When I first found out about my cancer, I cried and hyperventilated. After I got that out, I looked at the situation with this type of mentality: "God is in control. He allowed it. Only He can heal me. If He doesn't choose to heal me, it is because it is His will. I need to follow His will for my life." There was peace. There was comfort. There wasn't any depression. I knew that no matter what happened, He loved me and was trying to bring me closer to Himself.
Then, I started to find out about all these people that were praying for me. Fervently. People at our church prayed and fasted every night for 40 consecutive days. People who didn't really know me would tell my husband that they prayed for me every morning. People were telling me that they didn't pray much but that God reminded them to pray for me everyday. There were people praying for me around the world. Inwardly, I started to ask God if my thinking was wrong? Should I be praying like that also? Is something wrong with me that I am not praying for complete healing?
In January, I read about Jacob wrestling with God before meeting Esau (who Jacob thought wanted to kill him). It left me pondering this thought again. Jacob wouldn't let God go. He was determined. He was persistent. Of course, God could have beat Jacob in an instance, but He didn't. God allowed Jacob to keep wrestling, to keep trying, to show his determination in receiving a blessing from God. It left me wondering if I am too passive? If I need to wrestle this out in prayer with God?
There was also this fear in me. What if I pray for healing? What if I pray for 10 more years and God gives it to me. What if I become like King Hezekiah who got sick, asked for more years, and then sinned greatly in God's sight. What if I live out those "extra" years not doing anything for God?
I didn't realize it at the time, but my first surgery was pretty major. I went through it with little fear because I knew that it was necessary. It was the beginning of the process I had to go through. I was in pain, nauseated, vomiting, sensitive to everything, and very glad when I got home.
As I was wheeled to the OR for my second surgery, as I became nauseated from remembering certain smells, as I remember being repulsed by the smell of the anesthesia, I wondered how others did it. I prayed for my friend's friend who was going through chemo and a possible surgery. God kept placing her on my mind so I kept praying for her. You see, I can pray for others to be healed but not myself. It is not that I am selfless. Quite honestly, I am more selfish. But somehow, I find it easier sticking up and praying for others.
Simply put, the second surgery broke me. There were moments when I wanted to die. I knew where I was going. I knew that I wouldn't suffer anymore. I wanted relief. I didn't want to even think about going through another possible surgery and other treatments. But all these thoughts were tied to me. What I want. What I don't want. Pure selfishness.
Once all the nausea and other sensitivities dissipated from my body, I knew what I had to do. I want to pray for healing. I want to wrestle it out in prayer with God. I want to continue to serve Him. I want Him to be glorified through my obedience.