Through a Storm of Fear

Although no one can go in right now, I was grateful to be able to come and enjoy the serenity of the beautiful temple grounds for a little while.

The idea of getting an MRI with gadolinium contrast dye was terrifying to me. I’ve had close family and friends for whom that procedure has gone terribly awry. Being told I would have to have an MRI with contrast was a thing that frightened me to the core. It was scarier to me than even being told I had a tumor. With this particular tumor I still feel like I have some control (I know it may be an illusion to some extent). With an MRI with contrast, I knew that I had no control over how that toxic metal dye would impact my system. I knew that everyone involved could do everything perfectly and it could still go badly for me.

I wanted to run far away and hide, but I know the doctors need these images to most accurately diagnose and treat me. I reminded myself over and over that God knew this situation, that he loves me, and has known it was part of my path since long ago, and that I won’t die or have something happen that he hasn’t already taken into account for my life. As long as I’m choosing to be one of his followers, he will walk with me and guide me through this in whatever way will best allow me to serve him.

But still. I don’t want to suffer any more than anyone else does, I’ve seen the kind of suffering that can come from gadolinium contrast. And yet, some of those same people who I’ve watched suffer so much, have shown me such an example of grace, faith, and beauty that it seems cowardly to run if God wants me to learn from him in the same way others have. Will I allow this experience to be a blessing or a burden? How will I honor the example of those who have walked this road before me?

That’s why I’m blogging about this journey. In whatever small way I can, I want to honor, and show my gratitude for others who have shared their stories, their experiences and feelings surrounding their journeys through difficulty. They have strengthened me, and maybe by sharing my experience, I can bless someone else. It’s a way of paying it forward, if you will.

I did survive the MRI, the gadolinium dye made me nauseated, but as far as I can tell, no other problems from it have arisen. I will be discussing with my functional medicine doctor, Dr. Rebel (not his real name), anything else I may need to do to prevent future issues, though.

During the MRI, I tried to focus on gratitude and love. It’s was hard, due to the fear racing through my veins. Sometimes I could think of things I felt love and gratitude for, but mostly I could only chant the words in my head, repeating them over and over. After a while it was the face of Mr. Hot Stuff that I saw as I chanted. Then the moment came when the technician came over the speaker to tell me that they were going to inject the dye through my IV. Again I was filled with fear. I wanted to move, to run far away, but my wiser self won out, reminding me that if I moved, they’d have to do this again. But I was still frightened. “Oh, Father, I’m so afraid! Please help me.” was the only thing I could think to pray.

What followed was a precious spiritual experience which I won’t share here, but I was given a strong assurance that God is mindful of me, and the Savior is here as I seek his help.

I haven’t heard back yet about the MRI results. Maybe tomorrow.

I currently have no idea what the next step is, beyond simply altering my eating lifestyle to a mostly organic, high fat, ketogenic diet for cancer, and being even more diligent about intermittent fasting. I’m already shedding some of my extra poundage, so that’s good.

We (I say “we,” but it was mostly Mr. Hot Stuff) planted a garden this year, and fortunately it’s got a lot of exactly the kinds of foods I’m supposed to be eating. I feel so blessed to have received promptings about what and how much to plant clear back at the beginning of April. Now I just have to learn how to prepare it all so that it’s appealing.

There is so much to learn that it feels overwhelming. But now that the books are arriving I’m beginning to feel more capable of doing that.


  1. I’m sorry to hear of your current health battle. God bless and be with you. Those are interesting book titles. I, too, am on a journey to heal through diet, though not from cancer. Wish you well. Tirzah.


  2. Whoa! Somehow my notifications for your blog have disappeared. I’m behind, to say the least.
    I’ll be adding you to my prayers and exercising faith for the very best outcome. It’s very hard, sometimes, to say Thy will be done, isn’t it? Hugs to you, Heather Feather.

    Liked by 1 person

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