Scanxiety, Rinse, Repeat
We’re off to another scan this morning – warming up the car as I type this. Emily isn’t coming this time as last month’s scan results were too disastrous. My hope is that the Votrient that Ana’s been taking for a month is working to keep her tumors stable (or shrink them)…or maybe they’re gone completely, and I’ll wake up from this nightmare and her lungs will be clear. We’ll be free! Sorry…lost myself there for a minute.
I’ve been thinking about a poem I wrote when Ana was in fourth grade. Her assignment was to go outside every single day in October, observe the moon, write about it and draw a picture of what the sky looked like. I loved this assignment (it will forever appeal to the poet in me), and so I did it with her. Each night we sat outside waiting for the moon and writing about the (often empty) sky. We learned it’s not always easy to spot the moon – it was behind the mountains, or the house, or the trees or sometimes it was cloudy. So we didn’t see it for a good seven days, but one day we were driving home from one of Emily’s NYU appointments and as we were walking out of the rest stop, there it was. Emily was so excited (she was six at the time and had come outside with us on many nights). It’s actually her quote I used for the last line of this poem. I don’t know why it’s on my mind – maybe because we’d given up on ever seeing it (but then we learned how to look for it the right way). I wanted to share it because it feels hopeful and I need that right now.
anyway, what happened with the moon
a long time ago, well who knows?
who senses the moon’s great age?
but on this, the 7th day,
we find the waxing crescent
earlier than ever
a ghostly shadow in a powder blue sky
neck in neck with the sun
time may have stopped for a moment
like you did, right in your tracks
and, pointing, whispered in utter amazement
“look, I found the moon!”
Please keep Ana in your thoughts and prayers today. I’ll post an update either tonight or tomorrow.