I have used this blog to chronicle, predominately, my life with cancer since I was diagnosed in May, 2009. There have been posts that didn’t refer to cancer, but as I look back, they were few. My story has been raw at times, spiritual at others, hopeful, desperate, angry, wistful and at others, downright sad.
Looking back on those early days, the information I got from my research said fairly emphatically that I wouldn’t be here now. My funeral would have been set, planned, executed and I’d be lying peacefully returning to the dust of a Seale, Ala. cemetery. These last almost three years have been life-affirming, instead of life-ending.
My story has been followed by thousands. People on at least five continents have accessed and read my blog posts. More important to me and to my family have been the local readers who have not only touched their mobile devices, keyboards or touch screens, but who have also reached out and touched me, hugged me, prayed for me, encouraged me, fed me, preached to me, cared for me and loved me.
I know I have pulled on your heart strings, made you laugh and made you cry. You’ve railed against fate with me. You’ve wondered, like we have wondered why it happened to me, all the while being glad it wasn’t you. Don’t lie — I know you know this is true.
You have looked at me with sadness in your eyes. Pity, even. How do you look at someone who has been given a death sentence?
Back in the early days, after cancer, I read longingly about that smaller percentage who could beat this tricky, deadly cancer. I have worn out my knees praying that I would be included in that percentage of death-defying survivors.
If I am to be, I’m on my way to paying the price of admission. Thirteen incisions, cinched up by many stitches and much surgical glue criss cross my torso, front and back. Countless sleepless nights with a vomit bucket within reach. A hospital bed, two different walkers, spare recliners moved from room to room trying to find a place I could be with my family and still be able to find a way to sit. Indescribable pain, hundreds of needle sticks, bags of fluids and radiation — oh my God, the radiation. Hundreds of hours of reading, studying this cancer and trying to hold up my responsibilities as part of my medical team. These are the tickets one has to punch to get into the show. I’m praying all the seats are not full when I get to the head of the line.
Update:
Dr. Mac Molnar met with us on Thursday of this week. He described the epic left lobe of my multi-noduled, benign, big ass thyroid goiter. It is gone, the path report was clear, my latest incision is healing well and my voice is beginning to get stronger. This is all good!
On this day, this beautiful Saturday, I torched my garden spot making ready for some tomato plants. I spent some time in my Ranger ATV looking at longleaf pines beginning to stretch their cactus-like arms toward the sky.
On this beautiful Saturday, I drove to the back part of our property out in the woods, turned off the vehicle, stripped buck naked, except for my socks, hat, sunglasses and boots and stretched my arms to the sky and thanked my God for healing me. For sustaining me through these dark days and nights and for giving me the first real seed of hope I’ve had in almost three years.
Here’s what I found out: I like praying naked in the woods and I’m going to do more of it. But first, I’ve got to get that drum circle started.
Sick or not sick, I’m glad to have a friend as weird as you are.
And I thought showing off my 12 inch abdomen scar was pushing the envelope; maybe if I lived in a wooded area. Wonderful news,and a command to keep it up!
As for me, eight 1/12 years, but who’s counting?
Peggy, it just feels so good to feel like there is hope. I know you know that feeling with your successful IL-2 treatments. I don’t know how you celebrated. I just decided to do it with nakedness. My dog couldn’t have cared less.
Oh how I cherish your descriptive and honest words! Each blog is met with anticipation and thankfulness for your life and your willingness to share the journey with us – the many who believe in healing and are thankful that you’ve have been touched. I laugh, I pray and – honestly – I envy your ability to create with words. Today, however, I had that tight knot in my throat as I visualized your gratefulness standing buck naked in the woods – naked of not only clothes, but any hindrance to experiencing that moment with your God.
Cathy
How I wish I had Cathy Alfords way with words…Well said Cathy & tonight I thank God with you, Mike …. ( I, too, know the wonderful feeling). Praise be to God !!!
I am praying with you, only I am keeping my clothes on. Thanks for the
comments, glad to hear from you. God Bless You!! Ellen
Mike,
The visual image of your wooded episode makes me laugh out loud with joy for you!! But, my real joy comes in knowing that you gave thanks to God for healing you. We know that our healing comes from Him alone.
Sharing this time with you in person and through your writing has brought me closer to God,also. Thanks so much.
We have something in common. That old hated word, “cancer”, came calling on me March 4, 2010. I was diagnosed Stage 4, Rectal Cancer. I’ve had multiple surgeries, been hospitalized a few times, been sick a lot. Decorated my “pule bucket” to give it a little bling, and have been praying an awful lot since this begun. I have found that a strong support group & a positive mental attitude helps out a bunch. My family has been awesome in every way from taking me to my appts, cleaning my home, chauffeuring me, sitting with me during my chemo treatments, and calling me daily just “to check on me” has made a world of difference. It has brought me closer to my family and also closer to God. I have some weaknesses but am using my strengths to overcome them. God bless you friend. It is a daily struggle & always on our minds.
God is our awesome Healer. Getting ready to start third week of IL2. As you know, this means I’m responding. Praise God. Check out Luke 14:2. Bless you my fellow woodsman.
Jacob will be pleased you finally got naked. You deserve every single moment of grace.
Thank God for good news! Will pray that everything continues to be positive. Being quiet and alone in the woods is a great place to pray. Watch out for redbugs and mosquitoes.
Mike, you’ve been totally naked in taking all of us through this ugly journey of cancer. Finally, some nakedness you could enjoy! Praise Almighty God for he is good!!
Mike, I rejoice with you! To God Be The Glory! Much love to you, GHR
Marvelous news for you, Jill, and your family. Congratulations!
Thanks be to God. Vic Cross
Thanks be to God!
I am sure that the beauty of Michelangelo’s David would pale in insignificance compared to the visage of your partially-clad body on that day in the woods. But I cannot help but opine regarding the tsunami-like psychological damage meted out to our woodland friends on that fateful day.
Mike, I’m really thankful that you’re doing well.
You had the faith to expect the best and you got it!
The great problem with Christian Life:
We cannot connect with the Holy Spirit through our emotions – Our human body cannot connect with the Holy Spirit – IE: we can cry all day long and God will not respond – we can dance all night long and God will not respond – only through Belief and Faith can you access the Holy Spirit ! Everything you needed God had already provided! You are a great witness to the healing power of the Holy Spirit !
Alleluia!!!
This post brings laughter and tears.
Did you check for ticks??
Thankful….and so happy you’re happy!!
Hey Mike…. There is a drum circle planned for June 1st downtown. I will be in Texas so I won’t make it for the start…. Just keep it going until I get back on the 5th!!!!!! I’m counting on you buddy…. I want to bang a drum with you!!!!!!
G-man!
Hi Mike,
So happy to read your update and your praying technique for baring your soul before God in a sanctuary of nature. I, too, am thankful that He is in the business of healing.