Tuesday, March 12, 2013
MRI results
Good mews! Unchanged epidural mass at T11-12 appears non-aggressive. They recommend follow up MRI in 3 months. Yahoo!!
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Being quiet and killing giants
Tomorrow I am getting the follow-up MRI for the spinal mass that was detected back in January. Here is how the initial radiology report put it in summary:
I do the children's Sunday school program at our church, so each week I come up with a short lesson and craft for the kids ages 2 - 9. We are going through the letters of the alphabet (last week was "P" so we talked about how Jesus is the Prince of Peace and He loves it when people pray). I was worried that this week would be difficult - "Q, Q, Q," I thought at the beginning of the week. "What am I going to do with that?!" - but it turned out God had some powerful encouragement in it for me.
We talked about what it means to be quiet with God. In the case of Elijah, he was at the end of his rope and on the run for his life from Queen Jezebel's henchmen. He was ready to quit. After many days of travel, Elijah was directed by God to wait for His presence. A huge wind, earthquake and fire came (which seems like the perfect dramatic entrance for an all-powerful God to me). But God wasn't in any of those things. Instead, He came as a soft whisper.
If you know me one iota, you know that I don't do "still" very well. So as I have approached tomorrow's follow-up MRI these last couple of weeks, I have done the most faith-filled thing possible: Over-fill my days with activity to the point of chaos and exhaustion. Busy minds aren't very good at dwelling on things, I have reasoned.
Earlier this week I told a dear friend that I was doing great, and had been staying super busy but "in a good way." However, I realize now that it's not been so good. I am scared spitless that this "thing" on my spine is cancer metastasis. No amount of "noise" changes that.
Face the giant, I am telling myself tonight. Be quiet. Trust! Listen.
I'll update this blog when I get results or additional direction on what's next. I suspect either a biopsy will be done at some point or additional MRI monitoring.
In the meantime, one more lesson I will remember for some time: 2-year-olds spit out quinoa if they have never eaten it before. Good to know!
I do the children's Sunday school program at our church, so each week I come up with a short lesson and craft for the kids ages 2 - 9. We are going through the letters of the alphabet (last week was "P" so we talked about how Jesus is the Prince of Peace and He loves it when people pray). I was worried that this week would be difficult - "Q, Q, Q," I thought at the beginning of the week. "What am I going to do with that?!" - but it turned out God had some powerful encouragement in it for me.
We talked about what it means to be quiet with God. In the case of Elijah, he was at the end of his rope and on the run for his life from Queen Jezebel's henchmen. He was ready to quit. After many days of travel, Elijah was directed by God to wait for His presence. A huge wind, earthquake and fire came (which seems like the perfect dramatic entrance for an all-powerful God to me). But God wasn't in any of those things. Instead, He came as a soft whisper.
If you know me one iota, you know that I don't do "still" very well. So as I have approached tomorrow's follow-up MRI these last couple of weeks, I have done the most faith-filled thing possible: Over-fill my days with activity to the point of chaos and exhaustion. Busy minds aren't very good at dwelling on things, I have reasoned.
Following today's Sunday school lesson on Elijah, the visiting pastor gave a terrifically awesome sermon on David and Goliath. I have heard this part of 1 Samuel preached many times. But God's Word spoke to me so powerfully and personally today that I wanted to weep with thanks.
"What are your giants?" asked the pastor in closing. In my mind, I whispered: Cancer. But I realized the real answer was fear. Total, abject terror that I am about to do another dance with a most unwelcome dance partner. The pastor encouraged us to allow God to take care of our giants the way He used David to take care of Goliath.
Earlier this week I told a dear friend that I was doing great, and had been staying super busy but "in a good way." However, I realize now that it's not been so good. I am scared spitless that this "thing" on my spine is cancer metastasis. No amount of "noise" changes that.
Face the giant, I am telling myself tonight. Be quiet. Trust! Listen.
I'll update this blog when I get results or additional direction on what's next. I suspect either a biopsy will be done at some point or additional MRI monitoring.
In the meantime, one more lesson I will remember for some time: 2-year-olds spit out quinoa if they have never eaten it before. Good to know!
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