Thursday, April 16, 2009

rolling rolling rolling

We were easily the youngest people in the outpatient surgery room by a decade or more.  We got there early, surprised beyond belief we got in so soon. We expected it to take at least a week so when the call came in we jumped. Let's get this on.

The nurses love J.  While I am certainly aware of his loveability, I was a bit bemused to see how they flocked to him, somehow the story of the jungle had made the rounds and three or four different nurses came in to ask about our journey, the whys and hows and wheres.  The waiting took forever, three hours of IVs and tests and draws and then they wheeled him away for the procedure, the one where the doctor shot the straightest of everyone we've met so far, telling him it could very well be cancer but age and health play in our favor. The straightforwardness is refreshing even if I don't like the words. Another nurse was not so direct, she actually asked if J had to peepee which made me laugh uncontrollably, kind of like when Anderson Cooper made that joke about teabagging on CNN. 

After the procedure he was sick, a reaction to the medication that took awhile to subside.  The nurses came back and mothered him, two of them brought up faith and God and one even asked to pray for him, something that has been a rather common theme over the last week.  
You don't realize the faith in others till you are dealing with something like this and then it's all around you, it swirls all over you and you almost can't breathe but then you remember how entirely generous it is to be thought of by others, of how goodness is simply that. It's good and people's hearts are wide.

After four hours they decide we can leave, he's stabilized and it's time for us to go.  They bring us a wheelchair and I start to laugh. I sit in it and they tell me it's not for me and swat me on the head and I laugh again and load J in and spin a little wheelie. I can't help acting like this, it's like I refuse to take this seriously because if I do then it's more real and if I keep cracking jokes then it's like a field trip and not really our lives. I'm waiting for him to sign a form when the Jesus Nurse comes back and asks if we are looking forward to going back to the jungle. Yes, I say but if he's sick I guess we'll have to stay here for awhile and kick cancer's ass first. She looks at me and smiles you two have just been added to my prayer list and I smile back because I am thankful for so much kindness but I also want to know where was God a couple weeks ago, because that's when He really should've been on his game. I want to ask her but am afraid I'll sound insulting when I honestly don't mean to. So we leave the recovery room, J sitting in the chair and me pushing him and I lose a little control on a downslope but instead of trying to slow down I stood on the back of the chair and for awhile we glided, both of us in tandem hoping not to tip over.

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33 comments:

Bon said...

"in tandem hoping not to tip over..."

maybe one of the best metaphors for living and lovin' i've ever heard.

you two are on my heart. and i assume you'll tell us when you get some answers. yeh. you'll tell us.

Magpie said...

I do so love you. This post was so damned TRUE. I felt your words as if they'd been mine; I know those feelings too too well.

I hope all's well with you all.

Anonymous said...

Faith can be helpful if you just let it.

slouching mom said...

oh, sweets. please let us know as soon as you can, 'kay?

xoxox

Jaelithe said...

Argh. Just, argh.

Wishing you the best.

mamatulip said...

The last paragraph of this post is so you, and I love the way you are, how you describe things, how you look at things. How you view - and live - your life, live it with eyes wide open. How you love those around you.

Thinking of you both very, very hard.

Pgoodness said...

keep laughing, friend.

and I agree with Bon - best metaphor for life ever. :)

NotSoSage said...

jen, checking in after too long.

my heart and head will be with you both.

Kyla said...

I hope for nothing but the very best news.

You guys are a trip. It is no surprise they all loved you, who could resist?

alejna said...

Oh, wow. I'm just checking in after a few days. This was the scariness you alluded to. Ugh.

I'll be thinking of you and J.

I love the metaphor, too.

Amy Y said...

So glad you're on the other side of that drama... And I just have a feeling that you really are ~ prayers and Jesus nurses or not. Thinking of you and your family...

meno said...

Aw Jen, just aw. Nothin' to do but keeping on rolling in tandem.

flutter said...

love you

deezee said...

Jen, I eagerly await a diagnosis of clean bill of health. I love your perky attitude through this.

painted maypole said...

You should have asked her. She likely would have struggled through an answer, because it is one of the toughest questions of all, and I'm not sure any of us have an answer that is sufficient. We just trust that He's there, and remember that we were never promised a life free of pain and suffering.

hope those wheelies keep popping (or not... I hope that the joy and fun keeps coming, and the cause to be in a wheelchair disappears...)

de said...

One of my oldest friend's father has been living with kidney cancer for many years. If you wind up needing information, feel free to ask. They even in live in California.

wheelsonthebus said...

when will you know? (that's the pragmatist talking)

kgirl said...

You keep that sense of humour and play, ok? Because whatever the diagnosis, it will do you good. A ton of good.
xo

bgirl said...

roll on lovelies roll on. thinking of the two (3) of you daily.

-b

Jennifer (ponderosa) said...

You are a miracle, you know that?

I'm not religious so at times like this I'm never sure what to say. If there is a spiritual, non-Christian way of saying "I'm praying for you" -- well, imagine I just said that.

krista said...

i'm with ponderosa up there. i'm praying for you in an entirely non-organized-religion-type of way.

Little Monkies said...

Oh girl, laughter frees the spirit when it all gets to much. Laugh when you can and as crazily as you can. People living with illness understand. My mom and I were walking the halls of the cancer hospital when we saw a guy let go of his nary-a-hair wife in her wheelchair on an incline. She shrieked, he laughed, we almost peed in ours pants. So glad you can be that for others :)

Beck said...

It's awful how quickly life can change all at once, isn't it? We're going through some extended family thing right now that I can't write about - ugh - but we feel like we've been living in a big nightmare and at the same time we're still laughing because what else can you DO?
I'm sorry that you guys are going through this. I truly am, and I am praying that everything will work out.

Gwen said...

Were I at all religious, I would blame adam & eve for cancer, not god. she's just supposed to be there to help mitigate the suck, i think.

i've decided that "i'm praying for you" is just another way to say, "i really care."

I really care about you, jen, and am wishing/hoping/bargaining for the best possible news on this one.

Z said...

Thinking of you, darlings

Wayfarer Scientista said...

I too laugh when things are in crisis. It's a good way to propell yourself through things I think. And I hear you about the jesus nurses...at the clinic here they always ask if you can be added to their prayer list. I appreciate that this is the way they express their concern but I can't help but note all the contraditions. If this godhead was looking out for you how the hell did it let you get into the trouble in the first place? Hugs. And thoughts. And wishes. But no prayers.

hele said...

your post send so many emotions rocking through my body.

Laughter at your braveness and the tenaciousness of love, hope and humour, tears at your braveness and the scariness of the unknown, anger at the unfairness of it all, hope that a there is a reason behind it all, fear that there is not.

and so much love flowing out of my heart towards you in both your vulnerability and your strength.

i pray my sister, from deep within my heart and my spirit*

QT said...

My fingers are crossed for you, that might be as close as I get to praying...:)

Lump me in with everyone else who really loved the last sentence of this post.

Lisse said...

I've been reading here since you first posted at Blogher that you were moving to the jungle.

I just wanted to wish you the best.

Susanne said...

I don't quite know what to write after reading all those comments before me but I wanted you to know that I'm still with you.

Mad said...

Hey hon,
Still wishing and hopin' and I guess praying in my own non-reigious way. Let us know as soon as you do.

toddlerplanet said...

Thinking of you, and praying for the best.

Ally said...

You astound me, Jen. Writing about this so beautifully, and doing all the livin' and fun-making you can do in spite of the scary prospects. xoxo