THE DREADED "WE'LL SEE" AND A BETTER PLACE TO BE

 

It's been said not to ask a question unless you're prepared for the answer—or the look on their face, in my case. So what did I do? I asked. Why, Diana? Why?

On Monday, I walked into the office ready to wear party hats or at least acknowledge that "this is so exciting, we couldn't be more pleased." Instead, when I asked again if I might possibly make it to two to five years, the answer was very different from what I got from the Nurse Practitioner three weeks prior.

Head down, no eye contact, and words that no one really wants to hear, "We'll see."

And just as quickly as I found out I had terminal colon cancer, this visit to my primary Oncologist left me in an emotional downward spiral for days.

Talk about a party pooper.

I was so confused, as my CEA blood test numbers had significantly reduced from 3800 to 91, and now, as of Tuesday, they were at 27 (cancer-free is below 5). Wow, what a difference, or at least I thought so. He also showed me the CT scan of my liver. Before immunotherapy, dark black spots covered almost the entire surface, and now, practically nothing. Just a smooth liver with some minor spots and calculations proving the larger tumors had shrunk over 60%.

Spots or no spots, and hope or no hope, I was reminded again... I'm going to die.

That's the funny thing about hope: it can be lost just as quickly as it was found. I thought I had come to terms with it all. But the second I let my guard down, news like "we'll see" hits you harder and deeper, and the pain is even greater—times a million.

So, while we're in the "we'll see" phase, what is the next step? Tears. Perhaps a hardened heart, but also a heart that still believes that God can heal me if it's meant to be. So, I will still pray and live my days as much as possible with joy and enthusiasm, and I'll be more cozy.

Cozy? Yes, cozy. During cancer treatment, and especially now, I've been drawn to all things cozy: cozy socks, cozy blankets, a big furry cozy dog, and cozy meals.

I'm snug in my cocoon of a couch. We rarely make it to the dinner table these days as I'm healing and resting from treatments, and I'm okay with that. Coziness is also about grace and allowing yourself to let go of preconceived ideas of how the day should go. And to know it's OK to create your most comfortable day all your own.

So, instead of now worrying about the "we'll see," how about each day I'll live in a place of "I'll be."

Be cozy. Be silly. Be sad. Be in love. Be creative. Be grateful. Be bold. Be a dreamer. Be me.