This week has been the week of chemo reunion. It’s an IV, kinda family thing, that links me to him to him to her not by blood, but by medication, by diagnosis, by life itself. As much as I love my friends visiting me, truly, I do, this week has been unique for sure. To have friends going through chemo at the same time as you, right up against you as you both are being administered the drugs of the day, is definitely not special, but a unique moment in time. You don’t even have to talk really: you get it with just the look, or you see it in the others’ eyes like a projected screen of a film. How is it is that their thoughts are now your thoughts also? And how unfair it seems at times that you both are going through this? And yet, also so strangly relieving?
Earlier this week, I saw my younger brother in survivorship Skylor. His love for others continues to reach to the skies, to the heavens. I am always so shocked that a 16 year old boy could be so generous, so thoughtful.
Dear Sky, your name is a true reflection of your heart, dear buddy.
Today, I saw my other relatives: my twin in diagnosis Joel and my younger sister in survivorship Jasmine.
Joel, my companion who has much strength for the both of us.
Jasmine, a new, even younger sister who has so many questions, many thoughts. The cancer world—for being so minute on the celluar level—continues to only grow, grow and expand in not only her mind but mine as well.
Oh, do we have much to learn, my dear brothers and sister.
Still, it is so amazing to me that we are connected by this: by the tubes around our arms and chests, by our own cells within us shouting and revolting, by these moments.
And yet, it doesn’t suprise me at the same time.
Although neither one of us ever thought cancer would be a part of our lives’ resumes, here it is tattooed on our bodies, IV needles piercing us, and hair follicles falling one at a time, we are here, where we should be.
I do not wish it upon you, but I am thoroughly glad my brothers and sister that you are here next to me.
In the midst of the beeping of pumps, of the drozinessness of chemotherapy, of the flury of nurses in and out of rooms, I pray for peace for you. And even though in those moments, it seems unreachable, like it is so far outside of this hospital room, I promise you the peace is there for the taking.
The peace that leads to Hope.
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. 3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
19 Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior,
who daily bears our burdens.
20 Our God is a God who saves;
from the Sovereign Lord comes escape from death.