Yesterday, I had my thirteen-year-out cancer check up. That means, just like I’ve done for so many other days, I spent a day getting poked and scanned, and tested for various things. They’re not really sure what happens when someone has chemo for 49 weeks as a seven year old and lives to be twenty. Why? Because there haven’t been very many of us, so we’re kind of making waves in a new pool. I don’t mind that at all. What’s 5 more tests so that someone else can live from what they learn from me?

Beyond that though, is the fact that the waiting room outside a meeting with my oncologist is a less than calm place for a heart. I’ve had many years to practice staying calm, and not worrying. And I don’t outwardly worry. I smile, and read and talk with other people in the pediatrics section, and spectate on the walls, and mill through books. But, on the inside, I wonder and remember many times before when going in that room meant news that was not good.

After my name got called, I sat down, shook the hand of the resident that was on his rounds for the day, and we chatted for a while. He looked at me, and said: “Well, your blood pressure was pretty high.” I immediately got more hyped up than I already was. It’s an interesting thing, how when one is in a room waiting to hear if there’s something wrong with them, that they just can’t handle even talking about anything else that’s not right. I took a deep breath, “Yeah, that’s probably because I’m pretty nervous.” He just responded, “Yeah, I can’t even imagine.”As I sat there, I thought, “You know, sir, you probably can’t. And I’m so content with the fact that you can’t. I just never want you to be able to understand how hard I pray for a boring day when I’m sitting in a waiting room at the Mayo Clinic.”

In the last 13 years, I have come to appreciate the days of the expected. Because if nothing drastic changed, that means that I’m staying healthy, and alive, and that the hospital won’t be my home again.

I didn’t actually get the results for the one test I wanted the answers for that day, but I went home, away from the waiting room, and my heart slowed its pace.

This morning I got a phone call saying that I was completely healthy.

I just smiled. And smiled. And danced a little bit around my room. And was completely content with the rest of my day.

I didn’t do much. Just talked to a few people and laid in my bed for a long time.

Some would say that’s a boring day.

I’ve come to love the boring days.

Turns out any day I’m alive, isn’t boring at all.

It’s perfect.

…because love wins.