I don't normally blog about this.
As many a dear reader will recall, we did not begin this brain surgery drama in March of this year. It all began over 5 years ago, in February 2006, when Ian was diagnosed with an Anaplastic Astrocytoma (III). The golf-ball sized tumor was removed, and radiation and chemo followed.
Every three months since that surgery (for 5 years - you do the math), he has had a follow-up MRI at the National Institute of Health in Bethesda, MD. The MRIs are frequent because the grade of tumor indicates it did not take long to form and cause trouble ... perhaps as few as three months.
So we've been living our lives as if nothing is wrong and everyone's fine, while at the same time living in three-month increments of ease and terror (at least for me; Ian always saw the trips as a diversion with a side of grease at The Tastee Diner.) I'm usually at home, taking deep breaths and waiting for the phone to ring after his clinic appointment with the doctors who review his scans and meet with him the morning after his MRI.
All this history to say: This week will be his first trip since the last incident. This Thursday he will travel down (with his mom; I'm staying home) to have his "routine" MRI and test results, Friday morning.
I think you can grasp the gravity of this situation, so I won't attempt to spell it out. But please, if you're able, pray for safe travels, and a clear scan, and for my ability to breathe in the meantime.
Love you all, and God Bless America.
