Hi!

I haven't written in over four months. Linda's passing affected me deeply and I didn't have anything to say. As my dad says, "I've used all my words." While her death has made me sad because I don't get to see her and speak to her, I am so excited that she is in heaven, talking to Jesus. It also affected me on another level, though.

My deepest sadness when I think about my own mortality is how it will affect my children. Even as I type, my eyes fill with tears when I think of being apart from them. I watched Linda's children at the funeral service and the gravesite and all I could think of was how my children would be handling this situation. Linda's children are adults, yes, but I couldn't help but think about my own children. It made my heart hurt to think they may have to sit in the front of the church while I am eulogized, but also reminded me how important every day that I am given is to the lives of my five children. I do miss you, Linda.

Three years ago today, I was given the news that I had an inoperable brain tumor. Two days prior, I had gotten an MRI because I was incredibly tired, I was having trouble signing my name, dragging my left foot when I walked and having a terrible pain in my head when I bent over. I had gone to the emergency room at Rex Hospital at the insistance of the radiology technician who had read my scan. He wouldn't say what the problem was exactly, just that I needed to go to the emergency room, immediately.

I was transferred by ambulance early in the morning to Duke University Hospital because the neurologists at Rex didn't have the capacity to deal with my case. I needed to be seen by one of the best neurology oncologists in the world. That made me scared. I had a 10 week old baby and four other children waiting for me at home. I was a nursing mom. I had a lot of wonderful work in front of me. This just couldn't be the end of the road here on earth.

I was diagnosed with a low-grade glioma lodged in my brain stem. Talk about deer in the headlights! In a moment that brought great clarity, my neurosurgeon said, "We're dealing with shadows here. We really don't know how dangerous the tumor is." This is the same neurosurgeon who removed the brain tumor from Edward Kennedy a few months ago.

The immediate concern was the swelling around the tumor. My symptoms were largely a result of that swelling and a stroke was a clear and present danger. I got on a super high dose of steroids and a 30-day round of radiation. The swelling went down and the tumor did not grow.

Now, it's been three years. The tumor has not grown but neither has it shrunk. I have lost some hearing and my eyesight has declined. I am constantly dizzy, like I just got off the Tilt-a-Whirl, all day. I could go back to bed for the day by 10am. And I am constantly fighting emotions that seem to be one step ahead of my thoughts and words.

Even so, it is well with my soul. Now that I am in the thick of living with these restrictions and shortcomings, I often question God. Three years ago, it was clear to me. God is in control and He loves me more than I can imagine. He loves my children more than I do. He has a plan for me and it is perfect. All of those things are still true. They have not changed one little bit.

What did change were my assumptions and expectations of what my life would be like as I grew older. I often get stuck in this vortex of wanting to wring every last bit of life out of every day and being so tired that I can't finish a sentence without stuttering. It's aggravating, and tiring.

So what can I do? Bring it to the Lord in prayer. That is my recourse. It isn't a magic wand that waves itself over my life and makes everything shiny and perfect. Sometimes, He changes my circumstances, sometimes He gives me a different perspective. In either case, He shows me He loves me so much. I don't go to the Lord every time, but I know I should. Sometimes, my sadness and fear takes me far from the arms of my Creator. But, when I finally bring the burden of this tumor to Him, He always answers with love and grace.

Thank you, Lord, for giving me more days than I was told to expect. Thank you for walking next to me every step of this experience. Thank you for loving us. Thank you for reminding me that You have it all under control and nothing takes You by surprise. I love you, Lord.

Joyfully,

Elyse