A Time of War Part 2- To Every Thing a Season Chpt. 13

Time-it was something that we wanted more of, yet it was something that we abhorred. We knew our time with Sandra was short, yet more time only meant more suffering. If we could only stop the progression of the cancer just enough to keep her alive...just long enough to see Stephanie's baby....If...If....If....


Our lives were riddled with problems. In the midst of Sandra's illness and surgery to correct the colon blockage, Kevin and I had a huge obstacle to overcome. We suddenly found ourselves without a vehicle.


It was a Monday, January 30, 2006. We had been in Camden the weekend before, and I was doing my Monday run to the bank. The children and I loaded up in the minivan, went to the bank, and headed to the interstate to grab some lunch. We ordered at McDonald's and headed back to our humble little abode, also known as, the Church basement.


It was raining pretty steady, and just as I was about to turn into the Church parking lot, I noticed a red truck sitting in front of the Church. This concerned me just like it would concern anyone else that came home to a strange vehicle in their driveway. I was so caught up in trying to figure out who was in the red truck, I began turning into the Church parking lot without noticing that a car was coming. I was hit nearly head on. I saw the car just moments before impact, but it was too late.


Fortunately, we were unharmed, but the van was totaled. I mean, smashed to pieces. If there were any humor to the story, it would have been the fact that passengers of the vehicle I hit were two lawyers. They were very kind and helpful, and most of all, they didn't sue me for failing to yield the right of way.


But the whole ordeal left us in a quandary. We had to borrow a vehicle to visit my dying mother in law, at least until the insurance and the gap coverage paid off the van. Things weren't impossible, they were just more difficult. We especially didn't want to make Sandra feel like we were being put in a bad spot by coming to visit her every week. The last thing we wanted was to have her feeling guilty about us being there. And a borrowed vehicle would definitely make her feel that way.


The month of January was a whirlwind of events for Sandra. Her stay in the hospital was extended, with friends and family members constantly coming by to see Sandra. There was an overwhelming amount of people visiting her, but at times, it was just too much. It seemed that all of the "friends" thought they were her best friends, therefore trying to "make" Sandra eat just for them. It was frustrating to watch. There were times I just wanted to ask everyone to leave, but I was just a daughter in law-I had no right to do that.


It seems like Sandra's suffering would never end. Once the blockage was addressed, another issue cropped up. This time, we were all bracing ourselves. During all the testing to find her blockage, the doctor's had discovered a blood clot in Sandra's lung. It was sure to be fatal, with little or no warning. Up to this point, the doctors had not told Sandra or us how long she had to live. All we knew was that her cancer was "aggressive." But the news of the blood clot was something that could not be hidden.


One afternoon a couple of days after the blockage surgery, Dr. McElveen (and associate of Dr. Babcock) met us in the hallway outside of Sandra's hospital room wearing the gravest expression on his face. Jackie, Kevin, and I had already decided that we weren't' going to settle for vague answers: we needed to know how long Sandra had.


Dr. McElveen said, "I'm so sorry! It's terribly bad. I'm afraid it's worse than any of us can imagine."


"How long does she have? We need to know," Kevin said in a weak, trembling voice.


"It's hard to say. It's incurable-nothing we can do but make her comfortable."


"We need to know, and we WANT to know," I said, trying to be brave for my husband.


Jackie spoke up and said, "Doc, these are her children. Be straight with us for their sake. How long? It can't be very long, but how long?"


Dr. McElveen looked down and swallowed. "Anywhere from 3 weeks to three months. Six months at the longest, but I don't expect it to be that long. She is very sick. I'm so sorry." Upon those words, he shook our hands and patted our shoulders. I could sense the pity in his eyes, along with the look of helplessness.


As the doctor left us standing in the hallway outside Sandra's room, Kevin turned away and began to sob like a child. His face....oh his face looked just like a tender child who had lost his way in a department store, and his eyes cried deeper than the tears that steamed down his cheeks. It's as if his eyes were saying, "Where's my mommy? Where's my mommy? I need my mommy!" The look was not grief alone; it was pain. All the years of the motherly love and comfort that he had so enjoyed would soon be coming to an end.


One by one, Jackie, Kevin, and I pulled ourselves together so we could go back into Sandra's room. Dr. McElveen had told Sandra about the blood clot in her lung. Sandra's countenance was one of resignation. She informed us that she would like to talk to the children the next day. Stephanie, Kevin, and Jackie had some things they needed to say to Sandra, and she had some things she needed to say to them.