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Today, I invite you to take a quiet moment to consider: what can you say right now with certainty?

I’ve been largely absent from my blog lately. This year has been overwhelming in many ways. Dave’s surgery and health crisis through the holidays and into the new year, upheaval and a job change, the evolving relationship with our children, a new hobby, and more job stress have all served to make me want to crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head.

In May, Dave had another round of blood work and an MRI, following his surgery and subsequent infection. Instead of getting the “all clear” that we’d been hoping for, the oncologist said that Dave’s drastically reduced liver appeared to be inflamed. Rather than speculate or give us any clues as to what could be going on, we were told that Dave should do follow-up tests in late August.

We spent the summer in a sort of limbo. Dave felt like he was carrying a ticking time bomb around, refusing to believe that the inflammation could be as simple as his liver regrowing. They’d cut two thirds of it away during his surgery. We’d been told that it would regenerate within less than a year; but, the oncologist didn’t indicate this could be the cause with his review.

Finally, after interminable months of worry, blood was drawn, the MRI was done and the appointment was set.

I wanted to go to the appointment with Dave. I didn’t want him to be alone if the news was less than what we were hoping for. Unfortunately, a new client’s demands meant that I had to attend an enrollment meeting that same day. Dave would have to go alone.

All morning, I was a wreck, alternately weepy and on the verge of hysteria. During lunch, I couldn’t swallow, anxiously waiting to hear from Dave.

Finally, as I was collecting my briefcase, Dave called.

He said that the oncologist had come into the exam room along with an intern. And, with a big smile. The oncologist opened Dave’s file and said that he doesn’t get to deliver a message like this very often. He said that Dave is a very lucky man.

Dave called me the second the elevator doors opened. We both cried tears of relief, laughing hiccuppy sobs.

I called my mother from the car, as Dave called his mother.

We could say with certainty…Dave is CANCER FREE.

I am participating in Reverb 14. We are taking time to pause, reflect and release this year gently. If you’d like to join us, we would love to have you. Just go to I Saw You Dancing to sign up.

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