All weekend it seems I can't find my laundry room floor to save my soul. Its been hi-jacked with hockey equipment, baseball uniforms and stuff in general. I spent a lot of time this weekend sorting and washing and listening. Even though I wasn't prone on the floor, my heart has been in a constant dialog with Him.
I've just been waiting to hear. Something. A sign perhaps? A moment of clarity? But nothing truly stirred me.
So I went to baseball and basked in the sun. It was quite hot, but nobody dared complain about the heat considering how long we'd waited for it.
Then I went and got summer painted onto my toes with my friend Anne. It felt like a total splurge and those who have gifted me should know it boosted my spirits in the best way.
And then being the spontaneous, adventurous girls we are, we proceeded to dinner and a fun night of yummy food, giddy laughs and a night of full moments.
Grey and gloom descended on Monday with loud thunderstorms awakening us at night. I tossed and turned all night, wondering if my dreams would somehow convey a message. Still nothing.
So I spend my time soaking in all the beautiful comments left by so many readers and followers. My heart fills with abundance to see and fully feel so many prayers and good thoughts wrapping around me.
Its Monday morning when I perhaps get the loudest message, and I am hoping its Him showing me his sense of humor.
As I go to sit out in the atrium between the clinic and the rain pouring down outside, both doors open in a big whoosh and I hear loudly a praise song playing... I knew it instantly
"Softly and Tenderly Jesus is calling... calling for you and for me... come home, come home..."
As I glance around, I see that people are oblivious to the music, merely gathering their wheelchairs, or pushing the opener for the doors- preparing to step out into the rain...
Its then that I see Rick driving up and I hurry out to him, breathless with nervousness.
I just couldn't help but laugh, while also anxiously wondering, is this the message meant for me?
I shared the experience with a friend who thankfully gave me some perspective and said maybe the message is simply God telling you to rest safely in his arms?
It was both reassuring and insightful to have her perspective.
I do know my human mind can surely misinterpret a sign from above- even think it was for me, when perhaps it wasn't.
Today I saw Dr. Panwalkar. He was all down to business right away. He is serious and a somber tone permeates the room. He wanted to go over the TWO spots in my brain.
Two? How- where- what? Two?
He turned to the scan to show me. Yes- very likely, its two spots now.
And the variables in how to treat this are confounding.
So we will do several things. We will do the targeted radiation. We will also do another PET scan and determine to what extent the Xeloda is working. We may add in Tykerb, as Xeloda and Tykerb together can cross the blood brain barrier- two of the few chemos that are known to. But the combo is harsh and the side effects can be rough.
My head swirls. I feel the heaviness of it all, for everyone.
Dr. P says we'll skip the exam, but I do make him feel my lymph node. He finally smiles when he realizes it does feel smaller.
I share with him Dr. Foster's idea that my cancer is not typical. He concurs, "yes, your body," "but your head," and he shakes his own side to side, as his voice trails off... "Well, we'll just have to fix it," he says with firm resolve.
By noon, I am back in the entryway again. Its a beehive of activity, and I sit chatting with the woman who opens the doors for everyone. She gets called away, but before she does, she reaches down and hits the play button on her radio. "Its pandora" she says, and she 'never really knows which of her songs will pop up."
Oh, but I do... and sure enough "Jesus is calling" faintly turns on.
And then it gets stuck. It goes into clear fits. I even lean over trying to help it along, but nothing I press helps in the slightest. I finally turn it down, knowing she'll fix it when she returns.
I can only chuckle as I leave to get into the car.
I'm just waiting...