Here's a little frustrating news for a Thursday morning. Yesterday, Em and Jim spent the night at our house. Why? Because she has an appointment with the surgeon this morning at 8 (in ten minutes). The frustrating thing is that we don't know any more than we did yesterday. Or six weeks ago. Six weeks. That's how long we have been waiting for test results for a test that, evidently, doesn't exist.

How does this happen? The Interventional Radiologist (the guy who did the needle biopsy) told Em that they would sent the tissue out for the genetic test. She told the surgeon that she was waiting for the test results so everything went on hold. Em called the surgeon's office every few days and was told repeatedly, "no results, yet". After a few weeks, she started calling the pulmonologist (who supposedly ordered the test) and they took several days to return her calls. Only to tell her that there was no such test. Needless to say, Em was incredulous. She called the surgeon's office and he is seeing her this morning. He said something about surgery very soon.

So, soon we should have resolution. The PET scan showed that the tumor is localized and there doesn't seem to be any other suspicious activity any where else and all of the other scans show a well defined mass with no bone involvement. The signs look good for complete removal and complete recovery. I'll let you know.

Em and Jim were on the train with us this morning. They were behind us and in the reflection of the train window, I could watch her and she didn't know I was watching. I realized (again) how very precious that face is to me. I felt the tears start to roll down my face and it took a few minutes to collect myself so I could get off the train and face the day.

So, in honor of Emily Jane, here's one of my very favorite poems.


Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise

I'm a black ocean,
leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling
I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou


ETA: Emily is scheduled for surgery on Tuesday. Hopefully, they'll be able to remove the entire thing at that time. She said it'll depend on what they find. Finally, a date. Things can get taken care of and we can all get back to our regularly scheduled lives.

Comments

Bells said…
*applause*

Thinking of you all, Donna Lee. I really am.
Rose Red said…
that's a wonderful poem - thinking of you all today with fingers crossed and a hopeful heart.
amy said…
Oh, hang in there. I'm thinking of you too.

I saw Maya Angelou speak at URI. She was amazing in person.
Dianne said…
I'm so glad that she has a date for the surgery. Finally! Hugs to you all.
Roxie said…
Prayers and blessings for Emily and all who love her. Tuesday the 21st it is! Hugs to valiant Em and hugs to her mum. Are you taking the day off to be with her? You may as well. Your heart and head will never make it into the office.
Galad said…
Nicole and I will be thinking of Em and your whole family. Hopefully Tuesday will be the end of the saga and you can all move on.

You've always told us that nothing can keep a determined Wood woman down for long!
Julie said…
Oh, honey. I'm so sorry for what you and Em and all of your family are going through, and I'll be thinking of you.

Hang in there.

If you need an alibi for the night you take a baseball bat to the pulmonologist's knees, you just let me know.
Geek Knitter said…
One of the best poems ever. All the best to Em!
Bezzie said…
I'll be thinking of her--and YOU mama on Tuesday! So annoying those dr.s sometimes. My mom had some similar stories about her dr. and trying to figure out what her mass was too.
MadMad said…
WHAT?! What do you mean, no such test? And they kept her (you) hanging all this time?! Crazy! You poor guys. Well, I see the surgery is finally scheduled now, but man, they sure make it hard, don't they?
Louiz said…
Fingers crossed for next Tuesday, and I'm with Julie about the alibi.
Alwen said…
How frustrating.

(((((((hugs)))))))
Amy Lane said…
Again--crossed fingers for Em--and that is one powerful poem for her!

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