Same situation, different month, test day.

Today, Brian is having his bi-monthly (is that every two months or is that twice a month? Because I mean every two months) MRI. We will get results on Monday. I wrote this post in December during test and results week. Reading this brings tears to me because I realize it is just a different month with different activities at home, but the rest remains the same. And I realize, this is our life. And sometimes our life is painful. But the tears come because even though this cancer has been so scary and is so aggressive, it hasn't controlled us and who we are.

Here it is so you don't have to click:

Because of this cancer, Brian has tests every two months right now. Today he will go to the hospital for two different types of MRI’s at 9:30. He will sit in registration for 20 minutes giving the EXACT same information that he has given over 10 times this year and the EXACT same information that he gave in pre-registration last week that was supposed to expedite this ridiculous process. He will walk by himself through a series of confusing corridors and elevators that he knows only as well as most staff. He will get a temporary IV so they can inject different types of contrasting fluids for the MRI to take a variety of pictures. He will awkwardly lie on a hard, flat table VERY still for nearly two hours. He will be placed into the small, confining tube with earphones or earplugs and a cloth over his eyes ineffectively trying to mask the incredibly LOUD clanging noises and sudden changes in direction and light of the machine. During this, he will sleep a little, he will ponder a lot, and he will pray…

While this is going on, I will be at home probably on the computer, cleaning house a bit, or possibly working out… like any other day. It will still be going on when I am making the kids lunch, getting Gavin on the bus and getting Grant ready for preschool. The boys will play and fight and eat and stall…like any other day. However, it isn’t any other day, or any other week. This is test week and it is the most difficult week of every 8 that occurs anymore. This is the week that our minds as a couple and as parents are plagued with “what if.” This is the day of that week that I implore, plead and BEG Christ to miraculously heal Brian. This is the day that as I run on my treadmill I dedicate every ounce of sweat to Brian’s healing. This is the day that I almost burn the grilled cheese because I am lost in thought to what Brian is doing right now. This is the day that I stop mid-stream throughout the morning hours lifting up Brian in prayer. This is the day that I get in front of Playhouse Disney in the morning, turn off the TV, and tell the boys we need to pray quickly for Daddy’s healing, hoping beyond hope that the prayer from a child’s heart and mouth will produce more response from heaven.

After the test, Brian will eat lunch, go to work, come home, eat dinner, play with his family, watch TV and go to bed like any other day. We will talk about how things went today realizing that we will not know or hear anything until Results Day on Friday. We will be quieter than usual with each other, both lost in thought as to the seriousness of the situation. I will make dinner, do dishes, put the kids to bed, work on my blog post for the next day, spend some time with Brian and go to bed. Just like any other day, only it isn’t any other day. It was test day and all it produced so far is…

The next step…

The Agonizing Wait.

KEEP BELIEVING!