The last few weeks has been somewhat of a whirlwind combined with a nightmare. My daughter and I have been concerned about my husband's weight loss and loss of appetite, especially after he stopped trying to lose weight, because his appetite has stayed near zero and his weight loss continued.
Finally, while consulting for low iron, the doctor ordered a colonoscopy, which revealed no internal bleeding. Yet the numbers were still low. So, he ordered a CT scan of his head and of his torso (shoulders to pelvis). The scan was on a Friday. The following Monday, we were called into the doctor's office and told that there was a 7.2 cm mass on the tail of the pancreas, and some suspicious "spots" on his liver and on his right adrenal gland. The next few minutes were a blur of talking about Oncology and about a biopsy they needed from the liver site, as the pancreas could not be reached by the type of biopsy they were planning to do.
Telling our daughter was hard. Losing one (or both) of us was her worst fear. She kind of knew when she hadn't received a text from me ... but it was still hard to see the sadness in her eyes. We wondered when the biopsy would be. "Sooner rather than later," the doctor said.
The biopsy occurred within a week. And we waited, hoping that the results would be benign.
They weren't. Another trip to the doctor to discuss findings, this time with our daughter. Metastatic pancreatic carcinoma, with spread to the liver and that adrenal gland, we heard.
I felt the sudden rush of panic I had felt in the first meeting, but I saw it coming and decided to compartmentalize my own fear for his sake. For their sake.
No amount of preparation or bracing can prepare you for that kind of news. It's like having nightmares of monsters, finally relaxing because someone is there to chase them away, and then realizing that they came for the one who chased them down. There's fear, panic, grief, sadness, anger, and pain all bound up into one entity that I try to push away from me because it's too much all at once.
I am the ultimate catastrophizer, the quintessential awfulizer. I can imagine scenarios upon scenarios if I let myself. I have a vivid imagination, and sometimes, it turns on me. I can't imagine living without him, and yet, now that imagination leads me to that place where I feel forced to do just that.
And yes, I know it's not healthy. As a counsellor, I can identify all the negative patterns of thought. But I also understand that those feelings are absolutely normal for what the situation is.
As a practicing Jesus-Christian, I believe in divine healing, absolutely! And from the moment this first became "a thing," I've been speaking healing, strength and life into my husband's body, telling the cancer to cower, to shrink and to be expelled in Jesus' Name. Dozens, maybe even hundreds are praying for his healing as well. Those who don't believe the way we do are still sending positive thoughts and vibes toward him and toward our little family. 
Free image from Pixabay dot com
And some of those who are able ... have offered help in tangible ways. Mowing the lawn, for example. Neither I nor our daughter can do it because of allergies, so others have offered and we have accepted their offers. The hardest part of that is accepting the help and learning to receive it, because he has always been the one to give to others. So now, we've started telling him that it's HIS turn to benefit from being given to. So when our daughter or I do the dishes or take out the trash or whatever... it is one less thing that HE has to do (see "Every Snowflake Counts", my feature post, visible on your PC.)
And we are grateful for every single day. All of us. Because love - that is the only thing that heals. And it heals more than all the pills, injections, and treatments can do. It's healing us all on the inside, where it counts.
And all I can do - all we can do - is be grateful.
