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“Will you go to the doctor?”
I’mthe only one in the room who is not surprised by the results of the scans.
Not surprised that they don’t detect cancer in my liver.
Not surprised that there’s only one tumor left in my pancreas, and it’s tiny.
“It’s rare, but sometimes we see situations like this that we can’t explain,” Dr. Faber says.
Situations.
Can’t explain.
I gave my body exactly what it needed, and it’s been healing. Why does that only make sense to me? Oh, that’s right … it didn’t make sense to me before I experienced it—before I became the miracle.
So, I don’t need Dr. Faber to bend a knee and admit that there might be more than one way to fight cancer. Even if I’m living proof, it doesn’t make me an expert.
Maybe it is nothing more than something rare and unexplainable.
I’m alive. My cancer is nearly gone—no more symptoms.
Do the details matter anymore?
If Amelia and the doctors want to call it a miracle from God, go for it. Really, I don’t care. I’m not looking to preach on the matter or write a book.
My wife wipes her happy tears.
“We can treat the remaining tumor,” Dr. Faber says.
I give her a look like she’s lost her fucking mind.
With a tight smile, she nods slowly. “Or we can recheck things in a few months.”
Or I can walk out of here and be done with this. No more poking, prodding, and scanning my body.
Amelia squeezes my hand as if prompting me to speak.
“Thank you for your time.” I stand. “If we have any more questions, we know how to reach you.”
“We’ll schedule a follow-up,” Amelia says while hiking her purse onto her shoulder.
“Or you can send me a reminder card like my dentist.” I give the doctor a toothy grin.
As soon as we exit the building, Amelia screams and jumps up and down.
Okay, this right here makes the follow-up appointment totally worth it. I haven’t seen her this excited since she discovered she was pregnant with Astrid.
“Baby! You’re going to live!” She throws herself into my arms.
I chuckle. “One day at a time.”
Truth? I don’t know how long this will last.
She kisses me over and over again, giggling like our daughter. “I know. Thank you. I wanted to believe that you were better, but knowing it for sure is exactly what I needed. We have to celebrate. I’m going to invite everyone.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward the car.
I hope that my body can feed off of her happiness because it feels like we’re slipping back into the same life that allowed me to get sick in the first place.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
