“Lord, please have mercy…” is a prayer I say under my breath every moment I have to myself. Which means I think about death too often during the day. It is something that looms over me unconsciously. I keep myself busy with everyday matters to distract myself from the what-ifs and doubts, but the possibility of the shortness of my life impedes my productivity and mental motivation. I feel stuck and I want to get out of this rut.
It’s been nearly two years. Sometimes I think how fast time has gone by, but most of the time I think how much longer this battle must go on. Some say the average lifespan of stage IV patients is 30 months. I am beginning to see why. It’s physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually draining, and you wonder what more you have left. But there’s more. There’s always more, until the end I suppose. Time really tests your limits: the uncertainty, the ongoing treatments and side-effects, the pleas, the prayers, the tears, the disguised smiles, the heartaches, the regrets, the physical and mental effort it takes to hide my true state, sleepless nights, weary days, everything rolled up and bearing down, the weight of it all, on repeat. Two years and I’m starting to feel it; but I know I can’t give in, I can’t. I’m fighting against the odds and I’m fighting every day with all of the above. I want to conquer this battle once and for all, or I want to be able to fight for fifty more years.
Some might wonder, “Why? Why do you want to live?” and I’ve asked myself the same question.
1) I haven’t really lived for God and honored Him the way that I have wanted: I haven’t matured, served, sacrificed, shared the gospel–not even the bare amount of what I desire, 2) I want to serve the people that I love and love the people that I don’t, and 3) I want to be the mother for my daughter. No person in this world will love her more than I do, and judging by her threenager personality and what she might be like in her real teenage years, I don’t know how anyone who loves her even slightly less (e.g., her father) could deal with her fierceness. She is so stubborn and rebellious like me. Her father may know how to instill fatherly-fear (for now), but he is impatient and does not know how the female mind works. It will take a diamond to shape another diamond. I am her mother and I want to be her mother.
Heaven is a glorious place and of course I prefer it over this sin-ridden corrupt world, but leaving now would feel like getting fired from a job for which I was recently hired.
So I fight on…
Lord, have mercy, please give me strength. May I live for You today, tomorrow, and every day.