Oh, So Comfortable

Well folks, I told you in last week’s update that this time of radiation therapy is a time of smiles, hope, and encouragements given all around.  This week I have to report that the atmosphere of such continues, along with an added comfortableness.   I go everyday, seeing some if not all of the familiar faces of others going every day for their own treatments.  Such daily routines with others can create a “home away from home” feeling.  We begin sharing things with each other.  For example, Bill’s roses got flooded in last week’s heavy rains, Martha couldn’t go to her son and daughter-in-laws anniversary dinner due to treatments (he lives in the north of England), Andrew has been helping his son do some mechanic work on his car, and the list goes on.   The radiologists begin sharing too.  It really does get to feel like a family together.   We’re all very comfortable with each other.

However, comfortable or not, I had to work hard the other day to keep a straight face.  I really wanted to bust out laughing but managed to keep my composure.  Well, there I was laying on the table, my arm positioned above my head, measurements double-checked, and then the radiologists leave the room as the machine revs up to begin zapping radiation in just the right places.  When all is done the radiologists return to lower the table so I can get off and they get ready for the next patient.

We were chatting as usual as the table was lowered.  One of the radiologists then asked me “Where in America are you from?”  I told them and asked if any of them had been to America.  Thus began a short conversation of each one telling me where they had been, what they had seen, etc.  I was enjoying hearing their American tales when, as I’m listening to them I’m also suddenly aware that the two female and one male radiologist are standing, facing me, talking…naturally clothed…but I’m standing there facing them, and unnaturally not fully clothed at all.  This is where I want to just burst into laughter.  What a surreal experience.  It’s like having that dream where suddenly your clothes disappear but no one seems to notice.   Then you wake up and realize it wasn’t real.  In this instance I knew there would be no waking up.   There I am, topless, and engaging in pleasant conversation as naturally as if I had just strolled out of church on a Sunday morning.

This episode keeps popping into my mind and sets me to laughing. Then it sets me to praying for each one I saw that day.  I’m having a wonderful time.  How strange to say what an enjoyable experience is this cancer treatment but it is indeed.  Father’s presence is so strong and tender at the same time.

Oh, side effects…..about the same as last week…..a little light-headed and a little tired immediately after but it passes quickly and I feel very well.

Thank you everyone for keeping me in your heart and prayers.  There are lots of prayers each day going in and out of the oncology department.  I love the mental picture of walking in there with Jesus and asking Father’s blessings on the lives of each one I see.  Most of all I pray that through their experience they might somehow be drawn to seek God and to know Him.  Then they’ll know the depth of peace and joy that only knowing God can actually bring.



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