We thought all of Doug’s treatments were starting this week but…no, waiting until next week. Little miracles keep happening along the way: Doug went to school with one of the chemotherapy nurses. Doug had another visit with the oncologist who said the tumor is “really small”. (more good news) I will be attempting to completely pray the cancer away over the weekend. I really believe all the prayers from everyone have been working miracles.
Unfortunately, someone has coughed on me all week at work and I finally caught what she had! I hate to be around Doug as his immune system will be reduced by all these treatments. He says not to worry about it.
Tomorrow is Doug’s first trip the oncologist. I think he is more scared than he has expressed. He started crying last night, just out of the blue, while we were eating dinner. As a hospital/doctor expert myself, having been deathly ill three times, I can tell him a little bit about what to expect; but, I’ve never been through exactly what he has and will be with this modern enemy of human health called cancer. Right now, we are trading different ideas to cope; we can’t live our lives as if death were imminent. Let’s just make it until bedtime tonight and start all over again tomorrow.
As William Shakespeare said:
“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,”
And as WE once said:
So let us pretend to live without fear; for what tomorrow will
Bring we can do little for but sing, as a songbird would, at the rising Sun then blink to try to clear the blur which comes from a night of Songbird’s dreams; a dark and darker night which seems more real Than the nest on which he spills the mourning raindrops of a
Deep night’s breath then quivers; or, are those sounds the
Dying shivers which one hears overnight when awakened by a Nightmare’s gasp at life?
The songbird’s nightmare is a sash which overhangs the joy
And, unlike a spoiled child who has lost his favorite toy,
He see’s the rising sun and perches up to sing
For he has lived another way and despite the dark
Is inspired by a golden light burning, as it were:
A day, a day, a day.
Please send Doug your prayers at 3pm central time tomorrow Nov. 12th? (13th) forgive me for not thinking straight.
Mr D. learned yesterday he may not have to have an H-Bomb used on him but perhaps a simple, plain old A-Bomb (like the one Kim Jong Un started with) will work to kill off what his Oncologist’s nurse told him is a “very treatable” (can we say that again “very treatable”?) type of cancer. Now, this is the only real information we have received regarding Mr. D’s malady since the start of this process. One hates to admit it, but as much as we pay for healthcare in this country, there are some bizarre, deranged and maligned doctors practicing on people at this very moment. Don’t let yourself be a victim!
Before we veer off into the weird doctor stuff…we must clarify that Mr. D learned three very important things yesterday:
1. The type of cancer he has is “very treatable”
2. The type of cancer he has rarely metastasizes (spreads to other parts of the body)
3. The type of cancer he has begins with the letter ‘S’. Mr. D needs to learn how to start taking notes doesn’t he?
Upon hearing this news over the phone–an emotional explosion took place, on the writer’s part, much like the one pictured above. One of his coworkers said: “Is he crying? What’s wrong with him?” This is because it didn’t really sound like a cry but more of an electromagnetic pulse of pure joy which literally seemed to shake the room in waves; everyone actually felt it (Whales in the ocean actually heard it).
This story is far from over but it has taken a turn towards good and we have absolutely no doubt that the light-energy of love and prayer from our friends and family have planted a seed of faith and goodness which will grown into a tree of new life in time–new life for Mr. D.
I’ll leave the tales of strange doctors for later, for hopefully, they have been left behind.