God Helped Me See a Better Side During Kidney Cancer

During Barbara's experience with kidney cancer, she started trusting more in God, who helped her live differently.

It was not my choice to move from Dallas, Texas, to Atlanta, Georgia. I was happy in my home of 33 years and content with my job as an occupational therapist at a large metropolitan hospital just 10 minutes from home.

I was excited. I was expecting the arrival of my first grandchild in one month. I was planning on taking time off from work to be there for the birth in North Carolina.

I had no idea that my life was to change dramatically. I found myself in North Carolina with a delivery alright. A delivery of a large tumor on my right kidney. I was told I had the worst kidney cancer possible. It was very rare (with five cases a year in this country) and aggressive, and there is no cure. Six weeks after surgery, the tumor was back as large as the first one. I was offered chemo that might buy me some time. My daughter was to give birth in two weeks and begged me to try the chemo. I was given one year with or without the chemo and told I was terminal. I was in shock. I had changed from being a health care provider to a patient with cancer.

I met with the oncologist at the University of North Carolina, and she said she could start chemo there, but there was a specialist for my cancer that she’d rather send me to. As it turns out, he was in Dallas, Texas, just three miles from my home.

I recovered from my surgery in North Carolina and was there for the birth of my grandson; then I returned to Dallas to address the cancer.

I lived alone, but I had the support of many friends and family. I was told, they would all be praying for me. Praying — that was something I hadn’t done in years.I had stopped going to church when I went off to college. I really didn’t give God much thought. I was too busy living my life.

I had a visit from a co-worker the week before I started chemo. She was leaving and I walked her out to her car. She stopped and looked at me and asked if she could pray with me. I was stunned and taken aback. I remember thinking, “What? Here on my driveway? Out in public?In front of my home where my neighbor might see?”

Despite my hesitancy, she took hold of my hands and prayed. I heard a lot of “I’ll be praying for you” and “God has a plan for you.”

“Yeah, right,” I smugly thought. “He has a plan.”

These concepts were foreign to me. I was angry, fearful and I felt trapped.

The day before I was to begin treatment, I asked a friend to drive me to the clinic so I could see the location and parking. It was a Sunday, and I knew it would be closed, but I asked my friend to wait in the car while I got out and went to the door. I pulled on the handle and it opened. I walked into the large lobby with seating all around. The lights were not on. It was quiet, but standing there in front of me was a man, and in front of him was a woman in a wheelchair. I was startled and said that I was beginning treatment tomorrow and was checking things out.He told me the best place to park and answered my few questions. The woman sat in her chair and said nothing. But her appearance spoke volumes. She appeared to be a patient with cancer and was bald, frail and gaunt-looking.

I returned home and the next day, began treatments that consisted of the strongest chemo they give anyone, and the limit was eight treatments in a lifetime. I was not able to do much of anything, let alone work, and subsequently lost my job. I went to my treatments angry. I closed my eyes and put my arms out for the taking of blood and receiving of chemo. I would not speak to the nurses or even look at them. I didn’t want to be there. I felt trapped, with no escape, pushed to the wall. I was confronted with terminal cancer, certain death and the unknown. I was miserable. Then, like many a desperate, lost soul before me, I turned to my last resort: God.

I remember thinking, “What have I got to lose?” I’ll try praying. I did not ask God for a miracle cure but rather to comfort me and get me through this. I remember offering, half in jest, to become a Bible-thumper in the South if God saw fit to save me.

The next time I went for my chemo infusion, I felt different. My fear and anger had disappeared. Now, when I went to chemo, I was joking with the nurses. I found myself helping other patients and I was having fun. I was amazed at the change. How could this be?

I was able to tolerate six treatments and they then switched me to a targeted therapy. I began to prepare to move to Atlanta, Georgia where I would live with my family until I passed.

For seven months, while on the new therapy, I prepared to sell my home and move. I wanted to help my family buy a house where we all could live until I passed. Unfortunately, the housing market in Dallas was very slow. I struggled with how to get them the money for the down payment. The next morning, the answer came to me. I wouldn’t need my retirement because I was dying. I could use those funds to provide a hefty down payment. I made an appointment with my accountant and began the process to access those funds. In mid-June, I was able to write my children a personal check just in time for their house closing.

In July, I suddenly went into congestive heart failure, which was attributed to the cancer treatment. I spent one week in the hospital and the next two months in cardiac rehab. All cancer treatment stopped.

I finally made the move to Atlanta during the first week in November. I was on many heart medications, and my heartbeat was kept at 40. I was unable to do much and it felt like an imposition. I had an upstairs bedroom and bath and sitting room, and the company of my cat. As the weeks passed, I didn’t get worse. I began to get better. My daughter wondered what was happening and I did too. I came here to die and that was not happening. I sensed that my daughter resented my being there as she came home from work angry. She never wanted to live with her mother. She agreed to go to therapy with me. Then, my cat was diagnosed with, of all things, kidney failure. I was despondent.

I’d lost my home, my job and all my friends were back in Texas. What was I to do now? I asked God, “Why had He forgotten me?”

The next morning, I got up and walked out the front door and up the street.It was almost as if I was being led. I found a garage apartment for rent and the listing realtor. The apartment would not work, but this realtor did. She helped me find a first-floor condo just a short walking distance from my family. I moved into the condo and my relationship with my daughter improved greatly.

I asked my cardiologist to try and take me off all medications. He did and I regained my strength and my heart returned to normal. My cancer scans were still abnormal but stable, and my oncologist told me to stop coming. The scans would do more harm. “Call me if you feel sick and go live your life.”

I was having work done at my daughter’s house and met a wonderful man who wanted to go out with me. I joined a nearby church and met new friends. One day, I received an email from the pastor asking all parishioners if they would be willing to speak for 4 minutes on Sunday and share what the Lord was doing in their lives.

Well, I quickly moved on to other emails. I had just joined this church. I was not going to do that! I never gave it a second thought until I woke up suddenly that night remembering my offer to become a “Bible-thumper.”

I immediately got up and went to the computer to reply back to the pastor, “I’ll be glad to participate,” all the while questioning who was typing this. On Sunday, I found myself in the pulpit sharing my story. It was the first time I shared it with anyone. I was one of three people willing to speak. One was a visiting pastor, a longtime choir member and me. My life was changing again.

Fast forward to today and nine years since my cancer diagnosis. I live in a beautiful house in Atlanta with the wonderful man who asked me out many years ago. I have two grandsons, ages 9 and 6, who I get to see all the time. I feel well and do volunteer work, work in the garden, have new friends and a tremendous sense of gratitude and peace.

I recently had a scare about my cancer returning, but even during the banging and clanging of the MRI, I found peace. A peace that comes with being right with the Lord. My faith, which began with that uncertain prayer for comfort 9 years ago, has grown. Today, when I have concerns, I go to God. It is the first and only place I go. I look back and see that all the answers and direction I needed came from the Lord. I trust that he is in control of whatever happens. Now, when it appears to be impossible or seems like there is no way out, I rest assured, knowing that God opens doors.

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