A Pink Ribbon Journey is an honest account of one woman's battle with breast cancer and the spiritual growth she gained because of it. Through her faith she gained peace and understanding despite her many heartbreaks and disppointments. Wendy Clarke openly shares her deepest thoughts, fears and hopes while describing cancer and treatment in sharp detail. Her story is one of finding peace with God in the midst of turmoil and sharing that with others.
A Pink Ribbon Journey
By Wendy ClarkeAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Wendy Clarke
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4634-3619-3Chapter One
Life Before Breast Cancer
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. (Matthew 11:28-29)
Before I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my life had been spiralling out of control. I had numerous problems and issues, which resulted in a deep depression and a unhealthy serving of anxiety. The holiday season of 2007 had culminated into one of the most depressing, confusing and desperate times of my life. This Christmas season was even worse than the Christmas when my father was dying and the Christmas my daughter was born.
Please do not misunderstand. Giving birth to my daughter was an answer to a lifelong prayer, but her arrival into this world was a frightening and uncertain experience. She was born with a rare condition that seriously threatened her life. She was born with a diaphragmatic hernia. At some point during the pregnancy, her bowel had moved up through her diaphragm and into her left lung cavity. The doctors did not even know if she had a left lung. She was given a 20% chance of surviving, and was immediately air lifted to the B.C. Children's Hospital in Vancouver. Her father and I were both shocked and terrified. I was dumbfounded as to why God would give me the daughter I prayed for so much and then just take her away, but God did something amazing for me that I will never forget.
As two female nurses were wheeling me from the recovery room to a private room, I pulled the blanket over my head wishing the world would end. As I did so I heard a masculine voice inside my head say," Don't worry. She's going to be okay." I knew I was given divine comfort, and I hung onto those words until the day she came home all put back together. Through this experience people offered me all the usual kind of clichés, "God never gives you more than you can handle." "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." "Yada, yada, yada." The only words that helped me through this nightmare were the words I had heard in my head. Obviously, Melissa is a healthy girl today and has not had any health issues since. As tough as that Christmas season was, and the Christmas season of 1997 when I watched my father die from leukemia, this Christmas season was my most desperate, and in many ways my most depressing.
Depression is one of the worst realities of the human experience. Depression can cripple a person's life and can destroy families. My depression was no different. My spirit had become crippled to the point I no longer knew who I was, or who I was supposed to be. My family and my life were falling apart before my very eyes, and I was helpless to do anything about it. During my depression, I prayed often throughout each day for some kind of help. All my problems and issues grew larger and larger as each day passed. I was beyond feeling overwhelmed. I was hopeless and desperate.
The first major problem in my life was my job. I worked at a care home as a residential care worker. The clients I served were developmentally challenged, and they were great. What special and wonderful people they were, and I enjoyed working with them. Often they would surprise me by how smart they really were. They taught me much in their own unique ways. My duties included personal hygiene, cooking, housekeeping, laundry, administering medications, and computer work. Sometimes it seemed like such a thankless job, but whenever I felt this way, I would remember Matthew 25:40 "I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine you did for me."
This job was an excellent way to serve God. The clients were wonderful people, the wages were good, and the benefits were great as well. Sounds like a great job, but there were numerous problems with this job. In reality, this job was less about serving the clients and more about surviving the never-ending negative politics between staff members and at times, management. Bad politics almost always start at the top and trickle all the way down to the bottom. There really were some excellent coworkers I enjoyed working with, but the majority of the staff were brutal to each other. The atmosphere of the job was one of fear and paranoia. I allowed this job to take over my entire life. All the fear and paranoia I experienced at work followed me home every day. I was exhausted after each shift and all I could do was sleep when I got home.
The most stressful part of my life was the most important part of my life. Like many depressed women, my marriage was in a state of chaos. For three years, I had been broken-hearted about my marriage. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. Randal and I had numerous issues between us and a great lack of communication. Like so many couples, we started out so well. We both had a great deal of respect for each other and treated each other like gold. It was terribly heartbreaking for me to accept the fact that we had gone from such happiness to such deep resentments.
Meeting Randal was one of the most exciting times of my life. I was like a lovesick teenager all over again. The butterflies would flutter about in my stomach whenever he was near. He reminded me of my father in many ways, but what really attracted me to him was his sense of humour. I relished his ability to make me laugh, and that made me feel like the world was not as scary as I thought it to be. Randal had made me his priority and made sure everyone knew it. He was everything I had wanted in a husband, and when he asked me to marry him I was over the moon. I was the happiest I had been in years.
The best part of being married to Randal was he had never been married before and had no children of his own. I am no fool. Randal was 40 years of age when we met and I knew he had other women in his past, but I was the chosen one. I was the one he wanted to be his wife, and that made me feel very special. We had many things in common and we both shared a sense of adventure. We were good for each other; each one concerned about the other. I would easily get lost in his big blue eyes and his face would delight me. Every night when we were in bed knowing he was beside me gave me a great sense of security and it was my favourite place in the whole world.
We had evolved from a happily married couple that had great respect for each other into two people that were no more than roommates, no longer getting along and seemingly hating one another. We had grown so far apart and no longer had healthy, open communication. In fact, we no longer had any communication left at all. For a significant period, we did not even share the same bed, and this made me feel extremely lonely and rejected. The place I had felt most secure and my favourite place in the whole world was gone. I still loved my husband too much to give up and I prayed for my marriage all the time. I missed my best friend desperately and wanted him back.
Marriage is a two way street and I played an equal role in our stagnant marriage. One big mistake I made was allowing the stress, fear, and paranoia of my job to come between Randal and me. I allowed my job to affect all aspects of my life and all my relationships. Another mistake I made was spending money. Whenever I felt hurt,...
