The verdict is in. The news is good. The journey continues. My Mother is a candidate for the surgery to remove and ablate the cancerous tumors on her liver. The scan revealed the tumors are dormant and there is not a speck of cancer anywhere else in her body. With scheduling luck, the lengthy operation will take place mid-August. I am grateful.
But. For 4 days prior to the final verdict given by the liver surgeon, we were under the impression, as per a short conversation with the oncologist, that the tumors had disappeared. That the miraculous had occurred. That the surgery was not necessary. That the tears of relief I shed from the kneeling position, while on the phone with my crying Mother, were the sweetest tears of a lifetime. It felt so right and true for her to be beyond this nerve-wracking dream. It felt so right.
So we cried again. And I promised her I would be sitting on the edge of my seat in the waiting room, for all the hours it took the surgeon to perform his best skills, willing her through the darkness. We will carry on undaunted. We will carry on with love. We will carry on.
I will hold in my heart, my stronger-than-I-realize heart, that the miraculous will come.