Yes, I'm less than 48 hours away from another MRI verdict. I've learned long ago that there are a million reasons not to be anxious about this. And I've been floating along on my prayer cushion, which makes things a lot easier.
Even so, as the day approaches I still find myself fending off the discouraging little thoughts that creep into (what's left of) my mind.
Today started off as a wonderful day. My children spoke and sang in their Primary program today at church, and I was also able to hear good news from friends whose long-awaited hopes for a child may finally be realized soon.
Later I learned the sad news of the passing of a young man who also had GBM. He had long outlived his prognosis and was able to achieve some personal goals in his life, and I guess it was finally his turn to be called home from whence he came. I am grieving for his mother, and I am also having to remind myself that his passing is no reason for me to be discouraged.
When I came home from church I started to remove my jewelry and noticed that I had lost one of my earrings. It was a minor "aw shucks" moment until I took off the other earring and put it in my jewelry box. That's when I noticed the other earring sitting in the box, and I realized that I hadn't lost an earring -- I only put one on this morning. I rolled my eyes and began removing the rest of my jewelry and noticed that I was wearing two LIVESTRONG wristbands instead of one. These were new little "oops" moments. My "baseline" friends (those with intact brains) assure me that this kind of stuff is perfectly normal for someone who is forty-something with small children.
(100/93/86/79/72/65/58/51/44/37/30/23/16/9/2 -- I can still count backwards from 100 by sevens without any problem. Just checking.)
And of course, I started noticing a minor headache this evening. It might have something to do with the high pollen count that's giving everyone else a minor headache, and it might also have something to do with the big hole in my eardrum that feels every change in barometric pressure (and there's a storm approaching). But these are all things that get nothing more than a shrug when I'm not less than 48 hours away from the MRI tube.
After years of experience with both good MRI days and bad MRI days, I think it's silly to have any thoughts like this making their way through the screen door of (what's left of) my mind. But here they come, and thankfully they are small and easy to swat away. I just have to be vigilant and keep swatting, because they like to come buzzing back.
This is where I notice how nice the prayer cushion feels. (Thank you thank you!) And this is where I remind myself that discouragement is never an inspired feeling, and never belongs on (what's left of) my mind.