January opened with another surgery for extracting tumors. It would close with a painful outpatient surgery to remove a non-cancerous growth on my belly. They didn't deaden the entire area apparently.
The church had been continually offering up prayers on my behalf. I was most appreciative of the kindness, but I didn't want to be the "sick guy". I was routinely asked by many how I was and too often I told them. I was the sick guy.
Sitting quietly most of the time in Bible class, then worship and out the door I went rarely speaking to people. Social anxiety was and is a terrible thing. Anyone who has it knows what I'm talking about. An irrational fear immobilizing those in its path. The beeline to the car couldn't have been straighter.
All my life I've encountered this curse, but never a name attached to it until my late 40s. A perpetual sense of unease which escalates around people to the point of acute neuroticism. Some seem, friends included, to not believe me or discount it. It can be hidden by overcompensating. However there never are enough valid excuses for the missed gatherings, parties, work get togethers and pretty much anything involving groups of people, small or large.
Spring granted me another surgery for extracting tumors. Did I mention I now had cancer of the urethra in addition to bladder cancer? Yep. Healing from such activities was not pleasant. It was not. Scar tissue was building up. Not a good thing when it comes to number one moments.
In June we went with another of those highly desired surgeries. October would be the same. Over and over tumors had been scraped out of my bladder and urethra. But June also reminded me via an endoscopic exam that years of pancreatitis had done a nice sculpting job on the organ.
Asymmetrical and having the "fish mouth" opening, I was highly probable for getting pancreatic cancer. Lovely. I heard tales of Whipple surgery in which the pancreas is removed, but my oncologist noted there had been no substantial change in three years, so I got a reprieve until next year's examination. I liked the reprieve.
October would be the final surgery of the year. More tumor extractions from poisoned areas. To say I was sick of it all would be an understatement. I recall telling God in June if this is how things are going to be (lose my pancreas along with repercussions of cancer) to just go ahead and take me. After all, what is the point of living if its quality has been discarded?
Wait a minute, this was how I was physically. But was I just a physical being? Wasn't I a spiritual one too? Aren't humans spiritual beings whether that is acknowledged and engaged in or not? Fish function best in water, birds function best in the air, mammals function best on land but where do humans' function best? What's optimal? In a relationship with God.
That's my experience in life and the experiences of many other countless people. Drugs won't substitute for it, drinking won't, sex won't, a job won't. What will substitute for God? Nothing. We live in a world gone mad. We live in an ungodly world.
God had been with me all through 2025. Slowly but surely the time we spent together transformed my thinking and my actions. In retrospect it is amazing what took place. Social anxiety was dissipating and I was enjoying being around people for the first time in my life. I looked forward to church and seeing others who also sought what I was seeking, a real relationship with God.
2025 would be a year of wonderful closeness to God. Funny how much easier to do this was when utterly broken. It had been a year from hell, but more importantly it had been a year from heaven. The best way to look when one is in the ditch is up. I was blessed to do so.
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