Dress for Destiny

Some days you bound out of bed, slip into a comfy pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt and bounce into the activities of the day (right). Other days, you refuse to slide from between those comfy sheets until well beyond the last possible moment, throw on whatever is dangling over the closest chair regardless of how it looks, and slog down the hall for a cup of something warm and soothing before forcing yourself out the door (more likely).

But there are days when you know you are headed for an event that is beyond the normal routine of life, something important, momentous even, an event that may alter the very course of your life. Those days don't come along often, and we recognize them in unique ways, ways that often include how we dress.

I think of things like when you graduate from kindergarten, or are in elementary school, and you have a part in a pageant, or are a contestant in a spelling bee; in high school when your team won the state play offs and you have that award banquet, better yet, prom night! When you play your first recital or graduate from high school, then college, your first day on a new job, your wedding day - your friend's wedding day - your child's wedding day - the day you dedicate/christen your child - or stand up for someone else's child!

There are also times when you will meet someone important, someone you want to look your best for. For us growing up, that included Sundays when you came into God's house. I think of when I attended the inauguration of Skidmore College's new president, and Hillary Clinton made an appearance, or last summer when the new library was dedicated and a number of local political figures came for the ribbon cutting ceremony.

Sometimes we do not see a life altering event coming. Who could anticipate things like natural disasters, car accidents, sudden deaths of friends or loved ones? Those catch you in whatever state you happen to be found.

Today, as I dressed, I was very cognizant of my doctor's appointment. I am determined that this be a defining moment, a turning point - away from the ever present "something isn't right, but we don't know what it is" to "everything looks good, have a great life." Dress for success, they say. So I pay particular attention to what colors I wear (bright blue to accent the gray hair), select the sapphire blue earrings I picked up in Kentucky at a conference, complete with the necklace I ordered later, do a full nine yards with the makeup and hair. I will look ready. Ready for a special day, for meeting someone important, for being the career professional that I am.

It is important to my work at Jairus House that I be mentally engaged fully, ready to do what needs to be done without the constant nagging thought that at any minute I could be dragged back into death defying treatment for life threatening illness. Even though I have made that decision, it feels like I am still on the merry-go-round. I want it settled.

The nurse calls me back. My blood pressure is high. I wait quietly in the examination room. I am ready to ask the hard questions, to press for decisions, to unentangle myself from this web. (Like I can do anything! Really, it all boils down to the hours I have spent praying for release from the torture. God is more than able to answer those prayers).

The doctor breezes in. Before I can ask the questions, she herself answers them. PET scan looks good, in fact, some of the glands have shrunk, others have enlarged a bit - typical symptoms for follicular lymphoma. She did consult a number of doctors and present my symptoms and test results at a number of symposia, all agree. Nothing to be overly concerned with, just need to continue monitoring in case anything changes.

Should I see an lymph expert? They won't see me unless the glands are larger, a biopsy is done, and the results are positive. Nothing is biopsy-able at this point. Should I explore what else this might be? No, there's really nothing else to consider. She is 99% sure this is follicular lymphoma, and a very low grade, non aggressive case that will likely be exactly as it is for the rest of my long life. [death sentence removed].

Even if they had the proof that's what I have, the specialists wouldn't do anything about it. They only treat if a gland becomes a problem, and then its usually a chemo pill that has few side effects, is easily tolerated. What about the tiredness that comes and goes? Still a result of the initial chemo. Yes, the PET scan will stir that up.

The plan from here? Continue the PET scans every 3 months, tapering them to 4, then 6 after awhile. If I find there is a gland that's bothering me, they will take a look and see if they can get a decent biopsy. What about the radiation from the PET scans? How damaging is that? Less dangerous than the cancer suddenly becoming aggressive and spreading to my bone or lungs or liver or spleen (that's where this type of cancer would go next). Sigh.

Where does that leave me? I'm moving forward with life as I have been, making plans, launching PrayerSong and Jairus House, traveling, taking coursework, attending conferences, presenting, writing, singing, conducting, practicing, caring for Drew and the grandbabies. The way I see it, there is Cancer and there is cancer. This one, if I indeed really have it, is just cancer. No big deal. And it gosh darn better stay put and quit bothering me. I am, after all, dressed for a glorious destiny, and I plan to go out and enjoy it.