Blood Test

I woke up thinking "Blood test today, hmm should I be worried about the pain?" Strange thoughts that float in my head. How painful can drawing blood be and is worrying ever as simple as making a decision to worry or not to worry? 

The last 2 times I did blood tests were pretty bad as far as blood tests go. The phlebotomist could not find my veins and tried 2 to 3 spots before she finally got my specimen. There was quite a bit of movements after the needle went in and it was painful when she drew out the syringe. She was apologetic and very kind to reassure me that it is common for patients' veins to be thrombosed after undergoing several months of chemo. During the last visit, when my doctor asked me how I was doing, I told him about this. He asked the clinic receptionist who was the phlebotomist who attended to me and requested for a change the next time I come for a blood test. I felt quite bad about it because I really didn't think it was the phlebotomist's fault.

Anyway, I decided this morning that I wasn't going to worry about it. It is only going to take a few minutes and and unless I was willing to have some whisky to numb the pain, it wasn't something within my control. As I was driving to the clinic, I prayed for my 2 friends who are undergoing treatment due to relapse and I drew comfort from their courage. In the challenge they face, their faith is pointing people to Jesus. I am really thankful for their living testimonies. It reminded me not to let this blood test phobia take root. 

So a different phlebotomist attended to me this morning. She too took a little longer to find my vein. She asked me to clench my fist harder even though I was already clenching it pretty hard out of anxiety. It didn't sound like this was going to be painless. I am in the category of people who prefer to look at the needle as it punctures my skin; feels like I am more in control of the situation. I mean at least I can manage myself if I have to give out a scream. I put my glasses on so that I could see clearly. And then I closed my eyes for 2 seconds to say a short prayer. And then I saw the phlebotomist drawing my blood without even feeling the needle, throughout. 

Lessons learnt: (1) Tell your doctor whatever you may be experiencing, whether imagined or not, embarrassing or not. (2) In many situations, worry is preventable even if the outcomes are not within my control (3) Draw courage from others (4) Clenching my fist really hard could help (5) Prayer work.

Glad it is over.

Doors

I just finished reading John Ortberg's "All the Places To Go... How Will You Know?". I probably bought the book 18 months back when I was thinking about my career. There was the option to take redundancy or continue to stay with the firm that I had worked with for more than 10 years. If I took redundancy, should I take some time off? If so, for how long? If I didn't, when would I have the chance to do it? If I jump straight into another role, would I be missing something? You can see why a book with that title made a lot of sense.

When the time came to make the decision, I made it quickly. I couldn't see myself retiring in the firm and it was time to try something different. The job market wasn't great, so it felt risky to take a career break and risk not having a suitable job to come back to. I know, it seems counter-intuitive as far as career breaks were concerned. By God's grace a suitable role came along, and I accepted the offer. There wasn't time to read the book and ponder what big things may be in store for me. I left it on my bedside table.

Last year, when I started on chemo, I stuck the book into my knapsack in case I needed something to read. I wasn't really thinking; if I did, would I be reading a book with this caption on the front cover "God has place before you an open door. What will you do?" Cancer and chemo doesn't quite fit the picture of an open door. And the back cover is equally uplifting: "God has an amazing adventure planned for you. All you need to do is walk through the door. And who knows? You just might do something that lasts for eternity." The book remained in my knapsack throughout my treatment and I forgot about it until recently when I was clearing up the knapsack for a short trip.

A timely find. Ever since I completed the treatment, I have been pondering - do I just go back to how things used to be? Is there something that I am meant to be doing that I am not doing? Surely I ought to be 10 times a better person than I used to be. I was standing in queue behind a lady who was ordering her wanton noodles the other day and I found myself getting impatient as she had a hard time deciding on the drink she wanted. Shouldn't I be more patient and considerate after what I have been through? But life is short and there is no time to waste, can we move along speedily please? Things and thoughts don't just fall into place right after the doctors gave me an all clear.  I am more appreciative of life but I still sweat the small things. I fit right back into the Business-As-Usual mode as if cancer was a mere punctuation - feels like no change in course needed, but is that really how it is meant to be? 

As I was praying about this yesterday morning, I was prompted by John 10: 9-10:

I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that you may have life and have it abundantly


The theme that runs through John's (Ortberg) book is doors. Open doors and closed doors. Reading the book over the past 2 days, it became clear to me that it wasn't intended to guide me through my career decisions last year. Rather, the book is meant to guide me through this slightly confusing time. The answer to my pondering was never going to be something other than God. More holidays were great but then what about all that times in between holidays? Finding a cause is great too, but what is the question I am trying to answer? God was reminding me that it all starts with Him being my open door.  

Lent

It's been a "What is happening Lord?" sort of week. Mid-week, a friend told me that she has had a relapse and the cancer has spread. The next day, another friend updated me on his condition. He too has had a relapse. Both love the Lord, both continue to trust Him with their lives. There just didn't seem to be a reasonable explanation. I thought I've learnt not to look for answers in such situations, yet I was trying hard to figure God out.  It didn't help that I watched the video of the Malaysian pastor who was kidnapped in broad daylight. Three big black SUV surrounded his car, forced him to stop and took him away. It was like in a movie. What happened there God? 

Unfortunately it is still instinctive for me to ask "why God?" when something lousy happens. I avoid looking at pictures or articles on childhood cancer. But a few days ago, I came across a picture of a couple crying as they held on to their child who had just died. The child was probably no more than 2 years old.  Childhood cancer devastates the soul. I quickly scrolled away but I did catch myself ask "why God?"

In this season of Lent, I am reminded that as Jesus took his last breath on the cross, He gave words to situations where we face our deepest anguishes,"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" I am reminded that although I do not know God's mind nor His plans, I do know that He suffered greatly for me. I must remember that He didn't come to sell me a prosperity gospel. He showed us what suffering could be like - that it is real, that is it difficult to bear, that there will be disappointments and that we will ask why. 

When we take a hard look at the road marked with suffering, we will see His footprints. You will see that He was and is walking on the same side of the road with you. You will see that He fell many times on the road to Calvary. You will see that every time He fell, He got up and He carried on because He had to lead the way on the road of suffering. God is closer than ever to those who are in the midst of suffering, whether I remember it or not.