Five
years ago my ovarian cancer diagnosis slapped me in the face. After initial
moments of my world crashing in and consuming me, I pulled up my big girl
stretchy pants and prayed. Then I slapped back. I decided to focus on the
positive, confess that it was God in control - not me and make the best of each
day.
First,
I determined to be joyful that my stint at the gym for that past year had paid off. I’d jiggled
and gyrated 23lbs off my middle aged body and because of that I was able to
feel an odd lumpy area in my abdomen. That forced me to high-tail it to the
medical wise ones for further investigation. Left any later, they tell me
things might have been a lot different. They found two honking tumours on each
ovary. I only felt one. Second, I was glad that the whirlwind began. Before I
knew it I had surgery, chemotherapy, lost my hair, lost my dignity, fought the
good fight and won!
‘Course, given the whack of steroids that accompanied the bittersweet
poison, the exhaustion and the menopause, I gained all 23lbs back and then
some. I blamed my weight gain on anything my addled chemo brain could muster.
But
now that I have reached the magic ‘five year’ mark, I have run out of excuses.
I needed to do something radical. Like exercise. So I did it. I took the
plunge. I signed on at the local gym once again.
How
thrilled I was that it was 24 hour access, too, this time. My plan was to sneak in at
opportune times when no one was there. I feared any young buck guffawing at me
and my jiggles. I wanted to become a new me again without anyone watching me
sweat. I needed free reign to grunt, to move from one torture device to another
and to scream in agony if I had to.
It’s
taken a while but this past Saturday, I found the best time to be alone at the
gym. 12:30 am. All was well for the first 30 minutes on the tread mill. Then I
decided to switch the station on the TV. Not sure if was my heavy breathing or
grunting but I needed to up the volume. The temperamental remote didn’t seem to be communicating nicely with the TV so I hopped off the still-moving treadmill and got
closer. Presto, it worked like a charm.
I
headed back to the treadmill and hopped back on. Within a few seconds my life
flashed before me. My middle age body was catapulted against the partition and
quickly dropped to the floor. There wasn't a lot of room between the row of
beastly treadmills and the back so I was pinned against the wall
with my knees in prayer position – burning like rubber as the conveyor belt
continued to turn at level 5. I could almost sense God shaking his head at His crazy clumsy female creation now curled in a fetal position, who always manages to
land herself in immature situations.
I
didn't know whether to laugh or cry but I eventually untangled myself and
smacked the ‘stop’ button.
Romans 8:35
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?
Glynis Belec, a freelance writer, author and private tutor,
faces each day with hope and thanksgiving. She rejoices daily that she is on
the right side of the grass and counting blessings is getting to be a daily
addiction. Glynis loves capturing life in words and can’t wait for tomorrow so
she can feel inspired all over again. gbelec@bell.net
3 comments:
It is your freshness, the childlikeness, albeit you describe as clumsy and unladylike, that makes you so endearing, Glynis. Please don't change, or at least, give me notice if you plan to :-). Blessings on your day.
You go girl! Don't let anything stand in your way. Let them stare. Let them laugh. Doesn't matter. It's a huge step towards a healthier you - never let anyone stand in the way of that.
Great stuff, Glynis! Cracked my face, an' that can take some doin'! :)
Your life message and experience of God's mercy and grace in time of trouble shine through, to encourage us in our journey.
Thank you. ~~+~~
Post a Comment