When Words Fail

Lately, words have been letting me down. They used to be my friends, then Synovial Sarcoma (a rare form of cancer; literally one in a million, you know the type-private school, trust fund, and sooo out of your league) and his gang started introducing themselves. On Monday I met Radiation, then today I met Reconstructive Surgery, Excision, and Skin Graft. 
Still no word from CT scan, though. There was an MRI done last week, and today we received the results. The sarcoma is growing.
Radiation is eager to take over my life for the next five weeks; he wants to see me every day for about ten to fifteen minutes. But, we're a casual relationship, and I don't have to see him weekends.
I get to break up with him mid August, then I'm single for eight weeks.   
If all goes well, at the end of September Surgery will sweep me off my feet, and it looks like one of those whirlwind "it's complicated" things.  We'll spend six hours excising Cancer, removing tissue and muscle, then turning my foot into a patchwork of skin and nerve grafts taken from my thigh and back. Sounds like a blast, right?
Then I'll spend a week in the hospital, and meet my new, super supportive best friend, Wheelchair.
We'll be really close for three weeks or so, but eventually I'll have to explain that as much as I've appreciated our friendship, it was just for a season. I'm moving on to a new, also temporary friend: Crutches. Now, she and I have a love/hate relationship going on. At times I despise her, but then there are moments she's a gem, and we are SO close.
Guys, I know you always wonder why girls go to the bathroom in groups?   
I actually can't go to the bathroom without her. I wouldn't have a leg to stand on. But boy, she is a practical joker! She loves falling over at the most inopportune times, and thwarting my attempts at opening doors or challenging stairs.
Thankfully, I can send her on her way after another three weeks, then start learning how to walk again.
Words fail when the doctor uses them to tell you that the muscles the cancer has spread to will affect the support of your arch, and I'll have to wear extra supportive shoes to compensate. We don't know much right now, but surgery might affect my ability to dance. I am praying so hard it won't.
Dance and movement have always been a way for me to process, worship, and express my feelings.
I remember a sermon I heard last year, and the closing statement was this:  God loves addition by subtraction. When things are darkest, that's when you start looking for a miracle.
I'm trying really hard to maintain hope, and process the doctors being realistic. I know God works miracles, but I also know they sometimes don't look like what we want or expect.
I'm in a hazy place.
Thank you for your continued support and prayers.