The last two weeks have been a reminder of just how precious life is and how much I take for granted.
Two weeks ago (January 22) I kept an appointment with a pulmonologist simply to see if I should continue a medication (Advair) I was taking, prescribed by the ENT doctor. After a chest x-ray that day and a CT scan the very next day, I was told I would need a PET scan. This was scheduled for January 31. There was something "suspicious" in the upper right hilum near the sternum.
During the waiting time, all the other things in my life went on as normally as possible. Outwardly. Of course my family knew and a few friends and I and asked for prayer. (Some I purposely did not tell because...) I slipped a note to my pastor and asked for prayer. I prayed. I quaked, bargained, begged for forgiveness, talked to my sister endlessly, to Bren, drew nearer to Paul not so much with words, but in spirit becuase he knew. (He'd been through the same thing about the place on his arm back in the summer.) And I finally came to a place of relative peace. I had been led to the edge of a chasm and kind of like Inidiana Jones in "The Last Crusade" where he has to step off that cliff onto "thin air" I was at that point. His thin air turned into a ledge, a shelf of support. And so did mine - my Ledge, my Shelf of Support. So many things that seemed to matter before didn't any more. All the important things did.
Yesterday I finally got the results of the scan and while there is something there, it is not anything that has to be removed, biopsied, or even treated (even with antibiotics). It is very possibly the result of just living and breathing in Northeast Arkansas - histoplasmosis. Blackbirds. Airborn disease they carry. It is not uncommon for this area. I also believe it is the result of many bouts of bronchitis, the fungal infection I had, the esophagitis, and the constant coughing I had for over two years (until Advair). And I just have to have this monitored. They will do another scan at the end of May.
In the meantime, I'm very relieved, very grateful, very much aware of how short this wonderful life is on this earth. While we are travelers and sojourners here and I am prepared for another home in Heaven, I still want to be around here for a while. I know there is a plan for every life, and I know God has His for me. He always gets my attention this way. Slow down. Take time. Play. Pray. Be. Forgive. Love. Be grateful. Be patient. Serve others. Abide.
What if it had not been good news? What would I be planning to do now? Live or die? Both, I hope. But shouldn't we always be doing that?