The storm is over. I have my answer. No cancer. No cancer.
Now I just have to believe it.
Today has been hell.
I’ve been waiting for some test results — a few of you noticed when I slipped in the words “bone bruises” and “patches on my lung” when we were talking about the oopherectomy a couple weeks ago — and it took a REALLY LONG time to get the results (as in, until five minutes ago). I didn’t want to make anybody worry, but the waiting has been hard.
What would it be? Bone bruises, metastasis, and a life of weekly (3 weeks on, one week off) chemo? Or some simple mistake, oversight, and three weeks of unneessary worry freak out?
I didn’t know. And so I didn’t tell you. (Until now. The oncologist says everything’s okay. By comparing scans, she determined that the bone bruises observed were there last year, when I was diagnosed, so they’re not growing. Which means not cancer. Whew.)
Some advocate I am.
Waiting for test results is always nerve wracking. It is. I just forget. I just get sucked down into the vortex of what-ifs, and it’s not a pretty place to be.
Also? I cope with worry by cleaning. My house is now SPOTLESS, if anyone wants to come over and visit (and by visit, I mean play wii in the basement after the kids go to bed). No more cobwebs in the closets, dust under the bed, or weeds in the garden. I even cut down some small trees in the back yard that were covered with poison ivy. Okay, that wasn’t the BRIGHTEST way to wait (ask my hand, now swollen and red with infection), but it’s the best I could do.
and I guess that’s where I need to leave this post. Some days, we just do the best we can.
Prayers today for our friend Julie Pippert, evacuated with everyone else from Galveston Island and the surrounding area in advance of Hurricane Ike.