Tale of Two MRIs

As I walked the long hall back to the MRI room on Tuesday, memories of the same walk flooded my mind. My last diagnostic MRI was April 24, 2012. At that time, I was stunned by the idea that I had cancer. After the technician inserted the IV, she left me with my thoughts as we waited for the MRI to be available. I remember praying that God would be with me, trying to remember verses for strength and comfort. When it was time for the MRI and I was lying facedown on the table, the technician reminded me to breathe normally. Of course, my brain went straight to breathe, breathe normally, what is a normal breath, am I breathing normally? I thought I cued into the right pacing when suddenly a massive thundering boom sounded, followed by short, staccato noises. The suddenness and the volume of the noise led me to catch my breath. Oh no, what about breathing normally? With heart racing, I tried calming my breath as best as I could.

On Tuesday, I had a different technician and he didn't say a word about breathing. Maybe he thought I was a veteran, or maybe he wisely realized it was better not to mention a word  about breathing if he wanted me to breathe normally. I was prepared for the noises and they didn't seem so loud. My challenge this time was I started feeling sore where my rib pressed against the table. Knowing I needed to lie still, I focused on the music (when I could hear it), thought of my friends in Africa who were meeting their boys today, remembered Holy Week and Jesus' sacrifice for my sins... Before I knew it, he was moving me out of the tube and I was trying to catch my balance after lying still for so long.

The first time around, I remember being encouraged to do something relaxing that day. Medical people know how overwhelming the cancer journey is at first and suggested I find a way to take a break from it. On Tuesday, after both my blood draw and MRI, the technicians asked me what I was going to do that day. Cancer wasn't consuming my whole world now, and they knew I would have plans. I've transitioned from being overcome by cancer to giving cancer its proper place in the whole of who I am and do. It'll be part of who I am for the rest of my life, and as the days and months and tests and results pile up, that recognition becomes tolerable. Especially when I walk step-by-step with God through this journey.

Of course, the ultimate difference between my two MRIs was the result. Two years ago, I had three suspicious spots that needed biopsying. On Wednesday, I received the wonderful news that my MRI was clear. Then on Thursday, my oncologist's nurse called to confirm that my blood test was stable. What that means is the two other markers are normal, and the CEA marker moved up a smidgen, to 3.3. It has been hovering around the 3.0 (which is normal) mark for several months of testing, and with the clear MRI, my doctor gave me reprieve from additional testing. I'm banking on the idea that spring allergies and their corresponding inflammation is causing the higher mark. Could be lots of other reasons, too. My next visit will be in July for my regular 4-month checkup, so for now, I feel blessed to be considered cancer-free. Time to plan for our Arizona trip and the end of the school year and summer and all kinds of things that have nothing to do with worrying about some rogue cancer cells. I'm thankful for how far I've journeyed in the past couple of years, and excited to see what God has in store now!

Monday

"A man who can break down and cry — is man who will break open his heart to let your heart in."

 Ann Voskamp's Grandma

http://www.aholyexperience.com

As I read this today, I thought of my dad, tears unashamedly running down his cheeks on the night of my high school awards, not afraid to tell me how proud he was of me. 

I thought of my dear husband, quietly wiping away the tears as the nurse inserted the needle into my port at my first chemo. 

Then I thought of Jesus. The shortest verse in the bible speaking volumes into my heart. Jesus wept.  Jesus wept because He loved Lazurus. He wept for Mary and Martha because He knew they grieved the death of their dear brother. Later he wept when He overlooked Jerusalem, knowing that so many would not understand. 

I know Jesus wept over me. How do I know? Because if one of my children was going through something difficult, I would have cried. I imagine Him weeping when I heard the words that I had cancer, surrounding me with His love as I cried tears of anguish. He wept because He knew I thought of my mom who died of cancer, only a couple years older than I am now. He wept because He knew I couldn't see at the time the blessings that would come out of the ashes. When I didn't understand, He knew.

On this Monday of Holy Week, I was reflecting on how Jesus felt. He was about to face His gravest challenge. On Good Friday two years ago, I went in for an innocent mammogram--unaware of the repercussions that lie around the corner.  Unlike me, Jesus knew exactly what would happen to Him--the pain, the taunts, the jeers, the desertion.  He knew He would need to carry the sins of the world...and the hardest part...be separated from God. 

Tomorrow when I go in for my MRI, as I'm shut up in the tube with the crazy, loud noises, I will picture Jesus enduring the cross. But, I also will know that He is right there with me, comforting me, holding my fears. Just as He knew what His Easter week will be like, He knows what mine will be. My heart is at peace with Him by my side.

He has broken open his heart and let me in. As Ann's grandmother suggested, this is the type of man I can trust.  

Saturday Musings

Saturday mornings... even though I was up earlier than normal to take Nathan to his ACT test, and paid bills...read a few chapters in my book, drank coffee and now green tea, washed dishes (twice), made breakfast for a kid (twice), will go out and pull weeds soon, will also pick up Nathan from his test and go to his baseball game later this afternoon--despite all of this, I LOVE Saturdays. I think my favorite thing is the change of pace, a mix-up of the schedule, not the same-old-same-old.

This Saturday is especially remarkable because my amazing friends are finally, after waiting patiently and tearfully for months, boarding a plane for Africa where their two teenage boys await. Yes, they are adopting two teen boys into a family of four girls! Only God can put this family together, and in His perfect timing, these boys will come home. Home to not only a room with bunkbeds that have been standing alone for too long, but also to a whole posse of people who have prayed for this day. There's still a lot of work to be done (both in Africa and on our knees), but we are all excited to see how God works out all the details.

Now for medical things. Next Tuesday, on the 15th, I will be having my blood draw (to recheck tumor markers) and my MRI. As always, I would love prayers for peace as I go into these screenings. My hope is that the tumor markers drop and nothing suspicious shows up on the MRI. More importantly, please pray that I walk in His strength during these next days. We have plans to go to Arizona the following week to soak up the sun and enjoy a bit of family time. If all goes well on Tuesday, this will be the relaxing getaway our family longs for. If not, well... I refuse to borrow trouble for something that may never come to pass. The best plan in all of this is to live for today. I'm not wasting one of my precious Saturdays worrying about tomorrow.

Or as one of my favorite bloggers, Ann Voskamp, writes:

The James 1  simple day planner for the hard days, for every day.
1. Ask God for wisdom
2. Believe God without doubt
3. Thank God no matter what

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, & it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt.” James 1:5-6