Praying Through It

My back is on fire. It’s a common side effect of the treatment I’m currently finishing up, and after 5 infusions it has finally arrived with a vengeance. The infusion next week is thankfully my last, but it’s going to be a rough ride if this continues. At present, I can barely walk, and even sleeping is a battle to find a comfortable enough position.

I’m always unsure of what to say to people who ask how I’m doing. Polite conversation standards tend to dictate that one not complain, no matter how badly things are going, but some folks genuinely want to know, and there is also the small matter of honesty. These are the things that swirl in an introvert’s head. I’ve settled for saying that I’m doing well, which is true if compared to being on my deathbed. Some folks ask followup questions, and they can hear the rest of the story.

I’m eternally grateful for my friends at church for whom no pretense is necessary. I just told them that I’m in a lot of pain and need extra prayer. One simply nodded and said “then extra prayer is what you’ll get.” There’s a freedom to that level of intimacy, when suffering can just be suffering and there is no need to mask it with a show of bravado. I feel it from the other side when I ask another friend how he’s doing and he just tells me straight that he’s struggling. It’s only in church or a shared religious context that I find relationships so raw and honest.

Lisa continues to be a rock I can lean on. We can laugh and joke about my condition and talk about it as a normal subject of conversation. While I’m sure at times I must be exasperating, her love and concern carry me through the hard parts. I have trouble imagining how I would get through this without her.

The nurse practitioner I see before treatments is worried I’ve done something more injurious to my back, that radiation and cancer have weakened the bone enough to allow for new troubles. She’s trying to get my post-treatment scans scheduled quickly so we can figure out next steps. In the meantime, it seems I’ll have the next week and a half to recover somewhat, with quarantine pre-empting jiu jitsu.

Jordan Peterson has said that pain is a reality we can’t deny, and that finding meaning through suffering gives us access to something even more real than that. I find that prayer helps, so I’m praying through the pain. It may be an undeniable reality, but God is bigger than a backache. I’m trying to focus on having Paul’s strength of faith while I pray for a miracle.