In God’s Hands

On Saturday the side effects from radiation got so bad that I didn’t know if I could continue treatments. It might sound pathetic and weak, but the only thing I’d really kept down for six days was an orange. And although I kept dumping fluids down myself, it felt like pouring water into a hole-filled bucket.

Finally, when things seemed their worst, I crawled into bed.

“Are you okay?” Mike asked.

“Mike, I’m scared. I’m so dehydrated and sick. I feel feverish. If things don’t get better fast, I’ll need to go to the ER.”

Mike brought me some food and a drink. I tried to eat slowly, but despite anti-nausea medications I could already feel my stomach churning.

“Mike,” I finally said, “can you please pray for me?”

Mike doesn’t pray. But he did then—and it meant the world to me. After falling asleep, I saw the most amazing thing! I rested in the fetal position in God’s massive hand. I couldn’t see anything other than His hand and the sky which He lifted me into. And even though I didn’t have a blanket, it felt so warm and perfect. This strange energy flowed through every bit of me, simply filling me with peace. And even in the dream, a strange thought came to me: that someday I’d be in remission.

This sounds crazy because all of the doctors have said I have an incurable mutation of melanoma. Even if radiation and the new immunotherapy DO work, they will only extent my life, not save it. Yet, there was this feeling...and an unimaginably beautiful dream.

That morning I woke up stunned that I’d kept the food down. I sat at the kitchen table with Dee and Trey. I couldn’t shake the feeling of lying in God’s strong hand. “Look,” Trey suddenly said, pointing out the back window. Dee and I turned to see a huge hawk, perched on a branch about 15 feet away, just staring at us. After it flew away I tried drinking more water, and I’m amazed to say that it stayed down.

So, I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I do know that dream and its premonition have buoyed me through radiation this week. What do I have to lose anyway? Worst case, I’ll be let down; best case, I’ll see a miracle. Regardless of what happens, I’m thankful to have a renewed faith in the future.