Leukemia

Yesterday, Paul took me to my liver doctor for a follow-up. Numbers for my liver are slowly returning to normal.

But we got incredibly sidetracked to other results found in my bloodwork. He was awfully concerned regarding results related to my bone marrow and white cell count. He recommended that I see a hematologist right away, and it's possible that I will have to go through another bone marrow biopsy.

I asked why the urgency. He said plain and simple that based on the numbers, I am a candidate for having leukemia.

(pause)

I heard this analogy the other day: life with its many struggles is climbing Mt. Everest. The more more you climb, the air gets thinner, the temperature gets colder, and the terrain becomes undauntingly difficult. Some climbers stop at a a plateau, take a break, and then head back down. The path before them was too much for them, so they choose to return to the base of the mountain. But the other climbers who stay on target get to the pinnacle and receive the reward of a view so undescribable, so richly visual and full, that their hike up seemed so long ago.

The terrain in my life has become shockingly and suddenly steeper. Sometimes I think it's not worth it. I think things like, "Why keep going? What do I have to look forward to?" It sounds destitute, desperate, and depressing, and the fight to avoid thinking these things keeps me up at night and tests the authenticity of what faith I have left.

(sigh.) In a couple of days, it's my birthday month. I can either choose to focus on all the positive, all the celebrating, all the excitement, or dwell on the unknown and the scary path ahead of me.

What's after September? Autumn? Thanksgiving? The birth of my niece? Christmas?

What's after Steptember? Becoming a cancer and leukemia fighter? More medical procedures? Another surgery? More MRI's, visits to new doctors, and a new daily regimen of drugs? Death?

One thing is certain in my future: clff hangers.