Overcoming the Paralysis of Fear

I just come from a rather sobering meeting with my oncologist who told me that it was only a matter of ‘if not ‘when’ cancer will resurface in my body. I went into the meeting feeling fairly elated having recently received the news that my latest CT scan was clear. But once again I was faced with the brutal realities that any one diagnosed with stage IV cancer has to deal with.

I can’t say that ever really look forward to these meetings, despite the fact that my oncologist is a wonderful, warm individual, whose lovely soft humour has helped me on so many occasions.

In the early days I would sit in the waiting room like a prisoner on the way to the executioners block but over time I have come to realize that the level of monitoring that I receive is a true blessing.

The reality is that I am probably not as body conscious as I should be. The fact that I was diagnosed with stage IV cancer in the first place is an indicator that I could probably have done with being a little more hypochondriac. By the time I found the suspicious lump in my armpit the cancer was well established, had spread to my lymph system and into the pericardial sac around my heart.

Now the fact that I receive regular CT scans and attend these three monthly monitoring meetings makes it more likely that any future rogue cells will be caught at an early stage. I may glow green in the dark from being so regularly ‘microwaved’ (as I like to put it) but I now benefit from an early warning system that counteracts my tendency to ignore ailments.

Earlier this summer I was given a sharp reminder of the precariousness of existence when one of the routine scans showed shadows on my lungs. The shadows were too small to benefit from a PET scan or from a lung biopsy. They were what my oncologist called ‘nuisance lesions’; abnormalities too small to investigate but too significant to simply ignore. Therefore I was to simply go away and live life for a few months and that I would be scanned again in November to see if there had been any progress and if any treatment would be needed.

This is of course, easier said that done. I think one of the most challenging aspects of a cancer diagnosis is that you have to become used to living with uncertainty and have to find a way to prevent this from paralyzing you - because time spent on this earth, in the embrace of family and friends, becomes all the more precious because it is limited. To waste that time in worry seems criminal and as Jesus pointed out: “Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” (Matthew 6: 25)

All this sounds good in theory but the reality is that it is very hard to overcome quite understandable fears about the future (whether our own or our families’). There are many ways in which you can help yourself. I personally find the discipline of mindfulness invaluable as it enables me to exist more fully in the moment. But it would take superhuman levels of mindfulness to completely still those nagging concerns.

I am convinced that it is only by surrendering our cares to God that we can find the strength to keep moving forwards, to overcome paralyzing fear and to embrace each day and the fullness of life that he offers. That we need to obey his command to not be “anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God, “because over the past two years I have come to see that “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding [really] will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4: 6-7)

If we liken ourselves to a seagoing vessel, how we weather the inevitable storms of life will be dependent on the depth of our keel, that balancing guide that reaches down into the stillness beneath the breaking waves and centres us; a stability that only comes from our relationship with God. This is only way I can explain the peace that continues to reign in my heart.

I can honestly say that I have not spent much time in worry over the last few months. Instead I placed my fear at the foot of the cross and got on with life.I cherished every moment with my husband and went on long walks with my twelve year old and listen to her chatter about school and her computer games. I visited my eighteen year old at university and thanked God for the young woman she has become. I threw myself into my work at Christian humanitarian agency World Vision and thanked God for this opportunity to serve him. I launched my book Sea Changed and talked to an every widening group of friends about how God can be found in unexpected places – even in a cancer diagnosis. And I continued to believe that God is so much bigger than any disease, a belief bolstered by my latest scan which showed no longer showed any signs of abnormality in my lungs.

So will the brutal reminder delivered by the oncologist today change any of this? Not at all. If anything it has made me even more determined to make the most of every day that God has granted me, to keep on moving forwards and to believe that my creator has this under control!

“I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
nor will you let your faithful[b] one see decay.
You make known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand. (Psalm 16: 8-11).