April 30, 2016

The Post I Never Thought I'd Write

Something happened.

In the blink of an eye, I was partially transformed into a little girl again- but part of me remained a grown woman. Part of me was standing in a hospital room, hearing a stranger doctor tell me that they found spots on my daddy's liver and a mass in his pancreas that was cancerous- but the rest of me was 7 years old, pulling on Daddy's arm to climb onto the back of my horse. Part of me was holding his hand, trying to be strong...and the rest of me was crumbling.

The moment the words came out of the stranger's doctor's mouth- everything changed. Our entire world changed. I wanted to tell stories- and ask to hear everything he's ever told me over again. I wanted to make new memories without thinking this might be the last time we get to do this. I wanted to study my daddy's face and memorize every tiny wrinkle- and remember where it came from...this one from the sun on his face when he used to plow fields when he was a farmer, long before I was even thought of- this one from the sunburn he got when we stayed in the ocean all day, laughing and swimming together...the color of his red beard...and how it never matched the hair on his head- the way his hands always looked when I was little- stained with grease from the tractor or oil from the dump truck.

My body went numb. I couldn't show my heartbreak. I had to show strength. I had to show that I had faith that he was going to be okay. I tried to shut out the doctors words but they echoed over and over again as memories flashed through my mind like a slideshow of happier times.

Immediately I wanted to know why. I wanted to know why God chose us- why our family. I wanted to know why there isn't a cure- with all the technology and knowledge in the world. Our government can hack into a terrorist's locked iPhone but can't find even a hint of a cure for cancer. I was Sally Field in Steel Magnolias, yelling in the graveyard as she buried her daughter. My numbness was replaced with anger. I wouldn't accept this diagnosis. It has to be a nightmare. I just want to wake up, I thought over and over. I got angry when people asked me how I was doing or how I was handling the diagnosis in the first few hours and days of finding out. How am I?! How ridiculous- my health is fine, my heart is broken and a huge part of me wants to rip your face off. No, I'm not fine.

Pray about it...God will get you through this.

The first few days of trying to process that my daddy has cancer- hearing that God would help me made me angry too. When I get upset with someone, I have to take some time to myself before I can talk it out. God's plan had really upset me. I didn't understand, and still don't, why he chose this plan for our family. I couldn't pray. I tried to talk to him but I couldn't find the words. We just simply weren't on speaking terms. I knew He was there- I knew He probably understood my silence- but I wasn't ready to talk.

They transferred my daddy to a larger hospital in Virginia due to a blood clot in his heart. {Because cancer wasn't enough to worry about.} Sometime in the first few days of him settling in at the new hospital, mom and I both realized that we were mourning something that hadn't happened yet. The anger began to fade a little- and we were able to focus on the moments we were in with Daddy.

So...what's next? God and I are talking again...and I'm hoping his plan for my daddy has an extended edition. For now, we are thankful for each day we are given. We are praying for the doctors caring for my dad, that they may be blessed with the knowledge they need to treat him. We are praying for ourselves, that we have the strength to be helpful through this process- and to not get too ahead of ourselves and be able to focus on the day we are in and not so much on the future. We are praying that we are able to keep our faith strong- it is so easy to lose faith when faced with tough journeys, such as this one.

Thank you to those of you who have held me as I cried, listened to me as I was angry, and prayed for our family. Words can't describe our gratefulness.

1 comment:

  1. Eden, I'm so sorry to be reading this! You're ask going to be in my prayers, if there is anything I can do, please don't hesitate to let me know! Love and prayers are with you!