2009-07-18 - 11:36 a.m.

CHURCH CHAT

I should be getting in the shower right now, I've got a baby shower to go to. A friend of mine from down the street, the one married to the incredibly ripped, action-figure-like fireman, is close to delivering her second daughter, and we're partying it up today. I got her a gift card that I really can't afford at present, but...whatcha gonna do? Her other kid's birthday is next weekend...we're giving it up for the neighbors this month.

Dad got cancer. It's lymphoma, it is isolated to one tumor in the roof of his mouth, and the doctor is certain that three rounds of chemotherapy and a few weeks of radiation will get rid of it. We've been dealing with it for about two months now, long enough for Dad to get biopsied, diagnosed, and go through the three rounds of harsh chemotherapy. He finished the third and final round on Wednesday, and should be on his way home now. He and Mom chose to travel to a reputable hospital known for it's strides in cancer treatment, rather than to stay in town for treatment like all their dead friends did.

I pray a lot, but I prayed a lot harder during these past weeks, knowing my sweet, funny Dad was in danger. Chemotherapy is famous for nearly killing the one it's meant to help. When Granny did it she was so sick, and she just lay there, unable to eat, sores in her mouth, a terrible sight. It would have been so awful to see Dad go through that, and so, I prayed. I prayed, my family prayed, church members and strangers all prayed for Dad. I felt confident that the doctor was right, that Dad would easily beat this and live through it and all would return to normal, but I wanted more-I didn't want to see Dad suffer like people always do when they go through chemotherapy. My prayers started with a Thank You for the knowledge that Dad would be all right, and directly into "please spare Dad the horrible side effects of chemotherapy". It was an outrageous request and I knew it, but I couldn;t help but ask my all powerful God to consider it, Clearly He did. Dad is the only person I have ever seen go through chemotherapy like a breeze. He got pale, and he got a little thinner...but he threw up only once, the night after the second administration, and I've only seen him feeling tired and antisocial once, as well. Aside of those two small experiences, Dad has been perky, up and about his business, checking the pots on the stove and sampling the peas inside, hassling Mom for peach cobbler, sleeping and laughing well, smiling and being Dad. If it weren't for the fact that he is temporarily hairless, you wouldn't know what he was going through. The doctors have given Dad drugs that curb or eliminate the nausea, and they have worked like a charm...but I believe those drugs and their results are a result of the prayers. :) And I stand by that, even if it does sound youth-camp hokey.

I was picking blueberries on Tuesday when Mom called to give me the update. She calls to give me the lowdown on the parental situation when she and Dad are away for his treatment, and she said they'd run into something unexpected. They had seen the doctor that morning and she had set them up a dental appointment for Friday there at the hospital with special dentists, because after radiation a person can no longer have dental work done the way they are accustomed to. It becomes a big deal to have work done on radiated bone, it's not something you can just drop in anywhere to request. She said Dad's Friday dental appointment was in order to evaluate Dad's teeth, and that if there were any that the dentist felt would not survive the radiation treatment, they would have to be pulled beforehand.

Dad is particular about his teeth. He's worked hard to be sure to keep them in the best shape possible. His teeth are all his own, and they're nice, but he's had a recent difficulty right in the front that has caused some discoloration. In fact, it was dealings with that problem which led to the discovery of the tumor in his mouth. So...what if they tried to snatch out Dad's front teeth? I already felt lucky and blessed by how Dad has responded to chemo, so this next request, being purely cosmetic, felt greedy...but I couldn't help it. I knew we could replace any lost teeth with new, whiter replacements, but I still prayed and prayed for Dad's teeth. Friday, the dentist said Dad's teeth are fine. He will have none pulled! I'm sure that if the outcome had been different, I'd have still felt like God loves Dad...but man, do we feel lucky NOW.

So, if you're all sour on God, maybe you weren't raised to believe in Him, maybe you were raised in an uber-religious home and you hate all things spiritual now, maybe you're like me and dramatic things just seem contrived and stupid to you sometimes, or perhaps you're all jaded and self-sufficient or whatever...I'm telling you, prayer WORKS. It's a great help in relieving your mind, because if you have faith that your prayers are being considered, it's like handing your problem to someone else. In fact, that's exactly what it actually IS. So why stand there holding all those problems? I'm just saying. God is big and He has time for your schmaltz.

Ok, in closing I'd like to say I still hate church. :D

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