Saturday, February 26, 2011
Here's a summary of 90% of my conversations:
"How's Sarah doing?"
Me: "She's doing fine/good/great/well?"
"Good, good, how are you?"
Me: "I'm doing fine/good/great/well."
"Good to see you. You're in our prayers/thoughts."
I like these conversations. It's good to know that people are thinking about Sarah, and lifting her up in prayer.
But, this exchange, very rarely, goes much deeper. I walk away with a multitude of thoughts: "He thinks my head is in the clouds." "She doesn't believe that I am feeling okay." "Am I really okay, or am I just numb?" "I wonder if this is a denial phase, and all my thoughts will change in an hour, a day, a week."
I have a friend, and co-worker, who doesn't allow surface conversations. He always digs deeper. We had some meaningful dialogue one day, each of the last two weeks.
I also have three brothers who are absolutely incredible, and have each influenced my life, whether intentionally or accidently. A few years ago, a brother and I had a lengthy conversation about life, in general. At the end of the phone conversation, he encouraged me not to let another year pass whereby I did not pursue that which makes me happy. He said that I could figure it out now, or wait until I was much older... better sooner rather than later.
The next day, I started reading about contentedness. I've spent more time reading about contentedness than any other aspect of faith over the last four or five years.
I hope you took time to read and listen to what I recommended above. It's a life changing perspective.
Reflecting on this passage, and talking with my buddy at work last week, I realized that, at times, I may be confusing contentedness with stoicism. Being stoic is not liberating at all. It doesn't bring joy in the midst of trial, and it doesn't allow to you to love, care, and sympathize for someone who is suffering. I know because I slip into that mode very easily.
True, biblical, contentedness does bring freedom. It does bring joy. It's comforting to those who are suffering.
Sarah's diagnosis has detached us more from this world than any other time in our lives, and caused us to focus more on the things of heaven. That breads happiness.
Chalk one up for "Good Things coming out of Unfortunate Circumstances". Let's chalk up a couple more.
Please continue to lift Sarah up. Her surgery is at 7:30 on Wednesday morning.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
We did learn a couple of things while at MD Anderson today. Dr. Weinberg showed us the MRI images. While Sarah's tumor is on the right frontal lobe, it is a little further back on the lobe than we first thought. Better said, there is brain tissue between Sarah's skull and the tumor. We also learned that they would not be able to remove 100% of the tumor because blood vessels have infiltrated the backside of the mass. Any damage to those blood vessels could result in a stroke, which could lead to paralysis, etc. If the mass is as slow growing as they believe it is, trying to get it all out is not worth the risk.
I am not sure what this means, or how/if it changes Sarah's prognosis, but we will know quite a bit more after post-surgery pathology is available. Depending on the biopsy results, additional treatment could follow. We pray that such treatment will not be required.
Sarah will have a pretty sweet scar that will span from one ear, across the top of her head, to the other ear (about an inch inside her hairline).
Typical of a mother, Sarah might be just as concerned about missing Owen's 2nd birthday as she is about anything we learned today.
(Insert "my son is the best" prose here). It's crazy to think that Owen is two years old. It's definitely been a happy two years. I could go on, but if you know "O", you know exactly what I'm talking about. He is, hands down, the best (no bias; if he looked like a baby ostrich and screamed like a peacock, I'd say so).
We can't wait to see him and Lynlee! Hopefully, we'll make it home tomorrow. Those kids, and their mama need some lovin'!
Thanks again for everybody's prayers and well-wishes. Special thanks to all who have helped get us in and out of town, watched our kids, watched our house (get hammered with snow), fed us a meal, watched our dog... the list goes on. Thank you,
Pat & Sarah