"Let me show you the area we are looking at. There's just a small spot here we need to get a better image of." Says the sweet nurse. "Hopefully it's just scar tissue from your incision."
My mind wants to run wild down a dark alley and get lost amidst the dumpsters filled with anguish and fear... But I won't let it.
This is the day that the Lord has made and I will choose to rejoice and be glad in it.
Yah, hopefully that's all it is... But what if it's not. I've been going through chemo for the past 9 months, had seven weeks of radiation and have started the hormone blockers (Tamoxifen ). My body is not my own and feels anything but normal. It's a constant adjustment for the mind to wrap around the new warped version of reality. It seems each day something new or different hurts and really? Was it all for nothing?
I'm dieing, it's true. But then again, so are you. None of us will escape this blatant fact. The question then is, am I choosing to live? Have I allowed this to define me? Or is this yet another opportunity to have my character refined? I think it is precisely that.
You see, I believe my life clock was set even before I would take a single breath. This has not changed the amount of days, months, or years that my clock holds. But hopefully this has opened my eyes again to the simple fact that there will be an end at some point. I am not immortal. What I do while that clock is still tickin is entirely up to me. So, (cue the Mission Impossible theme music here) my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to live and to live out loud!
We took three more pictures yesterday morning. All three were clear. The spots are scar tissue and I am thankful. After relaxing over a cup or two of coffee and chatting with a friend, I went to art class. We were working on incorporating the style of an artist named Britton. He himself, was inspired by Picasso. I must have had a song in my heart as this was what came out as I painted my own interpretation of the assignment.