Wednesday, November 11, 2009


My oncologist called me today. I had received a message from her yesterday (my 13-year-old daughter had answered the phone while I was out). Melissa had relayed to me that the MRI scan of my breasts was okay, but that I could call the doctor the following day. I'd thought the message meant that I could call her if I had a question or something. There was, however, a little more to it than that.

As the doctor spoke to me, I became silent. I listened intently because I didn't want to miss one single word of what she was saying. Her thick Middle-Eastern accent was strangely all too familiar to my ears. I should have known better; each time she's ever called me (since our very first meeting three and a half years ago when I was originally diagnosed), her news has always been sobering.

It turns out that when I spoke directly to the doctor today, she informed me that the MRI did show some "enhanced tissue in the right breast" -- the "other" breast. So, the doctor suggested that I have another MRI scan in 6 months, rather than a year from now. She told me that the additional MRI scan is indicated to "keep an eye on things." In a perfect world, the only person whose eyes should be looking at my poor breasts would be my husband's. But this isn't the perfect world anymore. That world disappeared thousands of years ago, when Adam and Eve didn't listen. Well, believe me, I'm listening.

Oddly, I had just posted how happy I was to hear that the recent MRI was normal. And it could very well be -- normal, that is. But there's that black cloud that just won't ever quite disappear from my cancer horizon. Most days I don't even notice it, but today it produced that evil darkness that distorts my perspective and smothers my spirit.

But do you know what the best part of all is? I'm praying to the One who hears my prayer... and listens. And He'll hear every single word I speak. He's in control of my life, and from this day forward, I can't waste one more minute worrying about a dark cloud that may never develop into a tempest.

I just need to keep listening ... to the One who promises to walk every step with me, through every storm.

1 comment:

Hopesrising said...

I am sorry about your MRI. But I am glad they will be keeping a constant watch on things. Its so hard I know all of it. I to believe what we feel is normal for what we are dealing with. The other thing is your right you can sit worry and fuss and what if you do and nothing happens. Its kinda of like all that energy that you could use for other important things is wasted. I love your post.
Your in my prayers. Keep the Faith!