This story is difficult to tell, but if it helps just one…
David loved to be outside workin’ our little acre. He would take breaks in his comfy white chair, wipe his brow with a big brown towel, shift his camouflage hat and sip a cool drink from his favorite cup.
Everything changed on Feb.2, 2011; the memory is seared into my brain. My husband and I were at the family doctor. I had major surgery on my neck a few weeks before and she wanted to make sure that I was okay.
David coughed during the entire visit, which upset the doctor.
“I’m really concerned about that cough,” she frowned, “will you stay and let me check it out?”
I had been after David to go to the doctor and answered immediately, “Oh, he’ll stay.”
Later that evening the doctor called the house. “There is something in David’s x-ray that I don’t like,” she explained. “I need him here for a CScan at 8am tomorrow.”
“He will be there,” I promised. I had known for months something was wrong, now I felt intense fear in the pit of my stomach.
After the Scan the next day, we were told the doctor wanted us to come back at 2pm. She needed to talk with us.
We knew something was up as soon as we walked into the examination room. It was different. The chairs were in front of the window, instead of across the room at the wall; the doctor’s stool was placed in front of them.
It was an ominous scene.
Dr. W. wasn’t her cheerful self when she entered the room. Her mood was somber and cautious.
“You know that I didn’t call you in because the news is good,” she sighed. She looked us straight in the eye, “There is a large mass on the left lung. It is cancer and … it is malignant.”
David froze; I turned away. We left the doctor’s office in a daze. We didn’t talk for two days, couldn’t get past the shock and terror.
The following six weeks were a whirlwind of tests and doctors. During that time I molted into some other person. I didn’t know her; she scared me. By the time David started radiation and chemotherapy, I was on fire…
With anger; never had I felt such rage. Not for me, for my David. If he wasn’t treated properly I had something to say, strongly.
In times of stress it’s fight, flight or freeze. David froze long before Dr. W. gave us the news. I went into the fight mode straight away.
The grieving begins…
May Your Glass Always Be Half Full
My consorts have their own version of bein’ in the hot seat this Friday: Fire is the word.
Anu, Delirious, Maxi Maria/Gaelikaa, Maria SilverFox OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, The Old Fossil, http://willknott.ie/