Tsunami--HIS

It comes in waves.  There are days that we call "smooth sailing but when the days are full of bad news it comes in waves.  This one was a tsunami.  Changing the landscape of my life forever. 

 The first wave was the first doctor’s visit. Something was definitely wrong with my wife. She was in abdominal pain. As we sat in the waiting room, she closed her eyes, hoping to ride the wave of pain.

As she emerged from the doctors office, we walked slowly back to the car with some assurance that antibiotics and pain medication would push back the wave. Two days later, the pain was still there, so we returned to the doctor’s office.

The doctor wanted to send my wife to the hospital to check out what was wrong. As we sat in the emergency room, a nurse came in to tell us that the doctor wanted to do an MRI. The second wave started as the nurse told us what the doctor suspected. She asked if she could pray.

We were facing the possibility of cancer. That’s when the second wave began. If you can imagine watching as a wave started way out in the ocean, you’ll get a glimpse of what the impending news looked like four days out in the future for me.   You pray. Then you say it won’t happen. Then you cry at the possibility. Then, it comes on shore and the clouds settle in for a while.  The impact of this wave is massive. 

The Stage 4 diagnosis followed us home from the hospital. The first three weeks, the clouds hung over the sky like a dome.

I sat in the living room and we talked. Dear friends arrived shortly after. Visits from friends are the one thing that’s constant in our household. We put on a brave face, but speak in whispered tones. The first visits were cut short. Linda’s pain dominated the room and we regrettably had to cut the visit short.

The next nine hours were some of the most horrible and scary of my life. “I think I’m going to vomit,” Linda said as she made her way to the bathroom. She eventually went to bed and I to the living room, only to be called every 10 to 20 minutes or so—with a bucket.

I watched the wrenching pain and prayed. I got some pillows and covered up on the floor beside her because even the slightest movement near her sent her another wave of nausea and I spent the rest of the night handing her the bucket. At 3 in the morning, I knew it was over for the time being and she drifted off to sleep.

A rough night had ended and the waves, for now, subsided.