Kaity Kasper


On The Coming Of The Six Month Mark

Because chemo brain means I can’t remember anything anymore, I have about forty-five different calendars now.

Well, actually, I have three.  But it feels like forty-five because in the past I only ever needed one and really that was just for insurance.  I could keep my schedule pretty well aligned in my mind.

So once a week or so I sit at my old wooden table and make sure they’re all reconciled up. 

I did this yesterday, sorting through in order – Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016.

The 21st.

The six-month anniversary of this storm. 

Six.  Months.

*   *   *

How can it be?  Six months since that phone call in a Tucson parking lot that started things shifting.  Six months since that awful hospital stay.  Six months since hearing through the fog of anesthesia one nurse tell another that it was cancer.

How can it be?

How can it be that I used to be that girl?  I’m not yet ready to detail all the changes I know have occurred in me in the last six months, but let me assure you they are enormous.  Bob Goff once said that its okay to let your new self hold hands with your old self for awhile – in the style of old school paper dolls - but I’m not certain that’s even an option in this space.  Its miles between she and I and we would need far more than our arms to tether us together. 

How can it be?

In six months’ time I feel like I have lived six years.  In six months I have lost people I loved dearly, found new ones I didn’t know would be there.  In six months I have been defeated and won simultaneously in the same game.  In six months I have changed my mind on so many things – not the least of which is Western medicine and what doctors know.  In six months I have put certainty behind what I once had an inkling was true.  That God is here.  That He loves us.  That the past just doesn’t impact anything about that.

How can it be?

Six months.

*   *   *

“Everyone is so happy you are doing so much better,” he tells me earlier in the day yesterday and I nearly lose my mind.

Its an odd space to be in – I’ll admit that.  To know so surely that I will not die, while still being labeled as “incurable” is awkward.  To balance the competing voices of the doctors and God.  To try to make clear that while I am so sure, and while I know I don’t need more chemo, there is still healing to do.  That seeking out these healers isn’t an option for me.  That my life quite literally depends on getting it done. 

That just because I physically look and feel quite a bit better than I ever have (minus the whole Chicken Little hairdo), by all accounts I am not actually yet “well”.  I am still walking toward the water, mud and spit caked on my eyes, my mind ringing with Christ’s promise of healing if I just keep up the journey until I can wash. 

If you had told me six months ago that I would be willing to testify about my faith in God with such bravado, that I would be willing to lay every dollar in my possession and then some on the promises He is making, that I would be contemplating selling the house, cashing out the 401K, and throwing it all into the pot on this single bet, I would have laughed.  But I am so certain that I can get better – that I can be cured – by Him that these are the things that consume my thoughts.  My mousepad covered in calculations.

Its an odd space to be in.

*   *   *

I fell down the rabbit hole of this blog earlier this week.  I haven’t gone back and read my own posts – I haven’t felt ready to relive all the dark that took over during that time that feels so long ago but in reality actually occupied the very same calendar year as today does. 

How can it be?

I am still off kilter, but am starting to realize that there was, in fact, much goodness hidden beneath so much pain – just as He promised. 

But looking back on all that has happened and all that fell away and all that has – slowly but surely – been rebuilt and redeemed, it begged the question – where will I be in another six months? 

Surely, this is just a stopover on the way to whatever it is that He has in store.