Yesterday I managed to breathe and stay calm.
Rob and I went food shopping, which seems like a normal thing to do, but it’s a sign of faith and hope. I could get some pretty devastating news in a day or two, but I’m still going to be here so let’s get meals for the week. As we walked out I told him that I have to remember that no matter what news I get, I’m ok now.
I also got a portable speaker from Target so I can bring my students outside and do relaxing yoga in the garden. It’s an expense I didn’t plan on, but it will be worth it to spend three weeks breathing and stretching and trying to teach the kids how to do this on their own at home.
Then Quinn, Morgan and I went to one of my student’s birthday parties. I always joke to parents that you don’t need to hire a magician or clown, just invite me. It was at my Miracle Maggie’s Farm, and it’s a thin place, or a place where I feel like I’m “in the veil”, separated so slightly from heaven. It truly is heaven on earth. I saw former parents and students and current, and I breathed and hugged them all.
We came home and my summer son Joe came home. Hearing Quinn call out from the lawn, “He’s here! He’s here!” was the sweetest thing. We eased right back into our routine, he ate, we gave him snacks and water, caught up quickly on his exciting year, and off he went. He ended up going in as a relief pitcher at the game and we were excited watching the live feed at home.
A neighbor needed some help, and Rob spent about an hour or so helping her out. I sat on my stoop and watched him and thanked God for this kind man. Another neighbor came and sat with me and it was nice talking about life and kids and faith.
I read a book called “Before We Were Yours”, and I forgot how much I used to love to read for pleasure. Juli from Kneed and Seed told me I needed to do more of that. It was a nice escape for a while.
I’m up now hydrating and praying. Getting my oncologist’s email last night confirming that it could be cancer cell die off that made the tumor markers rise so significantly helped me breathe. She still wants to see if my ovaries are functioning and what’s going on with them. As a person who has been shown that multiple primary cancers are on the way and death is close, it’s even more of a struggle to visualize a different ending to my story.
But I’m doing it.
Part of me doesn’t want to get my hopes up because it will be that much farther of a crash should the scan not go my way.
But the other part of me knows how my cells listen to my thoughts, so I’m manifesting great results.
I spoke for about an hour last night with someone who was just diagnosed again with cancer. She is now armed with more information to become her own patient advocate. I questioned some things her team has planned for her, and she said she had a weird feeling about it too. That’s the thing about when you are first diagnosed. You are in a tornado and just want to land and get out and can’t breathe or hear. You also feel weird questioning the experts. But here’s the thing.
YOU are the expert because it’s YOUR body. Who are WE to question plans?
And any doctor with their weight welcomes questions.
I’m hoping all of the water I’m drinking now, along with the hot packs I’ve got for my arms, will help with the insertion of the radiation tube. I’ve got a special shirt for today as well. I’ll ask for Nat King Coles Christmas pandora station to play while I’m in the tube, looking at the mirror strapped to my head which makes the beach scene on the wall upside down while the machine bangs and buzzed and whirs and makes all sorts of noises.
I miss Alycia, as we would talk through scans, and would always say, “Great scans, making plans!” I think of her children every day as I look at mine. This disease is so unfair, and I pray that in my lifetime we can perhaps find a way to fund research that will make ALL cancers manageable without side effects.
Today will start the results countdown.
I’ll pray for healing, great scans, peace while I wait for the news, and easy vein access.
May it all be in my favor.
In Jesus’s name, amen.
Ps yesterday was my day in town. June 9th is a day the town named after me two years ago on the night of my benefit. It was a good day to hold onto hope.