Hurry Up and Wait...

It has been 31 days since Miki crawled out from the back of the car with the dogs, arriving home from North Carolina.  The onset of her right leg cramping, the drop foot dropping, the hospital stay with great care, the medical bills arriving like get well cards, the weekly visits to receive no news, and me becoming a caregiver as time goes on.  Now don’t laugh too loud concerning the last one on the list.  It has taken patience, humor, creativity, patience, compassion, anger, sleeplessness, patience, courage, and a number of other character traits to see Miki slip in her physical strength, but not in her resolve to beat whatever it is that is ringing the doorbell and running away.  It almost sounds as if I were describing myself while I was still teaching, or like I have referenced before, what it must be like to be a parent.  But at least for most parents, you wouldn’t be worrying about how fast the tumor is growing or how fast the cancer is spreading.

During the last 31 phases of the moon, in the back of most of our minds, the question has been what kind of cancer is it?  And today, we are just as close to knowing, as we were 31 days ago.  We know the spot on the lung has not gotten any bigger, so at least it does not appear to be growing any too rapidly.  The sacrum would require another MRI to make a comparison, to know if it is changing.  That would expose Miki to more radiation than is necessary at this time, so we wait.  We wait on the results of one test that our oncologist appears to be putting all his eggs into.  When you have cells that like to disguise themselves and seem to be unknown, they must be compared to others that are of known origin.  That is what we are waiting on.  A “molecular study.”  And as we discussed this with the doctor yesterday, it didn’t take me long to realize I was needing a medical knowledge life preserver, when I pursued trying to understand the biopsy testing that was being carried out to identify these damn cancer cells.  At that point I accepted the life preserver and knew I just had to trust.  Just like taking my car to an auto mechanic and asking him to fix that noise coming from under the hood.  It was out of my hands and I had to trust he would do the job and do it right.

So, we hurry up and wait.  31 sunrises and 31 sunsets.  Waiting to get out of the back of the car after a thirteen hour trip.  Waiting for pain relief.  Waiting to find out what the cause of the pain is.  Waiting to learn more about the cause.  Waiting to wait while we wait.  During the wait time, there have been some really great connections though.  Connections between Miki and family, Miki and friends, Miki and me, Miki and Miki.  The outpouring of support has been tremendous.  It has been flowing in the form of kind words, actions, tasty sensations, sounds, hugs, and ice.  And Miki has made it clear that you don’t even think about her, unless you have a positive thought in your head at the same time.  So the wait time is filled with you and good mojo.

Over the last 31 rotations of the Earth, as word of Miki has spread through networks of friends and family, there are the coincidental connections too.  For example, we have some neighbors, down and around the way, we met though walking our dogs in the park.  During this last week, I met David on his way to work almost everyday, as I was walking our dogs through the neigborhood.  It was always within about 25 yards of the same place every time.  The first time he slowed his big red truck down and stopped, I brought him up to speed on Miki and the last few weeks.  Since then, it seems like at least every other day we meet and he always begins with, “How’s your wife doing?”  And he always finishes the same way, “Tell her we’re keeping her in our thoughts.”  Now when I see his wife, Kathleen, walking their dog each morning, I can almost feel the good vibes she sends as they pass by our house, 75 yards away in the park.  My old team from Brittany Hill has spread the word through their families, Miki’s Healing Touch network of friends has spread her story, and slowly but surely our teaching community is hearing about this as each day passes.  For something that you usually don’t shout from the mountaintops, it is amazing how caring and support seeps out, like water filtering down through the Earth, all the way back to you.

Today we make a conscience effort to get organized with our records, receipts, reports, and other “r” words that will help get us though this event.  We’ll try to make nice with our insurance company as we try to make sure they are supporting the financial end of this journey.  And we begin to come to grips with decisions that we will be making in terms of hospitals, doctors, and treatment, it begs the old question of…What to do when you come to a fork in the road?… Take it!  Miki will lead the charge down which ever "fork" she feels is best for her.   And as we all second guess and Monday morning quarter back all we want, it is not our path, it is hers.  You don't have to like it, just respect it.

My Zen from Home:  We are all caregivers to some extent every day.  You see it at the grocery store when someone gives their cart to the person behind them, who is waiting to get one.  You see it when someone motions to a car to pull out in front of them, so they don’t have to wait for the traffic to clear.  You see it in the unselfish acts people do every day when they put another person before themselves.  You can also feel it in the smiles, touches, and thoughts you put out there each day.  Don’t forget to dish it out to those closest to you also.  They may be the ones being overlooked and need the care the most.  Now, so you don’t think I have gotten soft, here are a few funnies…