I keep thinking, "I should post about this, I should post about this."
And then I think, "But what would I say? What would I say?"
If you know me, talking is never one of my shortcomings.
I think it is just that I want to say it right. Express my feelings and thoughts carefully so that no one gets sad. Like I could control the feelings of the world. I can't, so maybe I'll just plunge right in like tearing the bandaid off quickly.
We had what seemed like our millionth visit to the oncologist last week. We've been seeing the man through good times and bad for almost seven years. This was a regulary scheduled six month check up that brought news that was not regulary scheduled: D's cancer has returned and is in his lungs. And immediately after telling us this, the doctor's cell phone rang. He left the room to take the call and D and I locked eyes and hands. I can't say this was totally unexpected because we'd had two trips to the hospital in the last two weeks for some complications with the lungs. We took a breath and talked about the questions we had. The doctor answered them when he returned. Time? Six months would be good; twelve months would be better...but no one knows for sure. There is no treatment for the rare sarcoma D has. And hospice is a great option for pain control.
Well. There you have it in black and white. Now what? Tell the kids, tell the family, tell the church. Go see Barry Manilow.
Sounds like a plan to me. Except we are already back in the hospital for a lung surgery that is supposed to allieviate some of the pain. We've been there for 4 days and we are ready to go home.
( And telling on myself: I woke up on my couch/bed in D's hospital room yesterday and peered at the clock on the wall. I accidentally left my contacts in and they felt like they were glued to my eyeballs. I thought the clock said 5:05 a.m., which is about the time I wake up at home to get ready to go teach. I'll just run home and do some laundry I think. I drove home and wondered about the traffic on the road on a Sunday morning. It seemed kind of heavy. When I got home and looked at the clock, I realized it was 1:25 a.m. Darn. Those hands are about the same length on Seton Hospital clocks. And that traffic? Probably everyone heading home for the night from a Saturday night spent at the bars! I guess our world seems upside down in more ways then one.)
So. My hope is to be able to attend the last day of school on Wednesday to say good-bye to my first graders who will be newly-minted second graders. To get my husband home so we can make plans to see the man who "writes the songs that makes the whole world sing". And to rest: body, soul and spirit.
We are at peace. We are at peace.
Happy St. Patrick's Day
1 day ago