Understanding Cancer without God

God, why is this happening? I can’t move I can’t breathe. My heart hurts, it feels like it’s being twisted and squeezed and pulled in ten different directions. I can’t see. The tears keep closing my eyes. I’m trying to blink them away, I am trying to be strong. But on the inside I am crumbling, God. On the inside I am falling to pieces. My life flashes before me. Questions drown me. God I can’t do this. Not again. What about my life? I just grew out my hair; it took me three years. Please don’t take it away from me. What about my plans? I want to go back to San Diego. I want to go to school like everyone else. I’m supposed to graduate in 3 years. I’m supposed to be a teacher, what about the kids whose lives I’m supposed to touch? What about my family? My Mom. My Dad. My sisters. My little brother. I am supposed to be the strong big sister. I can’t make them go through that again…I’d rather do it alone. I want to see Lisa and Laura get married. I want to be their bride’s maid. I want to watch Michael graduate from high school. I want to take care of Mom and Dad when they grow old. I don’t want them taking care of me…it’s not supposed to be this way. God I’m still drowning…it’s getting worse…I am in a nightmare. This isn’t my life. This isn’t my body. I want a new one because this one is broken. This one has betrayed me. God I can’t wait. The waiting is killing me. Slowly and maliciously it eats away at me. God I don’t want to have surgery, don’t let them cut me open again. I don’t want anymore scars Lord, how will anyone love me like that? God don’t let them hurt me anymore, make me sick anymore. Tell them to stop giving me IVs, tell them to stop poking and prodding me, tell them to stop talking about giving me chemo again. Father, because I can’t do it again. I don’t want to do it again. I can’t. Please don’t let them poison me. I don’t want to throw up everyday; I don’t want to be sick; I don’t want to watch my parents’ faces as they hear me and have to come running to wash out my bowl. I don’t want to have to sleep on the floor again curled up in a ball. I like my bed. I like my life right now. Please don’t take everything away from me. Not now. What about my future? God, what about my soul mate? Will he still love me when I am sick, will he still think I am beautiful when I am bald and white and wasted away? Will he still want to look into my brown eyes when they are dark and sunken and filled with tears? Will he stay by my side? Will he run away? What about the family I want to have someday, God? What about the kids I want? Little Hayley and Evan. God, will I ever get the chance to make their lunches everyday and write on their napkins, “I love you”? What about my youth? Will I be able to enjoy it? Live it to it’s fullest? What about the beaches I haven’t surfed yet, the mountains I haven’t boarded, the friends I haven’t made, the smiles I haven’t given, the lives I haven’t touched yet God? Lord, why me? God I can’t do it, I feel alone, I feel discouraged, I feel broken, I feel lost. Help me.