A Time to Weep...To Every Thing a Season chpt. 7

I believe it was a Sunday afternoon. My cellphone rang, and I could see on the called ID that the caller was from Camden, S.C. I was puzzled because I did not recognize the number, and it certainly wasn't any of our family members. I had a dreaded fear that it was the hospital.

To my surprise, it was one of Sandra's close friends, Linda. I was stunned to hear her voice, and it immediately concerned me why she would be calling. She was one of Sandra's best friends and the host of Stephanie's outdoor wedding. After the hellos, I could tell she was very concerned.

"Rita, I don't know if you and Kevin know this, but Sandra has an appointment on Wednesday. It would be so good if you both went with her, so that you could ask questions. Jackie is so exhausted, and you know, he's not very good at asking questions. I just think you all would understand more about what might be going on with Sandra if you went to the appointment with her."

Linda was doing this behind Sandra and Jackie's back. Linda, full of charm and southern drawl, had a way of appealing to a person. I always enjoyed her company, and it was very comforting to talk to her about Sandra's unusual problems.

Kevin sat across from me at his office desk while I talked to Linda. I relayed all that she said, and we told her that we would arrive in Camden on Tuesday afternoon to take Sandra to the doctor. Typically, Kevin doesn't like to miss services at our Church unless he is preaching somewhere else. With Sandra being so ill, he wanted to do as much as he could to be there for her.

So, the plans were to leave Tuesday afternoon. Kevin took the remainder of the week off at work, and I loaded up the kids school books, hoping that I would be able to get some work done with them. All the while, I had an unsettled feeling in my heart. Maybe deep down inside I knew the appointment was going to be bad news, but for some reason, I kept thinking this was going to be a routine post-surgery follow up visit. But when we arrived at Sandra's, I learned that her appointment was with an oncologist.

An oncologist....was it because they did a mammogram and just had to send her to the most logical place? Or was there already suspicion in the minds of the doctors? Jackie was worried to death, and Sandra was defeated.

When we arrived and saw her for the first time since her second back surgery, we were heart broken at how pitiful she looked. She sat in a wheelchair with her head hung low. She was happy to see us but remained eerily silent. The most talking she did was to the grandchildren, who always bring an infectious joy to grandparents.

So much had changed in her home. Her house always resembled something out of a Southern Living Magazine. She had extravagant taste in home furnishings and lavished every room with her personal touch of flair, paying attention to even the tiniest detail. No matter how often we visited, there was always something new in her home. This time, that something new was a hospital bed in the living room.

I nearly gasped. For me, hospital beds in a home scream death. It signifies an attempt at comfort when there is little to be found. Not only was there a hospital bed, but there was also a bed side potty. One of her sofa tables was cleared of it's beautiful decorations and replaced with at least a dozen medications, hand sanitizer, and toilet paper. I just couldn't believe what I was looking at.

I held back my initial reaction, but deep inside it was all becoming clear. Sandra was very sick. She and Jackie had held back from us; they didn't want us to worry. But it was all very clear to me.

We told Sandra that I would be going to the doctor appointment with her. She looked up from the floor and said, "Really? Ok. That'll be good." We had planned for Kevin to stay with the children, but in light of all we were seeing, Kevin decided that both of us needed to go. Since my sister lives in Camden, she offered to watch the kids.

Kevin was worried, but much like his mother, he said very little. We managed to get through supper, but while we were tidying up the kitchen, Jackie came to us. He was trembling and teary eyed.

"Y'all....I don't know how to thank you...I could not handle tomorrow by myself...uh....I am so thankful that you two came to help us out with the appointment."

In between his words, he kept coughing and clearing his throat. He so desperately needed to go to Duke. He was on oxygen 24/7, and he had trouble telling us what he had to say. Partly because of tears. Partly because he was gasping for breath.

A little while later, Jackie took me aside. He said, "Sandra told me this morning, 'Jackie, you know I'm not going to make it.' She thinks she has bone cancer. Rita, it may be worse than that."

Later that evening, after we had put the kids to bed, Kevin and I sat in Sandra and Jackie's bedroom talking. As we were getting ready for bed, my husband picked up his Bible and began reading it. I crawled into bed beside him. My heart was about to burst. I had been wanting to cry all afternoon, but I dared not do it front of Sandra.

"Kevin...I'm worried." I started weeping. He reached over and put his arm around me, saying, "It's going to be alright."

"No, Kevin. She is in bad shape. Do you understand where we are taking her tomorrow? Do you understand that it's an oncologist she is seeing tomorrow? She has cancer...it has to be..."

Kevin soothed my crying as best he could, but the darkness of the night just made the reality of what was going on that much worse. I cried long into the night. Long after Kevin fell asleep. Long after Sandra dozed off in her hospital bed. All that could be heard was the sound of Jackie's oxygen machine and the rhythmic burst of air being sent through his oxygen tube.

All was dark. Around me. Inside me. I begged God to please let Sandra be alright.

Up to this point, I had never lost anyone so close to me. My grandparents had died, but at their age, it was bound to happen. Sandra was only 57. And she was the mother-in-law people hope for. She had always respected our home and never over stepped her boundaries. When she did insert her opinion, it always seemed appropriate in timing and manner.

She always bought the children's Easter clothes, and many times gave us money to help us along. When she bought new furniture, we usually ended up with her old. For us, it was always nicer than what we had. She always made me feel like her daughter, not her daughter in law. The only person I was closer to was my own mother.

The minutes and hours ticked by slowly that night. I barely slept at all. It was fine with me though. I didn't want to go to the appointment. I didn't want to hear what I already knew to be true.