How do we tell them?

   On our way home we knew that the hard part was ahead... Telling our families. This was the hardest part for me. I knew how sad they would be. I hated to be the reason for that. My mom had just lost her mom, and now I would tell her that her only daughter has cancer.
   How would the kids react. They knew the word, CANCER. It was a dirty word to them. We had prayed, and were praying for many people who were in the middle of their battle, some that had died. They knew...
   We broke the news to the kids over morning snuggles in our bed. Alton gasped, Carter wanted to know if I was going to die. We did our best to reassure them that though we didn't know, we did know that God was going take care of us, so we needn't worry. They seemed satisfied and comforted. I was sort of surprised it went so well. I knew that they didn't really get it, and that was probably best. 
     There were lots of tears and disbelief that 4th day of December. I was sad all day, but it wasn't for me, it was for everyone else. To be honest, I was relieved in a way. Relieved to finally know what  was wrong with me.
    We spent the morning giving sad news, crying with loved ones, and praying together. The day was  busy with visitors and phone calls. A welcomed distraction from the reality of the news we had received the night before. I was exhausted by the time the day had come to an end, and the last visitor was walked to the door. Exhausted. Comforted. Overwhelmed. But not by the circumstances. Overwhelmed by the mass amount of people that loved us, were sorrowing for and with us. That feeling would continue.
    Thursday morning we woke early for our drive to Stanford for the morning PET scan and then an MRI that afternoon. My mood was different this day. As we headed down 132, my heart felt heavy, and the tears started to slowly roll. Lewis misses nothing these days. He took my hand asking if I was alright. " yesterday, I was sad for everyone else... But today, I'm sad for me."
    I cried for a little while longer but then I was done. And I mean done. No more tears that day. We listened to Matt Mahor, "Lord, I need you" the entire way. It felt good to know that we would get no results today. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know the results of these tests, so it was nice that for today, I could just enjoy my husband.
    The PET scan was interesting. I didn't realize that I would be radioactive for 24 hours and not even able to be within a few feet of my kids for a prolonged period of time. Crazy! The gal comes out wearing heavy duty gloves, carrying a metal cylinder that she hooks up to my IV and pumps into me. "And I was worried about eating canned soup", I thought. It was seriously comical to me.
    When the test was over, we had a few hours before my MRI. So we headed to  P.F. Changs for lunch and and did a little shopping at the Palo Alto mall. I remember being pretty tired as we strolled hand in hand, window shopping. I still wasn't feeling well and now it made sense why.
    The day was almost like a date-day with my husband. Like a honeymoon period or calm before the storm. I remember this day fondly. It was special. Lewis and I were more in love then ever, and were cherishing each moment. Holding hands like newlyweds, and I even got public kisses. Anyone who knows Lewie knows this does not happen. But everything had changed, and it would never be the same. The things that used to be a big deal weren't anymore.
   This Thursday was definately one of my favorite days together. I think we both knew that tomorrow the news could get much worse. Today we were still in the dark, but tomorrow, knowledge would come to us. Knowledge we may not want.