Follow-Up to Monday's Appt

It's been quite a week, it seems, but I realize it's only Wednesday.

Monday afternoon we packed up in anticipation of coming home following the appointment with the surgeon - and our visit did not disappoint.

Lab results came back from what the surgeon had taken out.

He confirmed that it is/was stage 2 - essentially meaning that it was fully contained where it was;

Lymph nodes - clear, 

cells on either side of the tumour - clear, 

no other signs of spreading. 

It is amazing news. 

We are so thankful for all of the prayers that have been offered on our behalf. 

And so thankful that God has been merciful.

Thankful for all the medical staff who have helped along the way.

And for the people who have carried and continue to carry all of this with us.

We were told that chemo is not usually done for stage 2 cancer, although because of my age, I may still have some. 

A referral has been sent to an oncologist and we anticipate hearing a final word on that in the weeks ahead.

But for now, a very hopeful and positive outcome.

God has been very gracious.

Staples were removed and we headed back to Rocky Mountain House breathing huge sighs of relief.

It's funny. 

There was relief.

But also a different kind of apprehension. 

I texted a few people that evening to pass on our news, and said with a laughing emoji,

"Moving a little extra cautiously as I'm not as convinced as he is that everything is going to stay shut."

And I was.

Moving cautiously and slowly. 

Just before bed, I was sitting down and leaned forward slightly, when my incision re-opened.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't traumatized a little.

There's a reason this update didn't come sooner. 

Everything that felt so sure, was suddenly unsure and out of my control.

I'm no expert on closing major abdominal wounds. 

We did our best and then visited the ER to get things re-stitched together.

And I've been moving a lot more slowly.

And feeling a lot more anxious.

And where before I was ready to try things and to figure out the right way to move to ensure I could still do as many things as I could without asking for help,

I have become very okay with asking for help and staying in place; lying down as much as possible and giving all those torn cells as much time and space as I can for them to re-heal.

And it's not that I don't know it will heal.

It's not that I don't trust that God is bigger than this set-back.

But when things feel fragile, it takes over a little.

And sometimes I need a push to get back on the Thankful-Train instead of hanging out on Stress-Street.

I'm thankful that we were at home when it happened and not driving down Highway 2.

I'm thankful that the ER wasn't busy and that I could be seen right away and stitched back together.

I'm thankful that we knew the nurse that evening, who helped us feel well taken care of.

I'm thankful for friends who could be called after the hours where people usually make phone calls and show up ready to care for our girls who were a little worried after waving their mom off in an ambulance.

I'm thankful for Ken being home these days, ready and willing to do all the things. 

So many things.

And for texts and cards and quilts and meals and riddles and little painted R-pods that remind me that we are loved and not alone.

God is ever-present and keeps showing up in all the people who cross our path as His hands and feet.

I'm thankful for girls who love Lego and reading books and who are trying to have some "normal" summer days in spite of all the extra this time around.

I'm thankful for a daughter who is an expressive reader who read to me on the couch all afternoon today.

My brother said to me last week, "You have good people." 

And he is so right.

So, even though we've had a little set-back,

And I'm moving much more slowly again,

We continue to be on the way to recovery, one day at a time.

Trusting that God who has known all the details up until now, knew about this part of the journey, too.