My last entry was unclear. After I posted “Who Cares?” my wife asked me if I was OK? “It sounds kind of depressing.” I knew then that I blew it. Now to clarify.

One sign of a manipulating martyr is when they moan “No one cares for me!” to see who runs and responds to their unending woes and needy ego. I’m on to their repellent ways and hope that I did not sound anything like that.

On the contrary, I know who cares and how much and I’m adjusting.

“I got this.” It’s more that a guy-thing, or confession of a control freak, but all my life I’ve tried to be a do-it-yourselfer. If it needs to be fixed- back off, let me at it. If I don’t know how, I’ll read about it, ask around, and try it again. I think I’m being independant, productive, thrifty, creative, useful. But prideful.

Then comes cancer. I can’t fix this. I can’t see it or reach it or remove it. I need help. I surrender to receiving care. Care from physicians and care from others.

This is not passive surrender so I am doing everything I can to follow the doctors advice and avoiding anything that could slow progress.

If I were totally prideful this would be humiliating. But, thank God, I understand what’s happening in my life. I am being pruned. (John 15 but more on that later.)

And the role of family and friends; “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2 “Love one another” says Jesus in John 13.

Rather than humiliation, this illness, and the response of so many people, is humbling. At first it was awkward and uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of prayers. “Wait, what’s my name doing on that list!?” It has forced me to rest and accept and receive.

So, thank you all for your kind words and thoughts, your encouragement, your prayers. They are all priceless beyond words.

I am in no way depressed or hopeless or even discouraged. I understand chemotherapy is damaging me and I’ll be in rough shape for a few months. But I look forward to April when my hair sprouts back and I can eat bacon again.