Drumroll, please...

Yes, it's that time again. MRI Eve. I can't help but remember that I am nearly 8 months past diagnosis, and I once read an article that mentioned the prevalence of fatal tumor recurrences that happen within the first nine months.

I keep reminding myself that I am functioning well and I don't have any apparent signs of any new neurological problems. (100...93...86...79...72...65...58...51...44...37...30...23...16...9...2)

I keep reminding myself that EVEN IF something new is there, it might open doorways to new and better treatments. For example, immunotherapy is not an option for me right now, because they can't make a tumor vaccine from the original tumor site. It is considered "contaminated" by the chemotherapy wafer they inserted during surgery. So one good thing about a new recurrence is that it might be a source for a tumor vaccine (IF it's in an operable location and IF I have willing insurance and/or other resources to pay for experimental treatments and IF I can enroll in a study group, and so on...). There may be other treatments that are easier to qualify for, once I fall into the category of "progression after initial treatment". (NOT that I'm hoping for this!) But all is not lost, just because of a recurrence. My oncologist has reminded me that she has many tricks up her sleeve.

And finally, EVEN IF something shows up in a non-treatable and life-threatening location (shudder)...well, I am reminded of a couple verses from a popular hymn that the LDS pioneers repeated during their exodus to Utah to escape religious persecution:

Why should we mourn, or think our lot is hard?

'Tis not so; all is right.

Why should we think to earn a great reward

If we now shun the fight?

Gird up your loins, fresh courage take.

Our God will never us forsake.

And soon we'll have this tale to tell;

All is well! All is well!

***

And should we die before our journey's through,

Happy day; all is well.

We, then, are free from toil and sorrow, too.

With the just we shall dwell.

But if our lives are spared again, to see the saints their rest obtain,

Oh, how we'll make this chorus swell:

All is well! All is well!

I keep reminding myself to ignore what I read about the bleakness of glioblastoma, to quit trusting in the "arm of flesh", and to trust in the Lord instead. I know that this is out of my hands. I've done my part to be healthy, I'm using prayer and faith, and the rest is in the hands of the One who loves me and who has a great plan for me, and who watches carefully over this process. No matter what, all is well...

...Even so, it's a nervous time, waiting to hear the outcome of the MRI results. Sometimes even bad news (NOT that I want it!) is easier to handle than uncertainty (especially when someone has a lively imagination). As much as I trust in the goodness of whatever the outcome is, it's hard to be in limbo, not knowing what the battle will look like. This is a time when I really tap into the many prayers being offered on my behalf. They have kept me doing so well so far, and they really do carry me and comfort me through the anxious moments. There is great power in prayer. For those of you who pray, THANK YOU--and please send another one my way.