Good Signs

Thursday, April 26, 2012:  Today, I feel like Heaven is showing its mighty power.  I love my blog friend, Alisa's, thought that God has the ability to save and cure, whether it happens or not in our own lives.  He has the power.  He can do it.  And it doesn't matter who we are--the best of the best or the worst of the worst, beastly cancer cannot win if it's not in the plan.  He sees us all the same, as His children.  He knows the number of our days.  I trust Him to bless me, every day, and to be there when I need Him most.

Today I was on the other end of the doctor's exam--the supporter, the watcher, the hand to hold.  I went with Dean to see Dr. Robison, our wonderful dermatologist, to have a mole & skin check.  It was kind of nice to sit in a normal chair and not THE CHAIR.  It was nice to not have to disrobe.  But, at the same time, I felt that tickle in my tummy for my sweetheart.  It's scary, the not knowing.  With all the gazillion moles and freckles Dean has, there was only ONE that was of any concern, a little tiny thing on his belly.  Within minutes, Dr. Robison's nurse had the spot numbed.  Within seconds--literally seconds--Dr. Robison had cut it away and stuck a tiny round bandage on it.  I was amazed!  Five seconds!  Of course, now it will go to the lab to be evaluated, but we feel so encouraged.  All the ones we were sure were skin cancer or melanoma are fine, normal, of no concern at all.  We walked out of the office, thinking "that was a good sign!"  It was simple, non-complicated.  Maybe on surgery day...?

Tonight, walking out of a church meeting, I learned that one of my neighbors who was scheduled for an outpatient surgery today didn't have to have it after all; that she had gone to the doctor Monday, where they found that her body had healed itself!  Her mother had come from out of town to be with her for her surgery, and now they were planning to play for the weekend!  I love it.  Tender mercies and another good sign.

I'm not saying that Dr. Scaife will start opening me up Tuesday and find that I've been cured or that it will take minutes instead of hours, but I do believe in miracles.  Always have, always will.  And I'll always celebrate them in other's lives, as well as my own.  They are good signs from above.
(Picture:  Dean and I, ready for Senior Prom, 1975--I was 16, he was 20)