Whenever the word cancer is finally said out loud, everything stands still for just a moment. Then there's a jerk of the soul. Time to pay attention to what the doctor is saying. Set aside the emotion, the fears, the soul-wrenching terror of losing a loved one.
Focus on the words. Lymphoma. Quality of Life. Treatable. There's hope. Really there is. What does that all really mean? Does Mother have to go through that pain all over again, but this time for herself and her own traitorous body? Treatable but not curable. Are we anticipating years, months or weeks?
Questions run through the mind. They rest for a nano second and then flutter away. Sometimes they race and swirl around faster and faster. Dizziness. Grab on to the chair arm to stabilize and find composure. And then when the inevitable question about questions comes, the mind is blank. Paralysis sets in. The only words that come out are, "I don't know." I have to think. Absorb.
My very being is screaming "NO!" While I compose myself for the tasks and conversations ahead, my heart underneath breaks. My soul grieves and cries. "No fair. This is not what I wanted for my mother. No way. No how."
Lord Jesus, be with us in our hour of need. Strengthen us to drink from this bitter cup. Amen.
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