Dear Readers:
To my word, this
blog is about cancer, widowhood, and faith. Today (Friday), I met with my oncologist—a
tiny-framed Asian. He walked in the exam room, hugged me, and said, “I’m so
sorry.” This kind of reaction to a CAT Scan does not bode well for the patient.
The gentleman was clearly upset. It took him about ten minutes to clearly
define that I had inoperable liver cancer with a life expectancy of a few days
up to one month. Mom and I did our best
to console him but he remained clearly upset by this outcome.
Since my first
visit to my GP on Tuesday, the CAT Scan on Thursday, and today, I have not been
surprised by any of this. I felt sick three weeks ago—having problems eating,
losing stamina, and gain water weight up to a pound a day. My liver felt knotted.
I checked the film on the scan—no knots. I have a liver that is polka-dotted
with cancer spots. I will have a biopsy this coming Tuesday to confirm
everything for insurance purposes. We are trying Anastrozole to slow down the
process and give me a little extra time.
Mom’s birthday is
April 30th. She would like me to cut the cake. How can I refuse such
a sweet request?
I believe that
Paul, my husband, misses me and has asked God to call me home. We were meant to
go together but the funeral parlor refused to let me crawl into the cremation
vault with my dear man. So 21st Century. I’m now forced down this path to
get to heaven. I do believe in heaven.
When you get
there, look for me I will be sitting under an oak tree discussing “Letters from
Earth” with Mark Twain. I promised my friend Sue I would plant a few flowers to
spruce up the place before she arrives. Cindy B said it would be nice if I hugged
Devon her Sainted first born. I am already getting a to-do list before lifting
off. Exciting don’t you think?
I ask for prayers
for my family and for comfort—to cut down the pain.
I will write as
often and as long as I can because that’s what writers do. God bless you
everyday.