Saturday, February 28, 2015

The Waiting Room

 But in my mind I keep returning to something, something that gives me hope - 
 that the grace of ADONAI is not exhausted, that his compassion has not ended. 
 [On the contrary,] they are new every morning! How great your faithfulness! 
 "ADONAI is all I have," I say; "therefore I will put my hope in him. 
 ADONAI is good to those waiting for him, to those who are seeking him out. 
 It is good to wait patiently for the saving help of ADONAI.
  Lamentations 3:21-26

I'm not much good at waiting. And I prefer the easy way. That's why I love writing. I can create a character, give them conflict and then - just like that - give them solutions. And they live happily ever after.
I woke up on Monday morning, after a weekend of denial and acceptance and denial and acceptance to realize, it wasn't a bad dream. I now had a frenemy to live with. THE DIAGNOSIS. 

Every time the phone rang, adrenaline shot through my body. Fight or flight. I could just not answer the phone if it was from the GI department, or radiology or the surgeon's office - flight. Or I could face it headlong and make appointments. I made appointments. Fight. In the next few weeks I was poked and prodded - white gloves and white coats. Every time I met with a medical provider, I wanted someone to say, "I can't find anything. You don't have cancer." I needed someone to give me hope.
 It was there - hope, small, but it was there. No doctor whisked me away to ICU saying I would die without immediate care. In fact, they all made it clear that although it was serious, very serious, and I shouldn't put off treatment - the sooner the better, and no one came out and said, "you have time to process this before making decisions", but I felt at peace with waiting. Okay I could live with that. I had time. Time to think, pray, straegise. Hope. 
Of course, dealing with a large HMO, they have their protocol. They offer you what they've been trained to do. Dealing with cancer, your only option is the BIG 3. Chemotherapy, radiation and surgery. Red flags began to unfurl. Did I want to give my body over to something that would destroy so much just to (hopefully) cure me?
I finished the battery of tests. Hubster and I knew there was only one thing to do...
L~rd help!! Where do we go from here??
Next: Who do I believe?
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