I missed a day of work today, got ready for radiation (no makeup or hair product), took my pre-treatment steroid, and waited by the phone for the almighty insurance people (whose voicemail promises a simplified health care experience and exceptional service) to pre-certify my three Cyber Knife treatments, scheduled for multiple reasons to begin today. Still waiting. Now we’re hoping for Thursday. I’m pretty sure these are not oncologists making these determinations. There are multiple places where this went awry . . . and from experience, I know that if I wrote a hot letter, as I once would have fired off, it is very possible I’d target the wrong person, it would fall on deaf or nonexistent ears, or simply get me more wound up. So I’m in cooldown mode, which means eating a bag of Coffee Nut M & M’s. I wonder if the insurance folks approve of that. Some days, friends say I’m inspiring. Today, I’m just ticked. Yes, I can be snarky with the best of them.
Sunday, one of the fired-up mission trip students talked about growing and learning through challenge, which touched on the seventh line of the Serenity Prayer. I overheard Jon and Jeremy talking about this prayer yesterday–it is a gem keeps being handed to me . . . it’s been a helpful tool these past six weeks, and I’ve been reading a wonderful little book that unpacks this timely prayer, by a respected teacher from my Renovare experience, Trevor Hudson.
Hardship is a pathway to peace, much as most of us would prefer a different way. This current leg of my pilgrimage is certainly a lesson in patience . . . and teaching me anew how peace and serenity are not to be found in the easy times, during the days of wine and roses, but wrought by the setbacks, the annoyances, by challenges small or overwhelming.
An aside (and language alert) — Jon sees me reading this book, about a prayer he knows and lives well. He grins, “You know the short version of the Serenity Prayer, don’t you?”
I smile, and roll my eyes, thinking, “Of course, I know that most people think it is just the first few lines.”
Jon, “Fuck it.” We laugh. We keep it real. The wisdom asked for in this prayer, comes at times in the ability to just let go.
So the update ~ I will soon, I hope, have three Cyber Knife (radiosurgery) treatments, targeted directly at the tumor site. For now, that is the primary treatment, and I’ll have frequent follow-up visits over the next year with oncologists, including regular MRI’s, scans, blood work, etc. It all is truly less daunting than navigating the maze of the health insurance world. Some day, in some way, I hope I can help change bits of this journey for someone else. Through today’s reading and reflecting (I had a bit of unexpected free time 😉 I was reminded that I’ve been given a boatload of grace . . . so easy to receive and move on, so much harder to give it. Extending grace to others is one of those lessons that keeps landing in my lap, alongside the rich serenity prayer. As many of you know, we’ve been, thanks to Erika, pondering the Jan Richardson poem The Grace That Scorches Us. Today Jan’s words again help me learn a bit about peace, about serenity . . . and the endurance it may take to find it.
The Art of Enduring
This blessing
can wait as long
as you can.
Longer.
This blessing
began eons ago
and knows the art
of enduring.
This blessing
has passed
through ages
and generations,
witnessed the turning
of centuries,
weathered the spiraling
of history.
This blessing
is in no rush.
This blessing
will plant itself
by your door.
This blessing
will keep vigil
and chant prayers.
This blessing
will bring a friend
for company.
This blessing
will pack a lunch
and a thermos
of coffee.
This blessing
will bide
its sweet time
until it hears
the beginning
of breath,
the stirring
of limbs,
the stretching,
reaching,
rising
of what had lain
dead within you
and is ready
to return.
—Jan Richardson
from Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons
writing along the way 