Prognosis HOPE

Prognosis.

In the last week, I have been asked a number of times about my prognosis.

I don't like the question.

Because it makes me face my mortality each time I hear it.

I don't know what Jerry will say about my prognosis. I am working on the courage to ask him when I see him on Thursday.

But I know what I hope it is.

I hope that cancer is gone from my body.

Never to return.

I hope that I will never have to be as terrified, ever again, as I have been these last months.

I hope that my dear husband will not have to be so strong for me again for a long long time.

Because, in many ways, cancer has been harder on him than it has been on me.

I hope I can return to being a wife and mother who takes care of her family, instead of her family having to take care of her.

I hope that my precious babies will not have to be concerned with breast cancer again. I hope that they will be able to look back on this time and not be scarred from the trauma.

But all these "hopes" are not my prognosis.

My prognosis HOPE is the assurance I have in Christ.

My prognosis HOPE is the peace that comes amidst the terror.

My prognosis HOPE is the strength and courage that come from the fount of life.

Prognosis HOPE is what I cling to.

Because any other prognosis is not sure.