When a Picture is Worth a Hundred Tomorrows

“When a Picture is Worth a Hundred Tomorrows”

There is a saying about pictures.

“A picture is worth a thousand words”.

Usually when you look at a picture, you are reminded of something from your past.

A loved one, a special place, a special feeling, words that were said.

Today I will have pictures taken that will tell me my future, medicines I will have to take, which path I continue to walk on.

I’ll have an IV put into my arm, become radioactive, and then sit for an hour isolated in a room.

Because you know, being alone is a great thing before a test that decides your fate for the next few months.

I’ll imagine the radioactivity that is injected will make me a superhero, with superhero powers. I’ve actually got a paper stating i can’t be working three feet of children or pregnant people for six hours after the test.

I’m a danger to babies and children, imagine that.

Then I’ll walk into a cold room with a giant machine, be strapped down so i can’t move, have a mask placed over my face, and then be slid into a tunnel that will make banging, clanging and whirring noises for the next hour or so while a voice every so often will be piped in and tell me to hold my breath while I’m trying to breathe and not panic.

The last time I walked into the room there was a painting on the wall of a beach scene with a sailboat. The thing is they want to keep you calm. But they forgot that when they strap your head down and place the mask over your head, the mirror they place over your head so you can see the end of the tunnel? Makes everything upside down.

That’s fitting actually.

It has seemed like my life has been turned upside since the stage four diagnosis.

“What’s up is down and what’s left is right and the carefree future I had planned went poof overnight.”

I went to church yesterday even though I was anxious and exhausted. I had hopes it would ease my soul.

It didn’t.

Which means I drove out to the Giving Room to find my peace there.

I did.

I sat and breathed in the smell of fresh organic fruit that has helped my body stay healthy. I received a beautiful sketch that Paula had someone make for me of the condensation Rorschach picture that was on my bathroom wall after my hot shower this week.

I originally had seen an angel, or me in someone’s hands.

Now I see me at the crossroads of two paths, forging ahead on my own path.

My path to healing.

I tried so hard when I came home to hold it together and not let the horrible things stay in my head.

The “What ifs”.

Images of organs, bones, side effects, a future without me kept fleeting the horrible thing happening pictures into my mind, and I would have to push them out and make new ones.

Healthy organs, healthy bones, healthy days, a future with me in the pictures.

I cried in bed last night, and rob was once again whispering into my ear the good things.

How I long for the days when he only had to whisper sweet nothings to me. I’m sure he does too.

“No matter what”.

So today, I’ll go have my pictures taken.

I’ll try to smile when the person says to not breathe.

That’s a choice I have control over.

And I may feel alone when I’m in that long tunnel, but I’ll have Jesus with me, and we will have plenty of time for me to ask Him for plenty of time.

I’m also praying for my friends who are going into the city today for a test of their own and pictures being taken.

May we all get pictures back that not only tell us of our past and present inside our bodies, but give us a future too.

In Jesus’s name, amen.



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