We celebrated another stable MRI on Wednesday as Susan approaches her four-year anniversary since brain tumor diagnosis. Her scan is mostly unchanged from two months ago, except for a little contrast-enhanced area to the right of her original tumor site that Dr Nghiemphu is watching. This could be a cause for concern since MRI contrast lights up with tumor growth, but the difference between now and April is evidently due to a slightly different scan alignment that makes the new image appear to have changed. With this fact and Susan's continually improved condition, it feels right and welcome that the doctor pronounced Susan’s tumor stable once again.
It’s hard to believe it’s been four years – this week marks 1450 days since the CT scan that revealed a mass on Susan's brain and worse news than we could imagine. We’ve been living these days and not counting them; yet something about this brain tumor anniversary seems different. With more time comes more perspective. Our son Adam’s high school graduation last night (way to go, bud!) brought to mind that night in 2007 when our daughter Lexie wore her cap and gown. Susan had a killer headache amid all the festivities and grew nearly immobilized in pain at our big family dinner afterward at Polly’s Pies. Last night, about 1450 days later, Susan used her wheelchair so we could navigate foot traffic at the stadium, sat in a row with wheelchair access, and needed me to show her where to look for Adam. But she was there. Last night she had no headache.
On Wednesday in the oncology clinic at UCLA, I realized it’s no longer a foreign place full of dying people and unfamiliar faces. It’s a healing place full of survivors and caring people. We greet the staff now with first names, smiles, and hugs. We joke around with Queen Elizabeth when we check in, tell Alex the urine sample is a gift for him because we care, and head downstairs to brag to the nurses in radiology about Susan's new power port. After the MRI, Marvelous Marva takes Susan’s vitals. Daisy greets us with warmly and with a blessing. Nanette does Susan's neurological exam before we rejoice with her and a doctor we now call Leia about another great MRI. Then we seek out Nikki to see how her baby boy is doing. Everyone’s happy that Susan looks so good and is getting around without her wheelchair. Nikki shakes her head in wonder that three years ago we needed to get Susan into a bed as soon as we showed up for her chemo infusion. Having a conversation with her was unthinkable. 1450 days brings great perspective.
Still our hearts are heavy to think of those we know who lost their battles with brain cancer these past four years. Larry, Jeff, two special women named Joanne; Hank in April, and Robert last week. We knew three of these from our church alone. Susan is still here. To ask why is to ask why she got brain cancer in the first place. We don’t know. It just happened. But she’s still here. She just is. We thank God each day for the gift of life. There’s no doubt life is easier now that she’s doing so much better, just like it’s harder when we’re in the thick of crisis. But Susan’s trust in God continues, as well as her desire to be with him in Heaven when the time comes. We are at rest in our faith and our hope of Heaven. Meanwhile, God is keeping us. We pray more together than we did 1450 days ago, we lean on God more, and we have less regard for the temporal things of this world. We believe God wants us both to be more ready for Heaven. We believe he wants that for lots of other people too.
