Emotional disease, and where is God in that

I met yesterday with my spiritual director, a wonderful woman who has become a wonderful friend. I meet with her once a month and talk about what is going on in my life and what role my faith is playing in that. At least once during the conversation, she asks some variation of the question, "And where is God in that?" And that almost always leads to an important insight!

Of course lately, a lot of what I have talked about is cancer, and she has heard a lot about my feelings toward God through all of this - feelings which change by the day, it seems. I suppose in my better moments, I can see how God is using and will continue to use this in my life and ministry. Knowing that, of course, doesn't take away the feeling that this simply isn't fair, and there have been multiple times this week when I have reverted to the anger I felt when I first learned I would need a mastectomy, as if I haven't processed it at all and am back at square one. I have done more crying this week than I have in weeks, thinking of all the things I'm losing. I have cried to Michael a lot, as well as to some friends. As I told my spiritual director about those few moments that have stuck in my head from this 14 year journey I have been on, I found myself quite teary indeed. Her office where we meet is full of beautiful things, and as I told her about that day in September 1999 that had been so joyful, the day I triumphantly walked out of my last radiation treatment, my eyes rested on something she had on display that said, "Joy!" I thought about the beautiful weather, the blooming pink trees outside my window, the happiness that comes with sunshine... All of that was such a contrast to how I feel about that day now. And I found myself feeling angry that this stupid cancer is tainting the joy of that triumphant, cancer-free day. Previously, that day, Sept. 17, 1999, was to me a day of life. As the American Cancer Society says, it was my "birthday," my cancer-free day. Now it has become the day that contributed to more disease.

[Just a note on dates: Sept. 17, 1999 was the last day of treatment for my first cancer - my cancer free birthday. On Sept. 17, 2012, I had an incision biopsy of the area that now has cancer (it was negative then, now it is positive). I had my first breast biopsy last summer on my birthday. I had my lumpectomy on Michael's birthday. The lymph node biopsy that I had in 1999, my first ever surgery, was on May 13. My mastectomy is scheduled for May 14. So almost 14 years to the day after my first cancer diagnosis (May 17, 1999), I will once again, for the third time, be cancer free. (Third time's the charm? Let's hope so.) Just sort of funny how those things have lined up.]

One thing I noticed as I spoke with my spiritual director about everything going on in my heart is that to me, breast cancer has been so much more an emotional disease than a physical one. I felt the same about Hodgkin's - although with Hodgkin's, I could at least see the lumps and did notice they caused in me a cough that I could never seem to clear. With breast cancer, I can't even feel the lump. I don't feel or look sick at all. It seems silly to say I am sick. The only physical pain I have is from the scar tissue from the treatments and biopsies.

And yet this has had a dramatic effect on my ability to function, because I'm an emotional mess. Just like I felt fine with Hodgkin's - an A student, active in sports and music - until they put me through chemotherapy and radiation, I feel fine with breast cancer, until it became clear it would take my breast. The emotional impact of that eats away at me - at my hopes and dreams and visions of what my life was supposed to be like. I feel anger, an emotion I otherwise rarely feel. I feel guilt because of my lack of focus and energy at work, which makes me feel even more angry because it is so ridiculous to feel guilty about something I can't help. I feel sadness. I feel tired. I feel fear. I feel a need to go to counseling (which I did and do). I have felt pissed at God. I have felt frustrated with people close to me. I have felt like I don't have a grip on my life.

But my body? That feels fine.

So fine, in fact, that it still seems utterly preposterous that I am cutting off a whole body part - and a part I rather like - to cure some disease that has no noticeable effect on me right now. I won't feel any better physically after May 14, and in fact, I'll feel worse.

So where is God in that? My spiritual director pointed out that it could be very helpful to think about breast cancer as an emotional disease as much as a physical one. I need to heal where I am broken, right? And clearly I feel more poignantly a broken heart than a broken boob. So it is good that I am going to counseling. It is good that I am seeing my spiritual director, and talking with friends and family, and processing things through this blog. All of this helps my emotional health, which will in turn help my physical health. In that way, it reveals a more holistic understanding of health, and helps me understand not only my own health, but that of the people to whom I minister. I understand very deeply what is involved in an illness, especially one that leaves you with holes and losses, where you don't come out at the other end "all better." And where is God in that? Ours is a God who answers prayers, and I do hope and trust that all the prayers that are being said on my behalf for health and healing will aid in my physical body's recovery. But regardless of what happens with my physical body, I believe even more fervently that these prayers are sustaining my heart and soul, and have and will continue to aid in the healing of these unseen elements, too. In understanding breast cancer as an emotional disease, I also understand my God as a God who heals us inside and out.

Healer of our every ill,
light of each tomorrow,
give us peace beyond our fear,
and hope beyond our sorrow.

You who know our fears and sadness,
grace us with your peace and gladness,
Spirit of all comfort: fill our hearts.

Amen.