I haven’t shared anything REA/L in awhile…life has been a bit too unbelievably chaotic. Have there been blessings mixed in? Absolutely! Those joys have been the bulk of my posts this year. These are the things I want to have pop up in my memories. The unpleasantries, however, I’d prefer to erase…
Within our family of four, we’ve had six surgeries among us this year with one more on the horizon. The specialists, appointments, treatments, therapies, etc have dictated the bulk of our schedules. Out of necessity, we’ve collectively danced with more fluidity than ever before…typically it’s just one of us (mainly me) that assumes the patient role. This time it’s entirely different and not in a good way.
My surgeries were incredibly personal and deemed medically necessary for prevention. Cancer ravaged my father, and with my bizarre “ecosystem,” avoiding that horrific parasite bestowed the best option. I discovered in the minimal sharing of the “why” I had a double mastectomy was met with confusion. “So you didn’t have cancer?” No, I’d reply almost apologetically, I did not. While I am fortunate this is the case, my chapter of recuperation is still unfinished.
Two weeks after my surgeries, our youngest needed knee surgery from an injury. She is still working her way back to even—making fantastic progress might I add. Rehab is never easy, and she is diligently putting in the time required to return to the activities she loves. It’s laborious. There have been tears of frustration and pain. The “other side” drives her so this too will be in the rear view mirror.
About a month later, the “c” word entered our household. It was utterly out of the blue. There were no symptoms. He didn’t fit the risk profile. And yet…
“I’m so sorry,” he says when we get the results. Tells the kids the same thing. They both immediately respond with the obvious: “This is not your fault!” He unfortunately doesn’t readily accept this. In his mind, he is the caregiver. He is glue. It’s his “responsibility” to ensure everyone has what they need. His provider gene runs strong. This is unwelcomed and unfamiliar territory, for all of us. Less than two weeks after diagnosis, treatment begins, and here we remain, praying all this will totally eradicate his cancer.
Last month, our oldest had oral surgery to remove four impacted wisdom teeth. I think people trivialize this type of surgery, relegating it as “routine,” which is regrettable. There’s something wholly unnerving about being knocked out while having people inside your mouth, looking at the unrecognizable person in the mirror, and struggling to eat, drink or talk.
Welp, there it is—the life data dump of our last six months. It’s a lot. And yes, we are all intimately aware our family has already been through “a lot.” We cling tightly to each other, especially when one of us tries to retreat, because that’s how we are wired. Eventually someone will figure out “the fix,” even if the solution is simply space. This too shall pass is our mantra, which is only moderately easier to swallow when spoken within our four walls. The absolute truth that guides us daily is this: the Lord will see us through, as He has so graciously done countless times before. “There’s a blessing buried in it,” he says as we leave the infusion center today. Yes, my love, there always is.
Let's Get REAL Together 