The biggest sin of all.

It goes against the very core of faith. It negates all I profess to believe. And I am consumed by it.

Fear.

I am scared. All the time. I wake up with fear. It is the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. Fall asleep with the help of Melatonin, because otherwise I do not sleep well because of the fear I am now consumed by.

Some days it is all I think about. Some days it doesn't enter the forefront of my mind at all, but it's there.

I am in constant fear for my health. I am afraid of having cancer. I have a disease where every little ache, pain or symptom is "a thing". It could be nothing. It could be something minor. It could be the worst. That's just how this disease is. The aches and twinges, the fatigue, the little nothings that come with this liver disease, also come with the deadly cancer it puts me at risk for.

The other disease I have, Crohn's, is kicking into high gear as well. The aches and pains of Crohn's are scary now. Before PSC, I knew what was going on. Now, nothing is certain.

When I get up each day, checking the mirror for jaundice is now on my list of things to do first. Several times throughout the day as well. If I get an itch somewhere, which happens frequently with dry skin, frequent handwashinng, etc., I panic for a moment or two thinking the pruritis is setting in. I check the scale every few days, relieved that I have not lost weight. Relieved that I have not lost weight. I check the same symptom checker over and over, I know it by heart, but I check anyway, going down the list as if I may have overlooked something.

I don't talk about it. If I tell my husband of my fears, he will develop those same fears, or at least that is what I tell myself. Why share my biggest worry with the one who will worry for me the most? It goes against why I am married to him in the first place, but it's what is real. Of course, he reads this blog. Hopefully, I will find the courage to open up to him about this before he reads it here. If I don't, I pray he will understand and forgive me.

Saying it out loud makes it worse. Typing it out loud isn't easy either. But keeping it inside is becoming too much to bear, and probably making it bigger than it needs to be, bigger than me which is a dangerous thing.

I am living with a chronic illness. One that may be quite manageable and may not impact me much for the rest of my life. Or one that may kill me, slowly and painfully. A time bomb, either a dud or poised to blow any time now. I am trying to find a way to cope with this fear. I tell God every day how scared I am. He said in His word 365 times "Do not be afraid". That's enough for each day of the year. Today is number 120. If I can not do as He says, the best I can do is tell Him so, and I do.

I know God will do with me what He wants. I trust that He will carry me through whatever that is with love. I know, eventually, I will be okay. I will be whole and healed from whatever affliction I may have in my life. I am not afraid of death. I am afraid of dying. The knowing of it, the process, the pain, the grief.

I am asking Him to heal me. Not from disease. From fear. I can handle anything, I have handled much. But I can not handle my fear.