I almost forgot... (Post #12)
I almost forgot I had cancer. Somehow, in the whole hullaballoo of trying not to die, I forgot that once I’ve recovered from my surgery and ARDS incident, I still have a year of treatment to go. I may have been a bit bummed when I remembered. 😔 I mean, I was supposed to be home by noon! On the same day! Not a 6 day ICU stay later! Shouldn't I get a bonus of some sort? My hubby asked me if he could get me anything this afternoon (he’s working virtually from home this week) and my response was “a time machine to beam me into next week.” His reply was, “I’d prefer next year at this time.” But you know, I think that would be cheating. I’m pretty sure there are lessons that I’m going to learn along the way that I would not want to miss, even if they’re painful. And no, I’m not being Pollyanna or trying to sound all noble, I’ve just learned a few very important things in a rather short amount of time.
Like, buy the mugs. Huh? What mugs? Allow me to explain. When my husband and I travel, which we were doing quite extensively prior to Covid, we usually buy books about the area as souvenirs. That way we aren’t cluttering up the house, (Books are not clutter!) we could read the books and remember the holiday. Our last trip was in April of this year. It was our first adventure since our time in the Florida Keys, way back in February of 2020, other than RVing, of course. We flew directly to Victoria, BC, which is a place near and dear to my heart, as it’s the place most similar to England that can be reached without a passport. Despite having an unusually cold spring, the day we visited the Butchart Gardens was beautiful. We enjoyed dining al fresco and had a genuinely wonderful day. My husband is a generous man; if he could give me the moon, he would. I, on the other hand, tend to be a bit better at remembering that though we have 40 acres, our house is small. However, that day hubby caught me eyeing some beautiful mugs in the gift shop and together with a persuasive saleswoman, managed to convince me to buy two. I’m so glad they did. The pleasure those two mugs have brought me is definitely more than I could have imagined. I drink from one each morning, and smile as I remember that beautiful day. So, don’t be afraid to buy the mugs. 😊
Although I’ve posted about the gory details of my incident, (aka. "The Great Crumpage") I’ve been a bit reluctant to relay any more details. Mostly because I don’t remember much more, but also because I’m unsure how much of what I “remember” is truly a memory, and how much is my very creative imagination. You see, a couple things stick out for me. Even as I was crumping the thought flitted through my head, “I’m so glad I’ve memorized scripture. This is such a comfort!” Who. Does. That. I mean, I’m pretty sure I just heard Pollyanna snort in disbelief! However, I think this is an actual memory, as I can recall details such as what people were wearing, etc.. I can’t, unfortunately, remember which Bible verse I found so comforting, but I do remember a feeling of peace, even as I drifted away.
There is one verse that ran on loop through my brain for what feels like days, and in true Heather fashion, it is in the form of a song. When my children were little, I would often play the Steve Green “Hide ‘em In Your Heart” CDs when we drove. And we drove a lot. The song “I Will Lie Down and Sleep in Peace,” based on Psalm 4:8 was a balm to my anxious spirit and I can’t imagine how much more I would have physically rattled whatever bed/stretcher I was lying on, had I not had that song in my head.
"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O LORD,
make me dwell in safety." Psalm 4:8
There’s another song that had become dear to me, just prior to my surgery: “I Will Carry You,” by Rascal Flatts. It’s based on various Bible verses that extol God’s promises. The following may sound rather strange, given that I had 1:1 nursing and Ken and Marigan were often at my side, but ICU is incredibly lonely. I felt bewildered, in limbo, and somehow just thoroughly disoriented. (I’m sure the drugs didn’t help. 🥴) But then this song would replace the other one in my mind and I would get the most incredible feeling. I can only explain it as though someone had wrapped me in a soft, thick, woolen blanket, and lifted me up into their arms, like a swaddled infant. Now, it’s been a wee while since I was carried like a baby, but that’s the only way I can describe it. I would suddenly feel warmer, calmer, and no longer lonely, and I’d know that someone was praying to Abba Father for me. So thank you for that. You’ll never know how much influence you had over my recovery.
So now that you think I might just be bonkers… let me confirm that for you. At some point during my "Crumpage,” I had a rather unique experience. I’m not sure if it was a drug-induced dream, something my brain made up randomly, or whether it was from God. As the scene opened, I was walking along a darkened hallway, when to my right appeared an antechamber with a room a bit farther down. Because curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back, I poked my head around the corner to see what lay that way. What I saw was a scene from Bible times, though I was only able to catch a partial glimpse. People were sitting on a stone floor, listening to Jesus preach and the song “Sitting at the Feet of Jesus” could be heard, almost like a soundtrack, which is rather funny, since although I love the lyrics, I’ve never liked the melody. I believe the setting may have been the house of Lazarus, as I caught a glimpse of the edge of a woman’s cloak and the thought that popped into my mind was, “Oh, look, there’s Mary. (Sister of Lazarus) I should go greet her.” But even as that thought popped into my mind, a Presence guided me away from the scene, almost like a parent guiding a child away from the candy aisle, and I heard the words "Not yet." I had the overwhelming feeling that the time was not right for me to go this way, and so I continued down the darkened hallway. Was that a glimpse of heaven? I have no idea; I've never been there.😇 When I told my daughter, her comment was, “So some people go to heaven, but you go back to Bible times?” Good point. Whatever it was, the feeling of being guided onto the “right track” was both overwhelming and incredibly comforting. So maybe that was a bit closer to the pearly gates than I’d prefer to find myself at this time (not that I saw any gates) but for me, it underscored the importance of being ready to die at any time. Oh, and I blame Pastor Leasure; that was one incredible sermon on Mary and Martha! Obviously. 😁
So what does life feel like, when you have come so close to losing it? The first night I was home, I listened to the birds sing and thought of how often I’d taken simple pleasures for granted. Phrases such as “over my dead body” and the fact that I called the fancy supper I made the night before my surgery “The Last Supper” are no longer all that funny. 😏 (Well, I find them hilarious, others less so...) Am I now a saint? Nope. Yelled at one of my kids this afternoon, actually. (No worries, it was richly deserved.) But I am definitely more cognizant of the fleetingness of life, of how things on this earth should be held with a rather loose grip, and anything you can take to heaven held with the grasp of a toddler mama in a busy parking lot. I thought I was “a crier” before, well, now I have to watch for dehydration risk! I mean, peonies are just so, so beautiful, right? Well, when you realize how close you came to never seeing an actual blossom on your newest plant, then yes, yes, they certainly are. I’ve always said that I live a wonderful life, and yes, I remember that I have cancer now, but I still believe this to be true. I’m just glad I have the chance to appreciate it a bit longer.
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