THRILLED to report that everything is looking better!!!! All tumors are smaller. I can barely believe it. Wow. Why my CEA is up, who knows. I’m willing to let that question sit unanswered. Just so unbelievably relieved that the CT scan shows that all tumors are smaller and that a few have left the building.
Thank you for all your support and all the positive messages last night and this morning. They were like little balloons lifting me up.
The past two weeks have been wonderful. In fact, I had no stomach pains for over a whole week, my breathing is smooth and easy and my energy has been fabulous. We typically have someone who helps me out in the household, but she left a few weeks ago and Tiron was traveling so I have been juggling the kids and household by myself. All that has been fun in its own way (even though I can use improvement doing the household stuff). I even took the boys skiing in Vermont this weekend. Well, one boy skiing. The other has a broken foot. But I got dressed and carried skis and got out on the slopes and almost kept up with my six-year-old!
So, all was fun and good and I am happy that this CT scan did not harsh my mellow.
While we did have a fun two weeks, our family has its share of challenges outside of chemo-world, and yesterday was “one of those days.” It crossed my mind that those events might be a lead-in to an even worse day today.
While I usually wake up pretty happy, today, I started by taking a deep breath to brace myself for the day.
Then I received this in my email:
This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it!
Psalm 118, verse 24
Exactly what I needed to hear. Whatever was to come this day, it is God-given and will contain its own beauty and grace.
I no longer dreaded the day but instead became grateful for it. I made toast and cut up fruit for everyone’s breakfast. I packed lunches and got the boys out the door to school, then Tiron drove me to Dana Farber. This place is a trip. The waiting rooms are, sadly, so full that we had trouble finding two seats together. There are folks wearing a facemask and gloves, sitting in wheelchairs, breathing on oxygen, sporting headcoverings. One young couple caught my eye. She was clearly 7-8 months pregnant and I hoped hoped hoped they were there to support an older parent who was not in sight, but then noticed the wristband on her wrist and said a little prayer for her (and a bit of a “so not fair”). It makes me count my blessings and to see the light and grace that can exist everywhere, as everyone handles the day that unfolds for them.
Thank you again for all your support of me and my family. I will soon get hooked up to chemo but for now am doing my little happy dance, and praying that your day unfolds in beautiful and miraculous ways that make you feel glad and maybe, maybe, even like rejoicing.
Lots of love,