Being Unremarkable

Today the inscrutable machines whirring around my supine, breath-holding body in a close, close plastic tube found nasopharynx, pharynx, larynx, cervical lymph nodes, paranasal sinuses and upper abdomen ‘unremarkable.’ I am – from a medical perspective, at this brief moment – unremarkable. What a beautiful word.

Three years of being unremarkable, and I barely gave this particular CT scan a thought. Of course it will be clear, I thought, if I thought about it at all. Look at me, still young and strong, of course it will be clear. What folly. As if I haven’t learned that sickness strikes more than the weak.

My first scan clear of Hodgkins Lymphoma was in the fall of 2012, and the scans have been clear since, thank God. I’ve birthed and nursed another baby, discovered zumba, discovered yoga, discovered Montessori, navigated federal bureaucracies with immigrant clients at the law firm where I work, and lived. When I agonized, melting onto the floor at the doctor’s mouth making the word ‘cancer’ in 2011, that I would not know Julian’s first word or what he thought about, I did not know I would see him talk (and talk and talk) and love to dance ‘ballet’ and ride his bike and dress himself and hike miles in the Smokies. Or that I would see him protect his sister, wanting to hold her from the day of her birth and brushing her hair, bringing her toys and nudging me from my morning slumber to ask that I feed her amidst her waking fusses.  

I write this to remember to be grateful. With children, I know better now how a parent rejoices to hear a child express gratitude, so I do it in these words to the Father who watches and knows it all already. Thank you.

Obligatory photo from Christmas. You're welcome.