: Forget yourself and go to work." He said he made a pledge to try to give himself to the Lord, and after that, "the fog lifted, the sun began to shine in his life." I know this works. Whenever I forget about myself and focus on helping other people, my fears dissipate, and I am filled with hope and happiness. So if you ever see me mumbling to myself, I am probably saying, "Sarah, forget yourself, and go to work."

Okay, now here is the uplifting part:

Tonight, Keith showed me an inspiring video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHDvxPjsm8E


It was exactly what I needed. It was a great reminder that it doesn't matter what cancer has done to my body, as long as I am still here for my family.