tomorrow…

Tomorrow will be an overwhelming day.   I will be attending my friend Sandra’s visitation with several other friends from Hope Scarves.  I look forward to telling her mom and daughter how much she meant to me as an example of how to live with stage iv breast cancer, not hide from it or dwell in the sadness.  Yet, I know getting these words out is going to be very hard.

Then, at 1:45 I have my PET scan.  My first scan since my rediagnosis in January.  This marks 12 weeks (which seems more like 2 years) since the end of radiation and a good point to gauge what the cancer is doing.  I am nervous beyond words.  I feel great physically coming off a wonderful weekend with the marathon and being surrounded by family and friends.  This afternoon I did a little run/walk 4 mile loop in the sunshine.  I am slow, sore and tired.  But, I am out there moving and living.  Half way through my loop I sat in the woods in Cherokee Park and cried as I listened to the birds sing and saw the beautiful signs of spring all around me.  I thought about Sandra and the life she left behind, her unfinished dreams and her family who won’t be able to hold her and hear her sweet voice.    I thought about my own family and what lies ahead for us.  After a little while I just stood up and put one foot in front of the other and started to run.  I guess this is how it goes.   One step at a time and sometimes I just fall to my knees and cry and pray and scream in anger.  Then, I get back up.  I think the getting back up part is key…

So, tomorrow I am starting my day in kindergarten.  I was trying to think where I would want to be to feel happiness and joy on this hard day.   I’m pretty sure Second Pres Kindergarten is one of the happiest places on Earth.  So, I’m going to spend the morning with Bennett and his friends – surrounding myself with the laughter, optimism and hope that 5 & 6 year olds bring to each day.

I will post an update after we know the results from my PET scan tomorrow afternoon.  I am hoping for the best but also preparing for the idea that even if there is progression that doesn’t mean there isn’t additional treatments we can try.   We are at the beginning of this journey.  I am starting to figure out how to travel this new path. Tomorrow will be the first of many scans and accompanying anxiety.  And, unfortunately, it won’t be the last funeral I attend for a friend facing this disease.

This is the journey I am on.  I thank you for walking beside me and helping me along the way.  It means a lot to me to share my story and that you care to listen.  I so hope I post some good news tomorrow afternoon.

with love and peace,
Lara