Dear Friends and Family,

This is a little long, but I wanted to share part of our new journey with you...

The Power of Your Love

Overwhelmed…

Overwhelmed… that is the word that best summarizes recent days of my new “normal.” Usually, writing is an outlet for me. It’s a place where I frequently find myself reflecting, learning, and creating. Writing has always been a place where I go to process things I don’t understand, things I need to further explore, and things that leave me feeling overwhelmed. I’ve found that if I tackle the issue like a knot, finding a little piece I can grasp tightly enough to begin to work loose, little by little the knot unravels revealing an understanding. Over the past 13 days I’ve been looking for that piece. Many times I’ve thought that I’ve found it only to feel it slip away. Or I have been too afraid to begin unraveling the knot fearing the reality that I would find under the mess of tangled information and emotions that I’ve not held tightly enough to begin the process.

One piece that I’ve found to hold on to is the amazing love pouring our way. And so it is with your love that I’ve found a place to begin to truly process all that has come my way over the last several days.

That Thursday night that I took Joe into the hospital for symptoms of dehydration I first posted on facebook that the doctor had decided to order a CAT scan based on a little comment that I had made when the nurse took him back to get his vitals. That was where the first outpourings of love came in. Some of you that were up through the night and saw my post sent their well-wishes. I thought the doctor was being overly cautious until he returned at 2:30 Friday morning after the scan to tell us that neither he nor anyone else that looked at the scan had ever seen anything like what they were seeing in his brain. He said that it could be nothing, but wanted the neurologist to take a look, and he wouldn’t be in until 5:00 in the morning. This was not good news. You don’t ever want to hear that there’s something strange in your brain.

Knowing that there was nothing to be done until the morning and fearing a long day ahead in the hospital, I went home to take care of the dogs and cat and then to school to prepare for a guest teacher the next day. Unfortunately the next day at school was not a typical day because of Lunch on the Veranda and an unfinished art project that needed to be completed before the lunch. Without sleep, I gathered what I could and wrote plans hoping that they were clear enough for the sub to read and follow. I also emailed a few key people on campus hoping that if my plans didn’t make sense, they could help. In the email, I explained that something “strange” had been detected in Joe’s brain, but I wasn’t “freaking out.” I mentioned that a couple of times trying to convince myself to not freak out.

I returned to the hospital to find that Joe had gone for an MRI while I was gone. Sometime in the morning the neurologist came in and changed our world. He brought up the MRI images on a computer and showed us where a large tumor had taken up residence right in the middle of my husband’s brain. It took a bit for the word “tumor” to register. There was no doubt that a biopsy was necessary to determine what we were dealing with. The only question was how soon he would be ready for such a procedure. After a bit of processing time, discussion, and the arrival of Joe’s father, he decided to go ahead and get the biopsy done as soon as possible. That meant Saturday. Joe was admitted shortly after our decision. (I say shortly meaning in “hospital” time.)

Since his dad was at the hospital for support, my dogs and cat needed care, and Joe needed some items from home for his stay, I went home. I also needed a shower and to make a couple of phone calls to help me process what the neurologist had just told us. I don’t remember the conversations that I had with people that I called, but I do remember the love, and it was the love the washed over me. As refreshing as the shower was, it was the love that fueled and refreshed me allowing me to keep going.

Over the next couple of days during Joe’s stay in the hospital, the nurses took excellent care of him. And you, my friends and family, took amazing care of me. Each person I talked to via phone, text, and facebook seemed to know just what I needed to hear. As helpless as you all felt, your words and love helped more than I can ever tell you. Before I could even ask, both school and my animals were taken care of. Your love not only supported me, but allowed me to focus on Joe. Those that were able to visit Joe in the hospital were uplifting and supportive for both Joe and me.

After the biopsy revealed the presence of cancer, I felt my hear stop. The surgeon told us that the surgery went well, and Joe was recovering. When he said that the third sample from the tumor came back as cancer it was like missile had been launched thousands of miles away, and it took a while to reach my heart. When it did, it definitely stopped. The world around me kept going, but I had stopped, paralyzed, drowning in a sea of emotions that I couldn’t understand. Again, you, my friends and family, were there to pick me up when I couldn’t even crawl. Your love gave me strength to show the brave face to Joe. I couldn’t have done that without your prayers and love.

Late Sunday morning, Joe was released from the hospital. We arrived home, and I had life to figure out. Exhausted and emotionally raw, I didn’t know how that would happen. Then more love poured our way like a tsunami. This tsunami of love brought my sister helping me clean and organize our apartment. Then Laura brought food when I couldn’t even think about eating but knew that both Joe and I needed to. She also brought news that Stephanie had secured for me a wonderful guest teacher for as long as I needed her.   I also talked to Tara (the most wonderful teaching partner ever) who let me know that the details at school, including packing, were taken care of. At that moment, I didn’t know how I would step back into life, but I knew that friends and family were there to help.

Since bringing Joe home, I’ve gotten a little closer to figuring out our “new normal.” With each note, hug, meal, email, conversation, and FB message with friends and family, our path seems a bit brighter.

Thank you for letting me cry when I need to cry, listening to me tell the same story over and over because I can’t remember who I’ve told what to, asking how Joe and I are doing, for bringing me food and reminding me to eat, for distracting me with stories that bring a smile to my face, sharing stories of similar struggles and success, and most of all, for your prayers and love.

I’m sure that I’ve left things out and seem like I’m rambling, but I wanted to thank you as best as I could.