The Battleground (a return to)

In the memoir of my cancer season, I talk about how I view returning to the cancer hospital several times a year for blood checks.   I say that I used to view my checks as a return to the scene of the “crime,” but that my hope is to instead view them a return to the place where a great victory was won for me (and I quote from a scene C.S. Lewis writes about when Peter and Edmond return to a particular battleground in Narnia).  Lewis says that one cannot help but feel stronger when returning to a place where a great victory occurred.  And, having just returned today from yet another blood check at the UNC cancer center, I do feel stronger…….now.  But, I certainly didn’t feel stronger this morning or last night or the past several days (okay maybe weeks).  You see, before my checks at the cancer center, I seem to find myself in a place that I’m not very proud of, a place that I really don’t desire to visit, a place to which I had really hoped I would be able to never ever return.  I find myself in a hope-questioning place.  I don’t want to wonder.  I don’t want to doubt.  But there are moments that I do, especially when I have to go back.

So, my “visit” began today with a couple of unpleasant triggers.  The first was the room I was taken into to wait for my doctor.  It was familiar to me but not from any of my blood checks.  After my very last bone marrow biopsy, I was taken to that exact same room to rest.  Though I had to wait a little while for my doctor today, I could find no way to make myself sit down on the couch there in the room because that couch was where I had rested before when I had that last biopsy.  The second trigger of the day was a mere magazine in the rack on the wall in that room.  On the magazine there was a picture of the exact same actress (Christina Applegate) who had been on the front of the magazine I was reading back in 2010 when my oncologist at that time came in to tell me that I was in kidney failure.  When I told my doctor this today, he jokingly said that the magazine I was looking at could very well be the exact same one (and that was pretty funny).  Yes, sometimes it is hard to remember.  But, sometimes it’s also sweet.

As I stewed in the emotions boiling up in me from these two triggers, there was a third one.  I saw a beautiful and familiar face coming toward the door of the room I was in.  Wow, could it be?  Yes, it was her, one of my very favorite nurses I had at UNC when I was receiving chemotherapy after my bone marrow transplant.  She’s from one of the countries that I really, really love and, while I was getting treatment, we used to discuss our love for hot tea.  I don’t think I had seen her since the fall of 2011.  What a joy to reconnect with her!  My sense of hope felt a little more restored after seeing her.  And I was reminded that there is a lot about my sick season that I simply cannot wish away.  After I saw my doctor (who seemed quite pleased with how I’m doing) and said good-bye to my hot tea-drinking nurse friend, I found the fourth trigger waiting right around the corner for me.  And it (he) was most amazing!

There was a very special man and fellow cancer patient whom I met twice at UNC when I was getting treatment.  Meeting him impacted me so much that I even named a chapter in my memoir after him;  the chapter is called The Perfect Padre, and this man is referred to as the Highway Padre.  Though he and I have been in touch via email, I wasn’t sure if I would ever get the chance to see him again in person (down here that is).  And I wanted very much to see him, and I wanted too to give him a copy of my memoir.  Well, after I left my doctor and made my next appointment (four months out), I went out to the waiting room to look for my husband and my little girl.  And as I looked around, I saw yet another familiar face.  Could it be?  No way!  That’s not him, is it?  I got closer and closer, and then I knew.  It was indeed the Highway Padre.  I couldn’t believe it.  I had wanted so very much to see him but had not even prayed that I would.  It just seemed like too much to ask or hope for today.  But, he was there, right in front of my eyes and almost in the exact same spot where we had first met.  And, shockingly, he recognized me immediately (though I have a lot more hair now).

Also shockingly, I had felt compelled to enter the hospital with a copy of my memoir in the bag that I was carrying as my purse.  The bag was so heavy, in fact, that I had entertained the thought of taking the book out, but somehow I couldn’t make myself do it; that’s because it belonged to the Padre.  What a sweet, sweet day!  He and I hugged much and made plans to see each other again.  Yep, “triggers” can be exceptionally wonderful things too!  Upon my return to Wake Forest, I abandoned my husband and daughter for a trip to the tea room.  I so love that place, and I felt like I needed to just sit down with the events of the day and take time to savor them.  As I did, I shared a little of my day with a much-loved new friend (the tea room owner), and she called the last two triggers “God smiles.”  And I really loved that!  Maybe I’ll get better at this thing, better at returning to the battleground, better at expecting really good things instead of more catastrophic ones, better at remembering the victory, better at relentlessly holding on to hope; I pray so.  For tonight though (at least), my hope is restored, all thanks be to God.