We had the awaited appointment with the doctor Scott not so lovingly calls Pharaoh yesterday. This is our after Round 4 discussion of the last CT scan and plan moving forward. I prayed beforehand two simple things....1. That the doctor wouldn't be discouraging to Scott. He is our most dreaded appointment-made obvious by high blood pressure and our affect when we leave. And 2 for Spirit words. That we would know what God says. That was it. Well, in addition to my persistent pleas that God would wipe out this cancer in a way only explained by Him. But yesterday, it was really just the 2.
The appointment was fine. The CT was "stable" is the word. The cancer shrunk some in a few areas, but for the most part stayed put. The doctor spoke to Scott about his reactions and symptoms to the first 4 rounds. For the most part, Scott is fortunate and isn't losing his cookies or struggling too terribly much. Peeling finger nails, bone pain mid-round, and just overall yuckiness and fatigue. But overall, we know we've been blessed with some minimal side effects and some days of normalcy. Pharaoh didn't rush us. Listened to some questions. And basically gave us a choice of whether or not to do Round 5. I sat in a tiny room, just the 3 of us asking the Lord to speak quickly and loud! How are we supposed to make this decision?!? We asked the doctor what he would do. He recommended the fifth round to give this chemo it's maximum benefit and because Scott is handling this chemo relatively well. I talked about asking the Lord in front of him. We were desperate to hear. He stepped out and we had 10 minutes.
We had 10 minutes to decide if we were going to send Scott back into poison. To process a "stable" CT. What the heck? Even the medical professional didn't have a black and white answer. And I remembered I asked the Lord for a lack of discouragement and Spirit words. We had to believe that Pharaoh was how God was speaking. It was all we had. So Scott did round 5 yesterday. He called me less than an hour later, begging for a food delivery, because just the smell of that place makes him nauseated. Chemo has a smell. Foods he eats and places he goes on chemo day, become how chemo smells. It has ruined some yummy things honestly.
So overall, not bad news. Scott called it victory because it wasn't growing! But nothing that blows your dress up either! I'm not quite sure why it's so hard to process "stable". To send him back in to something he hates and makes him feel like garbage. Obviously because I love him. But bigger than that. How do you ask big and with expectation, and not get let down when it wasn't what you thought. And I'm an expectations person. I remember saying those exact words to Scott when we were friends, before dating. I never knew where I stood with him and I told him "Look, I'm an expectations person. I never know if we're friends, if you hate my guts, and I hate it. So decide which guy you want to be and I'll let you know if I want to be friends with him." I guess I've been an expectations person for awhile.
And I must have inadvertently walked in yesterday expecting the big miracle already! I maybe didn't even realize I was doing it. Expecting them to say "We can't believe it! It's nearly gone!". It's the only way I can explain what a big disappointment "stable" was. I cried a lot! I drove out of the parking lot sort of yelling at the Lord "You could do this differently you know! You are capable and I don't understand why you're doing it this way!" I struggled off and on and at another point admitted "I just wanted the big miracle, God!" I sounded like a brat. Gently, I felt Him say 'What if this is a miracle Lauren? It isn't growing.' My mind quickly remembered 9 years ago when we got told no about adopting our kids. If I remember correctly, the exact word stamped across our paperwork was DENIED. I cried so hard that day, Scott walked off a golf course to meet me at home. Those were my kids and I'd been told no. BUT God made a way there. Why it took almost 2 years to get kids that should have been easy to bring home, I may never know. What I do know is He made a way. And that His way is better than mine.
Today, I've read or been sent the most timely of messages and songs. Reminders of God's miracles, business of impossibility, and even that God has never been held back by prognosis. Scott and I have read them together, cried through some of them, grateful for God to be so specific and personal. We still don't necessarily like this. Chemo is terrible. Scott hates feeling cruddy, swelling, feeling fatigued, etc. But we are fighting to Stand Firm. It's what He has asked us to do repeatedly. Stand. So on Him, we will.
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