Several questions and an examination later, the doctor immediately ordered a battery of tests. He also said words that nobody, particularly, a 36 year old single mother of a special needs child ever want to hear. Tumor. Biopsy. Malignant. Cancer.
My first thought was my son. Who would take care of him? What would happen to him if I die? I
I eventually calmed down enough to remember that a few days before my appointment, I kept hearing Psalm 118:17 in my mind. I clung on to that promise. I kept on repeating it to myself. I also had a group of women from our church praying for me and believing with me.
At this point, I'd like to apologize for not sharing this as it was happening. A surprising but most welcome result of this blog is the relationships I've formed with some of you. It wasn't a reflection on those relationships that I withheld this information. I just wasn't ready to write about it then.
Obviously, this is not the end. I will finish the story on Monday. Until then...