3. The Beginning

"I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened."

"So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, in which case you also were meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought."
-Gandalf (The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings, J.RR. Tolkien)


Before I begin, a quick word on the structure of this blog: I do not plan on maintaining a chronological account of this journey. While doing so may seem logical at first thought, it would also severely limit the accuracy of my descriptions; since I have delayed beginning this project for so long, there will be a period of time during which I will be playing "catch up." Therefore, if I were to proceed strictly chronologically, current events would join the ranks of memories that could become distorted. The more recent an event happens, the easier it is to remember details accurately, and precisely; thus, by describing them as they occur, while simultaneously "catching up" on past events, I can achieve the greatest amount of accuracy. I am giving this warning out now, so that things, hopefully, do not become too confusing down the road, in the case of simultaneous time frames.


Despite this forewarning though, I am going to begin this narrative with an analysis of the first little bit of this whole adventure. My main goal through this is not to give a recount of every significant moment in regards to my brother's battle with cancer (my brother is already doing an excellent job of that with his own blog at http://sylvesjf.wordpress.com),  but, as I've said before, to provide an insightful view of what cancer means to the family members of individuals with cancer. I will probably actually be assuming that all of my readers have been informed of the overall situation and have kept up with my brother's blog. That way I can avoid going into lengthy details that have already been recounted elsewhere. So with that, let's dive in....


October 15, 2010- a date which will live in infamy. At  least for my family that is. It was on this day that my family was given the news that Jared, my brother, could possibly have a cancerous tumor in his left knee. While that was the first true pronouncement of the cancer, the inkling of its existence had crept into my mind about an hour before that moment. Jared, my mom, my dad, and Melissa had all been called over to receive the MRI results on Jared's knee from a doctor, who is also a family friend. He wasn't quite sure whether Abbey and I should be there to receive the news, so he just called over the older family members, leaving Abbey and I behind to continue with our task of making caramel apples (indeed there are still families with siblings who spend time together), and to wonder why they had all been called over without us. Once most of my family had left, I began guessing that something unsuspected had come back in the report, and was hoping that maybe I was wrong. But, I wasn't, as would be immediately apparent on each of my family members' faces as they came back some time later. Each one bore the tell-tale face of one who had just been crying, and as Abbey and I were called over to join them on the couches, I knew what was coming next. I have really only experienced one other moment that bears similarity to that fateful moment: the death of my wonderful dog Aslan in third grade. I vividly remember waking up on that morning and knowing immediately that something was off. I can recall walking tentatively down the stairs, in expectancy of something horrible to be awaiting me, only to be greeted with a grieving mother, and a still and silent dog; the whole atmosphere of the house was noticeably "off." There just isn't a great way of describing it, if it hasn't been experienced firsthand. But that same sense of dread I felt on that February morning of third grade came rushing back, as I sat down on the couch and my brother proceeded to inform Abbey and I of the possibility of cancer growing inside of him. 


As Jared relayed to Abbey and I what the doctors believed to be true about his tumor, I can recall one fact above all others: I did not cry. This stands out to me for two reasons: firstly, the rest of my family was either bawling or just crying, and secondly, I'm fairly ashamed of the fact. I'm not entirely sure why I didn't cry, because it is a truly terrifying and heart-stopping moment when cancer is announced. Perhaps it was because of the suddenness of the event and the overall shock of the matter, or perhaps it was a little bit of both, together with a self-indulgent desire to remain "stoic" in the moment. Whatever the case, I regret not showing weakness and vulnerability. 


Apart from not crying though, I can also distinctly remember what unfolded after the results were discussed. The way in which our family handled the situation at the beginning here, truly set the tone for the rest of the long journey and that is through abiding in love with each other and the Lord, and trusting in His steadfast faithfulness to us. Because each member of our family has a personal relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ, there is a unique bond, a bond that is able to transcend the hardships of this world. Therefore, despite the shock, terror, and pain of the evening, we chose to pray together as a family, and also to sing praises and worship to the Lord. I am amazed that we were able to stay composed enough to sing together, but it was wonderful and refreshing to do so, and as I said, it set the mood for the whole process of battling cancer. Singing together, brought confirmation to the question of whether the cancer was brought on as a means to draw attention to an issue in an individual's life, or more to draw each of us closer to unity with each other and Christ. Overall, I think both have been accomplished; a fact that, hopefully, should be exemplified throughout my writing.


Despite the first few weeks of the cancer process involving the most action, that period of time stands out to me as the time where the least amount of emotional and spiritual activity. There is almost an inverse relationship for how those two factors have played out in my life. It is during the down time, where I mull most frequently over deep emotional ideas, and struggle in maintaining a trusting and faithful relationship to God. But during periods of frequent activity, I am the most trusting of my God and willing to just simply walk and obey. Additionally, I am relatively devoid of real emotional changes while I am kept busy.


Therefore, it goes to say that for those first few weeks after discovering the cancer, nothing too dramatic occurred within me. I accepted the news for what it was, and simply waited to see what would follow. For the first few months even, I maintained a fairly even balance of things, with not a whole lot going on. There were a few key points during the process, but I will highlight those in later posts. For now, I will leave you with knowing that my typical schedule involved attending school, doing homework, cleaning up around the house, visiting the hospital, and scattered periods of free time throughout that schedule.