I
was praying that this was not happening, I was praying for strength, I was
praying that we would be going home later in the day but realized that Lisa would
likely be admitted at least overnight for observation. There was only curtains, very little privacy,
but I closed the curtains as much as possible.
I simply sat next to Lisa and we held hands tightly, interlocking our
fingers like we do when we are walking together or dancing. The nurse was in and out the entire time,
checking on Lisa, offering extra blankets, very nice and attentive. I asked the nurse where she went to school,
and told her that we are fellow alums. I
shared with the nurse that I also was a nurse and that I had worked in this ER
many years ago.
About
that time the young doctor came into the room but with no smile and a look of
concern, and pulling a chair closer to the stretcher he told us that the EKG
and the chest x-ray looked fine, but that there was a 1 cm mass in the left
temporal area of Lisa’s brain, that with her history of melanoma this is a
concern and he is ordering an MRI to better define the mass. My head is spinning and my heart stopped. I lowered my head and begged Jesus to be with
us at this moment. I am being told that
my wife of over 20 years, the love of my life, my best friend in the whole
world has a mass in her brain. And I
know from our previous encounter with melanoma several years ago that if there
is metastasis to the brain that the life expectancy is perhaps 2-3 months. I am being told that I will be burying my
wife by the end of the summer.
Lisa
looked at me with big tears in her eyes and asked me what this means, and I am
trying so desperately to control my reaction, to control my emotions, because
she is basing her response on my reactions.
I tried to calmly reassure her that the mass could have been there since
she was born, that she has never had a CT of her head before, that it could be
something that is just there and it has no affect. I could feel the fear in her grip as we held
hands tightly. My knees are
shaking. I can hardly say more than 2 or
3 words without my voice quivering. With
a small whimper of a 5 year-old’s voice she whispers to me that she is scared,
so very scared. She softly tells me that
she doesn’t want to die. My legs are
shaking uncontrollably. I had a million
and one thoughts racing through my head over the next several minutes. How am I going to tell our son that his mom
is dying? How will I tell Lisa’s
parents, and my parents, that she is dying? I never, not even once, asked God why this was
happening to Lisa, why this was happening to us. Why not us?
Over the years we have seen sadness occur to our family and
friends. We have been pretty much immune
to life’s tragedies, and I would sometimes say that we will have our turn, that
one day bad things would likely happen to us.
Well, that day was now here.
Not
once did I lash out at God or get angry or doubt my faith. I remember talking with Jesus like a friend,
asking him to be with us, to watch over us, to protect us. I remember asking Mary to be with Lisa, to
hold her tightly like a mother holds her daughter when she is scared during a
thunderstorm. And not once did I try to
bargain with God, if God helped us then I would promise to do this or that. This was the day that bad things were
happening to us, to Lisa, and I felt completely and absolutely powerless to do
anything about it. All I could do at
that moment was hold Lisa tightly and pray.
I tried to stay calm, I couldn’t say more than 2 words without starting
to cry, but I needed to stay strong. The
doctor left the room and Lisa looked at me with big tears in her eyes and she
softly said let’s pray. She closed her
eyes tightly squeezing out more tears, and I watched as her lips were moving in
intense conversation. My head was
spinning, I knew I needed to pray at that moment, but I couldn’t think what to
say other than please help us.
Then
I remembered that John Paul II, Saint John Paul II, suffered with Parkinson’s,
a brain condition. And that Lisa and I
try to follow the teachings of St John Paul II on marriage and family
life. I have always said that I can’t
wait to meet St John Paul II in heaven having felt like we were already
friends. So I asked St John Paul II to
help us, to intercede for us, to help in any way possible. And for a brief moment, perhaps 3 or 4
seconds, I could vividly see Lisa and I snuggling on the couch watching our TV
show, things were back to normal and everything was calm and good again. But then the radiology technician arrived to
take Lisa to the MRI and I came along, I didn’t want Lisa to be alone. As we left the ER Lisa took off her wedding
band due to the magnet of the MRI. The
doctor had told us that he would be arranging for other specialty consultations
for today, and I realized those consultations would likely be with oncology and
surgery. I wondered if those doctors
would be waiting for us when we returned to the ER.
We
arrived at the MRI suite and we waited for a few minutes until the machine was
ready. The MRI is a noisy machine and
Lisa would have to be moved into a small opening for about 20 minutes and to
lie still. She told me she was scared
but felt she could do it. Once the MRI
was completed we were then taken back to her room in the ER to wait for the
results, the results that would determine our next course of action. I put Lisa’s wedding ring back on her finger
and we just looked at each other in a moment of silence. I felt completely helpless. We simply sat there holding hands tightly,
like when you are on a rollercoaster and are about the go over the top. Lisa kept saying how scared she was, and my
heart was breaking.
We
were trying to keep friends and family members aware of the situation as best
we could, but not sharing the full severity of the situation. My cell phone battery was running dry so I
called our son and asked him to bring the phone charger to the hospital and that
I would meet him outside. He called me
about 20 minutes later when he arrived and we met outside. I told him some of the things that had
happened so far, that the doctors were still running tests and that we didn’t
have any definitive answers yet, that mom was acting normal and had been
walking a little. I wasn’t ready to tell
our son any more than that, not yet. I
told him that we were just sitting there, probably for the next several hours,
and there was no need for him to come in.
Lisa and I were in the process of getting the worst news of our lives
and we wanted to go through this as husband and wife, it was a private moment. We would tell our son later, once we were
better able to come to grips ourselves with what was going on. It was a beautiful sunny day, perhaps around
11:30 or so, and I suggested that he grab himself some lunch. We hugged each other tightly and told each
other ‘I love you’. I watched him as he
walked away, thinking to myself that he will be starting his senior year of
high school at the end of the summer, and that Lisa would likely not be
there.
I
went back into the hospital to be with my wife.
Jesus please be with us, please help us.
I sat next to Lisa and we held hands tightly, scared that if I let go
she might disappear. A volunteer came in
to check on us and I realized that it was Joanne. Joanne was the admissions counselor at the
School of Nursing when I went to school there.
I said hello to her but simply couldn’t muster any more that a brief
smile. We just received life-ending news
and I just couldn’t make small talk at a moment like this. And then the paramedic who helped Lisa earlier
that morning stopped in to check on Lisa before they headed out. We thanked her for all her help, but again I
just couldn’t make small talk at this moment.
And then we waited for the MRI results.
I didn’t mind waiting, actually I could have waited for a lifetime,
because as long as we didn’t have the test results we had a sense of
normalcy. Once we received the test
results our lives, Lisa’s life, would be forever changed. And I continued to pray for help.
I
finally asked the nurse if she knew of any consultations that had been
ordered. She checked Lisa’s medical
record and told us no orders were entered as yet. And then I asked her if the MRI results were
back yet. She again checked the medical
record and said that they were back and that she would inform the doctor. My heart was pounding, we were about to get
devastating news, and I prayed for strength, please give me the strength to handle
what was going on, please give me the strength to support my wife at this
terrible moment. Lisa softly said that
she was so scared as tears gently rolled down her cheeks. I told her that I love her so very much and
that we would get through this together.
Another doctor came into the room and said that the MRI results were
back, and that she printed me a copy of the report because she knew that I
would want to see it for myself. She
told us that the mass they had seen on the CT scan was no longer there. I thought she said the mass is no longer
there, but perhaps that was what I wanted to hear. I asked her to repeat that statement again,
and she smiled and said the mass is no longer there. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to
focus my blurry vision on the report, I needed to see the name at the top of
the page, yes it said Lisa Humphreys, and yes it was her birthdate, and yes the
report said in several places that the mass that was previously identified was
no longer present. I looked at Lisa and
she asked me what this means, is this good information, and I said yes that
this is very good information, that she would be going home and we would be
growing old together. We embraced
tightly and sobbed for several minutes. After
a few moments I again looked at the report, the name and date of birth, it
didn’t seem real, but it was. My wife of
over 20 years, my best friend, and my soul mate was going to die; and now she
is going to live.
It
was exactly 3 o’clock in the afternoon when we received this news. I know the exact time because as we were
holding each other and sobbing my watch was alarming. I have my watch to alarm each day at 3
o’clock in the afternoon as a daily reminder of the time Jesus died for
us. With a great big smile I showed Lisa
my watch that it was 3 o’clock, the moment Jesus died for us. Thank you Jesus. St John Paul II wrote that there aren’t any
coincidences but rather we recognize the Holy Spirit moving in our lives. I couldn’t stop saying thank you to Jesus, to
Mary, and to St John Paul II. My wife was
going to die and now she is going to live.
We started sending messages to our family and friends that the tests had
come back normal and that Lisa would be staying in the hospital overnight for
further observation. Lisa was discharged
the next afternoon, the diagnosis for her symptoms was a severe reaction to a
new medication.
Later
that night we snuggled on the couch and watched our 7 o’clock television show
together, just like I had imagined. And
the next morning we went for a walk at the lake, and interlocked our fingers as
we strolled along and enjoyed the moment.
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