Gifts

I feel so smashed this morning, and it feels so good.

We have been on the road travelling to Cleveland and Columbus too much these past three weeks. We have been busy trying to get caught up a little bit here at home - Scott has done an awesome job of housekeeping this past year - but there were some things that just needed "done".

We've had poor health for so long, that these last few days of "feeling better", feel really good.  And it feels good to work at something.  My brain still has a lot of cobwebs - still a lot of confusion, a lot of "not-knowing" when I should know things - but it is working better.

Our son got us a shared, what I call "walkie-talkies" on steroids, and he texted his dad this morning telling him he had hid his walkie-talkie in their Christmas tree.  Popop readily obliged and started talking - saying things like he was the Christmas tree talking.  The twins were amazed, scared then finally knowing who was really talking - scolded him.  It was all pretty hilarious.

So life seems to be full of the normal, ordinary pleasures again.

Plus, we feel as if we have just been handed another gift.

My physical therapist had instructed me a couple of months ago to massage my incision site to release scar tissue.  I had been doing that - doing everything/anything to give my arm and muscles some relief when they had clamped up tight the week after my fourth chemo treatment - and while doing that massage two weeks ago, I... found... lumps... on... my... ribs.

Life slowed, then stopped again.

As I had been doing this a couple of times each day, I was pretty familiar with how everything should feel, and I knew that first lump had not been there the day before.  Then there were two, then three.  All on the bones.  All not painful.  All making me completely sick in my soul again.

At that time, I was just three weeks out from my last chemo, just barely getting back to eating and feeling better some, so the logical side of my brain said it was too close to chemo to be a bone cancer lump.  The side of my brain that is not so logical, just freaked out.

I couldn't even tell Scott at first - he has been too sick with his gall bladder and trying to work to have anything more put on his plate.  I didn't tell my kids at first.  It's too close to that same time of year again.

I was scheduled for my radiology set-up CT scan in two days, so I called my oncologists, and we all agreed we would have a look at the scan.  My radiologist-oncologist, examined the lumps, asked me if I had looked at them in a mirror - I said no - and she said she could see them easily through my skin and that they were substantial; then found another one on my sternum that she was more concerned about.

She promised me she herself would show me the CT scan when I was done and go over every little rib in my body together.  

It was a long appointment - I was there for three hours.  I now have four dot-tattoos, road mapping where to place the radiation when I start.  After the scan, she called me into the "look" room, and showed me my bones.  She told me a radiology prep CT scan is not a diagnostic scan, but that my bones looked good, and that I should tell the part of my brain that was freaking out, that the logical part of my brain was correct - and not to worry.

She showed me a few other things that were of concern, then told me to go home, breathe a big sigh of relief, and live again.

I did --  until my oncologist called and said she wanted a full body scan done asap.

The logical side of my brain knew it had looked at my bones with my very own eyes, and was satisfied, but the freaking side of my brain was full of questions, and full of dread again.

So many times this year, I've had a chance to realize that my life could be short.  I've had a chance to review, and repent, and be joyful all at once realizing what blessings I've had.

I took time to mull over in my brain what my response would be if I were told I had to do more chemo.  I've had nine months of chemo this year, and it has altered my brain, altered my thinking, altered my body, altered my health - and - altered who I am.

I was not sure what my response would have be if told that I needed to step into that brutal, fenced in fighting arena again.

I took time to mull over in my brain what my response would be if I was told I would be meeting God soon.

It didn't help that my scheduled whole body scan was on my "anniversary date" - the same day I had found last year that I had cancer.

Four years ago, Scott had a life threatening illness and then surgery that same day.

December has not been a traditionally good news month for us.

It was a long several days of reflection, and crying before God, and giving it over to Him time and time and time again.

And strangely, there was joy in it all.  If this was "my time", I knew that even though there were a lot of things not accomplished, a lot of things left undone, a lot of things not said, a lot of things that would be missed, I also had a deep knowing that I had received more in my lifetime than I could ever be properly thankful for - I knew that God had blessed me with things that others beg Him to gift to them.

In some sense of it all - I could lose everything in a moment.  In another sense of it all - I had been given everything and more.

My brain and my soul agreed on it all.

***

My sweet doctor had put in a rush on the whole body scan - so after my dye injection at OSU at 8:30am Friday morning, then my actual scan close to noon - they rushed the results to her at the Center - she had answers by our appointment time at 2pm.  God bless that woman - she, as well as I, did not want to be placed once again in the "holiday-skip" - that time of year when medical staffs are cut in half with everyone taking vacation time - it's the most difficult time of the year to get in, get tests done, and the worst time to wait for and get answers.

She gave me a big hug when she walked into the exam room.  She said hello to Scott, who has been notably missing the last couple of weeks as he has used up too many sick days.  She then told me that my scan turned up the same thing as my first and second scans - a couple of bad discs in my lower back - and arthritis - and NO CANCER GROWTHS!

She thinks it is scar tissue.  I'll take that.

My body literally shuddered with relief.  It was scary, it was a time of faith stretching, it was soul searching and soul readying - it was all of those feelings, tense muscles and recoiling, afraid of the news, yet ready for whatever may come - it was all released in one sentence out of her mouth.

Scott and I smiled widely with relief.

I asked her how I should determine in the future what to be concerned about - and she answered "you don't - you come to me!"  She said she didn't know until she got the scan herself.

My brain told me that God was saying the same thing - "you don't know - you come to Me!"

***

Throughout this whole dilemma, when I was finally feeling better in December, I decided it was time to renew my drivers license that had expired on my birthday in November.

I was denied.

They told me at the BMV that my Social Security name did not match my name on my expired driver's license.  Therefore, I could not renew.  I was told if I did drive and was to encounter a police officer for any reason, like say speeding or some such thing, I would be "taken in", and my car would be towed and impounded.  No questions asked.

Then they dropped the big bomb - I had to go to the nearest Social Security office and get my name straightened out.

In my brain there are some things in life I deem more pleasurable - like poking an ice pick in your eye, or pulling off fingernails.  I had tried several times after our house fire in 1995 to correct this problem and it was not *correctable* for a lot of years...... I had just given up and my recent tax returns reflect that - my name is hyphenated with my maiden name to get them accepted.

It's difficult to reflect God in such times.

Soooooo........ last week, Scott was finally able to pretend like he was driving me, and off we went to our nearest SS office more than 45 minutes away, early one morning.

Upon walking in the door, Scott was immediately told by the security officer to either dump his coffee - or take it back out to the car - there was no food or drink allowed in the building.  And according to their tv announcements - no cell phone use as well.

We dutifully took our number, sat down, and waited.  Scott complained a little too loudly about his coffee, as it was his first coffee since his surgery and he had intended on enjoying it if nothing else that day..... all the while, my intellect was telling me that we were stepping down into the abyss once more, and the pointers all seem to be pointing to the fact that I might never drive legally again.

Then we were called up and surprises of surprises, encountered a most pleasant young man.  And helpful.  And kind.  This was NOT the  same Social Security office that we had navigated trying to get five new identity cards seventeen years ago.  They were helpful.  He gave me a piece of paper to enable me to get my license.

He sent me to the Richland County BMV.  We went in, took a number and sat down.  They smiled and said their computers had just gone down and they had no idea how long it would be.  While I re-positioned myself for the long haul, half of the room cleared out.  Then, miracles of miracles, the computers were back up again.

I was out of there with a drivers license in less than 30 minutes.  We went back to SS to show them my new drivers license so they could correct the name error (I know - crazy, huh?) and it went incredibly smooth.  Incredibly well.  Incredibly, we were out of there all said and done between the two agencies within three hours.

That is unheard of.  I'm still in shock over it all.  I have literally spent hours and hours and hours and days and days trying to correct this problem over the years.  I have notes attached to our marriage license.  It appears according to those notes that I was close to being suicidal after a "talk" in 2004.  So, I am extra relieved to note that even though I was there the day of our wedding, now Social Security admits it as well......

***

We are not anyways near ready for our feasting and family tomorrow.  But, I've decided we have done what we could, they are all helping and bringing something and cooking and baking, so we can just cozy down and wrap some presents tonight.  And maybe actually put some lights on the tree that Scott put up before his surgery.

I didn't get any Christmas cards out, even though we have greatly enjoyed getting them and hearing from a lot of folks we don't get to see very often.

My shopping has not even happened this year.  I couldn't even get out to the grocery store the first week Scott was home - I had a few appointments, he wasn't feeling well, so we just continued eating tomato soup and canned tuna, which is what kept him alive the previous six weeks, and I had subsisted on it quite a bit this year, so it was all good.

Friends of ours brought us out a meal, and it tasted so good.  My taste buds are awakening again, Scott was feeling some better, so it was just the perfect low-fat food, at the perfect time.  We ate and enjoyed it immensely.

Everything has been put under a microscope in matters of importance.  Some things just aren't so important any longer.  Clean bathrooms rank high in our house, this past year especially, and other than that, the rest is all ok.

I don't even have a wreath on our door.  I don't know where they were put last year in the garage.

But we are overwhelmed with God's grace and mercy washing over us.  We are resting in His grace and peace.  He has given us so much - we have each other, kindnesses, goodness, the taste of good food being introduced into both of our diets again, and the greatest gift of all - His presence.

And, I sincerely hope I would be saying that even if my test results came back differently.

We don't know what the future holds, but for now, we are resting in His care.  In a little over a week, I start radiation and the drives to Columbus daily or staying over, so we hope to savor this time together, both recovering together.

We plan to have a Merry Christmas tomorrow with everyone.  We plan to let them all spoil us.  We plan to just not worry.  We plan to remember how good it is to have loved ones to help and support and care.

We plan to listen to five little girls screaming with delight, playing, crying, playing some more - and we can't wait.

Scott's folks are excited to give the girls their gifts - each year they get them all incredibly cute dresses.  We are excited to give our gifts in the spirit of love like never before. (thank you Amazon.com and free delivery!!)  The girls are so excited about giving to one another.  There have been so many "secrets" and planning on how to give, what to give, and card making, and lavished love over it all.

Scott and I are so very tired, but so very happy at the prospect of being all together and being happy.  Money is a side issue on those days.  Snowy roads don't matter so much.  Laying on yet another narrow table being radiated once again is just a short-term dim memory.  Life is now, today, and there will be plenty of time when it's all over to be too tired to enjoy it all.

It will be the most extraordinary, simplest of holidays ever.

And we think it all so great to be here joyfully enjoying it all.