Two Roads. . .

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 

And sorry I could not travel both 

And be one traveler, long I stood 

And looked down one as far as I could 

To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Then took the other, as just as fair, 

And having perhaps the better claim, 

Because it was grassy and wanted wear; 

Though as for that the passing there 

Had worn them really about the same, 

And both that morning equally lay 

In leaves no step had trodden black. 

Oh, I kept the first for another day! 

Yet knowing how way leads on to way, 

I doubted if I should ever come back. 

I shall be telling this with a sigh 

Somewhere ages and ages hence: 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— 

I took the one less traveled by, 

And that has made all the difference.

                           --Robert Frost

This poem has run through my head quite a few times today.  Not that I get to choose the path ahead, but that two roads (or more) lie ahead of us tomorrow and as hard as I try to look down each path as far as I can, I can't see where they lead.

Brendan has become increasingly anxious these past two days.  He "gets" more than I thought he would.  He understands that a range of possibilities lie ahead.  If scans are "clear" tomorrow, he rings the bell (telling everyone that his treatment is done!), and comes home with only follow up scans every 3-6-12 months for 5 years.  If the scans show anything else -- then, well, that's where we can't see very far down the road ahead.

I know that in years hence, we will look back at this day and say . . .  Hmmm.  I wonder what we will say.  But it will have made all the difference.