9 months out: A clean report

So Dr. Flowers (I can no longer associate him with Tiger -- oh, how much has changed) came in and cut right to the chase. "Your scan looked good," he said, with his borderline awkward indifference and focus-less stare.

Wooo hooo.

At this point, my platelets are a little lower than yours, but they are not low enough to worry. Hope I don't cut my knee on the playground this weekend.

Otherwise, my liver, kidney, red blood, yadda yadda yadda function all look good.

He said I can meet with the neurosurgeon about getting my USB port out of my skull. No more awkward cowlick.

I celebrated with... you guessed it: fish tacos. Well, I did a pre and post celebration, both with fish tacos. An addict, I admit.

After getting the good report, I walked across the street to the main hospital where I spent my 45+ nights over 8 rounds of chemo. I sat with my buddy Khadar Hassan, who I came to meet right after he was diagnosed with Burkitt's. He is 22 and from Somalia.

This guy is a fighter. Like me, he got a nasty Staph infection during treatment, coincidentally also after his 4th round of chemo. Though I was in the hospital for a week getting pumped up on antibiotics, getting my port ripped out, having blood cultures and a 104+ fever, he was in for two.

They got the MRSA under control, and started round 5 today. What a fighter.

While I am honored to be on the back side of such a hard fight, I don't stray too far from what it's like to be in the bed, flat out on my back, getting pumped full of toxins.

Khadar is in the thick of it, and I yearn to walk through that valley with him in whatever way I can.

I also met an 18-year old named Austin Saunders in the clinic who was laid out on a bench with a pillow over his head. An anxious woman sat beside him, rubbing her bloodshot eyes.

"Lumbar puncture?", I inquired.

"Yes," she murmured softly. "He has a rare non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and just started chemo last week."

My heart sank. That was me! The very same thing! Laid out, miserable, ready to give up, though things had only just begun. I was right there on that bench beside him, in my heart.

Poor kid was throwing up every 3 minutes. I am that kid.

I made every effort to console Mom and tell her some lessons learned from the road I had ventured only twelve months prior. I jotted down my contact info and offered prayer and whatever practical support I can provide. I sure hope they call.

Lately, I am playing tennis, exercising, eating well, and joyfully employed. God is so merciful.

Lord, please don't let me forget that I am one breath away from being on the other side of this thin veil of good health. Oh, my.

Daily bread.

I am prone to spend more time worrying about the future than I should. If I really do trust that Jesus is Lord over my life, has conquered death and all fear, then what's the hold up?

A thought came to me this week about the concept of daily bread. We are instructed to ask God for our daily bread. Manna was gathered up daily, for that day only. Any 'extra' provisions would go bad and ultimately become useless.

So if each morning, before I roll out of bed, I ask myself, "Do I have enough to get through the day?"

"Do I have what I need to make it until I return back to this very same bed, at the end of the day?"

The answer is simple. It's 'yes'. It has been 'yes' every day thus far in my life. The answer this morning, was also 'yes'. Tomorrow? Well, I'll know come tomorrow morning what the answer is, but I am fairly certain the answer will continue to be... 'yes'.

As I consider only the very day in front of me, I need not worry about having enough bread for future days. Of course this doesn't mean I am to squander all that I steward in a profligate way. Rather, it simply means that I need not have fear, anxiety, concern or worry about whether the bread will last beyond today and today alone.

The Lord has promised to be faithful in giving us our daily bread, and so I'm not going to keep doing my best to ignore this promise in worrying about some distant day that may never come.

I'm a 'yes' today. I'll get to tomorrow when it gets to me.