As my body began to repair itself, I slowly started to feel myself coming back together.
My cancer was arrested in the lymph system. And the new cells were replacing the ones that
had been eliminated by the harsh chemicals. The experience was like a new birth, feeling
myself regenerate and regain strength. My mother chased me around the house with food,
lovingly coaxing me to eat fresh fruit, and healthy things. My sister helped at my house,
by cleaning and painting the interior. My father helped Larry with the packing and moving
of his things. I was allowed to make brief visits to both places, but instructed not to
do anything but watch them.

I looked forward to the day when my hair would start to grow again, promising myself to
never have it cut again. The health of my body, mind and spirit were returning. I made
the journey back to the clinic and hospital, where I was being treated, to be measured and
marked up for my two months of daily radiation. I was brought to a room full of machines
that would help calculate just how the radiation beams would be aimed and reflected, in
order to treat the site where my breast cancer had been. I was put on a table, positioned
and carefully x-rayed, then marked with black ink. It was explained to me that lead blocks
would be fabricated, customised just for me, to be used to aim and reflect the beams of
radiation toward the proper areas of my body. The black lines that were painted on my neck,
chest and armpit, would stay on during all of my treatments to help the technicians line up
the machines that would send the beams of radiation into my tissues.

I was now very grateful that I had completed chemotherapy. And I looked forward to being
done with the radiation. The morning I arrived at the hospital and was directed to the
basement level, where radiology was located, I had doned my short wig, and was feeling halfway
cheerful. The nurses were so attentive and caring, as I was told to sit in the waiting area.
There was a TV, magazines, books on the topic of cancer, and fresh coffee and cookies. There
were fresh flowers in a vase on a small table, and a collection of inspirational booklets on
the subjects of illness, recovery, and death. I immediately felt the warmth and caring of this
place. My appointment went by quickly, there was an exam, then my treatment.

I felt an inspiration to pray during the time each beam would be administered. And since
I was to hold perfectly still after being positioned, I thought this would help me to focus.
The technicians would come to change my position, and the angle of the machines, and table
I lay on, after each x-ray. Then I would wait for them to develop it, to make sure the beam
had hit it's mark. I was repositioned 5 times, and had no problems. I left, feeling this stage
of treatment would go along like a breeze.

The daily visits to radiology went well, and I had weekends off to rest from the effects.
But there didn't seem to be any side effects. I had absolutely no problems. My family seemed
so relieved that I was doing much better. My dad would drive me to my treatments everyday,
except Friday, when Larry would take off of work to drive me. Life was growing more normal.
And after I completed my radiation, and could wash those black lines from my skin, I felt
like I'd come home from the war. All indications of illness were gone, almost. My surgery
scars were minimal, and I was getting a little fuzz on my head. Life was good, once again.
But I was not finished with the doctors. I would have regular checkups and be on oral
medication for the following five years.

Next March, that time will be completed. My exams, and bloodtests have remained
satisfactory. I have had some side effects from my medication. And the chemo has
brought on an early menopause. But life is good. Larry and I are home together. I
have planted a yard full of flowers and trees. I don't glow in the dark, like I thought
I would. And my hair has grown past my shoulders. I have a new confidence in my endurance.
And something happened inside of me during the whole process of illness and recovery. It
happened to emerge, one day, when I was feeling sort of misunderstood and low. I stood
in front of the mirror, tears welling up in my eyes, as I started to feel like a failure.
Then, suddenly, something surfaced from the depths of my being. A voice from within said
firmly, "You are not bad, you are not a failure! You are a strong, courageous woman. You have
battled a deadly disease,and endured much. You are special! God loves you, and I love you...."
then I heard the words repeated by my own voice. "I love you. Laura, I love you!" I smiled
at myself.

For most of my life I had expected perfection from myself, and fallen far short of the mark.
The least little disapproval from someone bothered me terribly. I would carry the hurt around
with me, letting it hammer at my mind, as I searched for something to do to redeem myself.
I had always felt so insufficient, because of the chronic migraine headaches that have plagued
my life for the past twenty years, limiting me in some areas. Or if I were overweight, or my
hair didn't look right, or whatever. But I made a discovery that day, looking at my reflection,
and hearing that inner voice. I will never let those things bother me more than just in a
superficial way again. For I have found that whenever I am low, that voice comes back to say,
"Laura, no matter what, I love you." And who knows? Could that voice be from a Heavenly
Teacher, who knew just what I needed to experience, in order to learn His lesson?"