Update on Heather

Heather... oh Heather.

My friend Heather sent an e-mail update yesterday, and it's not good. The chemo is not shrinking the tumor. Her doctors are telling her that she has a rare cancer that will not go into remission. Removing the tumor is not an option, because they cannot remove the cancer cells, and it would continue to grow and spread.

She's looking into a second opinion. They want to do a research study on two drugs that have not yet been tested on humans. The drugs will not cure the cancer, but supposedly will keep the cancer at bay and keep the tumor from growing.

But underneath the research, second opinions, and more tests is the underlying message that she has terminal cancer. That's a hard thing to wrap your mind around. And if it's hard for her friends, I cannot imagine what it's like to actually have your death sentence handed to you like that.

When I spent that day at John's Hopkins with her, it was hard to believe she was so sick. If it hadn't been for the IV pole attached to her, you'd never have known she was ill. She was laughing and chatting and just being... well, Heather. Looking around, I felt so sorry for the people I saw. Especially that girl with the oxygen tank. But not Heather. Not my friend. She was going to be fine.

Turns out she's not. I'd like to believe that God is going to swoop down and perform a miracle. That the tumor is going to disappear along with all traces of cancer cells. And that's possible, I suppose. But the hard reality is that hundreds of people die from cancer. Each one of them has family and friends that are praying for that miracle "swooping" that never comes. I'd like to think that I'm not being cynical... just realistic. Cancer sucks. People die. And if God swooped in on every one of them, then I suppose it wouldn't be a miracle.

Have you seen the new commercial from the American Cancer Society? The one where they show cancer survivors/patients celebrating birthdays and at the end says "the official sponsor of birthdays?" It's a great commercial. And I can't watch it. It about breaks my heart into two. Terri was only 52. Grace was only 6. Elena was only 7. That girl from the cancer ward is only in her 20's. Heather's in her 40's. How many birthdays do they have left?

In my heart of hearts, I'm hoping that God proves me wrong. I want more than anything to be wrong and Heather to be cured. Heather amazes me. Her e-mails are full of a grace and strength and peace that I can't begin to understand. Where my mind fills with "what-ifs" "if onlys" and dark fears, Heather writes of her situation and fears with peace, trust, and faith. I know she's scared. She'll be the first one to tell you that. She accepts her situation and relinquishes control to Him. I want to bargain, plead, and negotiate with God on her behalf. And I'm sure that she's had her moments of pleading too. It's human nature- I think it'd be impossible not to. No matter how strong a person's faith is.

I know He doesn't bargain. I know that sometimes His answer is no. I know that He's always working in ways that we can't possibly understand.

I know that life doesn't always turn out the way we want it to.

But oh... I wish it would.