It has been five weeks since my last chemotherapy treatment.
It has been three weeks since debate began among several doctors in a few different specialties in a couple of separate hospitals regarding what the status of The Sickness is.
The testing has been uncomfortable and inconvenient. The waiting has been nearly unbearable. (Do you know how hard it is to be productive if you are carrying a phone in one hand every waking hour of the day, waiting for it to ring?!?) The professional disagreements have been confusing and worrisome.
Finally, FINALLY today the final answer came. Monster is alive and well inside of me.
Scans are just pictures, and pictures can be tricky. But biopsies do not lie.
I wasn't really surprised that the biopsy was positive. What surprised me today was the emotion I felt. I've been in this fight long enough now that I thought I had developed nerves of steel. Great sadness washed over me as I listened to Nurse Allyson deliver the news. I realized that I had allowed myself to imagine a cancer-free me, and my sadness was the equivalent of disappointment.
I believe in miracles. I believe that the same God who raised Lazarus from the dead, turned the water into wine, and made the blind man see can also make me whole and well. I believe that He is good.
I do not understand why He does not allow that healing to take place. I do not understand. And oh, how I desperately want to understand it. I would give almost anything just for the assurance that all of this suffering--mine and my family's--is not in vain.
But I suppose that would not really be faith, would it?
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine.