No Miracle in Maryland

 The call came in after 9:00pm. Matt put his phone on speaker and we stood in the kitchen listening to the doctor I had taken so much comfort in at Johns Hopkins. 

All the comfort I had slipped through my fingers, all the hope I had mustered poured down my face. I haven’t cried much, because I’ve been so determined that we’re going to beat it. No question. We’ve got it. The Johns Hopkins Review Board came back with more bad news. 

The lungs, they’re probably cancer. The stomach is ambiguous, but not looking great and we won’t know until it presents itself further. There doesn’t seem to be a surgical option. And they don’t foresee one in the future. We have to run a relay race with different chemotherapy options and think of keeping Matt comfortable. 

I was choking on my words when I asked what we could do, what we should do, how we could better the odds for a further surgery. He hesitated and responded very carefully that they were unanimous there was nothing to be done, but keep on chemo for these last three treatments. Then hang tight as long as we could. 

I won’t accept that. It’s unacceptable. I immediately while thanking for his time started typing an email to Dr. Fong at City of Hope in California. If anyone knows him, please let him know I’m trying to get in contact. I won’t stop searching, I don’t care how many opinions it takes. I don’t care the cost. As long as Matt’s willing I’m going to keep pushing. 

People tell me to put it in God’s hands. I can’t find God’s hands today. I couldn’t find them last night either. I know he’s there, but right now I need more than faith. I need some newfound hope. 

There is no miracle in Maryland, but I don’t care. I’ll keep looking. For my girls. For my husband. On to the next.