A New Journey

At 8:40 AM, on October 16, 2014, I answered my cell phone to hear the news that would mark the beginning of a new journey. The voice of my doctor delivered the words confirming the results of my biopsy. As suspected it is colon cancer.

I was navigating my vehicle through the traffic on US 281 south, just minutes away from Trinity Baptist Church when I received the doctor’s call, therefore a portion of my brain refused to think about his words in fear of accidentally driving the truck right off the road. 

This section of my brain is a den for pragmatism and immediately started making a list of the emotions and thoughts I was experiencing. This particular section is too clinical to actually feel the emotions; it is much more comfortable organizing them in a nice, neat list.

Another section, smaller than the area belonging to Mr. Pragmatic, listened carefully to the doctor’s words. He informed me that "staging" the cancer would come later, after the MRI. A treatment plan would be determined after we speak to the surgeon… and have more tests.

And while all this was going on there was one last small section of my thought factory waking up. This is the place I hide my emotions, keeping them in check as often as I can. But the doctor’s words stirred the occupants of this small brain-room into a whirl. While Mr. Pragmatic was listing all the things I need to do in order to prepare myself for this new journey, chaos and confusion was busy looking back over a lifetime at breakneck speed while asking the question-

“Will this be my final journey?”

Mr. Pragmatic answered, “Way too soon to consider that. We have nowhere near the information we need to ask such a sad question.”

Ignoring this interpretation Mr. Feelings looked for his own answers. He began to make a list of his own. Many questions (emotions?) will have to be explored-

“Where is God right now?”

“What about my children?”

“What about my family?”

“What about my plans?”

As I journeyed down US 281, Mr. Pragmatic took control before my emotions could become…out of control. The questions still linger, but quietly in the background; the same place the tears are hiding.

I am writing this for me and for you. Over the past few years this has become my most proficient way of communicating. (That’s almost as sad as the thought of this new journey.) 

Not to sound too cliche, but I will take this one day at a time…one word at a time. The emotions will only come out on paper, that's what I hope anyway.  I need to write, it helps me feel as if I have some control. My next book, hopefully not my last, is coming together and I don’t want to neglect it. But sharing my thoughts as I travel this new journey will be therapeutic (thank you Mr. Pragmatic for that thought). 

I have suspected for some time now that what I was having diagnosed at an incredibly slow 21^st century pace was cancer. I think that may have weakened some of the emotions today. But during this waiting period I have read some blogs written by people that have or are going through a similar experience.  Quite often their words encouraged me. Sometimes they scared me. If my words help someone then I have accomplished the final item of my Bucket List. I hope to be able to start a new one at the end of this journey, but if not then I hope these words are meant for someone to read.

Now, it is time to cry…but just for a moment.

To be continued…