When Nothing Becomes a Thing

Remember how Jake had a PET scan on June 4? And how the original tumor site was clear? And I started breathing for the first time in a month? And all we had to get through before our clear shot to summer and London and fun was an ultrasound of slightly enlarged lymph nodes under his left arm? And how that was surely nothing?

Turns out it's a thing. 

After being only marginally enlarged and stable for over a year, the lymph nodes doubled in size in the last three weeks between the PET scan and the ultrasound. And he also has them under the right arm now. 

What does this mean? Besides my breathing being once more affected? 

Next Wednesday, July 3, Jake will have a same day surgery biopsy. And then we will wait for results. 

It's still unlikely to be cancer. Really, really unlikely to be a rhabdo relapse. But "unlikely" and "biopsy" coexist uneasily. 

Other than that, all is well. Matt is home from college for two weeks to celebrate his 20th birthday. I'm deep in first pass pages for The Boleyn Deceit, followed by revisions for book three in the trilogy. And I'm working on proposals for my next project. We learned a long time ago how to be happy in the midst of all else, and it's a skill standing us in good stead. 

As long as it's daylight.

When the night falls . . . well, let's say I would not be averse to having the thoughts and prayers of others rising through the dark with mine.