Day 12 I’m up at 4 am. I guess I’m getting about 3-4 hours of sleep a night. I’m starting to get a little ragged. Sis is still asleep, which is good. I’m praying and reading the bible. I feel cold and sick at my stomach. It’s nearly 6 and I think I’ll try to get down to Starbuck’s for a latte. Sis is awake so I tell her where I’m going. When I get back I can tell she’s really struggling. She’s reading her bible, praying, and listening to healing tapes all at the same time. God is all we have. She try's to concentrate so hard. I used to watch her buzz through all these reports and charts from work. She types like a demon, but now she stares right through whatever she’s looking at and then leans back and closes her eyes. We spend some time talking each other up, get ready, and go. We’re on our way to Vanderbilt this morning, which is a miracle in itself. We’re going to be seeing the head of the caner department, doctor David Johnson, which is another miracle. When we get there we go through the sign-in-two-step. Insurance card, forms, the same forms again, the same forms as yesterday. Then we’re back in the little room where Sis gets weighed. There’s a couple of slight hitches to deal with. Vanderbilt doesn’t have any of Sis’ records. We have to call doctor Cohen’s office to get them faxed over. Unless you’ve ever done this you have no idea how hard they make it. After a couple of trips out to the parking lot where my phone will work I’ve finally made some headway with the records being faxed. Sis has been determinedly reading the bible and praying, desperate for some peace. We have a radiation therapy appointment in 30 minutes that we’re not gonna make, so it’s back out to the parking lot with the phone to work something out. I have to give some credit to those folks. They tell me to get there when we can and they’ll work us in, and not to worry. That’s the first time I remember hearing that. I make my way back to Sis and in a few minutes doctor Johnson shows up. As raw and ragged as I am, I’m still able to recognize a sense calm entering the room. We begin telling our story. I pace as usual. My legs are so tired. My stomach aches. Doctor Johnson doesn’t really seem dark or menacing. He listens and asks all the same questions as the other two oncologists, but there’s something here that I haven’t experienced. I think everyone we’ve seen have presented themselves as competent and professional. Doctor Johnson feels different. I think it may be because he’s had cancer himself. He’s passionate about fighting it. He doesn’t pull any punches, but we definitely feel more motivated for fighting. This is an answered prayer. We’ve been fighting for our lives for two weeks. It’s taken this long to get our first glimpse of hope. Thank you God. When we walk outside for the first time in two days it stops raining, the sun is shining. On to radiation. <back