The day before I get bone biopsy results

I'm guessing that I may never see a landscape like this one in person again in this lifetime. That makes me sad.

The day before I receive any scan or test or biopsy result is always a weird one for me.

I run the gamut of emotions. Worry, sadness, irritation, gratitude, appreciation— these are a few I've experienced today.

Part of me wants to escape, to do anything other than feel what I'm feeling.

The wiser part of me says "feel them." And let them go. After all "motion" is the basis of the word "emotion." We're meant to feel but not to cling. Feel the emotions, let them move through—and then let them go.

One of the vehicle commercials that was on during the marathon 18-inning World Series game last night had a landscape similar to this one above. I took this photo when traveling with a friend in Wyoming. And my thought last night was, "I may never see this type of landscape in person again." I loved traveling in the West, seeing landscapes like this, enjoying being on the road experiencing firsthand natural beauty so different from the natural beauty I see daily here in Northwest Georgia.

I worry that the biopsy results mean my life is both greatly limited and shortened. I feel nervous to find out whether these spots of cancer in my bones are treatable. And I wonder whether I'll be willing to go through what the treatments involve. Big decisions may be looming.

But they might also not be.

There may be options that will make my quality of life better, not worse. Perhaps??

That not-knowing bothers me today. And my mind wanders to what I may miss out on in this lifetime.

I'm already missing out on an experience I'd planned with my sister this week. We were going to take classes the John C. Campbell Folk School this week. We had our favorite cabin near the campus reserved. I was going to take another acrylics painting class while my sister took a batik class. But I was having so much pain that I had canceled my spot in the painting class, thinking I could go and hang out at the cabin and have lunches at the folk school. That my sister could take her class and come back to the cabin each day and share what she did. So I'd partially have the experience we'd planned together.

But this cancer diagnosis shifted everything. My sister and I are together. But not at the folk school. We're going to a variety of medical appointments here near my home. She is working hard to get my house so that it's easier for me to function while on a walker and experiencing quite a bit of pain. She has worked her job remotely some. And she has run errands (which is where she is now) for me. I'm a terrible clutter bug, and she isn't. She is using her mathematic, linear mind to declutter my house some and make things function more logically. We're pretty much opposites in many ways. Our Myers-Briggs test results many years ago verified that. So I take advantage of her strengths which certainly help my weaknesses.

And now an example from of the gamut of emotions.

Irritation.

Because I had an ending that felt "right." Was kind of poetic and philosophical and summed up my post. But somehow I lost it and don't want to take the time to find it in the drafts.

I'll embrace the messiness of my human mistakes...

I'll say to this and all of today's and tomorrow's emotions, "Welcome, welcome..."

And reshare the Welcoming Prayer, Mile High Ministries version, that I shared in an earlier post:

Welcome, welcome, welcome.
I welcome everything that comes to me today because I know it’s for my healing.
I welcome all thoughts, feelings, emotions, persons, situations, and conditions.
I let go of my desire for power and control.
I let go of my desire for affection, esteem, approval, and pleasure.
I let go of my desire for survival and security.
I let go of my desire to change any situation, condition, person, or myself.
I open to the love and presence of God, and God’s healing action within.
Amen.