Therefore Do Not Worry About Tomorrow

Jim's prostatectomy is in five days. As his surgery day approaches, I've been a little bit resentful that he was called away on a business trip this week. I've just wanted to be near him, to feel his strength beside me in the evening. To awake in the dark of night to listen to him sleeping and to wonder what his dreams are made of. He arrives home this evening, thank God. 

We're not concerned, he nor I, about the spread of the cancer or of it making an ignominious, wretched comeback once the prostate is removed. We are grateful, very, very much so, that this cancer is one that can be and is mostly entirely beaten, particularly at this early stage. The odds are that something else will do Jim in, in the end, but not this dreaded disease. And that is good! A reason to rejoice, indeed!

And so, we shouldn't worry about anything. We shouldn't, but we do a little bit. We wonder about the post-surgery "what-ifs." There are, after all, potential side effects that could be long term. Admittedly, the concern these days is somewhat less than when procedures and surgeries were not as precise as they are now. And Jim's overall health and relatively young age are both in his favor. "Besides," the urologist reassures, "if you do have any problems with intimacy, there are medications that will help." We have all seen the advertisements for them on television. So, not to worry, right? 

Yes, that is the goal. 

But all this has made me think deeply about our 30 years together as husband and wife and how throughout the years we may have taken our most intimate moments for granted. And how, now, I wish that I had back those moments when I had refused him for whatever reason, thinking that well, there's always tomorrow. Another day when I'm less tired, more amorous, less preoccupied. And now, I'm appreciating more fully (than I ever thought possible) just how poignant and beautiful those intimate moments were and are. The two truly becoming one every single time.

This experience is also forcing me to face yet another new chapter. And I really don't know why I am having so much difficulty turning the page! Sometimes, I just want to stop time from advancing so damn fast. Stop it - dead in it's tracks. Interiorly, I don't feel old, truly. But the outward reminders are constantly there, as when I gaze at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I don't quite recognize the face peering back. Startled, I demand, "Who the hell are you?" Or when that twinge in my knee or ankle remind me that my joints are getting a tad rusty. So, this thing with Jim? It's just another stinging reminder that we are not as young as we once were. I do hope we are wiser. 

And anyway, isn't this all just part of our journey? We're all on it, although we likely tread different paths. I honestly do not want to become so blasted discouraged. I am desperate for God to help me love every moment. To embrace each moment, each breath, for the gift that it is. To never lose hope. And in all circumstances to always, always be grateful.

For I know well the plans I have in mind for you ... plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope. When you call me, and come and pray to me, I will listen to you. - Jeremiah 29:11-12