Back to Houston

Tomorrow Deb and I drive to Houston. We are going there so I can have a CT scan done again at 1:00 pm. This is the test that feels like warmth cascading down your torso while you lie in the big pulsing white donut. It’s not too unpleasant, but it wouldn’t be a popular ride at an amusement park. Tuesday, we meet Dr. Javle who will have looked at the CT results and will tell us how the cancer reacted to the treatments we have undergone. As I said earlier, if the treatments made me feel as bad as I have over the past few months, then the cancer is definitely in trouble. Then Wednesday the famous Dr. Lee will try to replace the stent once more.

Deb and I are confident in our security with one another no matter what we find out on Tuesday. But the fear of the unknown is difficult to manage. It keeps your mind busy while you’re trying to fall off to sleep. I am confident that no matter the outcome my family will be secure; no matter the findings I will be here for a long while. But the pending verdict certainly has my mind churning.

A very close friend of mine told me about his daughter who went to a park to let a helium balloon go to help her visualize my cancer floating away into refracted light. I have used this very same trick in my past to let go of things. That included my wife at one point; before she was my wife and I had to let her go to hopefully one day have her back --- just like the poster. Thankfully for me, that story turned out well and she is my life partner. I can tell you that she has been with me heart and soul through this, and is a diamond-plated treasure. I have told my kids about how special she is, and how lucky I am, we are, to have her.

Another time I let go of a balloon was with this damn cancer. As I watched that spec disappear once, twice and then forever become an indiscernible part of the vast blueness, it helped me remember that I am not alone. It’s not in my control and I can’t beat it alone. And I haven’t had to. Any one who reads this note is on my team. And there are many more who don’t even know I keep this blog but who pray for me and my family and think about us daily.  Thank you all. I think without that balloon visualization and all the people supporting me and my family, the anger and resentment would overcome me. There is no love in that.

Debra and I noticed today that we are very close since my diagnosis. It’s not unusual in these cases to have more patience for one another. But it’s a benefit and we appreciate it. Another benefit is the number of friends we have grown to appreciate more deeply. Still more include my deeper relationships with my kids, my extended family, and even my dog.

Life is hard – no impossible – to justify. It brings death and it brings beauty. It brings brittle cold and glowing warmth. It brings morning dew and hurricane. It is yin and yang. No matter the information on Tuesday, our lives have been made richer from this experience. Thank you.  More Tuesday(ish).