I took a walk yesterday. It was the longest walk I've taken since surgery. Slowly but surely following along after Jason and Samwise as sticks and pinecones were thrown, chased, and retrieved, I noticed some things:
- Not a patch of snow in sight.
- There are SO many pinecones on the ground. I began to gather pinecones in the fall and gifted many of them to some of you - carefully washed, dried, and lightly scented with cinnamon and vanilla essential oils. The broken ones make EXCELLENT fire starters (the whole ones too, but I'm thinking I could start a lucrative cottage industry selling those that are in-tact. People pay good money, apparently, for a bag of scented pine-cones around the holiday season - I even saw some scented with pumpkin-spice this past fall 🤭).
- The temperature has dropped again. After a few 80°F days last week, it was only 50° by 11am this morning. Still no precipitation in sight, which is concerning as we seem to be slipping into drought conditions once again, and fire-season seems to be upon us already.
- The walk was pleasant none-the-less as I needed some extra space to clear my head after hearing not exactly what I had hoped for from the doctor yesterday. I only started feeling just a little winded about 1/2 way back.
Some of you are on the edge of your seats waiting for the news from the tumor board, so I'll just get right to it. They believe that I am at high risk of recurrence due to the size of my tumor. Did I mention that this "atypical lipomatous tumor" (a.k.a. "well differentiated liposarcoma") measured 40.3cm at it's longest point? It must have been doubled over somehow for that to be true, but it is right there in the report - along with the 30-40lb weight estimate. They are concerned that a recurrence my not be "resectable" (removeable) and have recommended a specialist in liposarcoma at UCSF. I should hear back within the next couple of days about scheduling an appointment to discuss my options.
This doesn't feel like the "one-and-done" miracle that we had hoped and prayed for, and yet I am confident that God is still healing me. After latching on so tightly to the hesitant optimism of the surgeon and then the oncologist - both qualifying their outlook with the need for the tumor board to make a final recommendation- I do feel some disappointment/discouragement - and yet I was met with multiple encouraging messages this morning before I had even shared this latest news.
So here we are, still in the waiting period. The initial description of standard treatment for liposarcoma sounded fairly brutal. Keeping in mind that liposarcoma is fairly rare, I am grateful for the opportunity to speak with a specialist about what options might be available in my particular case. I am also caught in this limbo of trusting the magnitude of the miracle and the difficult decisions that may lay ahead about treating a cancer that is no longer there. I don't completely understand this part...do I have cancer . . . or is it fair to say that I had a cancerous tumor that is now gone? When is one allowed to say that they are "cancer-free"? Obviously, I have more questions than answers at this point and yet I am convinced that uncertainty is where faith abounds. Trusting a miracle is a dangerous place to play - but trusting my creator, the lover of my soul - that is a safe place to land indeed.
"Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him." - Psalm 62:5
This verse became my daily meditation about 15 years ago - for at least a year, and I return to it from time to time, like today. This is not the first time I am held and will not be the last. I am deeply grateful for the community of support that has been granted to me. In trimming the flowers brought by a new friend and fellow library volunteer this week, one bud fell off, and I am particularly fond of it as it sits in a repurposed spice jar on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. As I walked alongside the house this morning - a pinecone fell from the sky, bounced and landed perfectly in this posed position. It is, and always has been, the small gifts that warm my heart the most and allow me to feel known.
Well, thanks for reading, for following, for praying, for encouraging me along in this journey - which apparently is not quite over. At this point, in addition to prayers for continued healing, I would ask for discernment as options for the next steps are presented.
Continuing in the bold confidence of God's care,
Dawn Noelle
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