The Good News Is I Can Pray Again, The Bad News Is I Just Told God To Fuck Off

Mary Magdalene, in a dramatic 19th-century pop...

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I’ve been having a crisis of faith for quite some time. Most of you think it started when my husband was diagnosed with cancer. It was actually in the works a little earlier, when my friend died of cancer a few years before that. God and I were on rocky footing. Bob’s diagnosis was the straw that broke the telephone wire.

But, over the past week, as calls for prayer requests came from my husband as he prepared for his follow-up visit to the oncologist, I felt like myself picking up the God Phone. I placed my call. I felt like Someone was on the other end of the line.

When Anissa had her stroke. I prayed. And again, I felt like my prayers were going somewhere. I didn’t feel like I’ve felt these past months. I didn’t feel like the line was disconnected. So, I kept praying.

Then Wednesday came. My husband went in for his pre-appointment blood work. He’s been nervous about this appointment. He’s been having nightmares about his tumors coming back. So, he kept checking online for the results of his blood work. By the evening, all the results were posted.

Everything looked great. Except for two very important numbers. The two numbers that would indicate a return of his cancer were up—his LDH and his sed rate. One of them, his LDH, was way up. Up higher than it had ever been. We hoped the lab had made an error.

Then he went to see Dr. W. Then he called me, waking me from a dream where I’d dreamt that the lab made an error. Instead of my happy dream, my husband told me that Dr. W thinks the cancer is back, in his lung. That he has a bone marrow biopsy scheduled for Friday. That he’s having a PET scan next week. That if the cancer is back they’ll do three rounds of intense chemo, stopping just short of killing him, then perform an autologous bone marrow transplant.

Then I stopped being able to think straight. We talked about Christmas and our son’s birthday plans, but I don’t really remember because all I was thinking was, “God, FUCK YOU! FUCK. YOU. How dare you! This is the biggest pile of bullshit. What the fuck? Explain this to me, because I don’t get it. And then come explain it to my kids, ASSHOLE. YOU TELL THEM!!! Because I shouldn’t have to deliver this message to them TWICE! What kind of plan is this? Huh? That’s my prayer, God. FUCK YOU. And, you know what? You handle it, because I sure can’t. You can just FUCK OFF if this is your grand master plan for me and mine because it sucks ass!!”

So, yeah. That was my day. How was yours? Did you tell any deities to fuck off today?