I have been a little extra-rattled since I decided to educate myself about the genetic analysis of the type of cancer we're dealing with here.
In a nutshell: if the tumor has both copies of Chromosome 3, it's pretty unlikely to metastasize. This means, with the exception of scans a couple of times a year, life pretty much proceeds as normal. If it has one copy (monosomy 13), it's got about a 66% chance of metastasizing. If it metastasizes, it will kill me. Not may. Will.
That's a pretty stark dichotomy we've got there. It's either really good news, or really bad news. And it's coming.
As an Orthodox Christian, my prayer is, of course, "Thy will be done." But look, God's no dummy. He knows what's in our hearts and minds. He knows how I want this to play out. Heck, you know how I want this to play out, and "all-knowing, all-seeing" isn't even on your resume, am I right?
Hence, the spiritual dilemma: I am trying to accept whatever my fate will be, trusting that it is God's will, that, even if painful or difficult, it will work out for the best. But my heart is screaming and raging: please, God, don't take me away from my family. I want to see my kids grow up, marry, have kids of their own. I want to hold my husband's hand as we grow old together. I'm not ready. I know, even in the worst case scenario, I would probably have a few years left. My heart says that's not enough (is it ever enough?). I don't want to make my kids, as young teenagers, watch me die. I don't want to break my husband's heart and leave him alone. I'm not afraid of where I'm going, but I can't help grieve for what I'd be leaving.
The news is coming. Today, tomorrow, in a week, in two weeks. It will be good, or it will be bad.
If it's bad, how do I make the most of the time I have left?
If it's good, how do I make the most of the time I've been given?
I don't know. Whatever the outcome, you take it a day at a time, an hour at a time, whatever gets you through it.
ReplyDeleteI wish I had more of a magical answer than that. I wish I had some life changing words to tell you that would immediately bring peace to your heart regardless of what you find out. But, there is no magical answer, and regardless of what you find out, I imagine you will have moments of pure peace and moments of pure panic. Because that's what cancer does, or at least that's what cancer does to me.
(((hugs)))
Also moments of pure anxiety eating. At least that's what it's done for me so far. Stupid #$%@ cancer.
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