It was what we expected, but wouldn't admit. It was what we knew secretly in our hearts, but wouldn't listen to. Brain cancer.
(And please pardon the poor writing style. I'm still exhausted and in the "just the facts, ma'am" mode.)
Yesterday was probably the most emotionally draining day I have ever had. Mike and I didn't get home until after 11:00. We had been at the hospital for twelve hours. His father went in for surgery at 3:30 and came out about four hours later. The waiting was exhausting. My sweet mother-in-law couldn't eat. She had her hand on her cell phone waiting for the updates that would come every hour.
His wonderful neurosurgeon finally came out with the news that we cognitively were expecting. But you are never prepared. They took out 2/3 of a malignant tumor. They couldn't take out any more as it was too close to the "motor strip" of the brain. The cancer has spread down the temporal lobe. The good news is that it is primary to the brain and will not metastasize to other parts of the body. They are very optimistic that that can treat it with chemotherapy and radiation. We will know more in the next 48 hours and then more in a few weeks. He is now in ICU and will be for the next 24-48 hours.
Last night while we were waiting in the IVU waiting room, I finally cried. I finally broke. I hadn't since we found out about the tumor on Wednesday. I don't cry. Especially during crisis. That's because I am a "Martha". No, not Martha Stewart. Martha from the Bible. If you remember when Jesus visited the home of sisters, Mary and Martha, it was Martha who was constantly doing. She was the one taking care and making sure things were done - all the time. That was me this week: asking the doctor questions, writing down and clarifying everything he said, emailing reports to family and friends, Facebooking to request prayers - and organizing where S And J would be during all of this. And finally, being there for Mike. But that's how I cope - and that was the role I was needed to play.
We have received Facebook posts, emails and phone calls telling us how prayers have been lifted on our behalf and asking how/if we need anything. We have been overwhelmed with this outpouring. Of course we still do not understand why this is happening.
My 12 year old's observation makes me realize that, even in these times, we must keep a childlike faith: when I tried to explain the seriousness of the situation to him the night before last, he responded, "Yes, it is bad. There are always going to be horrible things that happen in our lives. BUT GOD ALWAYS MAKES SOMETHING GOOD HAPPEN FROM IT, AND HE WILL THIS TIME TOO."