But this morning's a new day. And I've finally had an early night. So I only sleep half an hour past my alarm. And of course, I'm late. Very late. About 45 minutes late for my biopsy at the hospital. But, as is frequently the case when one attends these kinds of appointments, the doctor is running far, far later. The elderly lady next to me says as much as we sit together in the waiting room. For an hour and a half! “When you come into a public hospital, you never leave,” she says, shaking her head ominously. Clearly she'd seen one or two specialists in her time.
Now she's complaining that she's freezing cold. I don't really feel cold. But they've put us both in nothing but a hospital gown and stuck us in... well, I say it's a waiting room, but really its two chairs in a bare, drafty corridor, just opposite a door with a big yellow radioactive symbol on it. From time to time a nurse pokes his head out the door and yells a name down the corridor. Nobody answers. In fact, nobody else is anywhere nearby. So he closes the door again and we're left alone.
A nurse finally comes to take my obs in preparation. But first, she insists that the old lady and I swap seats. I gather up my things and take a seat in the other chair, not 2 feet away. As soon as my arse hits the seat, a freezing cold draft whips right up my gown and sends a chill through my bones. I can feel Rodney retreating into his shell. I see now why the old lady was complaining.
Eventually its my turn. So they get me in there, lying face down in the scanner. And they ask me a million times my name, my date of birth, and what procedure I'm having done today. I guess I'm grateful for the checks and balances, but it does become tedious. There seems to be about 10 people in the room, all scurrying about doing very important looking things. I wonder what on earth they'd all been doing for the hour and a half I'd been sitting just outside. A nurse is marking me up on my back, noting the place where they'll need to put the needle. I'm praying. Well, I'm trying to. I've been far from God lately. Far from the scriptures, far from prayer. But I recognise the gravity of this moment, and it seems essential that I commit the outcome into the hands of the living God.
The last scan had shown a 3cm x 4cm mass right at the top of my left lung. Significantly bigger than the other masses in my lungs. So they're going in there with a big coring needle to take tissue samples to test and culture in the lab. And the specialists- all 5 of them- expect that this will be a tumour. Since November last year, I've had to sit in front of some of the most learned medical minds in the world and listen to them tell me that widespread cancer in my lungs is killing me. They had no cure to offer me, but their poison might buy me some time. Every single one, without exception, I've looked square in the eyes and told them they were dead wrong. At times it descended into frantic pleas to be taken seriously. The stress of it all has been indescribable. But this biopsy is the moment of truth.
So they leave the room, and they take the first set of CT images. This will help them position the needle properly, and determine the correct angle for insertion to avoid my arteries. I'm lying there for quite a while. But they've put a blanket over me, and I'm lying face down on comfortable pillows, so my eyelids are slowly beginning to join in the prayers of my spirit. “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”
After a while, the doctor comes in and stands over me. I'm still lying on my stomach, looking up awkwardly into the fluorescent light. Two nurses come and stand beside him, one looking sternly over each of his shoulders. “Bradley, what treatment are you having at the moment?” he asks matter of factly. “Well, nothing for cancer. But I am taking an antibiotic for a gastro bug I had last week.” “That'll be it.” he says. “Bradley, the mass in your lung is almost completely gone. Its too small for us to biopsy. The antibiotic has shrunk it. You have an infection in your lungs. And furthermore, the rest of your lungs are looking much clearer as well.”
This is it! These are the words I've waited to hear for eight long months. For eight long months I've fought against the apathy of specialists. My GP- a child of the Kingdom of Light, a man of integrity, a man of wisdom- Ian. Ian and I have never given up. We have worked as hard as we possibly can, through long illness and late nights in the surgery, half hour appointments extending to an hour. Never a cent has been asked for. And months of my own research, standing up for myself in the face of these powerful medical demi-gods.
But finally, today, I hear these words I've waited so many months to hear. And I realise immediately that this story has all the hallmarks of God's handiwork stamped all over it. It is God who controls my life, and my body, and this cosmos. And when God's Spirit moves, God approves of the trusting, and confounds the wise.
Time and space are short here to tell the whole story. But following steadfast, sustained encouragement from many fellow disciples over a number of months, I'm hoping to put my hand to writing a book about my journey. I don't yet know exactly how God will choose to tell my story. But I know that its a story of redemption found in his Son, Jesus Christ. So please pray for me in that. And know that God is still working powerfully.
For now, another procedure will be required to determine exactly what infection I have. Something bacterial and weird by the sound of it. And then I'll need a course of the correct antibiotics, since the one I'm taking is used for gastro bugs, and not lung infections. Once the infection has a chance to clear up, it will become clear if there is any cancer in my lungs at all. I have a sneaking suspicion the extent of God's healing might surprise one or two people. But not me. God has healed my mind and my spirit, and I have no doubt that God will also heal my body.
I don't have a timeframe on any of this. That seems to be the way God has chosen to operate at many places along the road. But I'll be doing everything possible to get it done as soon as possible.
Tomorrow morning will be a new day, and a new opportunity to glimpse the Father's awesome glory; to delve into the Spirit's unfathomable power; and to walk faithfully with my example, teacher, friend, redeemer and Lord Jesus Christ.