scanning: dust.


One day we will stop having these conversations.

Even though this is my third time going through everything, I swear I have never had this many tests, this close together, this necessary to have consistently.

psalm 103

As a father has compassion on his children,
    so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him;
14 for he knows how we are formed,
    he remembers that we are dust.
15 The life of mortals is like grass,
    they flourish like a flower of the field;
16 the wind blows over it and it is gone,
    and its place remembers it no more.
17 But from everlasting to everlasting
    the Lord’s love is with those who fear him

We are but dust. 

And yet my body, this composition of dust, gets scanned constantly. My dust is interesting, interestingly transforming, swirling, reconfiguring itself: a dust storm. Stop dust and please settle, settle down to the ground.

Yes, my dust is interesting. Let’s contain the storm, trap it, chase after it: my doctors are storm chasers, storm warriors, always racing, always tracking. They


The ultimate storm chasers, storm warriors of the dust. Dust storms that bite, sand that swirls and stings your eyes. Winds so fast, swirling dust so fast that your skin is tingling as dust makes contact with you. Dust to dust; skin to skin. But the dust storm won’t settle. It sometimes quiets itself, is dormant for 5 years. Then kicks itself back up, raises its voice. Dust/cells expanding. Can I shake off this dust? Rub it off. Let me rub my skin, rub my legs, rub my hips: maybe this dust will come off with friction.

We are but dust.


genesis 2

Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.

I am more than dust.
Dust + life.
His life.

My soul agrees as we fight this body, this dust.

At the doctor’s office, he scrolls through the medical images of my body from
the medical scrapbook of my past 4 months.

Which is honestly overwhelming, as he flips through them all, commenting on them all. Have I really taken that many photos? That is my body really? Ususally, you are able to recognize yourself as you flip through pictures, see on the glossy print what you seen in the mirror. But this, these black and white photos? You sure that is my body? And what is happening inside me?

Click. click. click. Pictures from June. Pre-diagnosis, that started this all.
Click. click. click. Pictures from July that confirmed it all.
Click. click. click. Pictures from August that continued it all.
Click. click. click. Pictures from September that now confuse us all.
Tomorrow: more
click. click. click. Pictures from October that will (hopefully) bring us hope, conclusions to this all.

Pray, dear friends, for those new photos tomorrow.
Pray that my doctors see what they need to see and are able to get clear, clear images.
Pray that these are the scans help us to figure out definitively if I can/should have surgery or not and how well the treatments I’m underdoing are doing now.

Thank you, thank you!

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
romans 12:12

One thought on “scanning: dust.

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