You do not have to know me for two minutes before you know that I am a sunshine girl. All. Day. Long. I seriously mourn the shortening of days, desperately dread dark seasons, and anxiously await the warmth of the sun on my skin. It is amazing to me how closely my life force seems to be tied to that warm light. It may be a little crazy, but it is medicinal for me. If you were to scroll through my phone you would see pictures of sunrises and sunsets, of sun pouring through trees and lighting up fields of sunflowers. It delights me. My Mimi always said no matter how bad you feel you need to get outside and get some sunshine every day. Maybe she is the source of my genetic predisposition. I love the light! (P.S. It is 86 days until the time changes back. WOOT WOOT!!!!)
I suppose that in some ways we all share that trait -- a desire for warm, bright days. We love the days where the bills are paid, the family is well, the job is going smoothly, all is right in the world. There are no clouds in our proverbial sky, no storms on the horizon of life, and we want those days to be n-i-i-i-i-i-i-c-c-e-e-e- and l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n-n-n-n-n-g-g-g-g-g like a warm summer day. BUT, just like that time change that I hate so much, life is filled with seasons of darkness-- you know, like 2020?!?! The bills aren't paid and you have no idea how they will be. The kids are quarantined for the third time and the cabin fever is strong. Work is, well, let's just say that the Tilt-a-Whirl at Joyland doesn't shake you up NEARLY as much as trying to function in a COVID world. You miss your family. You miss your friends, and for goodness sake, you miss your favorite Mexican Food Restaurant!!! It is dark. It is depressing. And it seems - like it -will last -FOREVER!!! We just want that light back.
I have to admit I have been wrestling some darkness this week. Lately, it seems like it rains the whole time we are at MD Anderson in Houston making us have to stay indoors. As small as this seems it has a big impact on my coping mechanisms. The news we have been getting has been heavy, too. It feels very dark. The path ahead seems like a poorly lit, seldom traveled path in a heavily wooded forest inhabited by wolves. I can't see ahead, I can't get my bearings, and I have felt a little lost. I hate these moments when I don't have clarity. Ugh.
Today I asked you guys to pray for me and some telehealth appointments. In my last two visits with the surgeon, he has given the strong impression that surgery isn't a great option right now which leaves us with chemo or a trial. I have felt a little trapped and cornered in a dark, dark room. As I joined the call today I noticed that I had a message in my MD Anderson chart. My appointment had changed from the surgeon to his nurse practitioner. Disappointment. Dark. As she joined the call she explained that my doctor's mother had fallen and he had to leave quickly, but that they had reviewed my case this morning and she could share what he was thinking. She began to say that he believes that the progression means we need to consider resection. Wait, what? I thought that wasn't an option?! She shared that there actually may be several options there. I felt it-- a little bit of warmth. She began to describe them to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glimmer of light begin to flicker and a little hope begin to bubble. To make a long story short he will be taking my case to the multi-disciplinary board in January. They will talk through the options to determine the best approach. All of the sudden my heart lifted and it was like the sun began to rise a little just revealing a new turn in the path. And that, my dear friends, is the way life works. Just about the time that you think it can't get much darker a light breaks through from an unexpected place. You just have to have your eyes open to see it!
I know that some of you are sitting right there in a dark corner. Your own version of the nuisance has you feeling trapped. Open your eyes and wait with expectation. The time will change again. The light will break through the clouds. The darkness doesn't last forever (it just feels like it).
As for me? There are lots of unknowns ahead and I still can't see that stinking path, but I do feel a little light breaking through. I was sharing with my friend Beth how I was feeling about that and she sent me this picture of her dog Toby.