Exposed

Never have I been awkwardly exposed to the point of embarrassment. At worst, my exposure level has been heightened when caught in a lie.

When I was a young girl you could find me in the basement on a beautiful day. While all my brothers and sisters were playing outside, I took advantage of the opportunity to play pretend school without feeling like a dork. I can still feel the cold air of the climate controlled basement as the sun beamed down the basement stairs. I had my classroom setup, but my mom interrupted my play. She asked me if I took checks out of her checkbook. I remember after telling her no, she went upstairs, and I went straight to my secret stash and ripped up the evidence. She caught me. 

Years ago my counselor encouraged me to expose myself to whatever makes me anxious to find myself safe and okay. I thought that seemed counterintuitive, and why the heck expose myself? Come to find out, it worked. 

I started spending money without feeling anxious that I wiped out my savings. I even remember her saying, in regards to my phobia of germs, to expose myself because no life could come from living in a bubble. She was so confident that living in a bubble would only be effective if there was an epidemic. I suppose she couldn’t forecast Covid-19 or my stem cell transplant. 

Throughout my cancer journey, I continue to ask myself, why do I continue to expose myself. I'm definitely lukewarm when it comes to making medical decisions. I’m torn between the harmful chemicals in my body and a future with my husband and kids. I’m torn between another scan that is all telling and just embracing the unknown of remission. I’m split between another radioactive scan (five PET scans in the past fourteen months) or reducing the amount of toxins I expose myself to. 

Approaching my latest PET scan revealed just that. Dancing in the dark, praising God in the storm, and finding the good that cancer brought to my life. 

I almost needed a rain jacket to absorb all the tears I had flowing at the latest PET scan. I sat there unable to shake the unsettling feeling that this was the beginning of the end. And not in a happy way: I kicked cancer in the butt. No, like I have pain in my back again, traveling down my leg, can’t sit without pain triggering the memories of being diagnosed twice, all stemming from back pain. Maybe the third time's a charm. Hopefully not. 

If being terrified of the results wasn’t enough, the exposure to radioactive tracers that would track down the cancer would prevent me from being around the kids the remainder of the day. It’s a dream to have a day to myself, right? It feels different because I don’t have the option to be with the kids. 

Scans see all the things. Well if not the whole picture, most of the picture. Am I better off than the one that has something, but remains hidden. Somehow cancer exposes all the things: my marriage in distress, mothering without patience, anxiety, fear of the future, pain and potentially the good. The good that is hidden under all the junk and just needs some digging out. 

Satan is trying to do a number. It’s not just the physical exposure I’ve been battling these past few months as I re-enter life after a stem cell transplant with germs all around me. It’s the mental exposure of waiting for my prognosis. “Should we walk out?” Tim says while waiting for the scan. “Which is worse, knowing or not knowing?”

I’m going to take my counselors advice to go against what feels safe and expose myself. There is always good in doing hard things. 

Meanwhile, I had the opportunity to enjoy a lymphatic massage this week. It was the perfect antidote to the exposure I’ve faced over the last several months, let alone years. I was wrapped with magnesium, and sat in an infrared sauna to sweat out the toxins. You will notice the garbage bag liner wrapping in the picture. Now that is some exposure I can get used to. 

Thanks for venturing over to my new home. 

I don’t write to be seen. I have enough scans and doctor appointments that highlight my insides. I write because it helps me process life. Helps me track where I’ve been and where I am going. It helps me expose the insides of me, so I can live out the good work God is going to see through completing (Philippians 1:6 NIV). Follow with email updates HERE. 

Thanks for meeting me here in this new space. My favorite part of writing is connecting with you, and creating a safe place to grow into all that God has in store to complete his very good work through you (Philippians 1:6 NIV)!