Tomorrow is PET scan day....

So here we are...My first post op PET scan. The last one I did was in January to see if I was still a candidate for the big esophagectomy surgery. At that time, they determined that the cancer was isolated to just my esophagus and plans were made to proceed with the surgery two months later.

Now we are seven months from that last big scan and four months out from the big esophagectomy surgery and it is time for another peek to see how things are coming along and check to be sure no new spots of concern are showing up in other places. 

These scans always make me a bit unsettled. There is something about going looking for potentially bad news that just sits different. The alternative though is to not know if there is a concern and limit the potential options in dealing with it so...this Thursday (tomorrow) I will put on my brave girl pants and with grab ahold of God's hand and we will march into the PET scan building and I will dutifully sign in and get this done. 

I've shared before but one of the most challenging aspects to the PET scan is the wait time after you check in and they give you your radioactive injection. They take you into a dark room alone and ask you to rest quietly with no phone, magazine, TV, music, or person with you. The idea is you relax and don't have any stimulation in your environment for the time it takes for the chemical to get through your system. It's one of the most emotional and challenging things for me to do. I am the type that usually either likes to be actively doing something to handle an issue or problem or doing something actively to be avoiding or self-distracting from handling an issue or problem. 

In that space, there was no denying the weight of the situation nor the fact that it was just me and God. I cried both times.  I want to change my narrative about that space. I think it is important to speak a truth over myself about it all and I invite/ ask each of you to please pray not only for the outcome of the PET scan to be favorable, but also for me in the space in between, in that room, when I am left to myself and my thoughts. 

My picture for today' blog post is a buoy. A buoy represents steadfastness and safety. Waves come and a buoy holds firm. God is like a buoy...an anchor in the storm of life that steadies us in the midst of the chaos. I want to remind myself that when I get escorted to that room and all of the noise and distraction of the day is deafened, I am not alone. I am instead in a sacred place with our Father where He can comfort and sit with me before WE go back for the scan. That dark room in my waiting is the time where HE can wrap around me with the truth in His word...

That I am NEVER truly alone in this, even when all the other things are subtracted from the equation. 

That He will face whatever the outcome is alongside me so I can breathe and relax and rest in His peace even in that space, especially there.

In that light, what a gift to be grateful for that I can commune with our Daddy right before they take me back. He loves me...loves me enough to break through the closed door to stand beside me, speak in the silence to make sure I remember, and bring his light to the darkened spaces so I am not afraid. He is a good, good Father...Thats who He is. And I have a sacred audience with JUST him at 11:30 tomorrow!!

Thank you in advance for your prayers and for being in this journey alongside me. 

Thank you also to those who have helped our family by donating to our GoFundMe and who have purchased items on our Amazon Wishlist. Even though we had contingencies in place for emergencies at the beginning of this journey, we are now heading into month 10 and we didn't have emergency nets for this sort of elongated disruption and especially not when our income this year is down nearly 60%. Each gift, big or small, helps sustain us in this journey as we strive to continue to move forward step by step.