January 23, 2016

wondering still

Life just keeps going on.

The children get hungry, the truck needs gas, the trash needs emptied.

All around us are people who are living lives the go on seemingly without any weightiness in their hearts.

And we’re still in a holding pattern.

Todd’s biopsy was rather uneventful. They did it quickly and we spent most of our day watching HGTV and eating hospital food. The nurse in the recovery area was in every 30 minutes to check Todd’s vitals. She checked his incision. She made sure we knew were the bathroom was.

We made a last minute decision to leave the children with Aunties Lisa and Joyce. I spent the whole day amazed that I had planned on bringing them along and realizing what a disaster that would have been.

Instead of chasing kids, I held Todd’s hand and made inappropriate jokes at every given chance. The valet parking guy was trying to be sympathetic but I was cheering because chemo patients get free parking.

Who does that?

Underneath the jokes, the busyness, the “strength” that people see, I’m still left standing alone in the rain, wondering if my husband will live or if he will die.

It’s a very lonely place to stand, no matter who is around. I smile and even laugh at the appropriate times in conversation. I make the appropriate small talk. I do all the things that seem like normal things people would do. All the while, still wondering.

It’s been three and a half weeks now since our lives were turned upside down. Three and a half weeks of uncertainty, craziness, and wondering. I feel like there isn’t much more to say now than when I first started writing. We still don’t know anything more than he has cancer.

Todd’s pain has only increased. The mass of cancer pushes and pulls on things in his belly. He spends most of his time in bed, but also suffers from cabin fever. He looks for opportunities to get out of the house, but then usually ends up regretting it, hurting and back in bed.

So this is where we’re at: the biggest mass of cancer is around all of his main arteries and veins. It’s around other things too and causing other problems, but this is the biggest concern.

We’ll find out hopefully Monday or Tuesday what the results of the biopsy are. That will determine our plan of attack. About 50% of sarcomas aren’t responsive to chemo, so we’d have to try other treatments.

This is the holding pattern we’re in. This is my reality. An inoperable tumor that may or may not be responsive to chemo.

Will it be best case? Or worst case?

Will we grow old together? Or will I be a single mom?

I’m at peace with all the questions, most of the time. I have them, but I have faith too. Faith that no matter the outcome, I won’t be alone. Faith that in the hardest moments Jesus will hold me tight and hold my heart together when it feels like it’s breaking. Faith that goodbye isn’t forever.

I have faith and I am blessed. No matter the outcome, I am blessed.

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