I don’t want to be overly sentimental or cosmic or something like that, but at this moment I am most certainly leaning on faith and relearning what that means.

Anyhow, today I was feeling rather crummy, my belly was all ‘blah’ and stuff, so I picked up a random book from my shelf for distraction. Distraction is a rare thing these past few days. I can’t get my mind off all that big scary stuff I don’t want to think about and yet can’t stop considering.

Anyhow, the book was Homar Price, and it’s a very old copy that my Dad passed along to me and I totally adore. So, sitting down, I opened the book thinking I’d glance at a couple pages. And there where I opened it was a bookmark. A book mark that I’d cut and written out years ago on a piece of sketch paper, and at some point shoved into my books while packing between moves and never thought about again. And on that book mark was my very favourite poem.

You probably know it, it’s that footprints poem. So I sat there and read the poem, and in a way, it was just a nice reminder. It held no promises, but I reckon it held some hope and the idea of a lighter load, and right now, I could really use a lighter load.

Anyhow, for that poem to end up in that book and be opened by me at that time . . . it was so beautifully random that I’ll take it for a miracle. And if one miracle can happen, maybe more can too 🙂

Here’s a copy of the poem. It’s the footprints poem.

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed
he was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Across the sky flashed scenes from his life.
For each scene he noticed two sets of
footprints in the sand: one belonging
to him, and the other to the Lord.
When the last scene of his life flashed before him,
he looked back at the footprints in the sand.
He noticed that many times along the path of
his life there was only one set of footprints.
He also noticed that it happened at the very
lowest and saddest times in his life.
This really bothered him and he
questioned the Lord about it,
“Lord, you said that once I decided to follow
you, you’d walk with me all the way.
But I have noticed that during the most
troublesome times in my life,
there is only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why when
I needed you most you would leave me.”
The Lord replied,
“My son, my precious child,
I love you and I would never leave you.
During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints,
it was then that I carried you.”

So it’s time to write this post. The truth is, it’s a post in limbo . . . and I know I should remain the constant optimist and punch back my fears and continue to hope for a miracle, which I am doing, kinda, but I’m also crying about every hour on the hour.

Unfortunately it’s not my style to hold things back. It’s not good for me. Not healthy. Which is why it’s time for this post.

This past week I had the joy of being at a cottage for several days. It’s this amazing place up north a little from Ottawa into Quebec, on a lake called Lac Blue Sea. (I think that’s the name, at least). The cottage we stayed at with my family was amazing. It was clean and mould-free and there were kayaks that my husband and I took out every day, and my mother and I took out together as well. We would  paddle into this big lake and then just sit there, floating only a little above the water in what was a beautiful stillness. Loons dipping into and out of the water, fish flipping through the surface, trees guarding the shore . . . it was a slice of heaven.

Then on Thursday my husband and I jumped into the car and headed back to town for what was meant to be a routine oncology appointment. We were shown into the room, and given a seat – and there was this poster on the wall opposite of two dogs running down the beach. And I said to Zsolt, “Geez, if he gives us bad news all I’m going to associate with this moment is that dog’s butt.”

I’m a damn idiot.

In walked Dr. Canada, and he began talking in second person, say ‘we decided at your last visit that you should get pregnant, and we thought you should get scans first.’  Then he sat down opposite me. He passed out our MRI results (since I always request copies of my results) and said they were fine.

Then he says something like, “now I don’t want you to get very upset, but there’s an abnormality in your CT scan on your lungs.”

Which basically amounts to tiny spots on my right lung, where my breast once sat as it filled up with cancer.

So la, la, la, several minutes later I’m crying and Dr. Canada is writing me an anti-anxiety prescription while my husband, Zsolt, is trying to absorb the conversation. To put it in Dr. Canada’s words: “It’s not a slam dunk,” and there’s a chance it’s not cancer. But also as he said, cancer would be the “highest probability.”

You ever heard of that molecules of emotion book, about reprogramming our RDNA, and therefore changing our situation? Well, thinking of that I want to say this isn’t cancer in my right lung. It’s just scar tissue left over from pneumonia and not caught in an earlier x-ray. That’s what I want it to be. I want to NOT have cancer in my chest. FUCK OFF cancer drama.

But I’ve been crying ever since that meeting. And we’ve been basically devastated. It’s Zsolt’s birthday today. He is the love of my life, and his being born is the greatest gift I could have ever received. I love him, I love him, I love him. So, you can understand, that the concept of leaving him absolutely terrifies me. We decided we need to learn more before we panic further. And also, I should probably stop thinking about death. And I’m avoiding Dr Google best as possible. But there’s something in my lungs, and that something is located awfully close to another something that had to be surgically removed via mastectomy.

This is a weird feeling. I’m not taking that anti-anxiety med, I’d rather cry my way through. And Zsolt, my wonderful Zsolt, he is doing so well. Whether we are emotional, or smiling for each other’s sakes, or smiling for real in a moment of distraction, he is doing so well.

Zsolt: Happy birthday. I love you and that is one thing that will never, ever change. Sorry for the crappiness of today’s celebration, but being together really is the tops, no matter what else is happening.

P.S.

Prayers, crossed fingers, and good thoughts for a glorious miracle are very much welcome. A miracle would be awesome. Also, a cure for cancer would be awesome as well.