Crying cancer…


one of the features of my blog account is that I can see what search terms people have used to arrive on this site.  The other day someone had searched for “crying cancer” and ended up here. 

So I started thinking about that. 

Crying Cancer.  Like crying wolf.

I feel a bit like that is what happened with Dave. 

July 17th, Dave gets a PHONE CALL, and the Dr says “you have cancer, this is very serious and you need to get this taken care of RIGHT AWAY”.   Most of you know the story, Dave was in Alaska, I was in Wisconsin, all our worldly possessions were loaded on a truck and on the road somewhere between the 2 places. 

I reacted violently and immediately, called my mom, crying, cancer.  Called my pastors, crying, cancer.  Called my friends, crying, cancer. 

I am sure that much of this reaction was driven by my personality, as well as the fear the word cancer brings.  I am a talker (surprised by that little confession aren’t you?), and I draw energy from having my friends and family around me, so it seemed like the natural thing to do.  Call, cry, talk, to everyone I know. 

It was a tense couple of weeks until Dave had his appointment in Alaska, and then the news was a bit better, but still cancer. 

After Dave’s surgery, the news got even better, there were clean margins around the tumor, and no further treatment would be needed, no chemo, no radiation, no surgery. 

And I felt stupid. Still do.  Did I completely over-react?  Probably. Turns out it was nothing but a massive pre-cancerous-on the edge of becoming a life threatening malignancy-tumor. 

 But that is the thing.  It was a tumor ON THE EDGE of being really really bad. 

 It wasn’t really really bad, just really bad.  So Dave had been in doubling over pain at least daily for 4-5 months.  So blood loss was a daily occurrence.  So Dave was totally exhausted and losing weight at the rate of 8-9 lbs a month, it was still just on the edge of being really really bad. 

And now he is feeling great, running and lifting weights again, eating whatever he wants, sleeping less than 9 hours a night.  He has energy and a sense of humor again(I am SO thankful!)

And I can’t shake this feeling that I was ridiculous to get upset in the first place. 

I hope that we never get another phone call like that one we got back in July, and if we do, I hope and pray that I can keep it together a bit better. 

Right now, I will take this as another chance to thank all of you who were so supportive and loving when I called,

Crying Cancer.


About Sandie

A little background: A mother of 3, two boys and a girl. Married young to a good man. No longer young, but he is still a good man. Grew up in the suburbs of Minneapolis, lived several years in small town Alaska, spent a couple years in the city of Madison, currently residing not too far from down town Anchorage. Drink a crazy amount of coffee. Fiercely loyal to my friends. Truly rabid in my defense of family. Beyond thankful that my God loves me enough to allow me to doubt and question.

5 responses »

  1. May I just be so bold as to say that you DID NOT over-react. What your family has been through in the last few months is nothing less than an absolute miracle and testament to the majesty and healing power of our God. I am amazed and so thankful to hear how well Dave is doing–and so quickly–it is amazing! I am completely convinced that through your trial, faith has been strengthened–and not only that belonging to you and your family. Mine. Many others. Probably some of which you’d never guess. I also believe faith was begun. Probably not until you are in Glory will you know the eternal impact your trial has had. What a testimony!

  2. Plus, you had to worry if your friends Cathy and Jim had any idea about what they were doing after coming home from China with their new daughter Kajsa!

    with infinite hope, Jim

  3. An over-reaction?! Not a chance. A genuine outpouring when life threatened to fall apart is more like it. When others cry cancer (may no one ever have to cry cancer!), you will cry with them, and in so doing, richly bless them because of the torture you went through. And it was torture, even though it turned out good.

  4. The thought of cancer does that to a person. I Know! You are and were not alone! All it shows is that we daily need each other and God and that is not stupid!

  5. Perhaps they were looking for others who were crying because of a cancer diagnosis.

    Personally, I think it’s quite normal to freak out with the initial news about any major crisis (like cancer!)

    But as the news sinks in and the information continues to come, tests show this or that, you talk with someone else who has been there/done that, you find that you can deal with the crisis.

    Your situation is a big different than most cancer situations in that it was treatable, removed, healed, whatever (i forget the whole thing now. it’s late, i’m tired, personal crises of my own.)

    Why do I think it normal? I’ve done the same thing (most recently Nov 4, in your presence, remember?)

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