A number of people have asked me or Kim what has happened with my blog.  Before, during and after my surgery I went into my “holding my breath” mode.  Anytime I go through something that is physically painful but has a boundary of time, I literally hold my breath.  I steel myself during the intense moments and then do my labor/delivery breathing as I come out of the worst of it.  I don’t think holding your breath is recommended by doctors or nurses, but it is my learned behavior and it gets me through.  So, for the past week or so, I have been emotionally holding my breath.  I started to say you can’t see me physically holding my breath – but if you are with me during my emotional breath holding, you will see me kind of disappear.  If I can’t get away from everyone in the physical sense, I will clam up and go into myself.  So that is where I have been, and that is where my blog has been…clammed up inside of me.
Then came the pathology reports.  We waited a long time for those reports.  In fact, after everything running like clockwork at MD Anderson, suddenly we felt ourselves waiting inordinately long hours.  First, Gary, Kim and I waited three hours for a pre-op consultation.  No problem – we just got giddy with Gary doing impersonations and Kim laughing so hard nothing came out of her but tears!  Shooey…can you imagine what people were thinking as they passed by? 

Situation – cancer patient waiting for surgery, laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face.    

Diagnosis – crazy as a bed bug!

Then on Monday morning, my surgery was scheduled for 10:30 a.m.  I made sure to get to the hospital a little early just in case.  I was not called until 3:00 p.m.  During those 6 hours Gary did his best to make Kim laugh as I was busy intermittently holding my breath (emotionally) and praying.  I felt like the proverbial nun, shushing the two of them, giving Gary dirty looks, and finally taking him aside and having a talk.  They were seriously as bad as school children.  Lord only knows what they did after the “nun” was in the operating room.  I did notice a lot of the custodians and service personnel seemed to have a familiar rapport with them as we walked down the halls afterwards.

So, yes, we had grown accustomed to long waits – and waiting for the pathology results was par for the course.  The first call came an entire day late.  Kim, C.E., Jeanne, Gary, and I were in the family room.  I heard Gary’s phone ring.  The sound of his phone had become more like an alarm as I had begun to imagine all the possible scenarios play out in my mind.  I began to realize the good news is God is in control – not my mind, or anything or anyone else for that matter.  Whatever information was coming from Houston had already been filtered through God’s will.  And God loves me more than anyone.  What He wants for my life will be for my good.   He will give me the grace to accept whatever comes my way.  I knew if the news was bad I would eventually have a peace just as He had given me with my initial melanoma report. 

Dr. Soliman asked how I was doing.  As I told her I was getting better each day and answered a few of her questions, Kim was thinking “Spit it out, doc!  What does that report say?”!?!?  Crazy calm, unexplainable peace was with me as I walked to our patio doors and looked up at a most beautiful evening sky.  I felt His presence.  Dr. Soliman said, “Although we have not received the pathology report from the sentinel node (the first lymph node to receive drainage from my lesion), all the other lymph nodes are clear and we removed all of the cancerous tissue.”  I said, “I could not ask for better news.”  The family room erupted in cheering and clapping.  We all hugged, cried, laughed, gave God thanks, toasted with a glass of wine – basically did everything we could to celebrate God’s answer to our prayers.  Reluctantly, everyone left one by one, realizing we couldn’t jump up and down (well…they jumped) and cheer forever.  Someone asked if I was now beginning to feel concern about the sentinel node biopsy.  Strangely, no, I was not.  I could not get over God’s kindness toward me at that moment.  Like a child who wholeheartedly trusts on her Daddy’s decisions regarding her welfare, I knew whatever the outcome, I was in His loving, caring, tender arms and I was so safe and secure.  

I had to wait five more days for the final pathology report.  Gary delivered the news unexpectedly.  I was lying in bed when he called.  Somehow, after our initial exchange of helloes, I knew he had the news and I could tell by his voice it was good!  100% clear!! Amazing!  I cried so hard.  If someone had walked in the house at that moment, they would have thought I had received horrible news.   I was sobbing so hard.  All the waiting was over and all my prayers had been answered with a resounding, “Yes”!

How do you express inexpressible joy?  Where do you find words when there are no words to explain your gratitude?  Silence was what came over me for a number of days.  Kim asked me what I would do if I got such a great report.  I said I’d sprout wings and fly.  Instead, I sat outside the next day – stunned.  What just happened?  It was as if I had been carried down a river by wild rapids the past six weeks (and I can seriously say that Kim and Gary figuratively carried me everywhere and I thank God for them) and suddenly landed in a pool of calm, gentle, peaceful water…floating as if nothing ever happened.  “Please, God, don’t EVER let me forget what You have brought me through,” I prayed.  Why am I not bouncing off the ceiling?  Why am I so quiet before the Lord?  Am I in shock?

I’ve come to realize my inability to express myself, my stunned quiet – just like that Wednesday evening before our prayer service – is a part of my praise.  It is my response to a deeper level of intimacy with the Lord - to a deeper level of gratitude and acknowledgment of who He is – an understanding of, or a better understanding of His majesty and that I have been in the presence of such great love and majesty.  All of us, when we are happy, thrilled, and excited show our emotions with screams, laughter and leaps of joy.  I expected that same response out of myself.  But when you come to the precipice of the possible end of life here on earth, not knowing if you will stay or leave, there is a newfound sense of seriousness.  I did not “dodge a bullet” as I used to enjoy saying when I escaped a possible trial.  I entered into a deeper relationship with my Creator.  I will never be the same again, thank God!

One day I will go home to be with Him…and what a day it will be!  For now, I am here with my loved ones, enjoying each beautiful new day He gives me here on earth.  Enjoying every life He places in mine.  The poignancy that it is Easter week end has not escaped me.  I am eternally thankful for my Savior, Jesus Christ!  His love for me in dying on the cross as a substitute for my sins brings me to my knees.  I can only go to heaven and have an eternal relationship with my Father because of Jesus’ sacrificial love and obedience.  My heart overflows with tremendous love and great joy.