Ron is 76 and I am 74. Unless we both die in an accident at the same time, one of us will out-live the other one. I’ve always felt that Ron will outlive me. I don’t know why except he is so much like his Granddaddy Pierce who lived just a few months this side of 100. But then I am very much like my mother who lived to 98.

There are points at which the momentum of life shifts. One of us can’t outlive the other without things changing. I wonder if this “mass” on my kidney is that shifting point. I don’t want to be dramatic, but unknowns such as this makes one naturally think of all possible outcomes.

I know that (1) it may be nothing more than an atypical cyst, or (2) it may be something easily “managed,” or (3) it may be the beginning of the end. Or anything along that continuum. It could even be something entirely different. No one knows. Nothing so far indicates that it is serious. However, it COULD be. And even if this turns out to be no big deal, eventually something will come along that is a BFD, as they say.

It is fascinating to consider because of the implications. Talk about having to put one’s faith and beliefs into action – having to live out what one professes – words versus actions. All those nebulous “what I would do in that circumstance” thoughts are suddenly put to the test. WOULD I be brave going through chemo/radiation/surgery? Would/could I face death with my faith in God intact? I’ve certainly done poorly on many lesser tests of faith.

Only time will tell, and I am fortunate that we were able to get appointments for the CT scan and urologist consult so quickly, thanks to all the folks we know at Vanderbilt. And, of course, we are so closely associated with some head honchos at Vandy because of Lily’s battles with leukemia.

And speaking of Lily . . . I can only pray and strive to be as strong and determined as she was and continues to be.