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!