a scan on the liver

I had to have a scan on my liver recently, because incidentally, a spot was found there, after a general scan on my heart and upper abdomen. 

It’s always a bit of a worry to be told “there is a slim chance it could be cancer”.  I’ve had to have another scan on my liver, which showed a lesion so small that it could not be determined what it is.  So I have to have yet another scan in three months time.  If the lesion has increased in size, it will be assumed it is malignant and will have to be removed.

However, the doctor said the chance of it being malignant is remote. Nine out of ten spots on the liver are benign.  I’m happy with those odds and I’m not going to think about this again, until I have the next scan. 

But I admit to having a few negative thoughts about how I would cope if it was cancer. 

I have felt as happy lately, as I have since Ben died. (Ben is my son and was killed in a work place accident in 2006). I think my “wellness” brain chemicals are finally rising to levels which are more normal. So I asked God not to allow more bad stuff, especially now, just when I’m feeling so much better at last.

I know this is the superficial attitude to being a Christian… “make my life comfortable and bump-free”.  Life is very rarely without some bumps in it.

A truer picture of what being a Christian is, and what our expectation of that should be, can more realistically be found in verses like “I have learned in whatever state I’m in, to be content”.  The rock-solid mercy, provision and dependability of God are reflected in verses such as “my strength is made perfect in weakness”;  or “suffering produces hope and hope does not disappoint us”;  or “give thanks in all things”;  or “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”. 

When these verses are taken on board and “lived”, they have the power to mitigate the terror of bad things;  things we have no control over.  Like cancer (well… some cancers we have control of because they are affected and caused by lifestyle.  Even liver cancer is 4 or 5 more times more likely to occur in a person who is a diabetic.  Diabetes is, in a lot of cases, a lifestyle disease.)

But I don’t want to have to prove these verses and their power, again, against the all-engulfing fog of cancer.  I thought I’d done with big suffering and would much rather reserve these verses and this stoic enduring type of faith against the “normal” stress of encroaching , but natural, old age.  I don’t want more bad stuff;’ stuff that’s in addition to ordinary life stress and strain.

I thought I’d served my apprenticeship of suffering in a myriad of discomforting and testing ways. I’ve lived close to the cliff edge enough times already, I thought.

As much as anything, if I had cancer, it would have presented me with another grim reality in which, in order to accept and cope and soar in the face of bad circumstances, I would have to choose to believe and apply the aforementioned verses.  Again. I would have to choose to honour (not criticise) God in all things. I would have to go back to living a day at a time, relying on God to get me though the minutes and the hours of each and every day.  It sounds a wonderfully spiritual way to live, and it is. But living with sorrow and suffering, even with God’s strength, becomes, as well, a burdensome and gruelling journey.  After a while, you just long to be “normal”;  to have “normal” problems.

To live a day at a time, with the above-mentioned verses,  takes strength of will.  And strength of will is something I’ve had to use a lot, and it requires… well…. strength;  and resources.  I just wasn’t sure I was up for it. 

The alternative though, is to face cancer anyway, but without God’s help.  And really, when I thought of that, I knew that trusting and relying on God was a much better way.  The very character of God, with all it’s strengths and richness, is available to the one who chooses to invite God to walk with him/her, whatever the journey.

The difficulty lies in overcoming the natural desire to rail against God and the circumstances he’s allowed. Perhaps this censuring is part of accepting the circumstances. Once you’ve decided to “let go and let God”, it becomes easier.  God shares His power with us.

It’s the decision to give up the “right” to blame and criticise and reject God which is hardest. The conquering of self is always full of turmoil and destructive emotions.  I suppose it’s a battle which must be fought.  And perhaps, if the scan had showed cancer, I would have chosen, as I did when Ben died, to skip the whole “why me?” mantra.  And move straight to acceptance. 

But I am very thankful that, so far at least, the spot on my liver is very unlikely to be anything serious.