prayers

Mr. K died quietly last night in his sleep. he was supposed to go home to hospice today. arrangements were made. family was coming in to town. his wife had gotten to a place where she was "ready".

"I prayed, damnit!", she cried angrily. "I prayed we'd have one more week together. after everything we've been through, was that too much to ask?!" she is deeply wounded by what she sees as the final insult from an unforgiving enemy. i hug her and tell her i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.

and i am. but he had very few platelets and esophageal varices. if that means nothing to you, let me just say that his life could have ended with blood. a lot of it. blood the likes of which his family can't imagine and would not soon forget. instead his heart stopped while he slept. he shed no tears and not a drop of blood.

it was either Jesus or Garth Brooks, i can't remember which, who said that sometimes God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. i can't help but think they were all given a gift.

cancer is a beast. all too often one finds themselves praying for the lesser of two evils for their loved ones with no good choices left to hope for.

i suspect she is one of those who may call me in 3 or 6 months wanting to talk...looking for a few answers or a new perspective. if she opens that door, i'll tell her what i think.

for now, i'm not about to interrupt her raw state of grief with my perceived silver lining.
for now i'll just say i'm so sorry.

mother lode

you eat
you move through your day minding your own business and are overcome by a craving. not a "wouldn't it be nice if i could have..." - no, this is some fight or flight primal "i need an avocado or i will DIE". mr. oncRN is sympathetic to these internal death threats i get. he'll often call when he leaves work to see if there is anything i NEED.

you watch
the metamorphosis of your own body. you're aware that all manner of flesh is being laid down. i understand the need for the weight gain. the belly? of course. the hips and breasts? sure. the backs of my arms? not so much. seems totally unnecessary to me.

you worry
what if it won't eat?
what it it won't sleep?
what if it's a republican?

you lie awake
in part because the little spleen kicker is awake too.
in part because you ate pad thai. and then m&m's.
in part because your mind races with equal parts awe, excitement, and fear

you love
the kicks
the privilege
the percentage of lycra in your clothes
your husband's hand on your belly when you fall asleep

you field questions
when are you due?
do you know what it is?
why don't you want to find out?
what are you going to do about work?
was this planned?

thanksgiving. no. we like surprises. i don't know. who cares.

you pray
for the patient you are about to meet with who had to lose her pregnancy so that she could get chemo and live. it pains me to know that my presence will pain her. she congratulates me. we wordlessly acknowledge the truth that good fortune is not distributed equitably.

you prepare
i'm no expert but this is my third, so i know a couple of things. i know that despite what the baby stores the size of airports will have you believe, you don't need much. from what i recall you need breasts, love, and patience for the first few months. i have those.
and diapers. i'll get those.