Still In It
I’m feeling more than a little sluggish and broody (and perhaps sorry for myself) because I don’t want to go. I don’t want to deal with all of the emotions that inevitably come up while watching Ana go through this test and then trudging across the hospital complex afterwards to get the results. Tomorrow there’s supposed to be sunshine and warmth for the first time all week and what I really want to do is ride my bike outside.
Sometimes it’s really hard staying strong on a journey when it’s impossible to see the ending. The ironic thing is that’s exactly when you have to be the strongest. It’s like a twisting road that disappears beyond your view, and no matter how far you walk (or ride), it just goes on and on. And what I’m starting to realize is that this is what tests my strength and perseverance more than anything else (that first long hospital stay, the days leading up to transplant where Ana was getting sicker and sicker, the days following transplant when she was so frail and the graft was so precarious). I actually found myself yearning for those awful moments a little bit today and I thought…”What the hell? Why would I want to be there again?”
I think the reason is that, back then, transplant represented (in my mind) the end of awfulness and uncertainty. I thought (hoped, prayed) that the transplant would fix everything. Sure it would be an adjustment, but we’d be able to move forward again. And, actually, that’s exactly what happened. Right now (today, this moment) Ana is doing great, feeling great, looking great. At least, on the outside.
But tomorrow has the power to change everything – anyone who has ever had their cancer go into remission understands what I’m talking about. And Ana’s not actually in remission anymore since the tumors decided to appear in January. I guess I’m just trying to fortify my brain for whatever we learn tomorrow. I’m grasping for the strength that I know I’m capable of, but I’m struggling a little this time.
Someone who I haven’t seen in over a year recently asked me about Ana. I didn’t say anything at first – I didn’t have the words to describe that she’s okay, yet not quite okay and that the worry hangs over my head like a thick cloud – all. the. time. But I didn’t have to speak. She took one look at my face and said, “Still in it, huh?”
That pretty much said it all. Please keep Ana in your thoughts thoughts tomorrow. I’ll post an update as soon as I can.