There are

two more days until my next PET scan. I've been so good, so far. Or so I think...

Then again, what I think might not always coincide with the impressions of the people that deal with me on a daily basis...

Two more sleeps until I wake up and head off to the machine first thing in the morning. I've been making sure to savor that one perfect moment in the morning when people start to stir in the bed and the tail starts to quietly thump against the floor and nothing in the world can touch us.

One more week (and a day) until I find out what the scan says and what lies in store and how much hair I'll have for Christmas. If I don't call ahead to find out what I know they will already know...

It's times like those that I keep replaying the voice in my head and the look in the eyes that told me, "You don't think I make reservations for next year to come back here alone, do you?" Of course not.

When I close my eyes and head up the trail or start to drift off to sleep at night and I think about what the scan will show, something in my heart tells me that this isn't the time for anything to return. Every now and then the fear of the unknown creeps silently in, often sneaking up on me when I am distracted, but I can't help but think that all will be clear once again. This next clear scan will get me through to the end of the year...

This year I get to walk 60 miles with hair on my head. This year I get to wrestle with curls and greys and ridiculousness rather than sweeping the hairs out of the sink that kept jumping ship. This year I have the choice whether or not to be anonymous if I want to. This year I might not want to.

This year I get to taste Thanksgiving dinner. This year I will be even more thankful than the one before for taste buds and health and family and friends and wine and music and dogs and love and faith. This year I will hope that nobody asks me what I'm thankful for, because I know I'm likely to cry.

This year I get to bundle up and hike into the canyon and fully enjoy that well-deserved beer after a day on the snowy trail. This year I get to savor the Paul Hobbs on Christmas Eve and have another moment to add to my cache of escapes to replay over and over in my mind.

This year I get to put another year behind me and continue facing future with whatever it will hold with the continuing knowledge that the castles in the air have the foundations under them that will allow us to take on even the unknown.

And thrive.

This year I will still always look forward to coming home at the end of the day. No matter what.

Bring on the noise, and keep it coming - God's got to be listening up there, somewhere. I've done my part, the best I know how, but I know my work is far from done...


    prayers for more grey hairs!!!

    : )

    good luck today, my friend. All will be just fine.

    By now you are half way to knowing what you already know......not up for discussion!

    Love you!