We met with the surgeon one week ago today. We hoped for a surgery date, but instead got an estimate of the second week of November. There were no MRIs to check for changes to the tumour since it wasn't expected to shrink. Radiation was supposed to inactivate the cancer to improve the safety of surgical removal.
We braced ourselves for hearing about the difficult realities of living without a gluteous maximus, but we heard only encouraging news - he should be able to walk immediately (with a limp), he should be able to play hockey (but not run a 100 metre sprint), he shouldn't need an implant of any sort (but will have a "flat ass"), he shouldn't experience any nerve complications because the main sciatic nerve should remain intact (though some numbness might be experienced from more minor nerve damage). We can handle this!
We had the surgeon inspect Mark's arm to give us his opinion on it - it was diagnosed as a sort of blood vessel malformation ("AVM" for short) a few years ago. He believes this to be another type of tumour - called a "plexiform neurofibroma". This did not come as a surprise; it was suggested at his biopsy in July and when thoroughly researched (that's my forte), it made a lot of sense in the light of neurofibromatosis. This tumour is not at any higher risk of becoming cancerous because he has cancer elsewhere in his body. It's actually a different type of tumour altogether. It's not aesthetically pleasing and causes arthritis and may continue to grow slowly, but it will just need monitoring and we'll have to make sure it doesn't become more firm or painful.
A few more questions knocked off the list. A couple more to consider. But we. are. thankful.
As Thanksgiving has come and gone (but the necessity of thanking has not), I've reflected a bit on the biblical command to give thanks:
Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. (1 Thessalonians 5:16 - 18)It's easy to think of this command as one similar to a command I often give my children - What do you say?" - after I provide them with something for which they ought to thank me. I want to train them to be polite.
I don't think this verse (or others like it) is part of a manners lesson. And God certainly doesn't need the thanksgiving. We do. We need to thank. It reminds us of what we have, pulling our focus away from what we don't. It produces joy. Thanking is not about God. I's about us. He commands it because he desires for us to experience joy.
Ann Voskamp posted the following on her blog: "Being joyful isn't what makes you grateful; being grateful is what makes you joyful." The practice of thanksgiving produces joy.
And the practice - because it's not always natural and it has to be repeated - of giving thanks will have to continue during our cancer journey if we want to experience joy through the pain.
We. give. thanks. (it's not always rolling off the tongue!) For the completion of the radiation leg of the journey, with no hiccups. For modern medicine. For the many saints who walk with us - in person, in writing, in action, in prayer. For the Lord's nearness which is providing peace.
With a grateful (and even often joyful) heart,
Sarah
