So, for the next 24 hours we didn't eat, sleep or breathe. The places our minds went were places too familiar. Horrible places with nightmare images. The thoughts of "how do we make it through treatment again?" "How will Lucy handle this" "what will this do to Ella" "what about Jack?" Horrible, horrible thoughts. Agonizing thoughts.
19 hours went by and we still hadn't heard from the doctors. I then decided that albeit a little aggressive I would send Dr. W a text. It went something like this
"Hey, thanks for being so attentive yesterday. I haven't been able to eat, sleep or breathe since we last spoke. It would mean a lot to me if you would make sure those scans get pushed over to Dr. C. I know it might seem a tad irrational, but when you've been to hell it's not a place that easily escapes your mind. Please don't make me stay here. As always, we just adore you."
In the mean time I treated myself to a manicure, cleaned the house, went to the grocery store, wrote out to-do lists, and anything else to keep my mind occupied.
Being at St. Jude for the past 2 weeks has been really hard on my mental state. As the years go by the return trips become more difficult. Being surrounded by sick and dying children is not a natural way to spend a day. Moms who are defeated, Dads who are emotionally tortured and children who have already lost their lives; even if still on this earth.
Around 5:30 last night we got news that the spot that showed up on the scans was determined to be a cavernoma, a bundle of blood vessels. Basically scar tissue. Praise God, praise God! I don't understand His mercies or why he's chosen to continually spare Lucy's life. I really can't even being to get my head around it. But I am so grateful. So, so grateful.
Today, we started living again.