Sometimes,
the risk chooses you. I went through a January of Risk Taking,
courtesy of my friend, Amy. I hope you were encouraged to risk, as
well. But February. Oh February. As if the continuing threat of
frostbite if we so much as retrieve the mail was not enough, February
brought the risk no woman wants. I did not choose it; it chose me.
Callbacks
are great in the theater world. In the medical realm? Not so much.
The little postcards in the mail I've been getting for ten years that
reassured me, “Your mammogram was normal,” have been taken for
granted, as reassuring friends often are. Unexpected calls that tell
us, “Not so normal” are not friends. Unless we choose to make
them so.
There
was overwashing fear after test one, cautious optimism after 2 and 3,
and there will be verdict, so they say, after 4 and/or 5. That's a
lot of tests for one small boob. Seriously, there isn't that much
there to be sticking needles in.
It's
funny what that overwashing fear can do to a person. Perhaps being a
writer comes with a vivid imagination. OK, obviously being a writer
comes with a vivid imagination. Duh. But being an introvert who lives
in her mind 24/7 can allow that imagination some terrifying free
reign it ought not have, probably.
Within
the first day I had considered items for a bucket list and taken some
things off it which no longer seemed terribly important. I had
practically booked my flights for Idaho and Arizona to see my brother
and sister. I had decided the last great trip would definitely be New
Zealand and no others would be needed. I had figured I would write
more and market less because, frankly, the latter seemed kind of
superfluous. Bit of a relief, that one, not going to lie.
I
had even decided the wig/no wig question. Yes, I would wear a wig. A
pink one. And a blue one another day. And . . . the possibilities
were endless. All this within the first day? First couple hours,
people. I am a fast imaginer. Plus, an innate strategizer. If
I'm going to die, I'm going to be ON IT with the planning. (But, I am
not going to. So stop worrying. Or divvying up the jewelry.)
In
the space of fifteen minutes I could cycle from “It's just a
shadow, not to worry” to “I'm going to fight this and win because
I'm a survivor!” to “What will my last words be to my daughter
when I die right before her high school graduation in four months,
just like my mother did to me?” And back again. I'm not exactly the
emotional roller coaster sort, so I was getting kind of motion sick.
At
least, between a child's life-threatening issues and my own kidney
transplant, I have ridden this ride before. I'm not blindfolded, and
I know the sudden drops and stops and dark, dark places that can be
ahead.
I
know, too, that the light places are better because of the dark ones.
That's why, after the initial kaleidoscopic imagination frenzy, peace
reigns. And, strangely enough, a complete willingness to go through
whatever if it's where He wants to take me. That part of the ride is
new. It's real because of the previous rollicking rides. Rides where
I know he held on to me and brought me safely to the end of the
coaster even when I wasn't at all sure it had an end. Even when I
felt certain that seat was going to rocket off into the abyss and
fall, sickeningly, forever.
He was unfailing.
Unfailing.
I marvel that I believe this now with my whole heart and soul. Marvel
because that faith is his work, not mine. My whole life is his work,
not mine. Some days I want to give it back to him and ask for a redo,
and some days I stand back and stare in open-mouthed amazement at
what He's done.
I
want to be able to preserve this moment of knowing, knowing in the
deepest core of my being, that whatever he does, it is good.
Tomorrow,
the craziness might start again. Imaginations are tricky beasts, not
prone to listening to the voice of reason. But tomorrow the bedrock
will still be there, under the craziness, beneath the temporary
fears. I will fall on it. And it will be there. This I know.
1 comment:
I am praying for you. I know the Creator, the Healer, and the one who sets the captives free, and I know that He has got your back. *hugs*
Waiting with you for an update, and praying with you.
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