JJ was supposed to get a full body CT Scan before his surgery, but the hospital had neglected to scan his chest. So Thursday morning we had to get one done. The woman who scheduled the scan gave us a choice of where to have it, and EJ chose to have it done at an imagining center near the doctor’s office instead of at the hospital. He said it was easier to get to, although I would have gotten lost if I had had to take JJ by myself. I can find the hospital because it’s down the street from where I used to work. I get lost very easily.
I checked the date and time of the scan several times through the week to make sure I had it correct. Both EJ and I are tired and stressed enough that we find ourselves forgetting things. Just this afternoon, for example, I carefully removed the seeds from the fennel plant I had been drying. I had grown the fennel in my herb garden. I was looking for a container to put the seeds in, and then forgot what I was doing and threw them in the woodstove. I was so appalled when I realized what I had done. Fatigue and stress are definitely affecting us a bit, even though otherwise we are doing pretty well.
When we arrived at the center on Thursday, the woman at the counter said she didn’t see JJ’s appointment listed. Then she said, “Oh, his scan is scheduled for tomorrow, not today!” I showed her my piece of paper with the information on it. It said the scan was that day and time. Someone had written down the information incorrectly. It wasn’t my mistake! It’s an hour drive there, so my heart sunk at the thought of having to come back tomorrow. However, the lady said she’d try to fit us in since we were already there.
After she got the information she needed, she showed us a waiting room and we sat down. I’ve been observing the colors of hospitals and doctor rooms. I hate blue doctor’s offices and hospitals. Blue makes the rooms feel cold and unfriendly. (In fact, science fiction and horror movies are often filmed with a bluish tint to set the mood of high-tech, dystopian, or horror scenes.) I like warm colors that are more inviting. This waiting room was a warm color. It was Halloween day and somewhere back in the inner rooms was a motion sensing decoration. Periodically we could hear OOOOOOOoooooooo groans. It was sort of creepy, but also funny.
JJ was more nervous this time than last time. Last time he didn’t know what to expect. This time he knew what the “milkshake” tasted like and what it felt like to have an IV in his arm. However, he left and was back in about ten minutes. He didn’t have to have a milkshake or IV. It was surprising.
Friday was the day I decided to tackle the college dilemma again. I struggle to know what to do with it, since every action requires information that I need from someone else. EJ and I decided to drive to the college so we could talk to people face-to-face. The women in the Student Center were helpful and now I know my next step with them, which is to talk to the teachers more specifically about whether or not JJ can do their assignments from home, and if he can get an Incomplete if he can’t get his work completed before the term ends. I’ll get started on that next week.
Since we are now pretty much in a holding plan, waiting to meet with the doctor again, I find myself a bit tired and just wanting to veg out. We have signed up for free 30 days subscription to Amazon Prime and Netflix so we can watch movies while JJ recovers. When I’m not busy going to the store, fixing meals, cleaning the house, talking to the college, and conversing with friends, I am snuggled with a blanket and a cat or two, enjoying movies. Sometimes I doze a bit on the loveseat.
A few days ago, a Facebook friend sent me this picture and said, “I suspect this would be you if it weren’t for your blog…” I love this picture because it is so very much true of me. Thoughts fill my head but they rarely get said. (Did you notice that the last sentence rhymes?) Except in writing. I can hold back spoken words better than I can hold back written ones. And the more difficult life becomes, the more the words flow. It’s like a dam: sunny days or light rain does not affect a dam, but heavy rains and flooding increases the pressure on it until flood gates must be opened to release the pressure so the dam doesn’t crack and destroy picturesque villages in the path of destruction.
Life inside my head.
EJ, JJ, and I love to tell stories. It must be the Irish-Norwegian ancestry in us. We weave fantastical stories out of common place items and events. Sometimes one begins the story and others add to it.
I have fun, for example, when EJ or JJ asks me a question that there is no way I would know the answer to–such as “What is that man doing?” or “Why is his car dented?” as we drive through the countryside. I’ve never seen the person before and never will again–how am I supposed to know what or why? So I make up a story about it: “That man is Fred’s cousin’s wife’s brother’s son. His car is dented because last night he accidentally ran over Big Foot…” is much more interesting than “How am I supposed to know?” I bought a goblet years ago to use whenever JJ got sick, and I’d laugh evilly whenever I handed him the goblet of bubbling Theraflu or Airborne. After he drank it, I always dramatically quoted a line from The Emperor’s New Groove: “A Llama???? You’re supposed to be dead!” Last week, when we were sitting alone in the doctor’s office, JJ showed me some greenish-yellow bruising on his arm. I really think it was bruising caused by the IV or blood test needles, and I did ask the doctor to confirm that later. However, when JJ showed it to me, I examined it intensely and then whispered dramatically, “Oh, no! JJ, I really think you might be turning into a zombie!” It’s much more interesting to consider that he might be turning into a zombie than that his arm is merely bruised.
We have an interesting inner life, and are rarely bored. But outside we look normal, like superheroes in disguise. At least, I think we look normal?
I can so totally relate to Anne Shirley’s imagination in the book, Anne of Green Gables, and to Rick Castle’s love of weaving stories on the TV program, Castle. They are kindred spirits.
Oh, this topic brings up a memory of when JJ was little. We were reading about medieval times and I got him a knight’s costume–armor, helmet, and sword. I, as the Queen Mother, ceremoniously touched him with a sword and declared him a knight of the realm. He wore his knight’s costume all that day as we did various tasks around town, courageously and nobly protecting me from all harm. He gallantly stopped me at intersections to rescue me from threatening cars. It was so precious.
I think I could maybe be a writer of books, except for one thing. At night I can’t sleep if my thoughts are running around in my head, so long ago I began to imagine stories to turn down the other thoughts and help me sleep. I have never really gotten past the backstory of my story–the reason why the characters act the way they do. One reason is that I fall asleep. But another reason is that while I can understand why the heroes of the story fight heroically, I cannot comprehend why the evil villains want to do evil. I just can’t understand the delight in oppressing people. I can understand that evil dictators or sorcerers want more power or more land or more gold, and I understand that they hate the innocents and the heroes, but where do they think their evil is going to lead? I mean, did Genghis Khan or Hitler ever think through “What next?” If they had conquered the whole world, killed all their enemies, stolen all the land and gold…then what? What would Sauron, or Narnia’s white witch, or all the other evil witches and sorcerers have done if they had succeeded in plunging the world into darkness or turning all the heroes into stone? So the victorious evil ones possess all the treasure and control all the land. Everyone is afraid of them or turned into stone. What do they do next? I think they must respond as it is said that Alexander the Great did: “When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer.”
Except I just can’t imagine Sauron weeping that there are no more worlds to conquer. I think evil villains must not think very far ahead. Despite their evil, they are simplistic. They think only of possessing, not what will happen after they have possessed.
Good must ultimately be victorious because it unites and builds and heals and restores, making people stronger. Evil makes no sense, it divides and destroys the very things that would make it strong, and I believe it always must eventually collapse. I mean, no matter how much an evil overlord oppresses people, sooner or later heroes will arise to fight back. Or the son of the evil one becomes weak, hedonistic, and/or insane and loses the kingdom–like some of Caesars of Ancient Rome.
I believe that there are certain stories that become beloved classics because they contained echoes of the True Story. We love stories of the battle between good and evil, light and darkness, princes and princesses, heroes and heroines, redemption and romance, fighting dragons and monsters, challenging quests and journeys…because they echo the Very Real Story that an evil dragon has plunged the world into darkness, turning people into stone, but that a courageous prince has gone on a noble quest to slay him and rescue us, the princesses in the tower. Now we only wait for the prince to return to carry us off into the sunrise. (Not sunset. It will be a beginning, not an ending of the story.) The Bible is NOT a fairy tale, but we love stories and fairy tales because they contain elements that echo the truth. Stories and fairy tales are parables.
Years ago, EJ, JJ, and I went on vacation in Pennsylvania. We stayed at a beautiful bed and breakfast. Another family was also staying at the bed and breakfast that week. We liked each other and ended up going out to eat together at a restaurant. We talked about various things, and one thing led to another, and I ended up telling the other woman about my weird theory that I think we love stories and fairy tales because they have echoes of truth. The woman began to cry a bit. She said that as a child she used to love fairy tales, but then life was hard, and she learned that there are no princes, no happy endings. She decided that she’d never tell her kids fairy tales. However, I had just opened her eyes to the fact that even though evil often seems to win, someday the King will return, save us from the dragon, and we will all have a happy ending. The fairy tales are, in some ways, true.
Ok, I can’t resist sharing this favorite clip from the movie, Galaxy Quest. I love this movie. It both pokes fun at and honors Sci-Fi stories like Star Trek.
An epic tale.
Anyway, just so you know, the battle my family is fighting against cancer is not merely about hospital visits and cancer treatments. No. We are fighting a monster that is trying to eat our son. A Fellowship is forming to accompany him, made up of us, his parents, and you his friends, as well as the King. This is an epic story.
Somehow, it feels more powerful to imagine ourselves as valiant warriors fighting monsters with the King than a vulnerable family fighting a disease.
This morning I took our dirty clothes to wash at the laundromat. Our washer broke awhile ago, so we wash the clothes at the laundromat and then we bring them home to dry on our clothesline or in the dryer. Often EJ goes with me to help me, but when he’s tired or in pain, I just go alone.
This morning as I sat (alone) in the laundromat, I pondered that a few days ago the thought of doing routine tasks felt overwhelmingly stressful, but today it felt like a touch of normalcy. Then I thought that although I would like to get moving QUICKLY, without pause, to get JJ’s cancer treated and cured so we can get back to normal life, I am rather cherishing the opportunity to have some moments to catch my breath before the next flurry of medical activity.
Sabotage
This reminded me of an old Hitchcock interview we watched on TMC a couple of months ago. I love Hitchcock movies. He was a masterful director of suspense. The TMC channel aired a marathon of Hitchcock movies that weekend, one of which was a movie I had never seen before called Sabotage. In the movie, a man named Mr. Verloc was part of a gang of foreign saboteurs operating out of London during World War 2. He managed a small cinema with his wife and her teenage brother as a cover, but they knew nothing of his secret. Scotland Yard assigned an undercover detective to work at the shop next to the cinema in order to observe the gang. At one point, Mr. Verloc had to place a bomb in a building to go off at a certain time, but he was being watched so he handed the bomb, wrapped as a package, to his wife’s brother and asked him to deliver it before a certain time without fail. I watched with breathless fear as the unsuspecting boy traveled across the city on bus and by foot, getting slowed and hindered by various events. Always there was the alternating fear and hope that the boy would get rid of the package before it was too late. It was a complete shock when the boy was too late and was killed when the bomb detonated. In the interview later that night, Hitchcock described that scene and said it was a mistake. He said when he saw the disbelief and shock on the faces of the audience in the theatre, he realized that at various points of the story, as the suspense builds, there needs to be moments in which tension is released so the audience can catch their breath and not be pushed over the edge of emotion. He said if he could do it over again, he would have had the boy escape at the last moment.
I think people going through suffering needs moments of release too. We need to be able to catch our breath. We need to find moments of laughter and moments of normalcy.
Throughout his life, JJ has sometimes said to me, “You are weird.” I’ve often replied “Thank you” or “I’m not weird, I’m unique.” Other times I’ve reminded him that my life goal is to become an eccentric old lady. I’d love to be like the old lady in the following video. I’m not there yet, but I’m really trying to work towards it.
There are times when I agree with JJ that I am probably very weird.
One of the ways in which I am probably weird is that I am the only one I know who sees value in Pity Parties. Ok, before you stop reading, maybe you should let me explain. And, by the way, I am not currently feeling sorry for myself. If I were feeling sorry for myself, I would be unable to write about Pity Parties. I’d be too miserable.
It would be totally awesome if we could always be bursting with faith and hope and joy, no matter what happened to us. However, most of us are human and the reality is that life can be scary and sad and painful, and there are times we cry and shiver and groan…and even, on occasion, feel sorry for ourselves. I say “most of us are human” because I secretly suspect that those who don’t have ups and downs might actually be robots, aliens (Vulcun?), or superheroes. I confess that sometimes I want to pinch them or take a blood sample. Most of the rest of us are humans, which means we struggle a bit, even though not everyone describes it at Facebook or in a blog.
People have different ways of coping and release (even robots, aliens, and superheroes). One of my ways of coping when I am feeling sorry for myself is to throw a Pity Party. Here is how I do it and also my guidelines:
No one can throw a Pity Party for another person. We have to be careful to not be insensitive or callous. There is real heartbreak out there, deep pain, and scary stuff like cancer. I think it’s ok to be sad in a sad situation, to groan when we are in pain, or to be scared when the situation is scary. I even think it’s ok if a person feels a scream building up inside, to go out and scream with all his might, as loudly as possible, just to release the pressure. But not where people might hear and call the police.
These emotions are not self-pity. When my son’s beloved cat died years ago and he said, “I’m feeling really sad,” I responded with “It is very sad that your cat died, so go ahead and be sad for a while.” When he currently says, “I hate this hospital procedure” or “I’m scared,” I reply, “I hate it too.” or “It’s a scary thing, but we are here.” His emotions are valid.
However, I confess that over the years when my son has wailed about a miniscule paper cut, I have been known to callously say, “Suck it up, Cupcake.” I mean, I couldn’t even see the cut with a microscope. And when I’ve complained about something minor, my family has said the same to me.
Pity Party Invitation to myself.
I usually throw a Pity Party when I recognize that I am mired in feeling sorry for myself. I think a person can be as simple or creative as they wish when planning their parties. A person can invite guests but usually I only invite myself to my Pity Parties. It’s difficult to feel sorry for myself if there are other guests. Usually, I just start humming my Pity Party Song, which is just a couple of lines of an old song: “It’s my Party, and I can cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to…you would cry too if it happened to you.” There are a lot of other cool Pity Party songs out there. For example, If It Weren’t For Bad Luck, I’d Have No Luck at All was song on a 1970’s TV program called HeeHaw. It’s wonderful. I love the dramatic groans. EJ says that when he or his siblings were feeling sorry for themselves, their Mom used to sing, “Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I’ll go eat worms.” Then there is “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child” and “Nobody’s Seen the Troubles I’ve Seen.” The last song should be sung in the lowest voice possible.
Pity Party Balloons
The only time I threw a Pity Party for a friend was when she, herself, told me that she was feeling sorry for herself. I exclaimed, “Oh! Oh! Can I Throw You a Pity Party?” She said I could so I sent her pictures of Pity Party balloons and cupcakes on Facebook. We had so much fun celebrating her self-pity that we laughed and the party was totally ruined.
Which is the whole point. The value of a Pity Party, whether I invite others or only myself, is that it causes me to make fun of myself, to see the humor of my misery, and to distract my mind. Soon I am back to seeing my situation more positively. I suppose that if you want to get all technical and psychological, I’ve read that it is sometimes help to engage in pity for a little while so you can face it, deal with it, and move on. The goal is to not get stuck in misery. A Pity Party is a way to release tension and stress.
Of course, I believe strongly in the Bible and prayer, and I believe those are absolutely necessary to help. But I also believe that we can use other measures as well. Sometimes the best spiritual help is practical help. As James 2:15-17 says:
Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food, and someone says to him, “Shalom! Keep warm and eat hearty!” without giving him what he needs, what good does it do? Thus, faith by itself, unaccompanied by actions, is dead.
Sometimes what we need is a way to release tension and a reason to laugh.
My blog is called “I Love To Go A Gardening” so I thought I ought to throw in something garden-ish: A month or so ago–a lifetime ago–I dug up a few herbs from my garden and I bought a couple more from the Farm Market. I really hoped to be able to have fresh herbs all winter long. This morning as I opened the curtains, I noticed that several of the plants are yellowing and shriveling up. Oops, bummer, and oh well. I have been neglecting to water them enough, but I’ve had other things to think about.
“Well,” I thought with a bit of humor, “at least I am remembering to feed the pets.” Then I remembered that I was late giving my dog Danny his pill. He hasn’t been feeling well. I took him to the vet about a week ago and the vet said that Danny’s lungs aren’t clear so he gave me antibiotics to give him. I have to give him a pill twice a day and a capsule three times a day. Danny has been taking the pill well enough, but he spits out the capsule so I have been feeding it to him with a little bit of leftover meatloaf. He loves the meatloaf enough that he gobbles it and the capsule down. However, this morning I only had a morsel of meatloaf left, and it apparently wasn’t enough because he spit the capsule out on the floor. So I looked around and saw crackers on the counter and thought, “that will do.” When I turned back around, I saw that Danny must have picked up the capsule again (he eats anything that falls to the ground) and spit it out again, only this time he had spit it out on the cat. The pill was stuck to Little Bear’s fur. LOL. I did finally get Danny to eat the med sandwiched in cracker. That made me laugh.
Last night I felt overwhelmed, stressed, fragile, and panicky. I did not feel panicky about my son’s prospects. (Although sometimes what he is experiencing scares me.) From what I hear, there is a HUGE reason to hope. A lot of people survive this type of cancer. It’s kind of cool that EJ works with this guy who never told anyone that he had had cancer a few years ago but for some reason he suddenly began to pour out his heart to EJ a few days ago. Co-workers tend to pour out their heart to my hubby. At the time, the co-worker didn’t know that our son was just diagnosed with cancer. It turns out that he had the very same type of cancer that JJ has, only much worse, and he survived. He has become a valuable encouragement and resource for EJ.
No, I didn’t feel overwhelmed, stressed, fragile, and panicky about JJ, but about what on earth I’m supposed to feed him.
EJ’s Mom always cooked from scratch when he was growing up, so he loves homemade food. I’ve tried, more and more and as much as possible, to make homemade. Since we’ve married, we’ve never bought many prepackaged meals, although we haven’t eaten as healthy as we could have either. In recent years we have tried to improve our eating habits. We absolutely think food has an affect on our bodies. After reading about pink slime in beef, honey that has all the good stuff filtered out, GMOs and pesticides, we read labels more, buy our meat at a meat market most of the time, and buy organic as much as possible. I grow most of the herbs I use. I even buy cinnamon sticks and ginger and grind them myself.
We also “like” pages on Facebook about healthy and unhealthy foods and processes so that we can learn to eat more healthy. And that’s the problem. There’s a ton of information out there, pouring into our brains. It can be a bit overwhelming. It’s hard to make major changes all at once, so I’ve been trying to take it slower, one step at a time, changing this and tweaking that. But still, we have eliminated a lot of foods and ingredients from our diet. I no longer can mentally think of the recipes I can make with the ingredients I have in my fridge and pantry. I have to think more intentionally about my menu and go searching on-line for things to make. It’s sort of stressful.
Some people love to cook. Cooking is their “warm fuzzy,” their therapy, their artistic expression. Cooking to them is like writing, reading, walking, or gardening is to me. Cooking to me is sort of like mowing the lawn. I can do it well enough, I don’t hate it, I can find pleasure in it, but it’s something on my To Do List, not on my “If I could do anything I wanted, I’d do this” List. In fact, if I were wealthy, one of the first things I’d do is hire a chef. Let him or her worry about what to have for dinner.
But now JJ is sick and there’s all these resources about how to fight cancer naturally, and juicing, and all that. It’s too much. I ranted to EJ in frustration last night that according to all the sources, meat, dairy, bread, sugar, rice, noodles and canned tomatoes are all very bad. That leaves fruits and veggies–but we must be careful about GMOs and toxic pesticides. I used to LOVE fruits and veggies but a lot of them are tasteless to me these days. We speculate that it could be the GMOs or the fact that farmers harvest them before they are ripe so that they don’t rot on the way to where they are being shipped. Whatever, they just don’t taste as well as they used to. I do my best to cook tasty nutritious meals, but I just don’t have all that much to work with anymore. When I do find a usable recipe, JJ doesn’t always like it. I feel as if the only ingredients I have to work with are ground beef, potatoes, and carrots. Not entirely true, of course, but if I have one more meal of ground beef, potatoes, and carrots, I think I’m going to VOMIT.
Cooking is becoming a stress-filled ordeal.
And now my son is sick and he’s scary thin. He needs to have some meat on his bones, especially if he gets sick from chemo. He is deciding to have the treatment the doctors recommend. This is his battle, he must believe in the treatment, and we will support his choices completely.
But “What the *^$!@&# am I supposed to feed him???” I swore in panic last night. Ok, I never swear and I really didn’t swear last night, but I did briefly imagine swear symbols. As EJ sometimes quotes, “Some situations are bad enough to make even a preacher swear”…or think in swear symbols.
So we talked about it. All three of us. With a bit of humor. JJ said that he found a list of foods that cause or feed cancer on the Internet, and really the only thing that he can eat is soy cakes. “Soy is bad for you,” his Dad quipped. I said that there actually were two types of foods that I have heard only good about and nothing bad. What’s that? “Herbs and spices.” “I am freakin’ not going to just eat herbs and spices,” JJ exclaimed dramatically.
EJ and I developed a plan, a plan customized to our situation. We decided that a good plan today is better than a perfect plan tomorrow. JJ absolutely needs to eat and fatten up. He needs food that appeals to him. What’s the use of trying to find only completely healthy foods if JJ won’t eat them? In the battle to overcome cancer, I don’t want him to starve to death. This morning I told EJ that I didn’t even know what meals to plan for anymore. We should go shopping, but what am I even supposed to buy? “How about ground beef, potatoes, and carrots?” he asked innocently. I gave him a dirty look and we laughed and laughed and laughed.
So while JJ slept this morning, EJ and I drove to the grocery store. We tried to buy the healthiest options that were available–organic if possible–of the foods that would appeal to JJ. Our main consideration is buying foods that will tempt JJ to eat heartily. Our slogan has become WWJE…What Would JJ Eat? We actually had quite a bit of fun shopping today: “Oh, I think he would enjoy this!” or “This looks interesting. Let’s buy it and see if he likes it.”
I actually feel a great sense of relief now. Uncertainty always fills me with vague looming anxiety–similar to the feeling of having a term paper worth half my grade due on Monday, and I hadn’t begun it. It’s like hearing a crunching and rustling in the forest and not knowing what it is. But now I have direction, a plan, a goal. My stress about food is reduced. Whew.
The next uncertainty concerns JJ’s college. I had been in contact with the college, but until our appointment with the doctor I didn’t know if JJ needed further treatment or not so I didn’t know if he should withdraw from his classes. I tried to ask the doctor how chemo will likely affect him and whether he will feel well enough to work and go to school. “Now don’t go doing anything rash, don’t go cancelling everything. We aren’t at that point yet…” Grrrr. I hate a person acting as if every question I ask means I am imagining the worse and falling apart. Maybe I am expressing myself wrong or something, but my questions are valid. We need to have answers so we can prepare ourselves and formulate plans. Thinking things through, preparing ourselves, and developing a plan does NOT lead to MORE stress in our lives, it leads to LESS. Duh. I realize that we don’t have a specific treatment plan yet, but I need to have some general idea of what to expect because I need to deal with the college. If it’s likely that JJ will not feel well enough, we need to withdraw him from his classes now, not later when it’s too late to have any hope of him receiving an incomplete. An Incomplete means he can retake the classes within the next year without paying for them again. THAT’S what I was trying to ask the doctor about.
Since the doctor appointment, I have decided that JJ is not up to college, it will be too stressful for him, so I will withdraw him and go from there.
Thinking of fun
Next, I told my guys that we must think of activities that will help us relieve stress. We must have fun in our lives. Something fun for us, that is. We don’t really enjoy visiting tourist places filled with crowds and expensive trinkets. I, in particular, am introspective and energized by quiet. I love writing, walks with my dog, working in the garden, reading/studying, and my computer. EJ works hard and suffers from severe back pain and other problems, so he often needs time to rest his body. When he’s not in agony, we often have to shop, or do things around the house, or gather firewood, or other such things. JJ loves his computer and the interaction of his friends there. Plus, he will likely not be feeling well if he has chemo. So what do we do for fun? EJ and I discussed that we all love movies, so we are strongly considering buying Amazon Prime, which includes being able to download thousands of movies. Beyond that, we are still thinking. But at least we are formulating a plan.
Addressing the food issues has decreased a lot of my stress. Getting the college issue out of the way will reduce stress even more. And we are working on the issue of stress relievers.
I was wrong when I said a few days ago that I do not like theological discussions at this time. Or…maybe I was correct. I do not like scholarly, ivory tower discussions that dissect God as if He’s something to be cut apart and examined. That statement sounds extremely harsh to me, because I am sure I have entered such discussions many times as I’ve tried to wrestle with understanding, so I’m not sure that people are really dissecting God. I also do not think such discussions are wrong. But when you go through difficult times, it’s no longer merely talking about faith, a person is suddenly plunged into it.
I love Psalms 107, particularly verses 23-32. I tend to go there when a tsunami of trouble hits:
Those who go down to the sea in ships,
plying their trade on the great ocean,
saw the works of Adonai,
his wonders in the deep.
For at his word the storm-wind arose,
lifting up towering waves.
The sailors were raised up to the sky,
then plunged into the depths.
At the danger, their courage failed them,
they reeled and staggered like drunk men,
and all their skill was swallowed up.
In their trouble they cried to Adonai,
and he rescued them from their distress.
He silenced the storm and stilled its waves,
and they rejoiced as the sea grew calm.
Then he brought them safely
to their desired port.
Let them give thanks to Adonai for his grace,
for his wonders bestowed on humanity!
Let them extol him in the assembly of the people
and praise him in the leaders’ council.
Stormy Seas
I’ve always pondered that the sailors in this tale could have safely stayed on shore, but they risked going out into the ocean and they were the ones who saw Adonai’s great works and wonders. It sounds as if the wonders they experienced occurred at a place, a time, when the storm hit, and they were overwhelmed, all their marine skill was swallowed up, their courage failed…and all they could do was cry to Adonai in desperation.
When I was growing up, my parents never took our family on vacation to amusement parks. We always went to living history types of places that taught the history of a place and people. In history classes in school, teachers taught history as if it were a list of dry facts and dates. My mother taught us that history was the lives of the people. We’d be standing at a historical place and she’d say, “Just imagine having to live like that. Having to raise the sheep, sheer them, make the wool into thread, and weave your clothes. Imagine having to cook your meal over a fire. Imagine having to cross the country in a covered wagon…Imagine.” She taught that history is really stories of real people struggling to live. It’s their day-to-day stories.
I was a child when Nixon resigned, but my Mom made us sit down in front of the TV to watch his speech because “this is history.” I have passed this down to JJ: Watch this, take note of that, observe how it affects the lives of people-because what you are seeing today will tomorrow be history. Sometimes when JJ and I have studied historical events that happened in my lifetime, I have told him what I thought or felt at the time. Because history isn’t just facts, it’s people, it’s their stories. Maybe this is why JJ loves history and he loves writing.
I think that often when we read a story, we forget that the people living it didn’t know what would happen later, at the end. We read our knowledge of how the story ends into the middle and think, “Oh the sailors trusted God and He delivered them and they sang songs of praise”–and we overlook or forget that at the time that they were living the story, they didn’t know if they would even survive.
Noah’s Flood
Sometimes when I read history or the Bible, I try to forget that I know the end of the stories, and I try to imagine what it was like to live it. We decorate baby nurseries with cute scenes of the story of Noah, forgetting that his story was an epic disaster. Imagine…What would it have been like to be Noah, “a man of honor in a den of thieves”? What would it have been like to spend years building the ark, enduring the ridicule of those around him? What would it have been like to enter the ark with all those animals, to hear the desperate cries of people drowning outside, to feel the ark rising and plunging in the flood? What would it have been like to leave the ark knowing that your family was the only people left on earth? Noah didn’t know the end of the story like we do now. Honestly, if my family was the only people to survive a world-wide disaster, I think I would get drunk too.
And what would it have been like to have been a groaning slave in Egypt, to see Moses arrive to challenge Pharoah, to have my workload increased because of Moses, to live through the plagues? And what would it be like to joyfully escape Egypt and then learn that Pharoah had sent his whole army after us? The people didn’t know that Adonai would open the sea. Jonah didn’t know if he’d live after he was swallowed by the fish. Job didn’t know that Adonai would bless his end more than his beginning. Neither did the disciples realize what would happen after that very dark day when their friend Yeshua (Jesus) was dragged off and crucified.
Sometimes I like to pair up the Psalms with the accounts of David’s stories in other parts of the Bible. Where one says that thus and so happened in a factual way, I read the same account in the Psalms to see what David felt as he was living it. One place factually explains that David encountered an enemy, in another, “Oh, Adonai, when I am overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I…” The personal story, the emotions, breathe life into the facts of the story. A writing teacher once told JJ that he must make his readers see and hear and feel what the characters in his stories see, hear, and feel. Maybe that’s why I write as I do. Really, our story could be written as “Life was normal, our son got sick, he had the following treatments, and then…” But what sort of story would that be? Let the reader see, and hear, and feel what it’s like to be a parent suffering along with a son who is severely ill. Let them enter into the story–experiencing with us the ups and downs, the hopes and fears, the laughter and tears. Let them watch the story slowly change us–into what, we do not yet know. Let them try to guess the plot twists. Let them finally, breathlessly, reach the end of the story with us…
I’ve read thousands of stories so I can usually guess the ending of a story. However, I appreciate a story that is so well developed and so well-written that it has an unexpected twist in it’s plot. A good story is not always what we expect. The characters of the story must be changed by events. They must suffer great challenge, but still there must be an end, a goodness. Like Frodo in the Lord of the Rings, who courageously bore the burden of the ring. At the end of the story I wanted him to live out his life quietly in his Hobbit Hole in the Shire, but he no longer fit there. He was changed. He did get to travel to the Grey Havens for rest, but he had to leave behind his dear friends forever. When I read a good book or watch a movie, I always savor the elements of skillful storytelling.
Battle of Helm’s Deep
I love The Lord of the Rings, one of my favorite stories. The journey, the danger, the loss, the courage, the friendships forged. At the very, very end of the story, the King returns, evil is overcome, peace reigns. Still, it took courage and perseverance for the characters, who didn’t know what the end would be. They didn’t know if they would win or perish in the fight. I’m always sitting at the edge of my seat when the enemy is overwhelming, the danger is great, and the people are reeling and struggling to hold on to hope and courage–such as at the battle of Helm’s Deep when they were so overwhelmingly outnumbered that there was no way they could survive. I’ve read and watched the story so often that I know what is going to happen next. I whisper to them with great anticipation: “Hold on! Just wait! You have no idea what is going to happen next! You are going to WIN!” I love the following scenes of Helm’s Deep from the The Lord of the Rings: There’s Always Hope and Helm’s Charge.
The village of Anatevka in Fiddler on the Roof
I also love the movie, Fiddler on the Roof. The storytelling and music are suberb. I always thought the ending was sad. I wanted the people to be able to resume life in their village where their families had lived for generations. I didn’t want them uprooted and scattered, all the history together lost, the relationships broken apart. But EJ perceptively said that if you observe carefully, all the villagers were given what they most wanted. Tevye had sung “If I were a rich man…” and he ended up moving to America, a land of opportunity. The matchmaker had longed for Jerusalem. She was headed for Israel. EJ says the end of the story is happy, not sad.
Another chapter of our story.
Anyway, my family is starting out on another chapter of our story. We are at the point where the clouds are darkening, the storm winds are beginning to strengthen, and the waves are building. I expect we are headed for a place where our lives will reach to the skies and plunge to the depths and all our skill to handle it will be swallowed up. But that’s where we will see the works of Adonai, His wonders of the deep. We are moving towards the middle of the story, building up to the climax, not yet at the end. We are readers of our own story, turning the pages, not knowing what will happen to us next. We don’t know if we will survive undamaged. I wonder if God is on the edge of His seat, whispering with anticipation, “Oh, hold on, dear ones, you have NO IDEA what will happen next!”
Night-time and first thing in the morning are the hardest times for me. I am most vulnerable then. Once I can align my thinking, I am ok. Writing is one of the tools that I use to realign my thinking. Writing, to me, is a release. If I am afraid, sad, stressed, I pour it out in writing. It’s like drawing out the toxins so they don’t remain inside. Once they are dumped in my writing, I can move on.
So after I wrote this morning, I had more strength to face the day. I got my guys up, and started fixing breakfast. “Do you want something to eat?” I asked JJ. He said, “Meh, I’m not sure I want anything…” (He is like me, not wanting to eat the moment he wakes up.) I said, “Why did I ask that question? You ARE going to eat RIGHT NOW!” “Your Mom is being a Mama Bear,” EJ said. “Yes, I am practicing for the visit to the doctor.” I started to run in place and stop and GROWL” like Sully training for work in the movie, Monster’s Inc: Run, run, run….GROWL! Run, run, run….GROWL!. JJ thought I had totally lost it and gone off the deep end.
We started off as the sun was rising. It was a beautiful sunset with vibrant colors, and beams of light shooting out from the clouds. Also, the autumn trees are gorgeous. I didn’t have my camera with me, but the sky sort of looked like this picture I found on the Internet.
We did not meet with Dr. Y. who operated on JJ. Instead, we met with Dr. G. I think he is the doctor who deals with follow-up appointments or something. He told us that JJ’s cancer was contained in the testicle. Good news. However, the pathology report showed that there were three different types of cancer cells in the mass. Apparently there are a lot of different types of cancer cells. One testicular cancer cell is so sensitive to radiation that it practically withers from a flashlight. Unfortunately, JJ does NOT have that sort of cancer. His cancer cells are not responsive to radiation, and one type is particularly tricky to cure.
Dr. G. said that they are going to present JJ’s case to the Tumor Board in a couple of weeks. The Tumor Board is a committee of doctors from different medical fields who will discuss JJ’s case and decide on a treatment. Most likely JJ will need some chemo and maybe a surgery, but that won’t be known until the Board meets. Dr. G. said it’s also possible that JJ could be sent to a hospital in Indiana that specializes in testicular cancer.
Eric said that sometimes life has really “kicked us in the nuts.” The doctor asked, “Did you just make a testicle joke….in front of your son???” And we all laughed. We gotta find humor where we find it.
I asked about alternative diet treatments, and also if there was any foods that JJ ought to eat or not eat. Dr. G. was quite strong in saying that especially in JJ’s case he should not seek natural treatments. He also said that there were no diet restricts. JJ could eat what he wanted. I feel that everyone sees and solves problems according to their belief system: A doctor who treats cancer with chemo will think that’s best and a doctor who beliefs in natural methods will think that’s best. Although this doctor says JJ can eat whatever he wants, I see the value of healthy food and so will try to find him good things to eat.
JJ has always been funny, intelligent, and compassionate, and he has also always been extremely strong-willed. If he doesn’t understand or agree with something, he will dig in his heels and not budge. I have sometimes told him (and myself) that there are negative and positive sides to a strong will and he needs to be able to channel his strong-will into the positive side, learning when to stand firm and when to give in. I have told him in the past that a strong-will can be stubbornness or rebellion or it can be persistence, endurance, determination. A few days ago, I told him that THIS is a time when he MUST use his superpower of strong-will. He must dig in and FIGHT. And JJ is also using his strong will to decide for himself what treatment he wants to pursue. We can advise and help, but in the end HE will make the final decisions on treatment. It won’t be any other way because JJ will determinedly choose what he chooses. And this, really is what we want: an adult who can make his own choices.
Anyway, we won’t know much about treatment or anything until we meet with Dr. Y after the Tumor Board has discussed his case. In the meantime, we have to get JJ another CT scan on October 31. He was supposed to have a full body scan before his surgery, but the hospital didn’t do the chest scan. He also needs more blood work in the week after next.
The news is not as good as we had hoped, but I’m pretty good today. I find uncertainty to be more torturous than certainty because when I know nothing then I don’t know whether to breathe in relief or gear up for a fight. Even though we don’t know treatment plans yet, we do know what kind of cancer this is, and that’s something. We know we have to prepare for a battle.
Havdalah Candleholder
On an unrelated note: A couple of weeks ago I ordered a Havdalah candleholder from Israel. It is used to symbolically signal the end of Shabbat. Yesterday I had a yellow card in my P.O. Box signifying that I had a package, but the sweet postal worker (CM) couldn’t find the package. Today a different postal worker was running the window (he might be the new postmaster???). He’s been at our post office for a couple of weeks now. I like him. He is warm and very funny. Anyway, he told me that the “lost” package was his fault because it was a registered package, which means he had to put it in the safe, but he put the wrong kind of card in our box so CM didn’t know to look for it. He noticed it was from Israel, and when I said that I was excited to receive it and he said, “Do you mind if I ask what it is?” So I told him about the Havdalah ceremony and opened the box to show him the candleholder. He is interested in Hebraic things but doesn’t know much about it, so we had a wonderful discussion and then he said, “We WILL discuss this later,” and he gave me his email address and website URL so he can ask questions. I thought that if I had received the package yesterday I never would have had this wonderful discussion today. So that was cool. I love these divine connections.
I woke at 5 a.m. this morning. The wee hours of the night is when troubles seem worse.
I cannot sleep.
So I am writing. Writing helps me figure things out, to process, and to steady myself. Sort of like the psalmists, who often begin their psalms with fear or grief but end with hope, This is where I look at the fear or pain and then pour it out so I can face whatever I have to face.
We meet with the urologist at 9:10 a.m. This is when we will find out what kind of cancer JJ has and how much it has spread, and we begin to discuss treatment.
I do not know if I want 9:10 a.m. to come quickly or slowly. I want it to come quickly if the news is good. Then I will feel relief and joy. If the news is going to be bad then I do not want 9:10 a.m. to come quickly. Then I want to have these last few hours before the nightmare hits and the world falls apart.
This is what torture feels like: being alive and yet having my being on fire with pain.
One thing that I do not want is to have people tell me I should smile and be happy through this. Why should I? “There is a time to laugh and a time to cry,” the Bible says. What better time to cry than when my family has to walk through this or if the news is the worst? Some people say that our minds shouldn’t go there, to the worst. I know that God will be here, even in the darkness, and I know we must hold to hope, and not let fear overwhelm, but isn’t it kind of naive or stupid to think that we ought never to think of these things, even in the wee hours of the night?
I don’t want people to tell me what to feel. I don’t want them to tell me to smile when my heart breaks. I want them to weep with me. Our culture expect people to smile all the time. Three days to mourn the loss of a loved one and then back to work and stop crying. I sometimes think Middle Eastern cultures understand that sometimes we have to take time to lament and wail and tear our clothes in grief.
We always have such sterile sounding words of theology about the day Jesus (Yeshua) died. However, when the Son died on the cross, the light turned to darkness, the earth quaked, and the Father tore His temple cloths. I think He understands lament and grief.
Ok, so maybe I will not, at this time, have to lament the death of a son. However, there are different types of losses, and different types of pain, and they cause different types of grief.
I am learning Hebrew. Hebrew is a profound language of faith. Everything means something deep, and everything connects to God. Even the months have meaning,. The Biblical months are based on the moon, not the sun. There is thought to be a connection between the months and women because women are also on a monthly cycle. I know this seems strange to those in the church because long ago the church separated from the culture of the Jews. I could explain this more, but this is not the time for history lessons.
At the beginning of every Jewish (or, rather, Biblical) month, I meet with a group of women who are studying Hebrew and we discuss the spiritual aspects of the month and how it relates to us as women. We are all women who love Jesus…or Yeshua in Hebrew. Our group is led by a dear Israeli believer in Yeshua who has a ministry of bringing together Jews and Christians. I learn a lot from her and from others in the group.
This coming month, which begins in early November, is called Kislev. I’m feeling a deep connection with Kislev right now. Here is just a little bit from our teaching about this month:
Kislev falls during the darkest time of the year. Yeshua was maybe born, but most likely conceived, entered Mary’s womb, during this month of darkness. “The Light shone in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.” The deepest darkness sets the stage for the greatest light.
The word “chesed” in Scripture is most commonly translated in English as mercy (lovingkindness). A more common word for mercy in Hebrew is rachamim (resh, chet, final mem), as in Av Ha’Rachamim – merciful Father. It also carries the meanings to love unconditionally, be compassionate, have tender affection. The Hebrew word for womb, rechem, is from the same root: racham.
Hebrew is based on a picture language. Each letter is a picture. The ancient Hebrew pictograph for racham draws a beautiful picture of the concept of a womb. The resh (r) is a picture of the head of a person, the chet (h) is a picture of a fence – illustrating protection, and the closed mem ( ם) is a picture of a womb, symbolizing something hidden. The letter mem itself is connected with water, mayim and pictures an open womb. It beautifully illustrates, therefore, how the womb is a place where one is protected, surrounded by water and hidden and is a place from which life can spring forth. In a sense, to live in God’s compassion, in His mercy, rachamim, is to live in His womb.
“Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, falls toward the end of the month of Kislev, the time when the light of the moon is getting dimmer and dimmer. We all know that the moon does not have a light of it’s own. The moon reflects the light of the sun, and the farther away the moon is from the sun, the fuller the moon appears. When the sliver of the new moon appears and it looks as though the moon is bathed in darkness, it is actually inhabiting a space closest to the source of light, and is really bathed in the essence of the sun.”
Ponder the last paragraph again. When the moon appears brightest, it is actually farthest from the sun. when it appears bathed in darkness, it is actually closet to the sun. This makes me think of Psalms 18, which says that God “made darkness his hiding-place [His secret place], his pavilion around him.” When it appears all is darkest, we are protected in His secret place, in the hiddenness of His womb.”
Light dawns in the darkness for the upright, Gracious, merciful, and righteous. Psalms 112:4.
Darkness is not dismal. When we sit in the darkness, God is our light.
I’m not afraid of the dark. God is there.
Ok. Now I can face this day. Time to get up and going.
JJ doesn’t have a primary doctor. He had a pediatrician throughout his childhood, but he’s been really healthy and hasn’t seen her for years. He has gone to the local clinic for Boy Scout physicals. Now that he has cancer, it’s necessary for Jared to have a primary doctor.
The doctor EJ and I go to has agreed to become JJ’s primary. His initial appointment with her was early this afternoon. This doctor (and her staff) is very compassionate and I always feel as if she has all the time in the world to meet with me when I’ve had a health issue. She took time to discuss JJ’s physical and emotional health and any concerns or questions he (and I) might have. Of course, she couldn’t answer specific questions since she hasn’t yet been sent his medical records, but she did answer our general questions, which was helpful.
EJ couldn’t go with us because the appointment conflicted with his work schedule. However, it was only an initial appointment so there was no need for him to be there. Tomorrow we go to the followup appointment with the urologist who did JJ’s surgery, and EJ will be going with us. This meeting is the more important one. We will learn more about JJ’s cancer, and begin discussing treatment options.
The woman from the cancer center who called me earlier this week told me to ask to be a Mama Bear protecting and fighting for our son’s life. She said to ask questions and demand answers. She told me to keep a pen and paper nearby and write down all questions that I have so I can ask the doctor. I have been writing down our questions, and friend who is in her own battle with cancer also gave me some questions to ask. I also found some questions on the Mayo Clinic website. Here is our list of questions so far:
What type of testicular cancer does JJ have?
Can you explain JJ’s pathology report to us? Can we have a copy of the pathology report?
What is the stage of JJ’s testicular cancer?
What is the grade of JJ’s testicular cancer?
Will he need any additional tests?
What are his treatment options? (Including alternative treatments)
What are the chances that treatment will cure his testicular cancer?
What are the actual, positive benefits? (Again don’t accept ‘maybes’)
Why is radiation/chemo necessary in this case? (If they say ‘preventative’, follow up with ‘how’, ‘in what ways’ etc, and don’t accept ‘maybe’ or ‘could be’)
What are the side effects and risks of each treatment option?
Will there be long-term effects of this? What are they?
What foods should we avoid or add to JJ’s diet to help his recovery? What lifestyle changes should he make? Is there a nutritionist available?
Is there one treatment that you think is best for JJ?
What do they see as the consequences of NOT undergoing this treatment?
What would you recommend to a friend or family member in JJ’s situation?
Should he see a specialist? What will that cost, and will our insurance cover it?
If we would like a second opinion, can you recommend a specialist?
We are concerned about his ability to have children in the future. What can he do before treatment to plan for the possibility of infertility?
Are there social workers or counselors to help JJ through this?
Are there brochures or other printed material that we can take with us? What websites do you recommend?
What activities will JJ be able to participate in during treatment period? Will he feel well enough to work and go to school?
JJ and I enjoyed the beauty of the hour drive to and from the doctor. We laughed and teased and joked a lot. When we got home, JJ chatted to his Internet friends while I talked on the phone to my friend.
We actually had a good day.
I have a lot of thoughts, but I’m tired now so I’m going to relax.
I shared this elsewhere yesterday, but decided to expand it and post it here.
This is a topic I have thought deeply about in previous years and previous sufferings, and they are coming to mind again as my family enters these current struggles.
So many people who I’ve encountered seem to believe that courage is always expressed through fearlessness, strength is always expressed through smiles or stoicism. and faith is expressed through calm acceptance or joyful singing without questioning or wrestling with difficulties. I don’t believe this is true.
I have thousands of favorite quotes. One is by Larry Crabb:
“For every one of us, ruthless honesty about what is happening inside of us will lead to brokenness. In a spiritual community, people don’t merely talk about woundedness and brokenness. They leave their comfort zones and expose the specifics, not to everyone, but to at least one other person. It’s terrifying to do so. It seems so weak, so unnecessary, so morbid and self-criticizing. Worse, in many eyes, to admit brokenness means to admit a poor relationship with God. We often hear that brokenness is the pathway to a deeper relationship with God, but we rarely see it modeled. I sometimes think we want others to believe we know God by demonstrating how unbroken we are…Everything in spiritual community is reversed from the world’s order. It is our weakness, not our competence, that moves others; our sorrows, not our blessings, that break down the barriers of fear and shame that keep us apart; our admitted failures, not our paraded successes, that bind us together in hope.”
2 Corinthians 1:4 says: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Yeshua the Messiah, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, through the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
Yes, sometimes I’m scared and sad and I cry. God designed us with emotions. He gave us both laughter and tears. He never said, “Always laugh and never cry” but he said there is a time to laugh and a time to cry. He said to “rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep.” Yeshua (Jesus) Himself cried at Lazarus’ grave and He groaned at other times. The Bible says that when we can only groan, the Spirit hears the words within it and translates them into prayers. Having a seriously sick child is a parent’s worst nightmare and greatest fear. Why would anyone think we ought to bear it without a few tears?
Fighting dragons
I believe that if I never admit that I am scared, confused, hurt, heartbroken…I don’t not feel those emotions, I just don’t share them–and those fears and sorrows can then grow in secret and I am forced to battle them alone. I prefer to drag scary dragons into the light and slay them there, even if I’m shaking in my boots and get singed in the fight. If I can gain others to help me, so much the better.
If I never admit to struggles, how can I be comforted by others? I could erect a strong facade and I’d end up appearing pretty awesome–but at what cost? I have received so much love and support through this battle with cancer BECAUSE I dared to be honest about it. What comfort I cut myself from if I can’t be honest about tears and heartbreak! And what comfort I withhold from others as well. Like the women in my story in Get Real, if I am silent certainly a wailing cry must echo through a broken heart, “You could have helped me through this…but you said nothing!”
I realize that being transparent will cause some to think I am a faithless mess, which I kind of am. I used to be strong and smiling. I knew exactly how God worked and what He liked and didn’t like. It’s only as suffering has broken my heart that I have gotten loose in my joints and very shabby…like the Velveteen Rabbit. I love this conversation in the children’s story:
There was once a Velveteen Rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen.
He loved off all my hair.
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you….”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real, you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time…Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
I once told God that I asked Him to make me beautiful, and instead He loved off all my hair. Maybe God’s idea of beauty is different from mine. And you know what? I wouldn’t ever be afraid if He’d just let me stay wrapped snuggly in my comfort zone. Instead, He drags me to the things I fear most, and then helps me overcome it. I mean, what kind of God is He anyway, who forces me to face dragons and learn to be brave?
I have found that when I risk sharing both the ups and downs, strengths and weaknesses, victories and failures, good days and bad days, an amazing thing happens. Some come to bring me comfort and some come for me to comfort. “I thought I was the only one suffering this way!” we say to each other. And “I came to you because I know you understand. You’ve been there.” To me, it’s worth the risk of honesty to have such connections forged. If we never share, we become lonely fortresses of professed strength.
The Bible says this: “Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone? And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart. (Eccl. 4:9-12).
I wonder how two can stand together and keep each other warm if neither shares their struggles? An isolated strand can be easily torn apart, an isolated deer can be brought down by wolves, and an isolated person will fall.
Red Rover, Red Rover
I remember when I was a child, we used to play a game called “Red Rover.” In this game, kids form two opposing lines and attempt to “break through” the opposing team’s line. At first, two teams are chosen of equal size, and they form two lines, facing each other and holding hands. One side starts by picking a person on the opposing team and saying “Red Rover, Red Rover, send right over.” Johnny then lets go of his teammates and begins a headlong rush for the other line. His goal is to break through the line by overpowering the kids’ hold on each other. If Johnny breaks through, he chooses one person for the opposing team to join his team, and they both go back and join in their line. If he fails to break through, Johnny becomes part of the other team. Each team alternates calling people over until one team has all the people and is declared the winner. The strength of the team depended on how strongly one held the hand of the other. In life, it’s really God who holds on to our hands, but He can do it through us. Maybe we can’t hold on to the hands of everyone, but maybe we can hold on to the hand of those standing next to us by reaching out. However, I can’t help another person remain strong if I don’t know he is hurting, and I can’t know he’s hurting if he doesn’t tell me. I just assume he’s ok and I go on to pray for those with broken hearts.
Maybe people can’t share with many others, but I think they ought to share honestly with someone.
Anyway, an occasional day of tears doesn’t mean that EJ and I are modeling to our son negativity or weakness or lack of faith. It’s important to us that we model genuineness to him. We don’t want him to paint a false smile on his face if his heart is breaking or he’s scared. That’s hypocrisy. We want him to learn to be honest and let others be honest with him. We want him to bravely endure hardship which includes bravely admitting that he needs help and can’t make it alone. Perhaps JJ is doing so well through this because we are modeling transparency to him and allow him to be genuine about where he is.
Glowing Super Power
JJ doesn’t hide that he has testicular cancer. He jokes about it with his friends. He also express dislike: “This SUCKS!” he announces. We have no idea what the treatment options are at this time, or which we will choose, but we are facing various possibilities. Last night, JJ humorously joked, “If I have to have radiation, will I freakin’ GLOW???” I told him that if he ended up having radiation to not to worry about it. Everyone knows that many normal people gain awesome superpowers by exposure to radiation or toxic waste. Maybe he’ll become a superhero and it’s possible, I suppose, that his super power will be the ability to glow like Zach in the movie Sky High. He gave me THE LOOK that only teens can give. “I’m going to throw this pillow at you for saying that,” he said with pretend disgust.
We have all kinds of troubles, but we are not crushed; we are perplexed, yet not in despair; persecuted, yet not abandoned; knocked down, yet not destroyed. (2 Corinthians 4:8-9)
Years ago, I had a friend who was going through a very difficult time. I loved my friend, and I truly cared, and I reached out to her as best I could, but I didn’t really understand the journey she was on so sometimes my encouragement was clumsy and likely not helpful. A few years later, I went through the same sort of suffering. We cried together in understanding. Then she said something very powerful to me:
“I always knew you cared, but now I know that you understand.”
Wow.
I have found that it’s not easy helping those who are suffering. They are in a place I am not in. They are dealing with issues of life and death while I’m trying to decide what to have for dinner. I have often felt like a bystander whose clumsy words and fumbling help is just…inadequate…for the things they are dealing with.
Silly me, I used to think that a sinus infection was merely a long-lasting cold. I didn’t understand how seriously debilitating they were until I suffered several years of chronic sinus infections, and eventually needed surgery. I always cared, but now I have great compassion for people who suffer from sinus infections. I cared, but I didn’t understand the heartbreak of a miscarriage, the deep down fatigue of chronic illness, the deep wounds of rejection, or the horribleness of fighting cancer until I suffered them. How could I? I had never traveled that path before.
This post is really for me. As I begin this newest journey, I am starting to observe and take notes so, on the other side of this, I can remind myself of what is helpful or not helpful to others traveling behind me. I want to be there for them, as best I can. It’s easy to forget what is helpful when the pain is gone so I want to jot down what is helpful now, when I’m going through it.
Notes to Myself:
I am finding that any sort of loving touch–whether from friend or stranger–is a priceless treasure, a beam of light in the dark, a lifeline. It doesn’t matter whether the words are eloquent or not, many or few. It doesn’t matter if the message of love comes through a comment on FB or a blog, a card in the mail, a package of goodies, a visit, sharing a favorite movie, or any of a million other ways a person expresses love. They all say, “I am here. You are not alone. I love you.” So speak. Reach out. Share your advice and stories of hope.
I am finding it helpful when a person lets me feel what I feel. I KNOW God is with us through this journey, and we actually have a lot of strong hope. Even so, it’s a difficult road and there is a roller coaster of emotions. For goodness sakes, don’t assume we have lost our faith or hope because we cry. Our tears do not mean that our faith is shaken. My family, all three of us, are facing this honestly–laughing, talking, crying. Our tears are as necessary as our laughter. We are not only modeling strength and courage to our son, but also realness, humor in the face of difficulties, how to confront fear, and many other things. Please don’t tell us we are not supposed to feel what we feel. I feel so relieved and strengthened when I am fighting to hold back tears and a friend says, “I know this is hard. It’s ok to cry. I am weeping with you.”
Also, realize that even when facing the same trials, everyone deals with it differently. Each journey is unique. Don’t expect our journey through this to look like yours. Don’t criticize a person if he does it differently. He is not you and you are not him. Listen to what the suffering one says he needs. He needs a hug? Give it. He needs someone to hear his fears? Listen.
My friend yesterday heard my need and practically put me in touch with someone who works at a cancer center so I could ask my questions. That was a huge help. One piece of helpful advice the cancer center lady gave me is that I need to be a Mama Bear and fight for my son. I told my friend that I was concerned that I can’t be a ferocious Mama Bear because confrontations are difficult for me. I can dig in my heals and stand firm if I KNOW what I am doing is right, but not if I am uncertain–and I am uncertain about what treatment is best for JJ. I told my friend that I need prayer about that. From that point on, she has sent me Mama Bear growls and pictures and reminders. Silly, but it makes me laugh and reminds me that I CAN BE A MAMA BEAR. She heard me.
Years ago, I considered being a Hospice volunteer and I attended a training session. I ended up not participating in this awesome ministry, but I did hear a very important thing: There is a difference between honesty and truth. At first I thought that was crazy because aren’t truth and honesty the same thing? However, as I pondered it, I realized that there was a lot of truth to it. The teacher of the class said that people who are ill (or their caregivers) are under tremendous stress and have ups and downs, good days and bad. Sometimes they will say honestly say something on a bad day that is not the truth of what they really believe. For example, they might say, “I don’t want you here. Don’t come back,” but they honestly feel that only that ONE moment or day and they really don’t feel that way ALL the time. They want you to be there. So, the hospice teacher said, don’t get offended if someone expresses hopelessness or anger one day. Keep coming back. Be there.
I’m trying to get through this the best I can. If on a stressful day I accidentally say something in the wrong way, please don’t get offended. I might feel that at that moment, but it’s not what I truly feel. I love you and NEED you. I want you HERE.
Keep sharing your advice, especially if you have gone this way before. We are considering your advice. We are getting hit with a lot of different information about many different things. It’s all overwhelming and we have a lot to figure out. We are finding much of your advice very, very helpful. Some of it we are saving to use when necessary. However, not all will apply to our situation. Please be supportive of us even if the decisions we make isn’t what you recommended. (It’s about the one suffering, not about you or me, and they need you to help them.) We love you, we are thankful for your help and advice, but we still have to figure out what is best for our son.
I find myself both more sensitive and less sensitive to what is going on around me. Individual stories of suffering are intensely sharper as I am more able to imagine the turmoil, fear, pain, and sadness they are going through. I’ve always cared but now, once again, I understand more deeply.
At the same time, the political debates and theological discussions have less relevancy. I’ve always been interested in them, and I certainly have always valued questioning and discussions. However, they are meaningless background noise right now. Well, sort of. They are both more important and less relevant. I mean, what do I care about politics when my son is fighting for his life? Except…I’m worried about Obamacare because it touches MY FAMILY. Whether others around me think it’s a disaster or a deliverance doesn’t matter to me right now. What matters is that it’s going to change healthcare, and I don’t know how. I’ve heard horror stories, and I wonder how it will affect our son’s treatment and our ability to pay for it. I also don’t care about theological debates right now. Go ahead and debate whether people aren’t healed because they lack faith, but I won’t get involved. It’s personal to me, not an academic theological debate. Personally, I believe that it takes great faith to believe God can heal and great faith to endure, and my ability to trust God as much with non-healing as with healing is being put to the test. What I am saying is, “Abba, Father, all things are possible to you. Please remove this cup from me. However, not what I desire, but what you desire.”
The one thing I would say not to ever, ever do is to tell a suffering person that the reason he or his loved one is not healed is because he doesn’t have enough faith. It’s cruel. You don’t really know what that person is faithfully enduring or what God is doing in his life through the suffering. God works in different ways in different people and at different times. Don’t make a person’s suffering harder.
I understand that you also have things going on in your life, and you are fighting your own battles. I can understand if you can’t be here all the time. Life is hard for us all. I also understand that you, like me, might not know how to help or what to say, and your words might be clumsy. Don’t worry. Even if you accidentally say the “wrong” thing, I am not offended. I see and hear your wonderful love. You are very precious to me. I am finding all of you to be absolutely awesome as my family begins this battle with cancer. I have never before experienced such love and support. JJ is very touched by your concern. I keep telling him about all these messages and prayers he is receiving from all around the world. He says, “Wow. Why are they doing this? Why are they so interested in me? I’m no one special.” “It’s really amazing how many people care, isn’t it? I can only say that I really think it’s God.”
These are the things I want to remember when people around me are suffering.
I fear that today’s post is rather rambling. I couldn’t make it seamlessly flow.
Today I cried.
When I was growing up, my church sort of taught that it was wrong to question God. It was taught in a spiritual-sounding way: Questions were doubt and doubting God was sin, so trust God and don’t question. I’ve heard this sentiment expressed many times over the years. It sounds good, sort of. Who wants to doubt God? However, in my teens, it occurred to me that God already intimately knows what I am thinking and feeling (Ps 139)–including my doubts, fears, and questions–so I might as well be honest with Him. How can God help me if I refuse to acknowledge when I’m scared or in pain or, yes, even mad at Him?
So I began to respond to God as if He was real (which He is) and as if I were really in a relationship with Him (which I am). Relationships can be messy. At times I’ve utterly enjoyed God’s nearness, delighting in His creation, overwhelmed by His love, laughed at His humor. However, I’ve also cried on His shoulder when I was hurting, ran to Him when I was scared, gotten angry at Him when He’s done something that didn’t make sense to me. I’ve asked Him questions and wrestled with His answers…or silence. Sometimes I’ve stamped my foot in a bratty tantrum. I can totally relate to Tevye’s honest relationship with God in The Fiddler on the Roof, one of my very most favorite movies.
There are times I’ve tried to pretend I had more strength than I really did. Then it always seemed as if God said, “TJ, get real” as He punctured my pretense. Like when the counselor asked,”How are you doing?” when I told him about losing my baby in a miscarriage years ago. “I’m doing well. I know God has a reason for this. I am trusting Him,” I said piously. “So how does it feel to be a mother who has lost her child?” The question stunned me and broke through my facade as I began to sob and wrestle honestly with grief and questions. I came out the other side, wounded but deeper. On my last day of counseling, the counselor said: “You are the most real person I have ever met.” A real gift. I had asked God to make me real….like Pinocchio.
“Get real, TJ.”
I’ve since discovered from my studies of Hebrew that the Jewish people have always been a concrete-thinking, action-oriented, and passionate people. Their language reflects this. They don’t talk their faith, they live it. They confront God honestly, questioning wrestling, bargaining with Him. They cling to Him even though He cripples them. I love Psalms 77, written by Asaph:
My voice rises to God, and I will cry aloud;
My voice rises to God, and He will hear me.
2 In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord;
In the night my hand was stretched out without weariness;
My soul refused to be comforted.
3 When I remember God, then I am disturbed; When I sigh, then my spirit grows faint. Selah.
4 You have held my eyelids open;
I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
5 I have considered the days of old,
The years of long ago.
6 I will remember my song in the night;
I will meditate with my heart,
And my spirit ponders:
7 Will the Lord reject forever?
And will He never be favorable again?
8 Has His lovingkindness ceased forever?
Has His promise come to an end forever?
9 Has God forgotten to be gracious,
Or has He in anger withdrawn His compassion? Selah.
10 Then I said, “It is my grief,
That the right hand of the Most High has changed.”
Wow. Asaph honestly questioned–what we might even call doubted. Who knows how long he struggled before he could continue:
I shall remember the deeds of the Lord;
Surely I will remember Your wonders of old.
12 I will meditate on all Your work
And muse on Your deeds.
13 Your way, O God, is holy;
What god is great like our God?
14 You are the God who works wonders;
You have made known Your strength among the peoples.
15 You have by Your power redeemed Your people,
The sons of Jacob and Joseph. Selah.
Through questions and doubt, he found a new depth of trust. He wrote several psalms. Each one a gem to me.
I also love the story about the rabbi who came to substitute teach a class at a yeshiva. As he lectured, the students were silent, not asking any questions. So he deliberately said something controversial. Still, they said nothing. Finally, in frustration, he roared, “How can I teach you if you refuse to argue with me?!” So different from the sit down, shut up, and memorize style prevalent in our society.
Years ago, in the church I grew up in, a woman’s son was convicted of a serious crime and sent to prison. I’m sure the woman must have suffered and cried, but her face was always smiling. Time passed and a new woman started attending the church. Her son also was in prison. One day the second woman learned about the first woman’s son. She went to the woman in tears, or so I heard, and lamented, “Why did you never tell me about your son? I struggled so much, and you could have been such a comfort, but you said nothing.” I’ve never, ever forgotten that.
I think we are all different. I think that God designs us for different purposes. No doubt people express their faith in different ways. I cannot say how people “ought” to express their faith. I can only say that I can’t not be real. I mean, I can for a while, but not for long. I’ve sometimes told God that I asked Him to make me “Real” and He made me to bleed all over the pages of my writing describing my fear, my tears, my strengths and weaknesses, my good days and bad days. I write about my problems that are sometimes too big and many and overwhelming for me. Sometimes I want to hide under the blankets and wish the monsters away.
This morning I saw the pots of tender plants on my window sill that I am hoping to keep alive through the winter. I thought, “This blog is turning into a different sort of blog then I intended.” I was going to just write about my garden and day-to-day life. Now I am writing about my son’s battle with cancer. Yet, he feels to me like a tender little plant that I am trying to keep alive. I’m still writing about my garden, but now my garden is my son.
Bilbo Baggins
Today I cried because I felt overcome by the hugeness of this Unexpected Journey my family is on. I feel like Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit, dragged off on an Adventure that he didn’t expect, didn’t want, and wasn’t at all prepared for.
I feel clueless about and overwhelmed by having to decide on a cancer treatment. Some people choose to have chemotherapy and some say that natural methods are the only way to go. I don’t know who is right. I don’t want to gamble, either way, with my son’s life. It just seems like a confusing maze to me. I just want Jared to be well. I don’t want to lose my son. I don’t know what is best for him.
The nurse called today. She said, “The pathology report is positive.” “Oh, good!” I exclaimed in huge relief. Positive means good. The nurse replied, “No…It’s positive for cancer.” Oh. I just got educated. Of course. Positive means good….unless it’s cancer. I felt so stupid. She must think I’m an imbecile. I told EJ about it, and we laughed a shaky laugh.
Be a Mama Bear.
My friend called me soon afterwards. She let me cry for a bit, and she gave me a gift of comfort and laughter. She also mentioned her sister’s friend who works in a cancer center in California. She wanted to know if I would like her to ask her sister if her friend would call me and prepare me for what to expect. “YES!” A bit later, the woman called. She was so nice. She explained what was happening and told me what to expect in the days ahead. She also said, “Keep a pen and paper near you at all times. Write down all the questions that come to mind so you can ask the doctor.” She also said, “It’s important to understand that you are your son’s advocate. You are fighting for his life. Be a Mama Bear and fight for your cub. If you don’t understand something, ask. If you aren’t comfortable with something, confront it. Be a Mama Bear.” I told EJ that maybe I will have to start practicing my Mama Bear growl. Meanwhile, he can practice his Papa Bear growl. The truth is, I think I’m a pathetic bear. I’m not a confrontational person. I need a Bigger Bear to roar for me.
I must say this: I am not a stranger to suffering. I’ve lost a baby to miscarriage. I’ve had a difficult second pregnancy and almost lost my son and myself when he was born. I’ve struggled with the sorrow of infertility. I’ve struggled through years of painful rejection from a dysfunctional family who refused to forgive me for not being able to live up to their demands–and I finally have had to say a heartbreaking “no more” to their presence in my life. I’ve suffered from chronic illness. I have a husband who suffers debilitating back pain–and several other health problems. There have been many times when we’ve had to live on little. And there have been many other sorrows and struggles. Now here is my son afflicted with cancer. And even my dog is sick.
Through all the struggles, I often been scared, and heartbroken, and overwhelmed. Each new journey is different and challenges my faith in a different way. However, I also experience my God in a different way. I see His love in a different way. He reveals His faithfulness in a different way. I experience His provision in a different way. I think sometimes He weeps with me. Already, God is showing us in awesome ways that HE IS HERE. We aren’t alone.
JJ
I’ve discovered an interesting thing along the way: When I share my journey, there are probably people who think I am a total mess, which I am. However, there are also people who say, “I came to me because I knew you struggled with… infertility.. miscarriage.. rejection… and I knew you’d understand because you’ve been there.” I’ve also been comforted by others who understood my struggle because they have “been there.” Today I cried at Facebook, and found people around the world who hugged me with love and prayers. Many are praying for JJ. I think we all need each other, and we can’t help each other if we don’t share.
So, I will share my journey with you, if you want to come along, as honestly as I can. Because, who knows? Maybe my journey will help you. Or maybe your journey will help me. But be forewarned: My faith isn’t always pretty. I will be honest about the joys and sorrows, the strengths and weaknesses.
I woke up at 5 a.m. this morning feeling overwhelmed about various problems I have to deal with, such as JJ’s paperwork for college.
Then I remembered a historical fiction novel that I read years ago. The story took place in China just before the Boxer Rebellion. A man and his wife had come to China to help run an orphanage but they had died, leaving their daughter in the care of the elderly director. At the beginning of the book, the girl was in her teens. The director had gotten sick (and then died), leaving the girl alone to care for the orphans. Often she felt overwhelmed by the responsibilities placed on her. “But,” she said, “Whenever I don’t know what to do, I simply do what comes next.” For example, the first thing she needed to do when she woke up in the morning was get the children ready for the day. Then she had to fix them breakfast. No food? She had to go get some. By doing the next thing, she dealt with the problems in her day, one by one.
I’ve often thought of that through the years, and whenever I don’t know what to do, I pray about it and then I simply do what comes next. It’s sort of like throwing the shoe. Throwing the shoe divides impossibly huge tasks into small doable ones. Doing what comes next helps me focus on one task at a time.
First, I drank a few cups of coffee to clear my mind. When EJ woke up, the next thing was to eat breakfast. It’s hard to face a day when hungry. Then I got dressed. I was now ready for what comes next.
Yesterday I had wondered about what the pathology report would tell us when all other tests and the surgery were good. The girl who helped us load wood yesterday evening is hoping to go into health care. She read my blog post and wrote me an email:
The purpose of the pathology report is to determine the cause of the mass that JJ had. The Pathology Report sometimes allows physicians to determine the severity of an illness, the prognosis, and what additional treatments or precautions must be adhered to based upon the patient’s condition. All of the medical information that I am giving you following this sentence may be incorrect due to deficient recollection of previously learned information. A Pathology Report is completed by means of a culture and sensitivity test. In this situation, a culture and sensitivity test would be completed by taking a sterile swab and swabbing the mass that JJ had removed….[putting it in a petri dish]. The petri dish contains a gel-like medium over which the swab is moved over. The swab is discarded and the petri dish is placed upside down in an incubator to grow whatever bacteria or foreign organisms were found in that mass. The causative agent is then left on its own to incubate for 5-7 days. After 5-7 days the petri dish is removed from the incubator and the organisms that grew in that petri dish are then examined by a pathologist under a high-powered microscope. The pathologist is able to determine the nature, and strain, of whatever organisms grew within the petri dish. After the organisms are accounted for and examined, then the Pathology report is filled out. The Pathology Report is the legal documentation for all of the laboratory findings discovered through the completion of these tests. Sorry to be so long-winded, but I hope that that helps give you some peace of mind. I think that the prognosis at this point will be excellent because the surgery went well, the results from the blood work and CT Scan were good, and JJ has his appetite back and doesn’t appear to seem as fatigued. These are all very wonderful signs of good health. I can’t completely say for sure, but that’s just what I think.
That information was helpful.
I called the doctor’s office to ask about the results of JJ’s pathology report. I listened to umpteen options, and selected to talk to a nurse. However, the voice message then said that that option was only for certain things, and the pathology reports was not one of them. I hung up and called again. This time I chose the option for lab results. I’m not sure if pathology results is part of lab work, but it was the closest option to what I want. The voice message said to leave a message and they’d get back to me within 24 hours. Ok. That was done.
What comes next?
Danny
Danny has been scratching and scratching. A couple months ago I took him to the vet who said it was the skin condition he gets every year at the end of summer. The vet gave him a cortisone shot. It helped for a while but then Danny’s itching returned. I thought it was due to his skin problem again so I took him back to the vet for another shot. However, the second shot didn’t seem to work. Danny has been breathing more shallowly and has also begun to ask to go outside frequently. When he’s outside, he lies on the ground as if the coolness of the ground is soothing to him. At night, he has been going through the cat door into the unheated back porch and lying on the cool cement. Something is not right with Danny. So I called the vet to ask if he could see Danny today. The receptionist said the vet was in surgery, but could see him about an hour or so later. Ok. That was done.
EJ had gone outside to unload the firewood from the truck, so I went out to help him. It was raining, but just a heavy sprinkle and not a drenching rain so it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t time to take Danny to the vet when we finished so I made winter shelters for the outside cats using covered kitty litter boxes that I am not using. I put them under the tarp covering the patio table on the front porch for added protection. EJ will make the litter box shelters warmer with insulation when he has time.
Then it was time to take Danny to the vet. On the drive there, I wondered if Danny was seriously ill and would need to be put down. We’ve had the worst ever year for sick pets. It has been awful. We had to put one cat to sleep and I sure don’t want to have to put my beloved Danny to sleep. Sigh. When the vet examined Danny, he said that the itching was caused by fleas. I had thought we had gotten rid of the fleas, especially since I hadn’t noticed any on me for quite some time. I thought Danny’s skin problem was flaring up. The vet gave me “the best” flea medication and also gave me some for the cats since it’s no use treating Danny if I don’t also treat the cats. He said Danny’s lungs were not clear, so he’s probably got some sort of respiratory infection. Laying on cool surfaces likely helped him feel better. (Maybe like a cool soothing cloth on the forehead?) The vet gave me two different pills for him–one to be given three times a day and the other to be given twice a day. So I’m back to giving pets medication–but I only have to put the flea meds on the skin of all the animals once a month, so that’s not too bad. I sure hope Danny gets to feeling better soon.
Ok. That problem has been addressed. What comes next is dealing with JJ’s college classes. One instructor said JJ could re-join his class whenever he can, the second said that there was too much work for JJ to make up so he needs to drop her class. I have been waiting to hear from the third instructor. I do not yet know if she would prefer JJ withdraw from the class or rejoin it. I do not know if I should just withdraw JJ from the one class or go ahead and withdraw him from both even though I haven’t heard what to do. Since I do not know what to do, I wrote an email to Student Services explaining the situation and asked for their recommendation.
Ok. That situation is addressed.
The next thing I did was fix lunch. Then I prepared dough for homemade bread so JJ can have sandwiches later. He loves the all-beef bologna we get from the meat market.
This morning as I was fixing breakfast, an old song began to play on the radio. Throughout EJ’s childhood, his Dad always played old songs on the radio and often sang them, and EJ grew to love them too. Old songs bring good memories to EJ. So when he heard the old song on the radio, EJ grabbed me and we waltzed around the kitchen. Just before we stopped, I held up our arms as if I was going to twirl EJ around. He said, “You aren’t supposed to twirl me! I am supposed to twirl YOU.” And we laughed.
This made me thing of the importance of laughter. I remember reading a Reader’s Digest article years ago about POWs in Vietnam. The author, a former POW, said that whenever a new POW was brought into the camp, the older prisoners would talk to him at the first opportunity they had, and tell him that their captors were expert at torture and, sooner or later, even the strongest would break. It was important at that point to try to give the least amount of information that they could, and to forgive themselves afterwards. They also said that even though the situation was deplorable, it was essential to keep a sense of humor. Those who couldn’t forgive themselves and those who lost their sense of humor didn’t last long.
I know that humor is essential in the difficulties of day-to-day life. If we forget how to laugh, we lose an important tool.
On my Facebook page, among the many different types of things I share, I also share interesting, happy, and funny things. I do so to give myself a reason to laugh or find wonder in the midst of difficulties. I also try to give others a reason to laugh. I have many friends going through very difficult situations. It’s easy to forget to laugh when life gets hard.
That reminds me: I probably shouldn’t reveal this, but EJ decided to ask me to marry him because I farted. EJ grew up on a farm and he was always strong. Before he learned to hug gently, he used to hug me tightly, squeezing me into breathlessness. He didn’t realize his own strength. One day, he hugged me tightly and he squeezed a fart out of me. Not a lady-like fart, but a HUGE fart. It was embarrassing, but I laughed because it was so funny. We laughed together until we cried. EJ said he decided to ask me to marry him right then and there. Because I farted. “NOT,” he protests, “because you farted, but because you laughed about it.” He says that he knew that life can be difficult, and he wanted a wife who had a sense of humor and knew how to laugh in undesirable circumstances. The fact that I laughed instead of being mortified showed him that I was the type of wife he was looking for. So my husband asked me to marry him because I farted and laughed about it.
I’m not sure anyone else could have a funnier “That’s why I married you” story.
Yesterday we all spent the day resting. We slept in, studied, talked, and just relaxed.
Today we were busy. I didn’t intend to be so busy. As I told EJ, one thing led to another, sort of like in the children’s story, If You Give A Mouse a Cookie…except without the cookie. “Or the mouse,” EJ said.
First thing this morning, after a cup or two of coffee, I got the laundry sorted and took it to the laundromat. EJ usually goes with me, but he and JJ were sleeping soundly so I went without them. I got the clothes in the laundromat and then realized that I had forgotten the detergent. The laundromat wasn’t busy so I put the clothes in the washers and then drove home for the detergent. We only live a couple blocks away so it wasn’t a problem…except for the inconvenience.
After I got the washed clothes home and the first load in the dryer, I swept and mopped the floors. EJ woke up and had breakfast. Our dog Danny has been scratching, so I wanted to give him a bath. I couldn’t find any dog shampoo, so since I had to get a few other things anyway, I decided to go to the store. Normally EJ would go with me, but we are trying not to leave JJ home alone much while he recovers.
The ten-mile drive to the store was beautiful. I thought the scenery looked like a landscape painting, with the white/blue clouds and the colorful trees. I think the leaves must be at the peak of their colors. I would have taken a picture of it, but I didn’t have my camera…and, besides, I was driving. It’s sort of hard to drive and take pictures. On the way home, I saw a leafless tree with three black crows sitting in it. It was worthy of a picture, but….
After I had fixed lunch, I lifted Danny into the bathtub and gave him a bath. He was pretty calm about it. When I was done rinsing him off, I told him he could get out of the tub and he just stood there staring at me. “You aren’t going to make me lift your wet body out of the tub, are you?” I asked. Yes, he was. Ugh. I had a towel ready to rub him dry but he shook himself before I could get it on him. I wiped him off and then let him out of the bathroom while I wiped up water from everywhere and cleaned the bathroom. Danny has thick hair that takes all day to dry and he had tracked wet footprints through the house, so I mopped all the floors again. I realized that I needed to wash the shower curtain and liner, as well as the towels I used on Danny, so I drove back to the laundromat and washed them.
I was tired by this time, but I cut off some of the tarp we had used to cover the RV, which we sold a couple of weeks ago. I used the tarp to cover the patio table and chairs on the front porch.
I was about ready to sit and relax while I finished folding clothes, but EJ’s friend called and said he had wood ready for us if we wanted to come get it. It’s supposed to get cold and snow this week, so all the wood we can get before then is a benefit. We have gotten wood when it’s snowy and cold, and brrrr. A few years ago we stacked wood in the pouring rain. We had bought wood from this guy, and he let us haul the wood home in his trailer. We had to get all the wood unloaded and the trailer back before EJ left for work in the early afternoon, so we really had to scramble. As we went out to unload the trailer, it began to rain–a drenching downpour. We were carrying wood from the truck to the woodshed while it poured rain. We were absolutely soaked, sloshing with every step. We kept laughing; it was so ridiculous. Later a neighbor told us that her elderly husband looked out their window and saw us. “Why are the J’s unloading wood in this pouring rain? Why don’t they wait until the rain stops?” She said he was getting upset that we were working in the rain, worrying about us. She told her husband that maybe we HAD to do it then rather than wait for later. It was actually one of those family memories we remember with fondness: “Remember that time we carried wood in the pouring rain? Ha, ha!” But I must say that it really is more pleasant to get firewood on a nice autumn day with no cold temperatures or snow or rain.
Anyway, this evening I asked JJ if he thought he’d be ok to be alone for a little while I helped his Dad with the wood. JJ is doing very well, but I think it’s very lonely to be recovering from surgery with no one around, so I try not to leave unless EJ is here. JJ said he’d be fine and he had his phone near him if he needed us. We were not far away.
I took this picture of our truckload of wood with my phone.
So EJ and I went to our friend’s place for the wood. This is the same friend who has the pretty chickens. RB and his 18-year-old daughter jumped in the truck and we drove through the harvested field to where RB had cut down a dead tree and sawed up the wood. They helped us load wood into the truck and then we all drove home and unloaded it. At first we were all stacking the wood in the woodshed, but then we decided that to save time we’d just toss it out of the truck so we could go back for another load. It was getting towards twilight and we had to finish before it got dark. So back we went to RB’s place and the four of us loaded the pickup again. We still have more to get, but we didn’t have time tonight.
A couple of days ago, I had asked RB’s wife if she had eggs she could sell to us. She said she didn’t have any to sell us, but she did have some she would give us. So RB told his daughter to go get the eggs, and then we all said goodbye and EJ and I left for home. On the way home, we saw a lot of deer. Several of them crossed the road in front of us. We got home without hitting any of them, and EJ backed the truck into the back yard. We will unload the truck and stack the wood as soon as we can.
We were hungry so I made us popcorn. Then I sat down and said, “I am not going to do another thing today!” And so far I haven’t, although I do need to fold the last load of clothes in the dryer.
Tomorrow we need to try to call the doctor and see if the pathology report is back. I tried to call on Friday but there were so many answering machine options (Press 1 if….) and I wasn’t sure which one to choose. None seemed to fit. There was no option to talk to the receptionist to ask which option I should choose. I was so tired that I finally gave up. On the day of JJ’s surgery the doctor said that the CT scan and blood tests were clear and the surgery went very well, so I wasn’t sure what the pathology report would tell me or how it would change the situation. I mean, if the tests were good and the surgery went well, wouldn’t that mean everything is good? All this is new to me and I don’t really know about these things. I chatted on FB about this with a friend who has recently had cancer and she said, “…Sometimes, even though the surgeon gets the entire tumor out with good clean margins, they still opt for some chemotherapy.” Then I thought, “Oh, yikes! Maybe we aren’t totally safe yet.” I sure hope the surgery was the end of it. EJ has talked to several guys at work who had testicular cancer and none of them needed chemo except one guy who lived with the problem for a year before seeking treatment. I hope we can get the pathology results tomorrow and I pray everything is ok.
I also have to figure out what to do about JJ’s college classes. One professor, who has JJ in two of his classes, said we don’t have to worry about his classes. Another professor said JJ needs to drop her class. We haven’t heard from the third teacher yet, although Student Services emailed her and I have emailed her twice. So I don’t know if JJ needs to drop her class or not. We were told we need to fill out a NonAcademic Complaint Form for the class (or classes) JJ has to drop so that he can get an Incomplete and not have to pay for his classes again. We need to get official documentation from the doctor to prove that JJ has a valid reason for dropping the course(s). So I don’t know if I have to drop one class or two, or if I should fill out the withdrawal forms before I have the information from the doctor or not. We go to the doctor on Friday for JJ’s followup, so we can get the information then.
I just feel like this is such frustration and I don’t want to have to worry about all this paperwork when I just want to help my son recover. I was thinking about people who have to deal with a bunch of paperwork when they are struggling with chronic health problems, or caring for a sick loved one, or grieving the loss of a loved one. I have great sympathy for them. They are already stressed or tired or grieving and have to deal with stupid paperwork.
JJ’s tiredness is understandable, of course, since he just had major surgery. He sleeps until about 1 p.m. He has always been a night-owl so he states up late, but even so I still think he’s getting a lot of extra sleep. That’s good.
After the health scare and all the rushing around we had to do, I suspect that EJ and my bodies are saying, “Now it’s time to REST.” I’ve heard that sometimes after a time of difficulty in which the body has to stay on alert, it will get sick when the “danger” is passed. I sort of wonder if that is what is happening to us. Only, I hope we only get tied and not sick.
EJ has been sleeping better at night, I think, and taking little naps now and then throughout the mornings. Today he was really dragging as he got ready for work. I can’t take morning naps because there is too much that I have to do. By the time EJ leaves for work, I’m so tired that I immediately curl up on the couch. I don’t get much sleep, however, because noises wake me. Today JJ made a noise that scared me awake–I still don’t know what caused it. After I woke, I drowsily laying on the loveseat watching the leaves fall and the clouds drift by outside the window.
Then I remembered that I had to return movies to the library. I had rented a couple so JJ could watch them while he’s laid up on the couch. I brought home another movie today to watch: The Avengers. We just rented Ironman 3 and I couldn’t remember what had happened in Avengers that gave Tony Stark panic attacks in Ironman 3. I like superhero movies and don’t mind watching them more than once. I wanted to get The Hobbit, one of my favorite movies, because EJ said he didn’t remember watching it. We know he did. How can he forget? Anyway, I could also enjoy watching that movie again and again. However, the movie was already rented by someone else. Bummer.
The weather has been getting colder–dipping into the 50s during the day and the 40s or 30s during the night. EJ and I have been debating whether or not it was cold enough to get a fire going I the woodstove. We don’t want to start one before it’s cold enough outside and get overheated. It’s sort of difficult to regulate the heat with a woodstove. We are either too hot or too cold–although, actually, we aren’t ever too cold for very long because we just put more wood in the woodstove and then everyone complains that it is too hot.
I’m waiting for the hours to pass until EJ gets home from work so I can go to bed. As I said, we’ve been tired the last day or two.
JJ is recovering nicely, with much less pain and groaning than I expected. He sleeps quite a bit, which is good. His appetite is returning, which is a delight. He had not been hungry for many weeks and had gotten much too thin. JJ said a few days after his surgery that he keeps expecting to “freak out” about all this, but so far he hasn’t felt like freaking out.
JJ’s greatest concern has been his college classes. I contacted Student Services the day before his surgery to tell them what was going on. They were kind, but said JJ needed to sign a waiver so they could give us his information. Silly JJ was supposed to fill it out when he was signing up for classes. He said he had, but he probably forgot. Anyway, I printed off the form before the surgery and JJ filled it out. We had to it again after the surgery because I accidentally knocked my coffee cup and it soaked it. Oops. Monday morning EJ drove to the college to drop it off. He was the best one to do it because I get easily lost. We couldn’t trust me to get there and back again safely.
I also emailed JJ’s college professors to tell them what was happening and how long he’d be gone. One professor, who has JJ in two of his classes, called me on the phone. He said JJ is a nice young man and he had nothing to worry in his classes. He should just concentrate on recovering and he could rejoin the classes at any time. He said at the VERY WORST he would give JJ an incomplete so he can finish the class next term.
Another instructor said JJ would need to withdraw from her class. It’s a math class and he could never keep up after missing so many weeks. Hopefully JJ can also finish that class next term without having to pay for it again. I haven’t heard from the instructor of his final class.
I hope I can get this all resolved.
EJ and I are so very tired now that we can breathe. As soon as EJ left for work today, I curled up on the loveseat and fell asleep for an hour.
So after I wrote this morning, I had more strength to face the day. I got my guys up, and started fixing breakfast. “Do you want something to eat?” I asked JJ. He said, “Meh, I’m not sure I want anything…” (He is like me, not wanting to eat the moment he wakes up.) I said, “Why did I ask that question? You ARE going to eat RIGHT NOW!” “Your Mom is being a Mama Bear,” EJ said. “Yes, I am practicing for the visit to the doctor.” I started to run in place and stop and GROWL” like Sully training for work in the movie, Monster’s Inc: Run, run, run….GROWL! Run, run, run….GROWL!. JJ thought I had totally lost it and gone off the deep end.
Hebrew is based on a picture language. Each letter is a picture. The ancient Hebrew pictograph for racham draws a beautiful picture of the concept of a womb. The resh (r) is a picture of the head of a person, the chet (h) is a picture of a fence – illustrating protection, and the closed mem ( ם) is a picture of a womb, symbolizing something hidden. The letter mem itself is connected with water, mayim and pictures an open womb. It beautifully illustrates, therefore, how the womb is a place where one is protected, surrounded by water and hidden and is a place from which life can spring forth. In a sense, to live in God’s compassion, in His mercy, rachamim, is to live in His womb.
“Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, falls toward the end of the month of Kislev, the time when the light of the moon is getting dimmer and dimmer. We all know that the moon does not have a light of it’s own. The moon reflects the light of the sun, and the farther away the moon is from the sun, the fuller the moon appears. When the sliver of the new moon appears and it looks as though the moon is bathed in darkness, it is actually inhabiting a space closest to the source of light, and is really bathed in the essence of the sun.”
I Love To Go A Gardening 