Oh, To Ring That Bell

Back in 1996, U.S. Navy Rear Admiral Irve Le Moyne, who had head and neck cancer, put a brass bell at the main campus of MD Anderson Radiation Treatment Center to signify being done with treatment and the accomplishment that comes with it.

I never in a million years, thought I would be the one ringing that bell.

Yesterday marked day 112 of battling leukemia. Almost a 1/3 of a year. In the grand scheme of cancer, really that is pretty fast, if you ask me. But it hasn’t happened without intensity, some really hard times, and wondering if I’ll make it through.

Those first 3 weeks in the hospital feel like a blur now, but boy they were tough. Going from being hospitalized prior to an ablation, to having the ablation not even happen after being put out, to having low blood counts and cancer and hematology doctors asking me question after question about how I had been feeling. It was all so surreal.

Then the dreaded “c” word came out. I’ll never forget the look of desperation when I glanced over at Dan, but at the same time, saying I was going to fight like crazy to get through it. We didn’t know it was leukemia, a cancer of the blood, but I didn’t even know what leukemia meant. But here we are, 112 days later, life looking a whole lot different than we thought it would, and having walked a journey we never saw coming.

So many lessons learned, so many challenges accomplished, so many ways God has shown us his power and grace. And through it all, I’ve only learned more and more, every heartbeat matters. Every step we take, matters. Every action, matters.

Leukemia taught me that God is forever on the throne and there is nothing we can do to change God’s mind or thwart his plans. God uses the difficult to draw us closer to him and showcase his power. We have felt that from every side of this journey.

Even though I’ve got a few weeks of recovery ahead of me still, ringing that bell signified being done with in-hospital chemo treatments. A bell I never thought I would ring and yet here we are, tears welling up in my eyes, and realizing the chemo journey is complete.

Only by God’s grace.

This bell has nothing to do with luck, but has everything to do with God’s love and faithfulness through the journey. It took everything in me to not completely weep as I rang it, knowing what God has taken us through.

The next steps? Heal from this round (it always takes a few weeks), and wait until March 16 for a round of blood tests to see if the leukemia comes back. This will be my routine for the next 2 years. Now we just pray that God would keep the leukemia away and if he doesn’t? He is still faithful, all-knowing, and an all-powerful God.

Thank you for walking this journey with us. I started to cry this past week, telling my nurse what a support system we have back home. I well up in tears when I think about the love that has been shown to our family. I know the journey isn’t over yet and my body will continue to fight against leukemia, but one thing I do know, is that we don’t fight alone and nor should we. That is one of the biggest lessons God has taught me through you. We are never alone.

Even though the chemo journey is complete, I know God has so much more in store for me too. And he does for your story as well. He is never done, my friend. Don’t get overwhelmed with the big stuff, but don’t overlook the small stuff. God has a tremendous plan for your life and I can’t wait to watch it unfold. Keep the main thing, the main thing (the cross of Christ and salvation), and it’ll make those dark and dim days seem all the brighter.