The 'C' Word

I'm radioactive, y'all. 

Two days ago, I underwent surgery to sew a disc filled with radioactive seeds to the back of my right eye. 

I have eye cancer. (The medical term is Ocular Melanoma but don't Google it... it'll scare the crap out of you.) 

I'm one of the lucky ones – mine is very small and treatable. The radiation and some other opthal-magic tricks should stop the melanoma in its tracks. 

But even with a good prognosis, there's not a great way to tell people you have cancer. Just the mention of that 'C' word freaks everybody out and they start talking reeeeaaaal slow, treating me like I'm gonna break. 

I'm not gonna break. Or even crack. 

I have laid it at God's feet – where everything in my life belongs – and I am golden. Glowing like a glowworm. 

If I had my druthers, I would have kept this between me and God... wouldn't have told anybody, even Dickie. But apparently, leaving the hospital after eye surgery without a driver is frowned upon in this establishment.

And then there's the fact that God just keeps pecking away at me, reminding me that He can use this to His glory; reminding me of my purpose... why I'm here. 

Clearly, my purpose is to overshare the details of my life on my blog and Facebook. 

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About seven weeks ago, my eye became suddenly blurry. The optometrist immediately referred me to an ophthalmologist. My appointment just happened to be at the same time the Dickman was scheduled for an upper and lower GI. We gave Jacob the dubious task of accompanying his Dad to The Butt Scope. (Key to this story is understanding just how much my husband loses his ever-loving mind on sedation.) 

After the scope, the nurse took Jacob back to recovery where he overheard his Dad earnestly trying to convert the sweet Hindu doctor to Christianity and also gunning for all the nurses to get a pay raise.  All Jacob could do was apologize and clamp his hand over his Dad's big mouth. As quickly as possible, he loaded him in the pickup and brought him to me. 

After a battery of tests, I was waiting to meet with the ophthalmologist.  I looked up just in time to catch a dopey-looking Dickman lumbering towards me with Jacob following closely behind, sending apologetic looks over his Dad's shoulder. 

“He's been a handful, huh?” I asked JP.

“Let's just say, I will never show my face in that office again, mmmkay?” replied my long suffering son. 

I told Dickie he could stay with me, but only if he kept his mouth shut. 

He just giggled. 

The doctor called us back to his office to give me the news. I heard the words, “Ocular Melanoma”, and before the first finger of fear could even began to creep up my spine - clear as a bell - a little voice in my head said, “Just breathe. Breathe in Jesus, Breathe out peace.” 

And I did.

The Dickman, however, was a few beats behind. I explained to my doctor that he was 'a wee bit loopy' from his buttscope. The doc looked at him in concern and asked, “Did everything go well?” 

“Oh, yeah,” replied Dickie with a goofy grin, “The doctor said I was a perfect butthole.” 

Which (pardon the pun) brings us full circle...

Dickie sent this picture of me eating ice cream after surgery to my entire family. I told him I couldn't believe he shared such an awful picture of me. He said, “It's not bad... that's exactly how you look when you're tired and hungry.”

(The worst part of the surgery was that they wouldn't let me wear ANY makeup. Also they refused to give me a boob job, no matter how nicely I asked.) 

But seriously, I'm doing great. In fact, I got up this morning, put my sneakers on and ran three miles. I'm kidding. I ate four pieces of french toast covered in syrup and a Twix bar.  I'll think about eating healthier tomorrow. (Again, I'm kidding.)

The radiation disc will be removed in a couple of days and then, well... then I'll get on with living this wonderful life I've been given more of.  

I plan on loving deeper and speaking sweeter... breathing in Jesus, breathing out peace. 

P.S.  If you're reading this and are not getting your eyes dilated yearly, DO IT NOW.   

P.S.S.  You know all those other things in life you've always wanted to do? You should do them, too. Now.