A quick recap. I met with my neurosurgeon last October and the news was good. The radiation was effective and Bob had stopped growing.
I had another scan scheduled this past April. I wasn’t as afraid this time. I was settled. It’s funny how that happens when you have weathered enough storms; they don’t seem to rattle you as much.
So, when the day came I was ready to walk through it. I met with the neurosurgeon immediately after my MRI. He handed me his little iPad with the scan on it and pointed to a white dot on the side of my brain, “Well, it looks good. It’s not growing at all. This is the best case scenario.”
Uh, no. I have an idea of what the best case scenario looks like in my head and it doesn’t include a tumor still sitting in my brain.
But it didn’t go away, I questioned, you said it should continue to shrink in size.
“It didn’t shrink, but it didn’t grow which means it’s contained,” he explained, “This is great news.
Wait, so I am supposed to just live with this?
“We only need to see you once a year and you know what symptoms to watch for, so yes, you are.”
Hmph… that wasn’t half as comforting as I hoped it would be.
So here I was, forced to live with it- with him- and carry on like normal. And I didn’t like that. I didn’t. I just wanted it gone, like as far away from my brain tissue as possible. It seemed unnatural to have to live with something that could threaten my very life, and yet…. that was my road I was being asked to walk.
And that got my thinking, dear sisters, of how many of us live with our own Bobs, something that makes us afraid, something that we wish would go away, that we could literally rip out of our lives, but we are being asked to live with it.
Oh they may take on different forms (and names) but nonetheless there they are- a challenging spouse- a parent- a debt or difficult financial situation- the memory of a past abuse- a chronic illness. We all have our Bobs, do we not?
So here we are, dear sisters, all with our own little (or very big) Bobs and yet we are being asked to walk forward, to continue on. And my challenge to you, dear sisters, is will we let these define who we are? Will they become our identity? Will they be the thing that consumes our minds, that which we filter the world through or…
… or can we acknowledge them for what they are and look for more. Oh the life- the joy- that lies outside of these tumors. It’s there, dear sisters. I know at times it seems impossible to see, but it is there!
Oh Bob, I hate that it appears I must continue to do life with you in tow, but nonetheless I will carry on. Pull up your big boy undies, Bob, we are moving on…