No Cancer!

YAY!  and Ahhh. . .  and Phew!

Why the "Phew!"?  I'll tell you: by the 3rd week of September, I had become reactive to sugar again.  I tested it a little:  sugar out of my system, better.  Sugar back in, bad.  Sugar still in, increasingly worse.  Sugar out all together, completely better.

None of which necessarily has anything to do with cancer.  It's just that after the chemo, when I could suddenly eat sugar again to no ill effect, I said, "Hmm!  Well, if I ever become reactive again, I'll know to look for cancer." 

Dr. Science was puzzled, too.  And he said it was a good enough reason for him to order a PET scan, just to check and be sure.  He likes for his breast cancer patients to have a scan some point during this second year anyway.  But, as of today, there are no markers in the blood work to indicate a problem. 

Hoorah!

But I'd like to tell you a little about the last two weeks, after I was certain there was a sugar problem, but before I could learn the results of the test.

These weeks were tense.  I did not tell many people about my concern because, well. . . I just didn't want to give the flame of concern more oxygen than it had already.  On the other hand, an immense pressure came along with them, and telling one person here, one person there was like unhooking the lid of a pressure cooker. 

It wasn't anxiety.  I guess you have to take my word on that.  I was not consumed by worry or thinking the worst of all thoughts.  It was more like, "Amy, there's a good chance that you have stage IV cancer now, what does that mean to you?" 

I tried to avoid the sad thoughts.  I came up with some exceedingly practical ones:

I still have my wigs and hats.
Chemo won't be dreadful this time because I know what to expect.
Speaking of which, I now know that an eye doctor can prescribe a salve that will help with styes.
Though I need to get my hair trimmed up, I won't until I know that I won't be going bald a month from now.
Speaking of which: I bought clippers for Joshua's hair and so won't have to borrow them from my friend this time.

Two weeks of this, people.  It's crazy, now that I can look at it and afford to call it crazy. 

I'll tell you what else came of it, though.  And this other thing answers my chief question all along, which was, "God, if this isn't cancer again, why are you letting me think that it might be?" 

Because God's guidance to me as I prayed and worshipped over the last 2 weeks was not a rebuke as in, "Amy, we've been through this before, right before your port removal and I answered you then and now you are choosing not to believe Me."

His guidance was not a simple, "You're fine.  No cancer."

His guidance, instead, was this:

"I am sovereign over all the world and I'm sovereign over you. If this is a sacrifice I'm asking you to make, won't you make it?"

and

"There is no circumstance I would permit in your life that I will not use for My glory.  Do you want the chief purpose of your life to be My glory?" 

and

"So what if it is stage IV cancer, Amy.  Do you believe I am working out a purpose in your life?  Then stage IV cancer is part of that purpose.  Part of My glory.  Part of the best version of yourself that only I can bring you to.  Which version of yourself do you want?  Yours or Mine?" 

Given all this guidance, can I be blamed for expecting Dr. Science to tell me he was very concerned about my blood work? 

But, as I've said, the cancer is not back. 

So why did God permit this two weeks of concern and give this two weeks worth of guidance?  I believe it was to have that conversation with me about where my committments lie, about why I am alive in this body at this time, in this place.  I believe that in this conversation, God declared an end to our season of celebration and rest and the beginning of the next season of growing to become more and more like His Son. 

The details of this are hard to share.  I just tried to write about them and had to delete the paragraphs because they just don't belong on this blog at this moment.  Suffice it to say that God is showing both me and Bryan what we need to do next and it's dramatic enough that we're a little scared about it.  Not cancer-scared.  But: this-is-going-to-change-everything-scared. 

To sum up, then. . .  No cancer ahead. There's something far more exciting instead.