"… In Union with Me, you are complete. In closeness to Me, you are transformed more and more into the one I designed you to be…" Jesus Calling~ by Sarah Young
As I sit throwing pictures into folders on my desktop, I look again at the golden goodness pics from a few days back. The dog has been circling this tree all week. I finally had to go and look at it. And there it is. The one bright, red, leaf, daring to stand out alone, against a background of gold. How does that happen? I'm pondering as I ready for my speech coming up on October 2nd.
Its been a couple of months since I've seen Dr. Panwalkar. Yesterday, he strode into the exam room with a warm smile, yet instead of shaking hands and saying a big hello, he sat down right away.
He started getting the images from my scan to display on his computer. There was the scan from nearly a year ago, that he was trying to align with the most recent scan I had. We went through section after section, as he carefully tried to explain, both what he saw, and what the radiologist had reported.
It was a confluence of possible radiation scars, possible pneumonitis, and possible residual cancer.
When Dr. P started to ask me when it was that I had radiation to my lungs, I had to admit to him, I'm sketchy with dates of events like this, these days. Not because I can't remember, rather, I've chosen not to hang on to it in too much detail. I told him I understand I am purposefully in a bit of denial. But he assures me "that's good," and I do see he is smiling, amused, when he says that.
Part of me wonders, if he too, lets go of trying to remember all he and I have gone through?
I like the sudden clarity I've gained. I worry I forget things, because my memory is failing me. Maybe it is. But, maybe some of those things just aren't necessary to hang onto.
The decision to grow always involves a choice between risk and comfort. —John Ortberg
My word this year, "become," is starting to make sense in some ways. Like, "Becoming" less entangled with the advanced cancer that I have. Who would have ever thought that?
So we turn back to my scans, layer by layer. And I can't even relay to you his exact words. The harder he worked at aligning the scans, the more fussy they became. But in a nutshell?
A few spots seem to be the same and we will continue to watch them.
Two spots, seem to have disappeared, altogether.
And no new spots seem to have appeared from my neck down, in my lungs, my back, my liver, my kidneys, or any other place from what we can see on the PET scan.
Still … we can't ignore the other part we haven't examined yet. My brain. So I mention to Dr. P I was released by Dr. Foster and I am completely back under his care. I see the surprise register in his face, as he quickly begins searching my file online. He reads quietly about my 3 little spots for the longest time. "You need an MRI," he says, "we'll work on getting you in next week."
He is quiet. Absorbed in thought. I had so many things I had wanted to share with him. But I oddly have very little to say to him now. I also have no burning desire to know too much. He suddenly glances up, smiles, and asks if I am ready for infusion?
We'll continue on with the same treatment, with blood work and tumor markers checked more frequently.
He quietly ushers me out the door and into the infusion waiting room, he smiles and nods at me as I go to sit down, and he goes back to his office.
"In closeness to Me you are transformed more and more into the one I designed you to be."
I think of that bright red leaf, daring so greatly.
Maybe this is me becoming… all I am designed to be.