Forsaken
While there are stages of time, there are also miracles in the world, but most of them get missed because we are too busy or too desensitized to them. I’m starting to see them more this week as I look back. I can spot them with regularity, sprinkling my path with drops of miracle, like blood, that will lead to healing and wholeness. But in the ER, like any hospital, it starts with forms and blood tests and the never-ending interrogation of questions.
“Name?”
“Birthdate?”
“Why are you here?”
It starts with the first nurse you see and then continues with each new nurse and doctor.
“Name?”
“Birthdate?”
“What’s been going on?”
Again and again.
Yes, there are periods of time. Epochs when things change from what they’ve been. But in between these different ages, there are the few moments in between when time stops. When hearts stop. When meaning seems to stop.
The doctor, Dr. Jeff, walks in and sits down. "It’s cancer. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. It’s not part of the job that I enjoy."
"What?" I manage to sputter out. I look at Sara because I hope this is a bad joke that ER doctors like to tell and that he’ll tell us the punch line in a minute as he laughs with us at our funny faces that were captured by hidden cameras like they have on roller coasters.
I realize there is no easy way top break this kind of news. It’s better to just say it without any embellishment or corny additions. Just say it. So you sit there and all the air has suddenly left you lungs. You can’t breath and you don’t know what ot say. All I want to do is hold Sara’s hand. I reach out for her and we hold onto each other for dear life. For our dear life. The only one we have and one I happen to love.
"But, he’s a young man. He just turned 30." Sara blurts out. It doesn’t seem fair. I did just turn 30 and younger friends asked what it was like.
"Is it a big deal," they ask. "Were you really upset and did you feel like life had passed you by?"
"No" I say.
It wasn’t a big deal. I don’t feel any different and I think I’ve plenty of time to accomplish other things in my life.
Well that was just plain old 30. Let me tell you. 30 and 4 months just plain sucks. Not only does your body start hurting in new places and you can’t sleep at night and eat all the spicy things you used to scarf down, but now you get cancer! It’s amazing what a few months can do, eh? At 30, I was a stud. At 30 and 4 months my body started falling apart.
"But, he’s really young. He just turned 30."
"Oh, age doesn’t matter," The sensitive ER doctor says, "we’ve got a little 9 year old girl in here and she’s terminal."
Thank you sensitive ER doctor man for putting all my wife’s fears at rest!
"How bad is it?" I ask.
"Oh, it’s extensive in the abdominal area," he says. It’s a that moment I envision my abdomen form the chart I vaguely remember in biology with the stomach, intestines, bladder, pancreas all full of holes like swiss cheese because the cancer has eaten through it…OR what USED to be stomach, bladder, intestines and pancreas all dissolved into a grey colored gelatinous mass that the surgeon looks at and shakes his head.
"Man, that’s extensive. Just sew him back up and send him home with morphine to enjoy his last few months."
It’s those kinds of thoughts that make no sense that all shoot through your mind at the same time and it all seems so real even though it makes absolutely no sense.
I would like to say that in this situation, I had something profound to say….that my faith was be so strong and that I will made the best of it and held my wife as she broke down. That I suddenly had a great sense of the Lord’s peace and a light from heaven broke through to shine around my head. But I didn’t. the Doctor tells us he’s sorry again and that he doesn’t enjoy this part of his job and that they’re going to check me into the hospital and then he leaves. I hold Sara’s hand and cry.
There would be many times after that I would feel alone, but this was the first time I can remember feeling forsaken. I know it doesn’t compare, but in the midst of that physical and emotional pain as I held my wife’s hand and watched our dreams die, I had an inkling of what it feels like to cry out,
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
How was this possible? How did God allow this now or ever? What had we done or not done? How could life be suddenly so far from us? There are dark moments of the soul. Season when we lose our way and cry out, but this felt more like the dunk take of the darkness of the soul with no chance to catch our breathes. Just a moment and then…darkness…forsaken.
Created over 4 years ago
