Jimmy has been in remission for one year, for which I am so grateful, and we quietly celebrated as he wished, just he and I. It's a wonderful thing to know that cancer is no longer present in the body of your child. However, it's what isn't talked about, that scares me to the point of paralyzing fear. What if it comes back? What if is comes back with a vengeance? What if he gets an even worse, more aggressive cancer? Just typing that sentence made my heart race and my throat tighten. If you have ever had a child with cancer, you understand the kind of fear I'm describing...but I know that I'm speaking to a small percentage of people in my little corner of the world.
I've learned from reading various blogs written by this small percentage, that it's very common for the parents of children with cancer, to fall apart during remission. I, like so many others, held it together during my son's illness so I could be strong for him, protect him, and do everything that needed to be done to help him get well. I knew that once I allowed myself to comprehend our situation, the pain might be more than I could bear. I had to be strong, capable, together. In essence, I had to be everything that my son needed., I would not fail him.
So, although I don't think about recurrence every moment of the day, I do think about it every day. It is a fear every day. That fear turned into anger with God. My son did not deserve to get cancer. He did not deserve to go through all the pain, sickness, and fear, of having this horrible disease. He was always a good boy, smart, funny, a blessing to everyone who loves him. When there are so many evil people in this world, why Jimmy, why not them? I knew that God could work miracles, why did he allow this? I still don't understand, and I don't know if I ever will.
Throughout his illness, my faith was strong and I knew God was an ever present force in my life. I knew that He was with us and beside us through every surgery, every chemo infusion, ever radiation appointment. My faith never wavered and was the strongest at this time in my life.
The last time I went to church was June 3rd, 2012. For the past year, I haven't had the least bit of interest in sitting in one of those chairs facing a stage, listening to someone talk lovingly about a God who I felt had betrayed me. I have held God at arms length the past 378 days.
Tonight, I attended a celebration for a friend of mine, where another guest said she wanted to know about me, and she proceeded to ask something about me and church. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I detest lies and I'm also terrible at hiding my feelings...so I knew of no way around the subject. I proceeded to explain in as general a way as possible, my son's illness and my reason for not attending church. You know, it's impossible to not praise God when speaking of Jimmy's healing, I completely attribute that to all of the prayers and God's hand on my son. When I said, praise God for healing my son, I heard myself say those words.
I gave up on God, but He never gave up on me. He placed me at that party, and He placed the people there who would be a part of pulling me back to Him. I know that my feelings of anger won't go away overnight, nor will my fear of a relapse, but I do feel confident that through it all, my love for God and his infinite grace, will be my strength.
