And for that

Mom & Dad called the hospital this morning before leaving home & were told that yes, the tool needed for his procedure was there. After an iv was started, we were informed that no...the tool wasn't there because it was in use @ St. Vincent Hospital in Little Rock & should be on it's way by noon.

He was in surgery almost three full hours. That little tiny voice inside told me it was a good three hours. His dr. felt that he'd done alot with the tool, cleaning out the gallbladder bed, removing lymph nodes near the area as well as a partial piece of the lining of the liver. He mentioned feeling good about it, but cautioned that although rare, this form of cancer is aggressive & that further actions would begin after his pathology report came in Thursday. We'd be meeting an oncologist, (throwing in the fact that this type cancer does NOT respond to chemo-stopping my heart almost dead in it's tracks) & she'd set up a plan for aggressive treatment.

Mom went home a few hours ago behind Dan & Mich, I'm sitting up in my comfy recliner with my feet in the not-so-comfy bed chair, covered in a couple blankets while I run the prayer loop I've been praying in in my head & heart since I found out. I'm sure all the angels & God Himself are exhausted from hearing my prayers pouring straight into heaven on this midnight flight.

Aggressive and cancer should be stricken from the English language, banished as the bad words they are for describing the horrible pain and suffering they depict. Anything that horrendous, spiteful & ugly shouldn't be a sentence regarding my Dad or anyone else I love or dislike. No one should have to live a life sentenced to pain, weakness & sickness.

I know I'm selfish. I know I don't share well with others when it comes to any minute possibility of losing someone I love that I'm not ready to. No way. UhUh. We didn't sign on for this. I would love to rail at the heavens, scream and thrash and kick on the floor, but am afraid if I were to start, I mightn't finish for a very long time. I refuse to give in to that.

Yet...
that same tiny voice slows my roll, jerks me out of any mode of fear I find myself in. It reminds me of the saying I posted on my FB earlier...

Faith & fear cannot occupy the same space. Goodbye fear.

My God is wonderful, loving, a kind God determined to teach lessons even in the midst of pain, laughter in the midst of sorrow & love in the midst of fear. His time may not be mine, but His own. His healing might not be as I would heal, but His own way. The agony of watching someone hurt this badly that I love as I love my Dad breaks my heart, hurts my soul & infuriates me.

I don't have answers, but I have the belief that God will send angels to stand guard over Dad if I get still tonight or my eyes close in the chair beside me. I have the power of prayer, the strength of belief and a multitide of love coming from family and friends from across the nation as well as other countries and being sent by the multitude to heavenly mailboxes on high.

And for this and many other things, I am thankful.

Thankful that we've had the best Dad, provider, co-parenting team of anyone-I might be partial, but so might we all. I've had tears, laughter, love and family ties that some might not have had the chance to experience. With many of my close friends having lost a parent to cancer, diabetes, any ailment that has marked the passing of a great and shining light, our circle grows tighter around those that remain.

Thankful that our many family members and closest friends are beside us on bended knee, eyes closed, lips moving quietly or maybe ringing out loudly, hearts raised to Heaven as one, praying for Dad to be healed. There's a comfort in knowing we are prayed over as a family, wrapped in tenderness and love by people that we've known all our days from all walks of life and all corners of the world.

I am eternally grateful for the memories we have together from Chicago in Little Rock to Motley Crue in Shreveport to tea parties in our living room to pink pathers  at the family business to double pump jump shots to traveling the western half of the states and so many more that dance fleetingly through my heart. 

I'm thankful that we have been given the honor of knowing of the cancer before the holidays because the blessings were great this Christmas in our family. We shared laughter, love and stories...grilled burgers and gave thanks, albeit silently, for each of us there together as a collective whole, one family, many lives intertwined.

My God is wonderful, loving, a kind God determined to teach lessons even in the midst of pain, laughter in the midst of sorrow & love in the midst of fear. His time may not be mine, but His own. His healing might not be as I would heal, but His own way. The agony of watching someone hurt this badly that I love as I love my Dad breaks my heart, hurts my soul & takes my breath away.

I don't have answers, but I have the belief that God will send angels to stand guard over Dad if I get still tonight or my eyes close as I sit in the chair beside him. I have the power of prayer, the strength of belief and a multitide of love coming from on high.

For this, too, I am thankful.