Update: Part 2

A little late, perhaps, but for those of you who do not already know, I wish to share some good news! I have received the lab results back following my surgery, and all is now well and clear, as I have been deemed “cancer-free!”

There will be steps to follow such as monitoring to make sure if it does resurface, we can again catch it early. However, since I am leaving South Africa soon and this will be an ongoing process, I have decided this will wait until I return to the USA in March.

Thank you to all for the love, support, encouragement and prayers! I’m calling this an early Christmas gift. :)

Holiday

Today is a public holiday here in South Africa, which to me sounds like an invitation to just “be.” I've had lots of necessary time to rest lately, and now I think my body is transitioning from needing this rest into just really liking the rest and extra sleep, even if I don't need it.

But today, I don’t mind.

So as I write this (on my iPod), I'm lying on my bed with all the windows around me open. Light music is playing in the background. Fresh, cool air is pouring in: I wonder if it's going to rain? If not today then likely tomorrow. I look up and see purple: my mosquito net is untidily swept behind me, not serving it's purpose, of course, but then again on a carefree day like today, who cares?

There is work I could or probably should be doing, but instead, I am doing this: "work" I believe to be good for my soul. It's been a hectic couple of weeks and it's nice to have peace, quiet and rest amidst a day when I'm finally feeling alright. I'm now only waiting on peace of mind that I hope will come with lab results on Monday. ... But that's not today. For today, or at least for this morning, I'm on holiday…

Update

It has been a while since I’ve updated, and much has happened.

I would like to begin where my last post left off: I am thankful for the many people who read my posts here, and (whether they read them or not) for the countless people all over the world who pray for me.

The past two weeks have been a bit of a roller-coaster. In short, what began as a routine procedure to have a mole removed, turned out to not be so “routine.”

In fact, when I saw the dermatologist, he told me he wasn’t sure it was a mole at all, but rather a skin growth that wasn’t anything to be concerned about. But at my request, he cut it out just to “be safe,” as it was irritating me. This may have been the best decision of my life.

I left with a promise that the results would be phoned to me within about a week. Two days later, I got that phone call that everyone dreads, “Ms. Tyler, the doctor would like to see you as soon as possible. Could you come in within the next hour, or first thing in the morning?”

As I was only a couple of blocks away, I canceled my other appointment for the afternoon and went straight there; the last thing I needed was to worry about such an appointment until the next morning! Unfortunately, the doctor presented me with the very news I dreaded most: the mole he removed was malignant; I had melanoma. The verb here is important, though: “had.” We caught it very, very early, and due to the size, depth, rate of growth, etc., they were mostly sure it had all, already been removed.

As I took in the news, the doctor took the liberty of making an appointment for me: I needed to see a surgeon immediately to have a larger area excised as a precautionary measure: to do so is the only way we can be sure it had all been removed. Because the growth was on my face (right temple), I would be going to a plastic surgeon. Hopefully, this would be the best way to reduce scaring.

I met with the surgeon 5 days later, and watched panic move across his face as he read my lab results as sent by the referring doctor. With a great calm and incredible confidence, he was stern but clear: this could not wait. He checked his schedule and seemed to rearrange a few things to work it out: he would operate the next day.

The operation was a bit bigger than anticipated. The doctor cut out an area just over an inch in diameter and 7mm deep (I didn’t know there was that much skin/tissue in that area!). I was awake for the whole procedure and would be lying if I told you it were pleasant, but it certainly could have been worse. 2 hours and about 50 stitches (internal and external) later, I emerged with a sideways “V”-shaped battle wound covered in layers of bandages wrapped all the way around my head.

4 days later, and I’m feeling worlds better. We’ve removed the giant bandages (now just taping over the sutures), and the doctor is very, very pleased with how it is healing. Amidst celebrations of good healing comes a celebration that I have maintained movement on the right side of my face, which was questionable because he had to cut through areas with critical nerves, leaving a chance I’d lose movement on the right side of my face.

I’m still battling exhaustion from all I’ve undergone in the past couple of weeks (did I mention we moved in the middle of this?), but as my headache gets lighter and the swelling goes down, I’m feeling better by the day.

Later this week I should be able to get the stitches taken out, at which time the lab results should also be back. I’m praying for good news and that this part of the journey has come to an end here. Then, post-holidays, I will move forward with plans to have all my moles mapped and skin evaluated, as if the melanoma chooses to return, I want to catch it as early then as I did this time.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my favorite (secular) holiday. It is a holiday that traditionally comes from a historical celebration of the first harvest after settlers arrived in the “Promised Land” that is now the United States. On this day, we celebrate the first harvest by gathering around a table filled with lots of seasonal foods such as pumpkin, squash, sweet potatoes and, of course, turkey.

It has become my favorite holiday because there are so few expectations on it. No gifts to give, no huge preparations to make. Just family, friends and food. It doesn’t get any better than that!

I have made it my tradition that, in the season of being “thankful” on “Thanksgiving,” I make sure to record at least one thing I am thankful for every day in the month of November (Thanksgiving is always the last Thursday in November). Also, as we gather with friends to share in a harvest-themed feast, we go around and each share at least one thing we are thankful for. Sometimes it feels a little cheesy or cliche, but really, truly, we all have much to be thankful for, and spent too little time expressing that gratitude.

So this year, as I am far, far away from home and many other Americans, I have done my bit not to let this holiday just pass me by. I was overwhelmed with messages wishing me well on Thanksgiving, and greatly appreciated the thoughts and efforts of especially my friends here in South Africa.

I spent Thanksgiving day with my “family” here in South Africa, and while we didn’t share in a traditionally Thanksgiving meal, somehow, I suppose with a bit of subconscious effort, we did share in an “American” meal: I made (ostrich) burgers, salad, corn on the cob for dinner… and even apple pie for dessert. Certainly a first for a Thanksgiving day meal, but delightfully delicious all the same.

Then came the next day: Black Friday. While Americans all over were out shopping and kicking off the Christmas season, I was preparing for a day-late Thanksgiving feast with friends. Kyle (a fellow American working for the Methodist Church of Southern Africa) and I had planned for it and together joined forces to prepare a feast! We had it all: turkeys (3!), stuffing, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, jello salad, sweet corn… and of course pumpkin and apple pies.

At first we thought we’d have too much food, but it turned out we had underestimated the ability of our friends to eat! It was a great feast, a wonderful celebration, and remains my favorite holiday no matter where in the world I am. And today, two days after the official “Thanksgiving” day, I am overwhelmed with the number of things and people in my life I have to be thankful for.

Kick-off!!! Go #USA!!!!

Self Care

Sometimes, an excuse is all thats necessary.

Sometimes, that excuse is as simple as, “its good for my soul.”

Which, I suppose, is to say that I need no excuse at all.

What am I talking about, you wonder? A reason to go. To get away from the city and find peace under the large oak trees at a campground near Stellenbosch.

Why wait for a weekend or a holiday or other “reason” to go, when my very-flexible schedule allows me to go on a Wednesday night?

So that’s what we did. We left after Lisa finished work on Wednesday, and we both went straight back to work when we arrived back in Cape Town early Thursday afternoon.

The weather was perfectly stunning, the timing was right, and we kept reminding each other that this much fun was okay - even in the middle of the week.

Time well spent, and indeed, it was “good for my soul.”

Jesus Is Our Backhoe

"Jesus is our Backhoe"
If I were to title it, that would have been the title of my sermon this morning.

Based on my experience of life in America where everyone knows what a backhoe is, it made for a great (albeit comical when it stands alone!) visionary tool. So yea! I quite like it when things work out like this.

The problem with this is: Context. I didn’t realize that no one here knew what a backhoe was! After the first service, someone asked me and told me they thought it was a bird. oops! (Fortunately the way the example was staged, it seemed to work fine even without knowing exactly what a “backhoe” is).

So, lesson learned. I easily adapted and made due for the second service, eliminating surprise when the example “clicked” better for them.

So today comes the age-old lesson of not taking advantage of what people know… and today it comes with a bit of reminder that I’m “not in Kansas anymore.”

A year later, and I’m still learning. and to be honest, that’s my cause to smile today. I’m grateful for this small reminder of ways that we are living different but also such very similar lives. And I’m grateful for the ways it has reminded me of ways I’ve been blessed by this community that I now claim as my own. So much so, that sometimes I forget I once wasn’t, and perhaps they won’t understand the same references my church at “home” would.

If I’m going to forget anything, I’m grateful for this kind of “forgetfulness.” and I’m grateful for being able to share in worship with this great community.

All Saints Day

Since Monday, I have been thinking about a tradition or “holiday” that I love in the church. A tradition that will be celebrated in churches throughout the world, including United Methodist Churches, this coming Sunday. The first Sunday of November is known as “All Saints Day.”

All Saints Day is a day when we as a church recognize the saints who have come before us. Often, we read the names of loved ones who have passed away in the previous year. I have taken part in All Saints Day practices from lighting candles to writing names on a strip of cloth that was later weaved together and used as an alter cloth.

It is a day to lift up and remember those who have come before us and led the way for us as Christians, as a body of believers, who claim to be, in the words of the Apostles Creed, a part of the “communion of saints.” “Communion of Saints,” of course, referring simply to a community made up of past, present and future disciples of Christ.

So tomorrow is All Saints Day, and I’m preaching. All week I have been battling with what to preach about. The Methodist Church here does not celebrate All Saints Day. Sure, I recognize that this does not mean the congregation would not appreciate a once-off celebration of the saints among us here. The problem is deeper than that, though: the problem is that I am aware I’m being called to preach on something else.

So the battle continues. I have two sermons: the one I want to preach, and the one that came from the lectionary text.

I have been cognitively aware of the difference in these two, affirmed now by the fact that the one that’s drawn from the text is finally coming to be, while the one I initially wanted to preach has come to a standstill and feels a bit un-inspired.

So there you have it: I feel a bit as if this week I have been wresting with these texts as Jacob wrestled with God, and am grateful that in the end, I am not the one who has won. I am sure this is not the first time such a match has taken place, and I know it will not be the last. I just pray that the next time such a match takes place, the winner is as clear as it has been today.