The kindness of strangers

An unbelievable number of people visited my blog today - seriously - I couldn't believe how many people (thank you Niobe and Waiting Amy for sending all the prayers my way). To all of you who stopped by and sent out a prayer, or left a comment - whoever you are, most of you strangers - I am grateful to all of you.

I've wanted to post these past few days about the whole cycle of emotions that I go through before these follow-up MRIs and mammograms - but I just haven't had a chance. I'm drowning at work so I can't post there and then I'm working late on top of it so by the time I get home, I don't have it in me to really go into it. A blessing in disguise probably because you can guess what the posts would be like if I had hours to sit here and try to describe it. I cycle through this whole range of things from the worst regret I've ever felt, coupled with guilt and downright anguish - all the way to over to the other side where I experience overwhelming gratitude and a deep sense of peacefulness. Eventually I suppose, by the time the appointment rolls around, you find a way to make some kind of peace with things. Because what's the alternative?

But it isn't easy. You spend a lot of time trying to rationalize it - reviewing everything you know, factually, medically, scientifically, statistically - you hear your doctor's voice in your head telling you that the odds are overwhelmingly in your favor. And you say yes, but weren't they the first time? And she says yes, but knowing everything we know now - we can say that. Before the biopsy I was told that there was less than a 1% chance that I could have breast cancer. The first doctor didn't even want to do the biopsy because I was only 28. I forced them to - and I won the lottery I guess you could say. All of the rationalizing in the world doesn't change what you feel.

And you spend a lot of time talking to God - it's one great big, several day long conversation - in which you are really just trying to find the right way to apologize. For what? For not holding up my end of the bargain. This whole experience has been one continuous negotiation in which I try to give up one thing after another in exchange for Time. I'm not even asking for a lifetime, just more time, just this little bit of time until the next time I go through this. I've offered up everything I can think of. It started with my fertility (chemo drugs frequently leave you infertile) and then over time I've offered up everything else I've ever wanted in life- every hope, every dream. But how many more times can I beg this higher power of mine to save me and expect a miracle?

I just wanted another chance so that I could live differently - so that I could live without all those regrets I discovered I had and find happiness and help other people and really deeply appreciate everything that I have in my life. But I feel like I'm failing and I'm running out of prayers and excuses, so how about a little grace instead?

I was talking about contentment in that post called Time. It makes a lot of sense to me now - of course I feel that deep feeling of contentment. I think I always do right before these appointments. Because I know what matters in life. I don't live every day as if I do, but I understand it right before I think I might lose it. And then when I find out that it's mine to keep for just a little longer, I lose sight of it again.

I won't know anything tomorrow - that might be the worst part - waiting for the phone to ring. And when it does, your stomach drops and you start shaking.