When I was diagnosed with colon cancer last July, I never asked, "Why me?", like some might. I saw it as another obstacle in life we are handed. We all have them; some are larger than others. That first weekend (I got the diagnosis on Friday.) I was worried. What happens to my son if I die? His father had moved back to his home state without a word five years earlier. There was no way of getting in contact with him. My parents were 76 and 79.
The morning of the surgery, Wednesday the 11th, I woke up in the night to go to the bathroom. As I lay back down, a peace came over me. I had a vision, a picture. It was the only one I've ever had. There was Jesus wearing a white robe on a white horse. He had a spear in one hand. I was behind him, and behind me were faceless people. I knew then that I was going to be ok. That was God reasssuring me because Jesus was leading me into battle, and behind me were prayer warriors: people from my school, my parents, and people from church.
The surgeon biopsied 19 lymph nodes and they were all clear. I was cancer-free. Nevertheless, he said I needed chemo as a precaution. More than a month after surgery, I started chemo. I will write about that in another post.