It was just another Monday to be off with the kids, nothing out of the ordinary, and by 10am we were still all in our PJs watching cartoons. Then something ‘nudged’ me, I can’t really explain it, but something in me said to get up and cherish this day, and to play like we’ve never played before. We did just that. It started with a game of chase, then we made it crazy hair day (Jackson with a mohawk, and Lydia with high pigtails), and next up was a swim in the ocean. I had filled the tub, put blue food coloring in the water, and said it was water from the sea. The kids bought it. Jackson relished in his imagination of swimming with the sharks while Lydia made tall hats with the added bubbles, just for fun. The ‘day’ ended with naptime on our bed with Jackson lying next to me, he was perfectly peaceful. This had been a good day. I played with the kids as if we weren’t going to be able to play together ever again; or at least for a long time. Little did I know that the latter would be the case.
I don’t know what ‘nudged’ me that day, but I can guess. Something tells me it was either God himself, or I have an absolutely wonderful unidentified guardian angel watching out for me, because that coming Friday was THE day. February 3rd 2012, I will for the remainder of my life hate this day, not dislike…hate. It was supposed to be just a “let’s do it so we can make sure you are fine” kind of colonoscopy. The doctor viewed it that way, and the nurses looked at me as though I was a waste of resources because no 28-year-old should really NEED a colonoscopy. We all joked, Phil seemed worried to get me through the procedure, but his biggest concern was really where we were going to go for lunch because after all, this test wasn’t really necessary. I was worried of course, as I am always worried, for I have been pegged a ‘worrier’ by many. As an oncology nurse my mind went to all of the “what if’s”, but deep down I never really believed the “what if’s” could actually happen to me.
I woke up still groggy from the
medications with Phil holding my hand, and only a few seconds later the doctor
peered through the curtain and took a seat.
“Why did he take a seat?” I wondered. If he didn’t find anything
certainly he didn’t need to sit down. The
groggy feeling was quickly lifting.
Phil’s hand tightened around mine as the doctor began to tell me what no
one, especially 28-year-old, mother of two, wants to hear… we found cancer.
Those of course weren’t the words he used, and I’m not really sure what the
words were beyond “we found a malignant tumor...” The room began to spin and I
could make sense of nothing in my surroundings but Phil’s hand in mine, it was
such a comfort. Everything after that was
a blur except the nurse who walked me to the door; her eyes were so deeply and
sincerely sympathetic. Before leaving she
gave me the tightest and biggest bear hug. She could see I needed it, and
thankfully she was brave enough to do it.
She then told me to go home and sleep, when I woke up to cry, and after
that to make my further appointments and address the issue. I did just that, and when I woke up it felt
like the same bus hit me all over again…it wasn’t a dream and this was quickly
becoming very real. The shock wore off, and the tears finally came.
Phil sat next to me as I woke up
and we began to realize the path we thought we were on was now gone. New house, new start, easy going summer
filled with baseball and swimming, gone.
For me, watching the kids grow up and growing old with my husband was
now uncertain. My future felt like it was
being erased, we did not know how bad this cancer was; just that it was
there. My mind, again went to the “What
ifs”, but this time I was more than understanding that the “What if’s” could
certainly apply to me, and that they could ultimately mean an end to my
life. My path was gone.
Prayer saved me that weekend, it
literally saved me. I knew I could not
change having cancer, or how bad it was going to be, so all I could do was put
my hope in God and trust in Him. I was
still scared, I have two wonderful children that I could not bear to leave, so
even in prayer, I was scared. However, I
began to find strength through my fear and God began to give me peace the more
I trusted in Him. One thing became
overwhelmingly clear that weekend, I thought I was faithful, but I did not fully
understand what real Faith meant. I then
helplessly decided to take a “Leap of Faith” if you will and lift everything up
to Him. The coming weeks would prove to
be the toughest of my life. I knew that
my new path, whatever it was going to be, needed to be lit by God because there
was no way I could do this alone.
“Your
word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” (Psalm 119:105)
No comments:
Post a Comment