A wonderful Christmas present

Monday, Dec. 19. During my morning shower I think of all the people who are praying for me. I feel like George Bailey in "It's a Wonderful Life." I cry. I pray. And I pray some more. An afternoon visit to the lung specialist. He's awaiting a fax. In the meantime, I do a six-minute walk to test my oxygen ~ it varies between 90 and 96. Good news. Take a breathing test. Await the fax. Finally the news is in. I have a mass of dead tissue in the upper lobe of my right lung. I'm told it is nonmalignant. That was the answer to my prayer. I'd endure anything, I told myself, as long as it wasn't cancer. I would need surgery, I'm told. The mass must come out, and possibly the upper lobe would have to be removed. But there was no hurry. I was going to be OK. Go home and enjoy the holidays, I'm told. An appointment with a surgeon is scheduled for Dec. 28. I call my Mother with the good news. My children, co-workers, other friends, my relatives ~ all are relieved. It was a wonderful Christmas.