The Path to Adventure takes a twist

Most of my blog followers will already know the life-shattering news I got at the oncology clinic yesterday.  No mass in the lung, no recurrence seen anywhere, no chemotherapy planned, no surgery, no prognosis sought or given.  "It must have been an infection," said the oncologist, "although it looked like a secondary and nothing like an infection."  I just looked at Dave and said: "Prayer does work," and he said: "Yes, you've had lots of prayer."  We consider it a miracle.

None of the questions I had stored up to ask had any relevance, like would he give Mary-Ann and Dom a letter recommending them to have flu vaccine to protect me during my next chemo, and what was the time scale for any treatment, and could we take a holiday out of Norfolk this time.  All that is planned for me now is a regular follow-up by the surgeons, and I think he said that would start in three months time.

Thank you to all who have shared our news with such joy.  I feel loved and valued and in touch with so many people I have neglected over the years.  Your responses to my musings and grumbles and plans have been so positive and helpful.  I hope I can live up to them.

We are so thankful to God for giving us this relief from all the anxiety and worry about the future.  We don't yet understand what it has all been about in his plan for us, but one thing we have learned is that he is more than capable of working it all out, and that he wishes good for us.  The route we take is in his hands, but he walks it with us and as long as we can trust in that it remains an adventure, not a punishment.

Several people have commented that we must be walking on air, delirious with happiness.  Because I am trying to be honest in this blog I have to put down that it isn't quite like that.  I feel a bit flat to tell the truth, without direction and suddenly tired at the thought of coming out of my life of indolence and beautiful thoughts!  There, now I am laughing at myself, so that is a good sign.

I suppose I have still not quite got the hang of being happily out of control.  The last ten months have been a very different interlude in a life that has been marked by striving (both for success and understanding,) and never being quite good enough.  Since I gave up work and my car, and shed the financial burdens of being in practice, I have started to appreciate the pleasure of having time to idle.  Until December I was engrossed in my little books, painting my watercolours and putting words together.  I have enjoyed writing down my reflections in this blog, scrapbooking, doing a bit of Ancestry on-line, watching Homes under the Hammer while doing the ironing.  Then since Christmas we have been trying to sort the house in preparation for Mary-Ann and Dom to come to live with us.  I have decorated the annexe bedroom for us, and disposed of large amounts of material, wool, photography magazines, furniture and clothes.  We are about half-way through being ready for them, although Dave has found not only rotten floorboards but a couple of rotten joists under the shower which have to dealt with before we can install the new one.  Underneath all this was the knowledge that my time was probably going to be short, so I created my family and friends group e-mails, started to make a file of utility information, contacted the NHS pensions office to get an idea of what would be coming in for Dave after my death.

And now?  Like everyone else, I don't know how long I have to fill my time.  What does God mean by the change in prospects?  What knowledge and skills have I learned that I am meant to be using in the indeterminate amount of time left at this end of my life?  I had thought the future was going to be focussed on the family, helping with childcare, enjoying the development of young minds and bodies, reading stories, fetching from school.  MAybe that will be it, but the plans are back in the melting pot, and Mary-Ann and Dom have even more significant decisions to make than we have. 

Dave is much more practical.  He sees the grand clear-out of possessions as something long overdue, and an opportunity to decorate and renovate the house.  He wants me out in the garden, fulfilling some of the neglected plans we have had.  He never worries about money until the pot is empty, so he doesn't turn a hair at the cost of all this renovation.  I am sure he is right, and that investing in upkeep is the best use of what we have.  So long as my pension keeps coming in we can manage, and when he finally accepts retirement we still have the house as our security.  So he is on the right track, and I just need to keep living each day in thanksgiving and joy.

It will take me a little while to get used to the idea of a future.  Rog just came with a huge bunch of tulips, a promise of springtime, and a card from Sam saying 'today is the first day of the rest of your life.  Enjoy!'  Rog had a life-threatening heart condition a couple of years ago, and he identified with my muddled thoughts completely.  It makes me feel a bit less pathetic.  I expect I shall look back on this blog post and wish I had never written it.  I have said enough, anyway, so I will go and hang out the towels.