I am dizzy, I said to my oncologist.
Then we'll order an Mri and get to the bottom of it, he said. We'll watch for seizures, and black outs. We'll watch for severe headaches. You'll call me, even in the middle of the night, with worsening symptoms. We will take care of you.
I get claustrophobic in the MRI tube, I said to the nurse.
Then we'll order some Xanax for you to take the edge off she said. Or you can take Ativan. We'll help you get through it, she said.
I'm nervous, I said to the MRI radiology tech.
Then I'll place a wash cloth over your eyes, and a pillow under your legs, and I'll speak to you in the tube, and I'll blow air on you and I'll be there with you the entire time.
I'm dizzy and fatigued I cried to my husband.
Then I'll drive the boys to hockey, and I'll pick them up. I'll get the groceries. I'll watch the boys. You rest, he said. I will take care of you.
Mama's tired, I said to the boys.
Then we'll walk the dog and take him outside, they said. We will be quiet and you can rest. We will bring you water and the remote and a blanket. We'll take care of you mom.
I'm sad, I whispered to God. I'm worried. I'm weary. I'm leaving it all with you.
I know you are, he said to me. I have been with you the entire time. I will not leave you. I will bear you, I will carry you...
I have breast cancer, I said on my blog.
We know you do, you said. We will flood your mailbox with cards. We will pray for you, uplift you, carry your name on our lips. We will make meals for you and feed you. We will clean for you, and decorate your home for you. We will bless you. We will love you through it.
Did you find cancer on my brain, I asked the nurse?
It doesn't look like cancer, she said. It doesn't look like metastases. Its something she said, but we don't know what. You'll have more scans in December, she said. We will watch and wait... we're here for you.
I am waiting I whispered... I am hoping and kneeling and waiting.