Why I Didn't Ring the Bell

 Why I Didn't Ring the Bell

Walking into the radiation oncologist's office today marked the end of my daily radiation treatments. I was met with big smiles and congratulations from every staff member I passed in the building. As I lay down on the table for the 30th time, I felt the emotions bubble up, as a few tears escaped down my cheek. These past six weeks, I have dealt with fear, deflation of tissue expanders, nerve pain, burns, and blisters on the inside and outside of my skin, and the loss of a good friend, which halted treatment for a few days so I could attend his funeral. My care team has been supportive every step of the way. I could not have asked for more compassion and attentiveness. I cannot thank them enough for the way they love people so well in such a challenging area of medicine.

Last day of radiation...glowing and hair is growing

The team asked if I was going to ring the bell to signify this monumental and emotional victory in cancer treatment. The ringing of the bell is actually a Navy tradition, which is rung after completing a challenge or task well. The tradition has found its way into the world of cancer treatment, as individuals who complete chemotherapy and radiation treatment ring a bell to signify the end of a well-fought battle.

As I looked around the waiting room, I recognized there were still so many beautiful humans sitting in those chairs at different levels of their journey with cancer. I can see how that bell could evoke emotions in that room, and I empathize with that on a deeper level.

Many see the bell as a sign of hope, as it signifies someone has made it through the cancer treatments that wreak havoc on the body, mind, and soul. However, I also know how it feels to sit in those chairs and see others who were further along in their fight against this enemy. Although I was happy for them that they were nearing or were at the end of this hellacious experience, it just highlighted to me how far I had to go in my own treatment.

Treatments that make you feel worse than you have ever felt, and sometimes even cause you to beg God to be merciful and let you come home to Him on your really bad days. Treatments that steal your strength, dignity, and your voice. Treatments that kill every good and bad cell in the body, as well as your hair and skin. Treatments that destroy your way of life, your career aspirations, and your self-image. 

The treatments I am grateful are behind me and have forever changed me.

Therefore, I did not feel the ringing of the bell in the midst of those still fighting so hard to survive was appropriate for me. Instead, I would rather ring a bell with the two people who have been fighting in the midst of the fire with me: Jesus and Gavin.

So instead, we drove to our favorite coffee shop, Bright Eyed, where the owners, Ryan and Katherine, have become some of our greatest prayer warriors. We wanted a celebratory cup of joe, and I picked out a bright yellow hat to signify sunshine and healing in the journey ahead. (And the only glowing I will do from this point forward). Katherine gifted us the merchandise and delicious coffees, and we drove home so we could ring the bell fully caffeinated.

Celebrating in style with Bright Eyed Coffee

When we got home, I decided I wanted to ring my bell on our back porch, where Jesus and I spent so many hours with me lying at His feet in this battle. The same porch where just this week I was kneeling in desperation at 3 a.m. because the radiation burns were tormenting me, and I was unable to sleep.

I wanted to have Gavin with me to celebrate that moment as he has been the one holding my hand, my hair, and my heart through every appointment, infusion, setback, and through the nights when worship played over us while I wept and he prayed. This battle was not just my own, but his as well. He fought alongside me in such unwavering devotion and with strength I did not have. I rang that bell and praised God for all of the loved ones, friends, family members, strangers, and blog readers who have lifted us up in this journey. Every prayer, gift, kind text, card, warm thought, and song sent to encourage were needed and truly appreciated.

I heard it said once that there is life before cancer and a life after cancer. I never understood that like I do today. Ever since learning that the mammogram showed cancer, our entire world has changed. The past ten months have been the most terrifying and clarifying of our lives.

To say I am cancer-free or that I am done with care is premature, as we still have a lot of healing, surgeries, and medication treatment ahead. People keep asking me how we know if the treatment worked. Well, the truth is we don't and we won't for a long time. Instead, I will continue to trust God and His plan. His will is far greater than our own.

I know that the next five years will be a significant part of this journey. In many cases, patients are not considered fully in remission until they have remained disease-free for five years. For cancers like mine, most recurrences tend to happen within that time frame, which makes these years both hopeful and uncertain. Because of that, this season of my life will continue to require careful monitoring, resilience, and a great deal of faith as we move forward.

However, I am not going to spend the next five years dwelling on the fact that the cancer may still be in my body and looking for a nice, fertile place to plant. I am not going to assume every time I feel weak, tired, or sick that it is cancer. I am not going to let fear rule or ruin my gloriously beautiful life or take me away from enjoying the wonderful family and friends God has given me. 

John 10:10 states, The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life and have it to the full. 

Therefore, I am not going to allow this thief to steal, kill, and destroy the remaining days I have left.

I will not allow negativity or toxicity to fill my home or mind or steal me away from experiencing the goodness in each day. I am going to do purpose-filled work, not just a job that kills my creativity or energy. I am not going to let the fear of cancer returning or cells that may still be in my body destroy my joy.

Instead, I am going to live a full life with Jesus. I am going to take care of my body by eating well, exercising, and focusing on healing inside and out. I am not going to abuse my body or my mind with things that harm and do not give life. I am going to show love and grace to myself and to the people God blessed me with. I am going to be present and real with those around me. I am going to date my sweet, Jesus-loving, handsome, and hilarious husband and strive to serve him better every day we have together. I am going to love being a Lollie and continuing to pray and support my adult kids in their various stages of life. I am going to live.

And every day I have left on this earth, I am going to ring the bell of victory with the one who comes to give life so we can have it to the full.