August 27th brought about A huge refining moment and a miracle for Mark and our family. It was a beautiful manifestation of the Lord's hand in our lives.
Elder Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day saints once said of Miracles in a fireside given in May of 2000;
"A miracle has been defined as “a beneficial event brought about through divine power that mortals do not understand and of themselves cannot duplicate.”
We were supposed to be at the hospital at 6 am. Tuesday night the hospital called to let us know that we didn't have to be there until 9 am. We showed up at 9 and then sat in the waiting room until 10:30. We complained, and were finally brought back to the surgery prep rooms where Mark changed into that sexy hospital gown that he would get to wear for the next week, and then a nurse came in and shaved the right side of his chest and side in preparation for surgery. Then, we waited. We waited, and waited, and waited...and waited...and around noon a nurse finally came in to let us know that surgery had been pushed back and she wasn't even sure when that would be.
The waiting was terrible! I would start crying as I tried to picture what our new life would look like. I would think about the many things we wouldn't get to do like riding bikes as a family along the tree lined streets, or swimming laps at the gym, hiking to the falls above Sundance ski resort, or skiing down the slopes with the cold wind hitting our faces. It would make me so emotional to think of how drastically everything would change. Then, I would pull it together, dry my tears, and we would start talking again. Mark and I would comment on how blessed we were and how glad we were that this wasn't death we were facing. We would focus on our many blessings that had come about through out this process like extremely skilled doctors, or having our daughter here to help us with the family, or even time off from work to bond together before the hardship hit. However, it wouldn't take long to once again go back to the way life was going to change and then Mark would get choked up and fight back the tears forming in his eyes. This cycle of gratitude for what we had and grief for the changes that would happen went on and on.
Hours went by and I was so emotionally drained that at one point I laid down on the hospital bed next to Mark and ultimately fell asleep. This is how the nurse found us around 2pm. We always cuddle like this, and cuddling was one thing that was going to change for awhile as Mark healed. I think Mark might have dozed but I'm not entirely sure since this is a picture of me sleeping and him totally awake. ;o) I know it's kind of weird but I couldn't stay awake. My emotions were so spent that I couldn't physically cope any longer.
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I watched him wheel down the hallway and started to weep. Again. I walked into the waiting room and looked around at all the families that were there supporting each other and felt very alone. People had offered to come to the hospital and I felt awkward about accepting that help, but when I said good-bye to Mark I realized that I felt a lot more scared now that I wasn't by his side, and I had nobody to support me. Moments of despair and moments of faith were interwoven through my brain. Then, as I chose to focus on something other than my own pain and suffering, wailing and sobbing pierced my self imposed pity party. A woman was behind a closed door off of the surgery waiting room. I never saw her exit the room, only heard her sob from time to time. I felt a little ashamed that I was struggling so much when there were people out there that were suffering so much more than I.
At this point I texted all of our friends and family to let them know Mark's status and called my father-in-law to keep him posted. He was so grateful for the call and offered to come up to the hospital and wait with me. I immediately accepted the emotional support.
My most embarrassing moment happened when I went down to the Lobby to get John. I had asked the volunteer at the desk in the waiting room for directions and she gave me a slip of paper that led me all the way down. Problem. The slip of paper did not say where I had come from, so after I met up with Mark's dad, I thought I would just follow the directions back to the waiting room, however, I didn't know what floor I had started on. Mark's dad happens to be a pilot and so his sense of direction is meticulous. I on the other hand was emotionally and physically drained. I took us to what I thought was the right floor and then couldn't find the waiting room. I asked a nurse at one of the stations for help and got inaccurate information about where I needed to be. So long story short, we went on a little goose chase around the hospital before we found our way back to the correct waiting room. I don't think he was judging by any means, I was just embarrassed because I should have know where I was. It certainly explained my state of mind though.
I was a little fearful that waiting with my father-in-law would be awkward. I wasn't sure what we would talk about, and quite frankly, I didn't feel like talking. He was so kind though. He brought a book and read. I opened a book and looked like I was reading but my thoughts were a million miles away from the words on the page. Every now and then I would say something to John, or he would say something to me, but mostly we sat next to each other in silent anticipation of word on how Mark was doing. Then I had a friend from my ward, who works at the hospital, stop by to see how I was doing and share her dinner with me. I was so humbled that through my stubborn "I can deal and handle things myself" attitude, the Lord had mercy on me and had sent people to be a support. How did He know that I would want people with me when I didn't even know it myself? It was another testament to me that He knows me and takes care of me. As the three of us sat there and casually chatted that the doctor came into the room smiling.
I looked up at him surprised that he was already in front of me. It wasn't even 9 yet, Mark had only started the actual surgical process around 7pm., and the surgery was slated to go for closer to 4 hours. The doctor had the most miraculous news, Mark had not lost his lung. Not only that, but the growth had been biopsied one last time before removal and it was now being classified as Lymphoma. That might have been scary news except that the doctor said it was completely encapsulated, and he felt confident that he had been able to remove the whole mass. I was stunned, started to tear up, and listened in awed silence as he gave me the rest of the details. My husband would be ok, our lives would continue as normal, and the grief that we had been experiencing was no longer applicable. I looked at Mark's Dad, who is not an emotional man, and saw him choking back tears. This was a miracle and I couldn't even process it fully. I couldn't wait to tell Mark, and the next 8 hours until he was awake enough to comprehend what I was saying just dragged by!
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