I always rehearse in my mind what it would sound like and what my reaction would be if I heard, ‘it’s back.’ 

The thing is, I know it’s irrational…I wouldn’t hear about it during the actual follow up anyways, so why does my mind practice it over and over and relentlessly over again? 

Because. It just does. 

I think about it the night before. On the drive over. In the waiting room. In the exam room. While I’m talking with her. While she’s examining me. As I sit in the infusion room. On the drive home. And for weeks following. Every time the phone rings, my heart pounds, my throat closes and my lungs stop. Who’s calling? And why? It’s not them.  …Carry on. And then the phone rings again…

Who knows if this will go on until 1. I meet Jesus face to face, never to get that phone call or 2. I do get that phone call, sometime between now and heaven. 

It just might. Because. 

Because the monster and the companion and me. 
Because I have been freight-train’d by that phone call already once before. 
Because of what I have endured. And continue to endure.
Because I have an intimate knowledge of a battle I wish on no one, not even my worst enemy. 
Because, while I know I’d be okay because nothing is wasted, man, to do that again. . . 

*Post 995

4.11 :: 12/21/17 :: Post 114

It’s Thursday. The week has been extra long.

Working while battling cancer is a whole new level of hard. 

More on that tomorrow. Tonight, I’m tired. And I haven’t felt well tonight. And I’m tired of that, too. 

Easily Forgotten :: 12/21/18 :: Post 465

Awful round two. Blech. 

I usually tell people I handle surgery and anesthesia well…

And I guess the fact that I wake up each time is a win. 

But I think I easily forget just how terrible I feel for several days following surgery. 

Ugh. If only sleep made it better……..

Living Changed Head to Toe Day 21 :: 12/21/19 :: Post 829

I’m tired tonight…it was a full day, its entirety spent with my family. It did my soul good…tons of laughing, lots of getting ready for Christmas, good conversations, quality time…

But all of the walking and moving and not-resting makes for a sore and tired body. As I continue to write about my ‘living changed,’ it’s fitting that on a day like today where I was very active, my joints are screaming at me. It’s such a disappointment to hear that chemo may have very well created rheumatoid arthritis. Every move and every step is painful and slow, sitting, standing, walking, laying down – it all hurts – and it certainly makes days like today emotionally trying because as good as it was, I’m paying for it tonight. It is a difficult give and take, no doubt.

So, living changed…. So far, I’ve really been writing about how I can look at life through a new lens that is mostly positive. In this case, my living changed when I talk about my joints and bones is not so positive. Chemo took my hair but it’s growing back. Cancer took my boobs but I have an amazing mastectomy tattoo. Still hard things that have lasting impact and not to be minimized in the least, but if my EVERY STEP from here until I am taken to heaven is pain, it will be ‘living changed’ in a most literal sense. And that is a hard reality to accept.