“Suspended in Air”

That’s how I feel, like a freeze frame. When someone jumps, the movie freezes, you hear some narration voiceover, then the movie starts again.

I feel like I’m suspended in midair, mid jump, waiting to land when I get the results.

I woke up yesterday and was strangely calm. We got the kids ready and dropped everyone off to school.

When we got to the cancer center, Rob said, “Let’s go show them what a miracle looks like.”

He may not be a man of many words, but when he speaks, he always says the right ones.

There is a technician there who I’ve seen a lot, and she was there yesterday. I said it was good luck.

It took a little while to find a good vein, but one popped up eventually and they started the IV. Then they brought me to a door with a large caution sign.

Radioactive.

Then another man loaded up this machine with the radiation dye, pushed a button, and this red liquid flowed through the tubing into my arm. I saw him backing away and he said there wasn’t any protection around the tubing so he had to move away from me.

I asked,”WOW… should I step away too?”

Then we both laughed.

Radiation humor.

I asked if I was turning green yet, like Bruce Banner, and he better not make me angry.

I wore my superhero shirt and my Wonder Woman socks. I decided to make it a theme day.

The IV was removed and I said it deserved to stay in a little longer after all the trouble to find the good vein.

I was then brought to the isolation room, and they close you in with an automatic door that closes and opens very slowly with a button. It reminded me of when they rolled the stone in front of Jesus’s tomb.

For one hour I sat and read a book, texted rob, and saw an episode of Friends.

Then it was time, and my technician was Wayne, the same one from May. It fit in with the superhero theme of Bruce Wayne and Batman, and I imagined I was being slid into the bat cave.

They put two heavy plates over my chest and abdomen, and my arms were stuck to my sides. Earplugs were put into my ears and I realized no music would help me get through. Then my head was wedged into place and a huge white mask was placed over my face. It looked like a goalie mask and I said, “Lets go Islanders!” and Wayne laughed.

Then he gave me the “Holy crap” button in case I started to panic and needed to get brought out.

The test started and I was slid into the long tube. I tried very hard to not imagine it as coffin. The whizzing, whirring and clanging began. At first I thought my heartbeat was too fast because I heard a loud and constant thump thump, and realized it was the machine. It was a challenge to make my heart beat slower than the constant beating in the tube, but I did it.

I prayed a lot. I Imagined getting a phone call today saying it’s all clear. Pictured my oncologist walking into the room Thursday and saying, “You look good, Keri”.

I may have even dozed off.

After almost an hour, I was slid out and the tech and Wayne moved with lightning speed to unstrap me. They said they don’t want anyone to have to be like that longer than they have to be. My superhero name is “The Hot Flash” and they could be my sidekicks. I was told 24-48 hours for results.

I came out and rob just hugged me.

We went to a restaurant and I ate. A ladybug landed on my shirt, and rob just shook his head. We’ve had the same waitress a few times and we talked. She became emotional, told us she is going through some things with her kids and life, and said she had asked God for help or a sign, and then I showed up. I laid my hands on her and prayed for her. We’re now friends on Facebook. I told her that’s how God works. Instead of looking around us in times of trouble, just look up and talk to Him.

I said to Rob I feel like I’m crazy sometimes, and who have I become? He said that what I had just done I never would have done last year, and now I helped someone who needed it. Again, right words, right time.

Morgan had been on a trip to the museum of natural history and was sending updates. She sent us a picture of a naked lady statue and we laughed. She is one funny kid.

I spent the rest of the day resting. A friend I used to work with and had been messaging with passed away. He had played Santa for our school assemblies for a few years and I will miss him. I was sad for his loved ones, yet know that when he took his last breath on earth, he took his next breath in heaven, surrounded by loved ones and with Jesus.

I prayed for the faculty and families of Mercy high school. Everyone was caught off guard with the school closing announcement. There wasn’t much compassion or loving kindness shown to them, and I pray they are all given peace. The home districts of the children will hopefully say, “Welcome Home! We are glad you are here!” I hope they all remember it was men who made those decisions, and men who handled the way they were told. Anger is understandable, but to not lose faith in the love God has for them. They are shocked, sad, confused, and angry. My district is going to have a seventeen acts of kindness program coming up where we honor those lives lost in Florida. Everyone now has a chance to make a difference for these children and families, and welcome them with open arms and hearts. Laws about guns will be written by men, but loving kindness can be shown to others by all of us.

We’ve got a snow day today.

Which means I get to clean and catch up and use all the nervous energy to do the laundry I’ve procrastinated about. My brother said to see if the radioactivity can melt snow, and if so, can I come clear his driveway?

Humor runs in the family.

Today may we all stay warm, safe, and know that when the freeze frame gets unstuck, we can keep on moving forward, with laughter and loving kindness.

Onward.

In Jesus’s name, amen.

Xoxo

Keri