Wait
I hear the ER doctor say the words "metastasized mass" and something I never wanted to hear again is spoken.
I stand outside room 487 and pause for a few seconds as I see the layout of a room that I never wanted to set foot in again.
I walk down a long long hallway with my feet feeling like magnets stuck to metal to a place I never wanted to walk to again.
My heart breaks for my husband as he prepares to endure pain that no one should ever have to feel. I am reminded of the year markers that we waited to pass so the we were "disease free". One year, two years, three years (that's the special one that most throat cancers come back by), four years, five years. Five years that's the biggie - that's CANCER FREE. How wonderful it felt to reach that mark and begin our now cancer free walk into the sixth year. Now we sit here today and wait until 2:15 when the doctor will tell us words that we don't want to hear - but already know.
We sit in an office we have sat in too often and wait for the doctor to come in. He walks in, shakes our hands and sits down with a sigh and a look of understanding and sadness. He says the words we first heard six years ago this very month - the biopsy is positive for cancer.
My husband never complains. Never says "why me". Never raises his fist in anger to God. He never has. He shakes his oncologists hand and says "we beat this once, we will do it again".
Our family prepares for this battle. We will need your prayers. We will need your help. We will need you to just be there. Cancer - you are in for a fight. Prepare to loose.
I stand outside room 487 and pause for a few seconds as I see the layout of a room that I never wanted to set foot in again.
I walk down a long long hallway with my feet feeling like magnets stuck to metal to a place I never wanted to walk to again.
My heart breaks for my husband as he prepares to endure pain that no one should ever have to feel. I am reminded of the year markers that we waited to pass so the we were "disease free". One year, two years, three years (that's the special one that most throat cancers come back by), four years, five years. Five years that's the biggie - that's CANCER FREE. How wonderful it felt to reach that mark and begin our now cancer free walk into the sixth year. Now we sit here today and wait until 2:15 when the doctor will tell us words that we don't want to hear - but already know.
We sit in an office we have sat in too often and wait for the doctor to come in. He walks in, shakes our hands and sits down with a sigh and a look of understanding and sadness. He says the words we first heard six years ago this very month - the biopsy is positive for cancer.
My husband never complains. Never says "why me". Never raises his fist in anger to God. He never has. He shakes his oncologists hand and says "we beat this once, we will do it again".
Our family prepares for this battle. We will need your prayers. We will need your help. We will need you to just be there. Cancer - you are in for a fight. Prepare to loose.
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