Call Me Oblivious

This Reality.

When Rob and I were talking with his surgeon pre-surgery, and he kept saying to us, "... stage 2, possibly stage 3..."  I questioned him on that.  He told us that studies have shown when the kidney and ureter were enlarged, it was most likely past stage 2 to stage 3.  Rob's left kidney and ureter were very enlarged.  So we were prepared for a stage 3 diagnosis.

Tonight, as I was researching chemo and available options, and filling my mind with questions I want the oncologist to answer, I was stopped in my tracks...
I had a chart in front of me from the National Cancer Institute that broke down the diagnosis 'code' they use for classifying cancer in grades: TNM  -  Tumor, Node, Metastasis.

So I looked on the pathology report, and on the paperwork the surgeon gave us to go on to the oncologist with.  I looked back at the chart.  Twice.  Then again.  And the tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to stop them from spilling over...

"Stage 4"


I was prepared for stage 3, I had accepted stage 3 as a possibility, as a probability.  I must have closed my mind to anything else, or maybe it was closed for me until I was in a better place to accept it.  I looked at Rob in desperation, in tears, and in God's wonderful and abounding strength, Rob had already known and accepted this, and with his words to me and the "it's-going-to-be-okay" look in his eyes, I started to breathe again.  But that frantic, frigid reality was surrounding me, suffocating me.  But only for a moment... 

I sat quietly, numb, alone and yet not.  Then, as always, that stillness, that lingering, calming Peace was washing the darkness away, preparing me for battle, to prepare Rob for battle.

And, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute... we will be the Warriors we need to be, with the strength from your powerful and love-filled prayers.

I just needed a small space to let that go, so I can get on with the business of living, and living this life to the fullest.

In Love and In Peace,

Cheri ♥