Action has always been the keyword in my life. I tend to move through life at a pretty good pace. I’m a planner and super organized, and the more information I have, the better I like it.
Cancer just laughs at me. Every day. The sign in the Cancer waiting room says, “Please have a seat…you’ll be here for a while.” And when I go up to the front desk to ask what’s going on or what’s happening next, Cancer hands me a magazine and invites me to sit back down…and wait.
It’s been two weeks since we first heard the words, “It’s Cancer.” In those two weeks, we’ve seen three doctors and John has had three different tests, including the PET scan he had this past Wednesday. That one should answer all of our questions…where is the Cancer, what stage is it, and what’s our first move.
But we won’t have those results until we sit down with his Oncologist on Monday. Two days of waiting down, three more days to go. It feels to me like being suspended in mid-air, straining my toes toward the ground to try to regain my footing but not quite being able to reach. It’s tiring. Of course we’re focused on the outcome we want, which is Stage 3 and not Stage 4, a localized tumor that can be removed surgically and hasn’t spread. Most of the time, we’re focused on that. But, try as I might, it’s inevitable that the “what ifs” start creeping in now and then.
I want to DO something, take action, make a plan, know EXACTLY what’s next.
And Cancer just laughs at me. Not this time, Missy. You have no control here. Please have a seat.