Cancer-free. As I sit here and try to wrap my head around the fact that I am saying these words about my son is one thing. To TRULY believe it is another.
With every MRI, the doubts and worries creep in. Actually, it's not the scan that's the problem; it's waiting for results. When Justin had his first 3-month post-treatment scan, his oncologist called us the very same night with the results. This time, that first night passed without a call. And the next day and night passed without a call. Every passing day without results turns me into a nervous wreck. My mind imagines various scenarios as to why he's not calling: Maybe he's away and hasn't seen the MRI yet. He must have looked at it and saw something suspect and is waiting for the radiologist's report before calling. It gets so that I don't even want to call him because I'm afraid of what I might hear. Trevor convinced me to call on day 3. I left a message and then waited with bated breath for the call; not wanting to leave the house for fear I might miss it. There is no way to truly understand what torment the wait is, unless you have been the parent of a child with cancer or have had it yourself, I suppose. I virtually put life on hold as I wait to hear the potentially devastating news. I don't want to plan anything too far in advance because in my mind I get thrown back to that time when we first found out Justin had cancer. It is a day-to-day existence. So I hold my breath until I hear those glorious words: "Everything looks good." And I did hear those words later that day, when the oncologist called back. And then I breathe. And I cry. Partly due to relief and partly because I feel so foolish having ever doubted in the first place.
Justin said today in the oncologist's office that he prefers not to hear results right away. His anxiety is that the sooner the call, the worse the results must be. He never really shared any of his fears during his treatment and it is only in recent months that they have come out, little by little. As his mother, it tore my heart out to hear him tell of how terrified he was before his surgery; thinking there was no way he was going to survive it. I think back to how brave and seemingly unfazed he was by it; pushing me away, telling me, "Mom, I'm fine!" as I hugged him tightly when they came to take him in. I asked him why he never told me how afraid he was and his reply was, "I knew you were worried already and I didn't want to make it worse for you". So mature. So selfless. My hero.
Tis the Christmas season and I am feeling especially blessed this year. We have much to celebrate. Justin is in good health and we will be spending time with family. What could be better!
I wish all of you the gift of God's love and blessings this Christmas. May 2015 be a year of good health and miracles for all!
Until the next scan,
Trish
