My Journey Through Cancer (Part 5)

By Nancy McBride

Life is full of twists and turns, and this is my story of how cancer has ultimately blessed my life. I was diagnosed with uterine cancer at the young age of 38. During this time, I kept a journal of my doctor visits, thoughts, symptoms, and struggles so that I could tell others how to pray for me and my husband, Shane. After a successful hysterectomy, we learned that the cancer was present in my lymph nodes, and I would need to start chemotherapy and radiation. With the direction of the Holy Spirit, we figured out my treatment plan, and with His strength, grace, and mercy, I walked boldly through the fire. There were moments where I was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted from chemo, but I pressed on because I knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I knew God was going to heal me, and that was enough to praise Him. I even had friends ask me how I maintained such a positive attitude in my journal entries. How did my faith not crumble during the hard times? How do I reason with the fact that I've been given an illness that doesn't seem fair? I invite you to read my response to them.

Let me start by saying this: cancer just plain sucks. I hate that it has put me and Shane through so much emotional and physical suffering. Because of cancer, I will never know what it feels like to carry a child in my belly, to experience the gift of pregnancy and giving birth, and to feel the emotional bond and connection made by breast feeding my own baby. This is God's unique design for women, and I'll be honest: It doesn't seem fair that I don't get to experience this. When I had my hysterectomy, there was a part of me that felt like I became less of a woman. Like my femininity was taken away from me. Simply because the organ that was designed for one of the most beautiful things in the world - to grow a new life - was diseased and had to be removed from my body. These are all, without a doubt, huge losses. Early on in my diagnosis, Shane and I made the decision that we were not going to freeze our embryos because we didn't see surrogacy as an option God wanted us to take. I do not regret that decision, but I do grieve the fact that I will not have a child that is truly mine and Shane's. I look at my husband and just think about how beautiful our kids would be if we could have biological children. I'm not talking about physical attractiveness. I'm talking about how you look at your own child and see you or your husband in their eyes, nose, mouth, and smile... and there's that undeniable recognition that they are yours, made from your own flesh and DNA. We won't be able to have that. And that is a huge loss as well.

There is a lot to grieve with all these heavy losses, and I know it will be a process and will take time. I don't expect myself or Shane to "get over it." We may never expect. It could be a whole lifetime before this grief and sorrow will finally be wiped away when we step into the presence of Jesus in heaven. But for now, I will have to learn what it means to live a life where both grief and joy are present. Grief for what has been taken away, and joy for the blessings I have already experienced, and hope of what's to come in the future and eternity.

It is a hard pill to swallow when I think about how God allowed this to happen. Why would He allow me to have cancer in the first place? From everything I understand about the risk factors for uterine cancer, I am an unlikely candidate. All of the things I had control over (diet, exercise, etc.) should have made my body inhospitable for this cancer. And, once I had the cancer diagnosis, why didn't God heal me before my hysterectomy? The God I know from the Bible hears my prayers. Surely He could have spoken a few words, and this cancer would have been gone in half a second. That's how Jesus healed when He walked the earth. And all my desires for experiencing motherhood would have been fulfilled, and Shane and I would be just like any other normal young couple starting a family.

While this would all be great in my own little world, I know two things for sure: 1) I am not God, and 2) God often does not work in ways we expect. The book of Job is the story of my life at the moment. Job had everything taken away from him - his family, fortune, and health - and he is left to wrestle out some deep questions: Why does God allow good people to suffer? Is God unjust? Like Job, I'm sure I could come up with a few guesses, but the reality is I am not God, and I don't have the vantage point He does in this universe. And like it or not, the book of Job never answers the specific question of why God allows good people to suffer. But it does invite us to trust God and His sovereign wisdom, even in times of suffering. Just because I can't understand right now what God is doing in my suffering doesn't mean He doesn't care for me, love me, or have a greater purpose for this suffering. And that's where faith comes in. Hebrews 11:1 defines faith as "being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Even though I may not be able to comprehend why all of this is happening, and even though cancer has irreversibly changed our lives, I still choose to believe "that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Rom 8:28)

In all things, including cancer, God will use for good.

I choose to believe that. It's not always easy. Some days are harder than others. But I know that I can stand firm on the promises of God in the Bible. It doesn't matter how chaotic my life may seem. It doesn't matter that I can only see things in the short run. God has eternity as His perspective. He knows me intimately because He created me. Not only that, but He has proven time after time that He works in unexpected ways to demonstrate His infinite worth, brilliance, love, grace, and mercy. The Gospel is the ultimate example of this. The God of the universe humbled Himself in the form of a human being to die for all the sins of mankind, only to be resurrected on the third day, conquering death once and for all. He did all of this so that our relationship with Him could be restored. Anyone can have this precious relationship, as long as you believe Jesus is your Lord and Savior. I'm sure no one expected God to do that.

So that brings me to my present state. I trust and believe that God has something bigger in store for us, even though the tears. Something we could not have expected unless I had cancer. Trusting that God is weaving a complex fabric of His glory, and my suffering is only a small but crucial part of it. I mentioned earlier that I have already seen blessings come out of my suffering. One blessing was connecting with a random stranger who also had uterine cancer while we were at MD Anderson. Another has been the outpouring of prayers, cards, and gifts we have received from all of you. You have no idea how much that encourages and fires the soul. And last but not least, my marriage. How can I be anything but grateful for the incredible ways Shane has supported and loved me over the last eight months? He has walked with me through all the physical and emotional highs and lows and has never left my side. He had given me strength when I had none left. He has called me beautiful when I have felt ugly. He has given me grace when I couldn't give myself grace. And he has reminded me time and time again Who sits on the throne. I almost hate to say this, but cancer has blessed my marriage. I look at my husband now with so much more love and gratitude than I did before. And I might dare to say that I wouldn't change that for the world.

It's been over six months since my last chemo treatment. I still have lingering side effects from chemo. I still have moments where I struggle with the physical scars on my body and the emotional scars with cancer have left me. I've had to mentally let go of who I used to be and accept who I am now. I tell myself every day, "Grace, grace, and more grace. Thank you, Lord, for your unending grace." Going through cancer treatment last year was without a doubt difficult, but I've realized that the most challenging part is now. What's left of me after such a grueling battle. The unwanted changes, the heavy losses, and the uncertainty and anxiety about the future. I'm not the same. I probably never will be. But I still choose to believe and trust the words of the One who sits on heaven's throne. I know He remains the same forever. He promised me good that will come from this storm, and He was faithful to His word. There is still good that will come from my cancer. That's why I still have hope. Thank you for coming with me on my cancer journey. I hope my story inspires you to lean on God in times of trouble. We may not fully understand why He takes us through such seasons, but we know from His word that He is trustworthy.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”
Proverbs 3:5-6