I admit to being a bit of a TV junkie. Not a couch potato. I don’t just sit and randomly flip, watching whatever mundane nonsense happens to land on my screen. (As an aside, I have noticed from occasional commercials that I do happen to see that there seems to be a trend toward stranger and meaner reality shows. I can’t for the life of me understand who would want to watch an exterminator work. Or a guy who shoots wild hogs. Or a nasty lady who “teaches” dance by abusing little girls and yelling at their moms. And don’t get me started on toddlers and tiaras… I have a soapbox and I’m not afraid to use it.) But I have my shows that I love, and thanks to my DVR, I can watch what I like, when I like. I often miss a show when it’s popular and catch it much later in syndication. Part of the reason is I am not all that patient. I can’t watch for an hour, wait a week, watch another hour, and let it take months to develop character and story lines that interest me. Occasionally a show is good enough to grab me and I will actually wait for each week, but I much prefer to be able to DVR multiple episodes at once and binge.
My current guilty pleasure is Grey’s Anatomy. (Like I said, I’m behind everybody else.) SPOILER ALERT – If you haven’t watched the show and intend to sometime, stop reading. I am going to discuss important plot stuff.
Izzie Stevens is a main character. She’s young and beautiful (of course, it’s TV.) She’s a surgeon (of course, it’s a doctor show.) And she just found out she has stage IV cancer.
I lost it. I totally lost it. I reacted worse than when I found out I had cancer. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s safer to cry at movies and TV and books? I just sobbed. Later I said to Sam, “She’s young and strong and she’s a doctor and all her friends are doctors, and if she dies…”
I’m crying just writing this. Isn’t that stupid? I’m well. I don’t have cancer anymore. But I don’t know if the fear ever completely leaves.
I trust in God. I know my life is in his hands, and I could live to be 90, or I could fall overboard from a cruise ship tomorrow. (Ok, that would take some doing.) I know it will be whatever he wishes, for his glory. But I’m still human, and I’m still afraid of having cancer again. I guess every so often something reminds me how afraid.
I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand and say to you, ‘Don’t be afraid; I will help you.’ Isaiah 41:13