Radiation treatment week 5. Is this a dark time or an opportunity? The hospital moves its staff from one room to another at the beginning of each month. There are a lot of good reasons to do that. For them. My initial feeling is that it’s not necessarily such a good thing for me.

I described it this way to some friends yesterday in my life group at church. March was like a bright sunny day. April is like being out in the middle of the desert on a cloudy night with no moon.
It’s like the adjacent image. It started as a sunny day in the desert. Then I ran it through some photo editing software and turned it into a dark night. It might look like total blackness. But if you zoom in enough, you will see some details. But not much.
The difference between the people has a huge impact. In March, it was actually a joy to go in for the treatment. They were outgoing and fun. They help take my mind off what’s really going on. That was a most surprising realization for an introvert like me.
But now in April, I feel like I’m bothering them, getting in the way of whatever it is they’d rather be doing.
If you read earlier parts of this series, you know I thanked God for the folks He brought in to be part of my care team in March. My initial feeling about April was that God must’ve decided I didn’t them anymore. Or maybe that He wanted me to lean more on Him than on them. Things like that.
But then, last night, someone pointed out that maybe God has me there for them.
Uh oh. Here’s the problem with that. I’m in the middle of writing something titled Do miserable Christians make you want to avoid church? over on my other site. Obviously, it’s not about hospitals or cancer treatments. However, it’s about people, including Christians, who are, among other things, self-centered. It goes into the impact we have on other people. But then, it also gets into how we, Christians especially, should treat other people who might be miserable in terms of anxiety, depression, self-centeredness, etc.
So when someone said maybe God has me in this dark desert night, it’s because He wants me to lighten it up, it was quite shocking. Remember, I’m the introvert. They are the ones who work with people all the time. I’m the one going through treatment. Most of the people here at the hospital are so nice, it’s surprising to find an entire group that’s so, well, whatever they are.
But honestly, I should know better. I do know better, in my head. That’s why it was so jarring to hear the words. I should’ve known that in my heart as well.
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Even just with today, I left the treatment session feeling much better than any of the previous days this month. I know it’s better for me emotionally. Spiritually. And I also believe physically. As for the nurse? She seemed to be happier, more upbeat than before. Is that me projecting or is it real? Don’t know.
Will it lead to anything further? If God’s setting all this up, I pray it does. But then, as Paul wrote, we try to become all things to all people so that some may be saved. And I might even be, as we say, planting a seed and someone else will see it grow.
It’s OK.
But there is one more thing. It brings out, hopefully, one more good thing to come out of having cancer. A cancer I’m trying not to waste.
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