(Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him all creatures here below. Praise Him above, ye heavenly host. Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost)
When I first started going to the little Methodist church in Hicksville, I first heard the doxology. I had heard the phrases before, but not sung. Something about those words seemed to speak to my soul. I've learned them and sang them and this morning they are echoing in my heart.
Last night I found out my scans were clear - other than the fluid around my lungs, there is no other visible evidence of disease. This morning, I was told my CA-125 is down to 37. That's just 2 over normal. I also found out that my insurance has overturned its decision on my receiving weekly Taxol with Avastin.
I am flabbergasted. And excited. And nervous. And grateful. And terrified.
I won't get Avastin until next week. This week - right now in fact - I'm going to get a lower dose of Taxol. Next week I'll get both. Week 3 - Taxol, then both week 4. I've been approved for this regimen for the next 3 months.
I'm getting less anti-nausea meds because the expectation is I'll have less nausea. I may get some of my hair back. The Avastin, however, can cause me to be more fatigued, have high blood pressure, or headaches or nose bleeds. But we are hoping it will won't do all that.
Three weeks ago after I reacted to the carbo for the second time, I was scared and angry and despondent. I felt doomed. I started a process that in its beginning was a way for me to find peace with everything, to find a way to be able to go gently if that was to be my future. But also to find out that if I truly believe, if I truly could "let go and let God" if I would be blessed.
Boy howdy am I feeling blessed.
Some might say that all my good news today is modern medicine at work. That may be, but I can't help but see God's hand in all this as well. When I was my most discouraged, feeling abandoned, afraid - I called out as better men than I have called out "my God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?!" And even as I started to accept that this is the struggle I've been given, and that it is nothing when compared with the others suffering, no worse than what Christ suffered on a cross all those years ago?
I have blessings rain down on me. As if God is saying to me the words that are the backbone of the Beth Moore study I'm doing:
God is who he says he is.
God can do what he says he can do.
I am who God says I am.
I can do all things through Christ.
God's word is alive and active in me.
Maybe it's just modern medicine. I choose to believe that I'm being sent a message. And I think finally it's one I'm ready to hear.