January 30th, 2017

I woke up last Wednesday with a fresh, still-forming scab instead of a scar at one of my chest surgery sites. Chemo got cancelled and moved back a week, since it needed to heal and looked like it might have shown signs of an infection starting. I started another antibiotic for ten days to help combat any infection and it seems to be effective since everything is healing up nicely. I’m not sure why a scar from last April would have opened up overnight, but the skin was always quite thin there and I do have a habit of absentmindedly fiddling with things like my wedding ring or some of my surgical scars. Maybe I wore the skin even thinner by touching it without thinking during a movie, and then played tug-of-war with my dog too roughly or did something else I can’t remember that stretched it just enough to make it bleed a bit. Whatever the case I got an extra week off chemo, which is nice in a way since chemo isn’t any fun, but it also delays everything a week and gives more time for the spots they’re watching in me to potentially grow without being attacked by chemo, which is never a good thing. I should start the next cycle of chemo this Wednesday, since everything seems in order.

Despite that minor setback, I cannot help but feel incredibly privileged right now. Other than my health I have pretty much everything going for me. I’m able to get treatment for my cancer without too many hoops to jump through or red tape to navigate, for now at least. Others are not so fortunate. I’ve met dozens of people from around the world at the Ronald McDonald house, all of them leaving their homes and communities, often navigating cultural and linguistic barriers, to come to New York City for the specific care they or their children need. I especially think of one family in particular, a wonderful young family of four from Libya. Their daughter was there getting treatment the whole time I was and had a long road ahead of her yet when I last saw them at the Ronald McDonald House. It’s been a while now since I’ve seen them, as lately I’ve only been to New York City for scans every couple months, but their kindness and generosity, their willingness to share food or a kind smile, will forever remain in my heart.

That some see fit to impose a ban on such people in a misguided and ill-informed attempt to make our society safer sickens me. That Christians have lent their support to this ban angers me to the point that my jaw is sore from how much I’ve clenched it of late. I can almost understand making a (factually incorrect) argument about banning citizens of certain countries from entering ours from a perspective of national security. But it’s quite another thing entirely to pretend the Christian faith supports such callous disregard for others. One need look no further than the scathing rebuke found in Matthew 25 to see that. There Jesus pronounces terrible judgement on those who neglect others while speaking well of those who care for the most marginalized in the world, saying in verses 35 and 36 “for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me." In short, Jesus implores us to care for the needs of the needy.

I cannot claim to have made nearly enough effort in such areas as I should, and every time I read this passage a knot ties in my stomach, compelling me to do better, to seek out those who need help and do my part to share God’s love. It baffles and appalls me that so many seem comfortable ignoring this passage, instead seeing fit to turn away strangers and refugees, caring more for themselves than for others. I hope and pray that we will all see the poorly-disguised xenophobia and fear-mongering within this weekend's overreaching executive order for what it is, and that even now those whose lives depend on medical care that can only be found within this country will be allowed to seek it here, no matter what nation they may call home.