The Fireman

Yesterday, I went back to UNC Hospital for a follow-up with Dr. Morris, the guy who did my Cyber-knife procedure back in December. You know, the marvelous wonder of a laser-knife
machine that burned out the two little lesions that have been haunting my brain for the past 14 months. The procedure where I walked in two days before Christmas and trusted that I would walk out within an hour with a new brain, a clear brain, a brain where cancer cells were dying off by the minute because they had been zapped in a big way. And, as far as we can tell, that's exactly what happened. Talk about faith. Dr. Morris and I have faith that even though we cannot see into my head right now, we know those two small lesions are gone.

I scored a ten out of ten on my neurological function tests. Dr. Morris was grinning from ear to ear.....the first time I have really seen him smile. He offered to do an MRI right there, just so we could take a peek. I turned him down. Why would I do that? Because I also have to have faith that not only would the two be gone, but no new ones would have appeared. Because if a new one would have shown up....what then??? Do we stop this round of chemo that seems to be working so well for me and put the knife on it???? Or do I live with the knowledge of the lesion's
existence for two more months while we finish up our chemo rounds??? Neither sounded like any kind a stress I needed to start the new year.

So I told him no and he was just fine with that. We will stick with the plan and wait two more months. I know he is ready and willing and will be standing by if I need the knife again. We talked about using it on my chest wall. That may be next. As he knows, he is my Fireman. His job is to put out any little fires that pop up all around the inside of me that qualify for "knifing". Even as the hot, slow-burning embers that make up the disease I fight continue to circulate and wreak their havoc, I have faith in the Fireman and he has faith in me. We both feel we can do some cutting-edge (pardon the pun) stuff together. We are up for the task.

I always look for profound stuff from my physicians. They usually say remarkable things to me,
if I am listening. I never thought I would get anything from the Fireman because he was so technical, so focused on the procedure. Busy and lost in thought. But yesterday was a different Dr. Morris. He was pleased with me and the exam and very personable. So I got a profound statement from him which really took my by surprise. Loosely translated, Dr. Morris' said: You know, way back when you got your stem-cell transplant, we all thought it was the best thing to do for women in your position. Now, we don't believe they should be done in breast cancer cases like yours. But I look at you and have to say that if anyone asked me if I thought it worked for you, my answer would have to be yes. Look at all you have been able to do.

Thanks, Mr. Fireman. What a great gift you gave me as I was leaving your office. Thanks for the boost, the affirmation, your non-analytical, straight from the gut opinion. It made my day
and landed you in my journal and filled me with gratitude. I sometime struggle with the fact that I chose that extreme and awful treatment path in 2001. To hear you say that was wonderful. And not only is it "look at all I have been able to do." But it is look at all I have been able to see. The list of amazing things is so long I can't even begin to put them in words. Most importantly, look at all the people I have been able to love.

I'll be back in the fireman's office in two months. They'll look around in my brain then. I have no doubt they will find nothing remarkable. No fires, not even a spark. But if I do decide to let Dr. Morris go after something else, I won't be so apprehensive this time. Because in the ten minutes we spent together this past Friday, I realized that he gets me. He really does get what I'm all about. He dropped all the techno-speak, data, and medical languages, and spoke to me, the woman in the fight. Another good man has secured his place in my boat and the raging sea has one more reason to calm itself.

"Be merciful to those who doubt; snatch others from the fire and save them;" Jude:22-23