Standing on the Ridge

"...today you are going into battle against your enemies. Do not be fainthearted or afraid; do not panic or be terrified by them. For the Lord your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you the victory."   Deuteronomy 20:3-4

In almost every movie or tv show that has some kind of battle in it, there is a moment when the central character stands on a ridge top and looks down and across at the enemy with whom he will be engaged in combat. Often, it is the night before, and it is a moment of introspection, anticipation, and apprehension.

Tonight, I find myself on such a ridge - albeit, a metaphoric one. But the battle is real, even if there are no actual encampments with torches and singing soldiers around bonfires. I'm looking down and across at an ugly enemy who disguised itself as something benign for years until it was discovered almost too late. Almost.

It is three months since this particular enemy was discovered, and less than that since we found out the type of venom it was harboring in its fangs. In the time between then and now, I have had more mood swings than a fifteen-year-old girl with boy troubles. I have periods of great hope and near-excitement for what God is doing - and has already done. But then, I have moments where I think that I just simply cannot do it. In fact, I just won't do it. But, this is kind of like labor - once you start it, you pretty much to have to finish it, one way or the other. Mommy can't just suddenly decide that Junior is just fine where he is, any more than I can decide to change my mind and not have cancer.

There are already a few things that have been lessons and blessings (my head so wants to say blessons and lessings), that even if God healed my tomorrow, they are indelibly printed on my soul.

First is the consistent, loving, cheerful attitude of EVERY medical person we have met! I know that Maui Memorial has this reputation of being somehow less-than, and to my friends - and I love you all - who insist upon continuing to disparage, criticize, or otherwise say not-nice things about this very unique hospital, please rethink, or at the very least, refrain from doing so out loud. All hospitals are full of germs and things happen. I have a friend who is now a doctor in Dallas (HI, SHARON!!). She told me things about the two hospitals in which she did her internship and residencies that would make anybody rethink the medical system. That is because these places a run by humans, who are just as prone to mistakes and mishaps like the rest of us. They put in insanely long hours, work with people at their absolute worst, take the blame for things over which they have no control - but are still there on the front lines doing everything they can to save the lives of total strangers as though they were closest kin. As I stated before, I have had more experience with hospitals than I ever wanted, but it gives me a measuring stick. The two hospitals I have spent time in here in Hawaii have been filled with such loving and gracious spirits. My care has been exceptional. I have never been treated with anything but warmth and compassion and as an individual - never one of a herd. The education and training of these doctors is impressive - and they further demonstrate their smarts by escaping the rat races on the mainland and practicing their art in paradise. Sounds like the kind of medical entourage that I would have picked for myself - but God did it for me.

Another thing is the overwhelming love - and food - of the people in my church. And at my former home church in San Diego. And a group of prayer warriors who were part of a team that prayed for a missionary team in Rwanda. And family (but technically, I think think they're supposed to. It's the code...). But it has really brought into focus my fierce independent streak. okay. I will call it what it is: I am a sort of personal control freak - meaning, I don't want to control you, but I sure want to control me. In fact, that is the primary reason I stayed away from drugs (until now!) and more than a little alcohol. I wasn't that much of a goody-two-shoes, I just hated anything that messed with my head. But what kept me safe until I actually developed a better value system has matured into that fierce independence better known as pride. I hate when anyone has to take care of me - even my sweet husband. I am not overstating this. I hate it, despise it, loathe it. I have no problem being there in a pinch for someone. It doesn't make me better than others, but because I am in that position of control, I feel more comfortable. This has been a real humbler. I have had to accept help in the most basics of functions - physical and otherwise. I have had to let others drive me around. I have had to accept meals prepared when I so love to cook. Small tangent: Fortunately, this is the best cooking church we have EVER been a part of - which explains the TEN POUNDS I gained in about ten days!! Enchiladas, chimchangas, beef stroganoff, pasta with meatballs, creamy chicken & rice & broccoli, roasted chicken, desserts...and ONE salad!! and then there was the second night - AHAHAHA!!! Kidding, obviously - but you get my point. And each meal prepared with love, brought with love. For me and mine. I am blessed by a blessing I feel uncomfortable accepting - and maybe that's the biggest blessing of them all.

Another side to that same coin is my need for privacy. Yes, I am a ham, in many ways. No one will ever accuse me of being shy. I am unafraid to speak in front of three or three hundred - and I have done both. I have been pretty transparent about my shortcomings - and some of them are E-P-I-C!! But I am very, very private when it comes to my needs. I hate admitting to being sick. I hate admitting that we need prayer for some financial challenges. I hate admitting how insecure I am. Or how lonely I can become. I hate admitting needing help (see above paragraph). Again, however, this need for privacy is also pride. I like my image of being the always positive, always friendly, always happy lady. I may be those things much of the time, but certainly not always. This past weekend I was leveled by an intestinal bug that could have come from all the meds or some just-a-wee-bit-too-old cranberry-pomegranite-cherry drink. Doesn't matter which - it was just plain miserable. This meant that my weekend of fun was messed up. The weekend of messed-up fun was right on the heels of Don's two days off, which were also supposed to be fun. Since the first three days of last week were spent driving back and forth to the other side for medical stuff, we opted to make Thursday a "no-pain" day - meaning, Denise stays in bed, legs elevated and as gorked on pain meds as she is allowed. But that was supposed to lead to an all-fun Friday. Did not happen. Don had to go to a work breakfast, and by the time he got home, I was already feeling a little off. I was not a friendly-positive-happy lady. It had been a rough week. I began to question God in less than respectful ways. I began to wonder if I really wanted to fight this fight. I could, without much effort, list off a dozen people who would have been there for me - to listen, comfort, and pray - if only I had not been so worried about my image. Privacy is a two-way prison.

I find that I, in my darker moments, think about the life we had a few short years ago. While I don't think there is any such thing as a charmed life, there are certainly blessed ones - and the Daltons certainly fit in that category. We had a pretty large, beautiful home in San Diego, with a pool and jacuzzi, koi pond, aviary, etc. We had parties. We traveled. Life was pretty dang sweet. Oh, of course, there were some really tough times, too. You can't raise three sons and be married for over twenty-some years with shedding some metaphorical blood. And those epic shortcomings of mine?? So on display at that time. Now, years later, we had a financial shift thanks to...well...actually, the economy takes the blame, but it was God teaching some pretty self-involved (although LOVELY) people a very painful lesson. Our sons are dealing with some trials in their lives, which is the quickest way to to get to parents' hearts. And now this. But....when I get my eyes off of myself, and back on the Lord who loves me, I realize that NOW is the blessed life! I see my husband and sons loving in me in a way that blows my little drug-pickled mind. I see my sisters and brother and nieces and nephews and cousins and in-laws just rallying to my side. And I get to do all of this, see all of this, while living in my absolute dream location. I love Maui. I picked the perfect place to get better. Yes, my life is rich and full and blessed.

And tonight, I am looking down and across at the enemy camp. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not afraid of what it's going to feel like, what the side effects will be. I spent the larger part of last week crying about the upcoming loss of my hair once chemo starts in January. But this battle is a little more unknown. And my heart pounds in apprehension. I think about the leaders in the Bible. Did Gideon's stomach twist before he and his three hundred faced down the huge armies of the Midianites? Did Joshua have sweaty palms before he blew the trumpet at Jericho? And David. Did that little shepherd kid want to toss his cookies before tossing a stone that killed Goliath? Almost assuredly, yes. Even Jesus - God Himself - sweated blood in anticipation of His torture and being crucified.

I certainly don't compare myself with any of those - especially our sinless Lord who took that pain, torture, and cruel death for my sake. I just know that I need not let the devil tell me that my faith is weak because I am scared of the unknown. I need not feel like a hypocrite because of my weaknesses - wanting my way, my privacy, and my nice life, I know that they are all part of the same trial and part of the same disease that God is preparing to rid me of.

I'm looking down and across at the enemy camp. I'm ready to go to battle.