When I Am Afraid...

Doxil 3/6 has not been fun.  Or easy.  Or calm.  Or without drama.

Last week, I had mouth sores that reduced me to using a dry-erase white board to communicate with my family.  Luckily, the cowboys thought that was a great game!  I also had the skin affliction in full swing, meaning that standing under a shower felt like being pelted with bullets.  My yoga pants were the only fabric that could comfortably touch me, and big chunks of skin were peeling off of my feet and toes.  Horrible, stupid side effects.

The other thing I had last week was appointments.  After 3 treatments, I am at the halfway point with chemo.  I had an appointment to have an echocardiogram done to check for any damage that Doxil may be doing to my heart.  I also had an appointment for a CT scan, which would provide a picture for my medical team to look for complications, and ultimately, recurrent cancer.

The echo came back clear.  My heart is still pumping perfectly.  The scan, however, was a different story.  The radiologist who read the scan saw spots that have the appearance of recurrent carcinomas.  This news was delivered to me by a solemn-faced Dr. F.  I could tell that he was concerned.  Frankly, I think that he has a terrible job.  Why anyone would want to be an oncologist (or a dentist) is beyond me. 

Anyway, there was a decision to be made.  I could assume that the spots are scar tissue (or some other medical thing that I don't understand) and carry on with the Doxil treatments as planned.  OR I could take a more proactive approach and have a biopsy done.  Although the idea of yet another procedure was less than appealing, I feel strongly that I have to know what I'm up against.  If I have cancer growing in my body in spite of active chemo treatment, I have a bigger problem than I thought and I need to make big decisions.  The implications of that scenario are overwhelming.  If it is not cancer, I can breathe a little easier and keep fighting.  I opted for the biopsy.

The procedure, although uncomfortable, went fine.  I was told that my doctor's office would contact me with results.  As of this morning, the results are still not in.  So I wait.

Waiting is really, really hard.  It means that I have a lot of time on my hands and I have to fill it, or else I'll go crazy.  I went to a spelling bee (Goliath won his class bee, then placed 5th in the school bee.  Proud mom!).  I went Christmas shopping with my mom.  I'm catching up on some reading and some crafting.  I've done FaceTime with Reese the Niece.  I'm taking Little Middle to the dentist tomorrow (although he doesn't know it yet).  And through all of that, I pretend that I am a normal girl with an "normal" life.  Just looking at me, you wouldn't know that I'm desperately afraid, and that my entire life hinges on a phone call that has yet to come.

"When I am afraid, I will put my trust in You."  Psalm 56:3

Trusting God means that I believe that He has the best for me.  Always.  No matter what.  I don't see how cancer can be the best thing for me, or for the people I love.  I can't fathom how this blow is to my benefit.  I'm not sure how to not waiver while waiting.  But I want to trust.  I DO trust.  Lord, I am scared.  I am tired.  I am uncertain.  But I love you and I know that you are good.  My hope is in you alone.