Say Yes??

For all that has been, thanks.
For all that will be, yes.
-- Dag Hammarskjöld

For ALL that has been???  For ALL that will be??? Really????

I am working to say yes to ALL that life is bringing me.

I don't want to say it. My heart is still screaming, "NO!!!!"

As I crest a hill and see this new section of the path unfolding before me, I have been reminding myself I can choose my reaction, my reaction is the only thing I can choose. (Thank you, Viktor Frankl.)

Life is going to bring its gifts and burdens whether I say yes to them or not, and, most probably, the path will be easier if I am not dragging my feet as I walk along it, resisting every step of the way.

so, "yes"?

I'm not there yet, but I'm working on it.

Waiting...

Kate's visit to the thoracic surgeon last week left her impressed with both the good skills the doctor brings to the table, and the inefficiency of our medical system. One of the first things out of the surgeon's mouth was that she needed to see more scans (from a different angle), along with a pulmonary function test, to know how best to proceed with the surgery. From what Kate said it sounded like she'd decided how best to proceed before she ever walked into the room. My question is this: the scans couldn't have been done in the weeks Kate was waiting for the appointment because, ????

So now, we wait some more. The scans are scheduled for this coming Friday. (?? Happy Birthday, Kate ??) She meets with the doc a second time the following Friday.

The basics of the information haven't changed - they won't be able to begin to formulate a treatment plan until after they can get in there and see what is lighting up the scan.

In the meantime, I am encouraged by words I hear them using, still. 

Operable. Treatable.

These are good words. Words of hope. Words helping me to keep a sense of balance, of center.

Already, as this storm comes in to land, I am held in the arms of love. It's the same sense I felt in 2012, when I found my lump. In 2015, when Kate found her lump. In 2017, when Libby found her lump. (You women out there reading this, you ARE checking for lumps regularly, yes???)

This road is a tough one, no question. But I do not walk with her on my own, and that makes it oh-so-much easier. As I've spread the unwelcome news, I've heard SO many times, "I'm pretty sure there's nothing I can do to help, but if there is anything I can do, please ask." 

I've begun to plan my trip to be with Kate for the surgery, and I have heard 'yes' from every person I've asked for help. There is someone to walk the dog, to pick up the mail. The lawn will get mowed, the plants tended. And, there is someone to take over Fairy Wren duty while I am gone - a child's imagination is important ground to keep watered!

Take one more step...

Waiting Some More

I hit my uncertainty limit last week. Not knowing when the next chance would be to know something had me spinning my wheels. Other than checking my phone every fifteen minutes, making sure I hadn't missed an important notification, I got NOTHING done. I wasn't able to get off square zero until I heard they've found a thoracic surgeon and have an appointment set for this coming Friday to discuss what surgery and the next steps will look like.

While I was busy wringing my hands, I had someone upstairs working on my long-delayed shower repair. This is the first time I've ever hired someone to do a job, and then just sat back and let them do the work. Weird!

They finished up last Friday, there were several problems with the finished project. I texted them - they are back today, not arguing, just fixing the issues. I guess this is why I went with the expensive crew. They stand behind their work.

And, on Saturday, the problems gave me something to be mad at. I needed something to be mad at. I stewed. I fussed. I obsessed. I took pictures. I rehearsed arguments inside my head. And then, finally, I let it go.

I wasn't really mad at them anyways. (I was pretty sure they'd come back and set things right.) I'm mad at cancer for messing up Kate's life once again and it's so hard to be mad at cancer. It's such an amorphous target - no known cause, no guarantees it can be banished to the ether where it belongs. Its appearance is so unjust unfair unkind unreal unwanted. 

And despite everything, I still want life to be fair. I don't want to acknowledge my inability to control anything but my reaction to what happens in the world around me. 

I'm grateful for my yoga classes. I arrive scattered and spinning, then somewhere in the breath and movement, I get a glimpse of balance. By the end of class, I'm remembering to breathe; have been reminded my center exists, even if I can't always find it.

Be Here Now.

I'm working on it.

More Hard News

For Kate, these last three weeks have been an exercise in patience and scheduling as she both tried to maintain some semblance of presence at work, and show up for the many diagnostic tests needed to determine what it will take to stop the spread of her cancer.

Last week, with all but one test result in, they still thought this would be a relatively simple surgery, outpatient even. Remove the implant, cut out the lumps, close up the cut.

I heaved a sigh of relief. Too soon.

The results of that last scan show the second spot is a spiky blob growing behind her implant, where it had eluded detection by other means. It's between her chest wall and her lung, has wrapped itself around one of her ribs.

Yikes!

Surgery is on temporary hold while they find a thoracic surgeon to add to the surgery team.

Until surgery is done, we won't know any more about the makeup of the blob - the medical team isn't able to sneak their biopsy needles past the implant.

I am so afraid.

I didn't sleep much the night after she called, but then my hard-learned lessons from this past decade bubbled to the surface.

I'm now in 

"Eeewww! Get it OUT!", 
Good Is, 
Remember to Trust, 
Take one more step anyways, 
Be Here Now 

mode.

It still sucks, but I refuse to let fear and despair steal my days.

I've found myself grateful for the small lump of cancer; the one she found that started this whole train rolling. If not for that piece, the larger mass would have grown and spread and... I don't let myself go there. 

I'm starting to put my ducks in order so I can go on out to help her recover from surgery, whenever it's going to be. (I am so grateful my schedule is flexible.) Working on doing the breathing thing.

One step at a time.