Dance in the Rain

It wasn’t long until I found myself sitting in another hospital appointment room. This time a new place, the Royal Marsden in Chelsea to plan radiotherapy. I sat in the meeting room listening to the doctor accompanied with two on rotation telling me all about the procedure and benefits. As a result of getting bacterial meningitis, having two invasive surgeries, the condition that makes these tumours grow and my age meant that I qualified to receive radiotherapy through Cyberknife. Cyberknife has pinpoint accuracy and causes less damage to the surrounding brain tissue, it's the latest technology that has saved the lives of many.

But my heart couldn't help but sink. They asked for my consent to book me in as soon as a slot was opened, but I just cried. I covered my face with my hand and just sat there and cried. The room was still with the only sound of my sobbing in the room. I had just managed to reach the end of this storm and I was about to head into another. I felt like I hadn’t had the chance to catch my breath, to straighten myself up to face this new rush of crashing waves.

The doctor gave me space to grieve in that moment and gently asked again if they had my consent, my mum's hand rested on my leg, I pulled myself together in that moment, consented and signed the necessary papers. They sympathised with my recent events I had just encountered, but they strongly recommended that I get treatment as soon as possible so that these tumours don’t grow to a point that it causes me physical harm. Those tears were the last tears shed over my hurt and pain from my second stint in hospital. I don’t spend long in the realm of ‘self-pity.’ I allow myself to feel the pain, sorrow, and sadness, but I am quick to resolve my heart, get up and keep moving forward. I remember God's faithfulness in keeping. My brother got me a poster after the first surgery that said ‘Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, but learning how to dance in the rain.’ (Vivian Greene, 2006) It was time to start dancing again.

It was nearly Christmas and I had a few weeks before treatment would happen early 2019. I chose to live, rest and recover in full and enjoy the holidays with my family and dear friends from America.

While all this was going on with me, at the same time my grandmother was admitted to hospital with a stroke the weekend I was admitted in November. My mum's heart was torn. Sadly, my grandfather went into the hospital shortly after with pneumonia. Both her parents needed her more than me. My heart was sad to see her go as she is one of the strongest women I know, a warrior by my side.

But I was still surrounded by a loving family, who could still take care of me. It was a time of growing in a way that I didn’t know I needed.

The first day my mum was in the States, she went to the high street to get dinner. On her way, she slipped on the icy road and broke her arm. It was hard for us all to be apart at this time when we needed each other, but God stretches across all time and space. He meets our needs and never leaves us. When you're in the thick of the messy parts of life it's hard to see the end. But we rallied, surrounded ourselves with close friends and each other and sought God in the despair, we all started to dance in the rain.