Last night's "rain-set" (a combination of rain and sunset) was spectacular. Here is a photo of the sunset through the gentle rain that had fallen all afternoon ( out my book door). As Pete and I stood on our back steps and watched, I kept thinking that this was a week wrapped in love and prayer. The sun and rain helped me see that. Let me explain.
I have to back up a ways. At the end of June, our son noticed a bump on Pete's neck which we decided should be checked out. then there was a doc visit, an ENT visit, a CT scan, a biopsy and an ultrasound. On August 4, Pete was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer. That whole first week after the diagnosis, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. It took all my strength to not jump to horrible conclusions. And actually the news was good. This is a cancer with a 95% cure rate, even after 20 years. And Pete is one of the healthiest people I know. But I've been down the path that runs through the shadow of death before and I've lost people, including my 11 year old son Hans (in 2000). Just because everything looks good doesn't mean it is. I know this truth in my bones and deep in my heart. So I reached out for support and prayers because no matter how things turn out, life is just better when the community focuses on blessing and supporting each other.
On Wednesday, September 14, (just two days ago) Pete had his surgery at the U of M hospital with the same surgeon who did my parathyroid surgery 5 years ago. This helped give me confidence in the outcome. I totally trusted Dr. Evasovich. Then on the day of surgery, my friend Cheryl, and Pete's sister Kris (and later my children) joined me in the family waiting room. It was a long, long day which included a 3-hour delay before the surgery started. But we weren't wrong about Dr. Evasovich. She did a great job taking out his thyroid and several lymph nodes as well as avoiding all the risks of nerve damage. She even caught an extra problem in one of Pete's parathyroids and removed that.
All the while, I knew people were praying and sending love and holding us tenderly in their hearts. It was exhausting to wait but inside, at the center, I felt a peace that passes all understanding. It was similar to something I had felt before when our son Hans got brain cancer...the mystery of beauty in the midst of pain and chaos, the mystery of how people can hold one another with love.
Yesterday, Thursday, I brought Pete home from the hospital around noon with every hope that he will fully recover. He has a very sore throat but was able to eat and spent most of the afternoon resting. And then in the evening a very sweet thing happened. There was this poetic movement of the sun echoing off of every raindrop as it sank into the horizon. Yellow and orange filled the sky as the rain continued to fall. I couldn't help but think this is what happens when everyone prays...the light shines and echoes off of every teardrop, every deep sigh. Tears wrapped in love turn to gratitude and joy. This is another truth sinking deep into my bones. Light and love change everything, even a week spent fighting cancer.
So I offer my gratitude to God, to all of you, to the mystery of how love can make a rain-set appear on your back steps at the end of day full of struggle. Thank you for wrapping my week in love!
Love, jules ~ 9/16/16
On Wednesday, September 14, (just two days ago) Pete had his surgery at the U of M hospital with the same surgeon who did my parathyroid surgery 5 years ago. This helped give me confidence in the outcome. I totally trusted Dr. Evasovich. Then on the day of surgery, my friend Cheryl, and Pete's sister Kris (and later my children) joined me in the family waiting room. It was a long, long day which included a 3-hour delay before the surgery started. But we weren't wrong about Dr. Evasovich. She did a great job taking out his thyroid and several lymph nodes as well as avoiding all the risks of nerve damage. She even caught an extra problem in one of Pete's parathyroids and removed that.
All the while, I knew people were praying and sending love and holding us tenderly in their hearts. It was exhausting to wait but inside, at the center, I felt a peace that passes all understanding. It was similar to something I had felt before when our son Hans got brain cancer...the mystery of beauty in the midst of pain and chaos, the mystery of how people can hold one another with love.
Yesterday, Thursday, I brought Pete home from the hospital around noon with every hope that he will fully recover. He has a very sore throat but was able to eat and spent most of the afternoon resting. And then in the evening a very sweet thing happened. There was this poetic movement of the sun echoing off of every raindrop as it sank into the horizon. Yellow and orange filled the sky as the rain continued to fall. I couldn't help but think this is what happens when everyone prays...the light shines and echoes off of every teardrop, every deep sigh. Tears wrapped in love turn to gratitude and joy. This is another truth sinking deep into my bones. Light and love change everything, even a week spent fighting cancer.
So I offer my gratitude to God, to all of you, to the mystery of how love can make a rain-set appear on your back steps at the end of day full of struggle. Thank you for wrapping my week in love!
Love, jules ~ 9/16/16
Beautifully written. Thank you for sharing this. I am so glad that the operation went well and that Pete is surrounded by the gift of family and friends who care.
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