1.8cm

(This post was originally written on January 24. I pecked it out quickly with the girls running at my feet, and to honor those thoughts as they came and as they were at that moment, I'm not editing it one bit.)

The lump on my thyroid isn't even very big. 

and it's a bit disconcerting how 1.8cm long can send my entire world into a whirlwind.

I called for the results of my biopsy on Wednesday. Shaking hands. Statistics on my side. "Only a 5% chance this is cancer, Leslie. Only 5%."

The nurse who called me back said it without fanfare or even a smile in his voice. "The pathology is benign. The doctor wants to see you again in 6 months to do another ultrasound to make sure it hasn't grown." 

Maybe he has shut off emotion during these calls because to celebrate with the benign results means to mourn with the malignant? I don't know. I walked into the dining room and gave Josh a thumbs up.  It's good news. I've been waiting weeks for the answer to this question. I'm not growing something in my throat that is killing me. Thank you Jesus.

Josh said that once I got the results it would be like none of it ever happened, except that just isn't the case. Something did happen, my body grew something and it turns out that it wasn't cancer this time. But that little lump made me face my mortality. It made me realize how very much I want to be alive.  How I really truly think I am the best person on the planet to mother the three girls I birthed. 

I'm grateful for the results I received. The whole experience was quite a shock to my system as I am only used to 100% clear bills of health. Now I get to deal with hypothyroidism for the rest of my days. I'll choose it over cancer any day, but still am processing a chronic illness as part of my body now. I feel very thankful to be alive; grateful that I'm not in a fight to be alive.  But also very aware that my time here is limited. That I need to write more. That I need to be more present. That I won't get to see the entirety of my daughter's lives, so I need to make the most of the part of their lives I will see. and since zero tomorrows are guaranteed, that means today. I only have today. and as cliche as that has always sounded, it feels like the truest truth I've ever been told.