May 16, 2024

Today there was some time between my scans/tests and my oncologist visit. There was also a beautiful park not far from the cancer center that I couldn’t pass up visiting, so I went on a hike, a 4 mile hike - in jeans! As I began my hike, I started to think of the parallels of hiking to life. The hike started out strong. Nothing but the road in front of me. Setting out at a fast pace. Exciting adventures ahead. What a fun time! Before long, I noticed my pace slowed. I was thinking through the beautiful things along the path that surrounded me. There was so much to see, to feel, to hear. I took in the sights, sounds, smells all around. The feel of the cool but muggy Houston breeze against my face, the sound of the singing birds, the smell of the blooming flowers. Taking in the moment. Grateful for all the blessings in that moment and otherwise in my life. At some point along the trail, I  encountered a road block, a challenging hill, a road closed, a path uncharted. I navigated carefully and forged ahead, full of hope, full of joy. Obstacles continued to come up: the threat of rain looming, a swarm of biting, chasing, nagging mosquitoes, another person on the path - threat or no threat (I didn’t want to get close enough to find out). What do I do in those moments? Those obstacle moments. Do I turn back? Do I continue ahead? Perhaps stop and stand still, frozen by the fear of the moment, or sit and rest, getting my strength back up? Or maybe I should hide, seek shelter until the threat has passed. In those moments the outside world seems to close in. My world stands still. My focus locked on the difficulty in front of me. Prayers lifted up for wisdom on how to tackle the challenge faced and strength along the way. Each obstacle was overcome, and I picked up my pace again, motivated by the road ahead, the accomplishment of obstacles conquered, and the end that’s to come. It’s easy though, to get unmotivated. To slow the pace again, but not to take in the beauty once more but instead because I’m tired and weary, or because of the stress on my body, or the distractions are too great. Sometimes I’m unmotivated because I am grieving, the missed turn that caused me to walk even further, the knocked down tree that once flourished but now lays decaying, the fellow hiker marred by a fall. I then am reminded about the end ahead and the beauty that’s around me. I take it in again, deep breath. The end of the trail is to come. What a glorious sight. Do I want this trail to end? Do I have more trails to keep going? On this particular hike, I made it to the end, hot and sticky, and a bit sore, but grateful none the less. I am reminded that each stage of the hike is not the only part of my story but the combination of it all. The motivation, the discouragement, the obstacles faced and overcome, the grief, the joy and gratitude. All of it. All of it makes my story and yours too. To omit parts of it from our story would do a disservice in seeing the beauty of how God has worked it all together to create not only who we are but our story that can encourage others. What is your story? I encourage you to tell it this week. Share both the joys and the obstacles, the gratitude, and the wrong turns. Your story and mine are important! 

Today was a long day but good day at MD Anderson. It began at 7am with a follow up PET scan. After they put the needle in place, they brought in the 8lb radioactive glucose holder containing a syringe. (The glucose holder helps keep the workers safe as they have to handle the radioactive glucose for each patient.) Once the glucose was injected, I had to lay there for an hour while the glucose worked its way through my body. (I tried to sneak my book in to read, but they would not allow even that as it would mess with where the glucose gravitated to in my body.) So after my forced nap, the scan began. Easy peasy, 20 minute scan. Then I went upstairs for bloodwork. Next, my four mile hike, lunch with a sweet friend, and then finally my oncologist appointment. Great news, everything looks stable and the same as last time, and my bloodwork looks terrific. We are still watching the spot on my sacrum as it typically takes up to a year for the previous cancer spot - which was radiated in November - to fully clear out. So for now, continued scans every 3 months for the first two years post-radiation. And yes, I unfortunately got caught in a torrential downpour on my way home. Between the flash floods, water on the roads catching my wheels, the wind pulling me in different directions, and the crazy drivers (one bus was driving down the middle of two lanes), I decided to pull over and wait it out (that is until the hail started!) I really need to stop traveling in such dreadful weather! But I am home safely and grateful to have had a good day! 

With joy, even in the hard, 

Melissa