Cancer.

I can't believe I'm typing this. My mom has cancer. The cursor blinks on the screen, and I wish I could somehow backspace over it violently and make the sentence and the reality of it disappear. She finally heard back from the pulmonary specialist this morning, and he said the biopsy on her lung came back malignant. He also noticed something on her lymph nodes, but it was inconclusive. She has to have a biopsy on that, too. She goes for the biopsy on the 23rd - the 23rd! TOO far away, why can't they do it now? She meets with an oncologist (I can't believe I'm talking about my mom, here - this stuff only happens to people I don't really know!) on Wednesday, and my dad, Sarah & I are going with her. My mind is reeling, my stomach feels sick, and tears are stinging my eyes. I went to lunch with my family today; Zooey and Ryan stayed home. While we were at Applebees, I remembered how we went there when we put our dog, Brandi down. When I was a child, I thought that was such extreme pain. Today, though, I sat in Applebees with my family and my heart was seared with a new kind of pain and fear. Cancer is scary. People die from cancer. I am so sad that my mom has to go through this that I cannot even express my emotion. Although I am currently unsure of the treatment options and what that will entail, I know enough about cancer to know that the treatment is no picnic. It is painful. It is draining. If I could take it for her, I would. The brain is a funny thing. One would think that these thoughts would be all-consuming, but we sat and had lunch and even laughed. My mom & Sarah came to visit Zooey, and we all sat around looking at her and smiling. But then, my mom would cough a little and I thought about this "thing" that's sitting in her lung and wished I could will it away. Or, I would make eye contact with Sarah, which always does me in when something's going on, because I know exactly what she's feeling from her eyes, even when she doesn't show it. Or I'd look at my mom and see her worried expression and once again I'd be struck with the reality of cancer. People also don't die from cancer, though, and that is what I'm trying to cling to right now. She just went to the doctor to meet her and establish a PCP. She almost didn't bring up her cough to the doctor. Maybe they caught it early and will treat it and it will be gone. I can't play the "what-if's" or I'll just make myself crazy. These are the moments when faith and action really have to collide, because there's nothing else I or anyone else can do but pray and trust the Lord with His best for my mom. I don't know what else to say. And when I don't know how to pray, I will rest in the fact that Jesus knows what to pray and ask Him to do just that for us.