Last week as I was headed out the door to the clinic, I paused just long enough to snap a few photos. My hydrangea plant was still blooming, right in the midst of fall weather. In fact we covered the plant hoping to preserve it a bit longer, but alas, the frost crept in that night and the once bright colors were instantly turned brown. I was so thankful I had stopped and gotten a few images.
As I looked closer, I noticed that the plant was showing every stage- from the green of the newest buds, to the bright pink of a fully blossomed flower. There was even some rust patches of reds, yellows and browns creeping into the bottom. Does the plant really know which season it is in?
The temperatures are low enough at night that we awaken to a layer of glistening frost in the mornings. Yet by mid-afternoon, the temps turn into a warmth hovering in the mid-seventies. Different parts of the day have us either pulling on layers for warmth, or quickly shedding them, with thoughts of what was I thinking when I put this on earlier today?
It's actually a pretty good metaphor for how I feel these days!
I had my PET scan on Monday. With Dr. Panwalkar being on vacation, I saw Lori, a nurse practitioner, for my appointment on Tuesday. She has helped me often in the infusion center, checking on me when my infusion nurse, or I have had a concern.
But everything felt out of place for me yesterday. My appointment had been changed by the infusion center to an afternoon and I couldn't get it changed back to morning this time. So Rick had to leave half way through my appointment. But Lori was honest in saying she simply didn't have enough experience in reading PET scans to truly tell me much of anything that day. While some changes in the scan from 3 months ago, are evident in the scan on Monday, just how much change is the biggest question. Plus, my platelets were too low yesterday and I wouldn't qualify for any infusion treatment.
The report by the radiologist had enough questions in it, that nothing was very conclusive and Lori felt it would be best to wait for Dr. Panwalkar to return from his trip next week to see me- hopefully. He returns to work next Tuesday, and his schedule will likely be daunting. Yet they said they would try to get me squeezed in. So much, is simply out of my hands. I hardly know what to do.
In the meantime we are in the process of getting me set up for a kidney stent replacement again. Its hard to fathom its been 3 months since the last one and on November 2nd, I'll be having yet another stent replacement day surgery- but this time at the new hospital which I haven't seen as of yet.
So I'm kind of in limbo. Both physically, and emotionally. I'm clinging to today and focusing on all that I can do right now, and trying hard not to focus on what lies ahead, or doesn't. I simply don't know. My outside and my inside simply don't match.
Yet as much as I am in today, the future calls to me to engage, to plan, to dream. Plus, having so many of you showing up and sending me such thoughtful responses to my last blog post helps me fill with hope and keep my eyes seeking the future, as uncertain as it is, for all of us really.
A couple of my cousins and their daughters came to visit me last week. They brought warmth, laughter and a sense of family back to me, which meant so much. But they also brought the gift of a battery-charged heated coat! The battery attaches in the back in a small pocket and the buttons shown on the front help you regulate the amount of heat that is generated.
How cool is that! Its perfect for the rink and I'm longing to be able to try it!
Thank you Mary, Jackie, Nichole, and Brook- and the whole Brainerd crew!
We also have a wonderful neighbor who offered to cook some casseroles for us once a week. She offered to use my tuna noodle casserole recipe, and Colton is pretty over the moon to know whats coming. Plus so many who have also brought other meals, and come to visit and have simply helped us feel supported, and valued and loved. Its those very things that help me yearn for all the tomorrows, knowing that He has this. He has me. He has our family in the palm of his hands and he shows us every day that the bottom line is...
"All shall be well."