Waiting

It's a little after nine in the evening here. It was warm today, almost 90 degrees. More than that though, it was humid. Being outdoors felt like I was walking through a warm, shallow bath all day.

Right now I'm just waiting. My mom went to get the results of her radioactive scan from Tuesday at 4 p.m. her time. It's now past 7 p.m. her time and I haven't heard anything. My lovely cousin Kathie called to see if I knew anything. Several people have e-mailed with good wishes and sympathy. We're all just waiting.

I guess I wonder what my mom is doing right now. My dad is with her, of course. But are they driving around looking at the lovely summer landscape of southeast Idaho as the sun begins to set and the shadows get long? Did they go out to eat and they're sitting in the dark, murky depths of a Sizzler talking over steaks and a baked potatoes? Did they just go home to rest and be still for a bit? I don't know.

My mom has told me several times that she has the distinct feeling that the cancer has spread beyond what the doctors have detected thus far. She said, "I wasn't surprised when they diagnosed me and I wasn't surprised when they said it might have spread. I won't be surprised to find out that it's pretty far along."

I talked to her earlier today and she sounded tense and burdened. She is very brave, I think, and faithful but I think all the pressure of possibility was squeezing her today.

It's hard to describe how my dad sounds right now. He's a good man and a faithful man but he is also a problem solver. He is a fixer and, in all my life, I can't really think of any problem, any damage that he hasn't been able to repair or improve. I suppose it's a male thing in general to be task-oriented and to want to fix things - whether it's a squeaky hinge or a crying wife -- we're fixers and we want to make things better ASAP. The difference between my dad and most guys, however, is that he has the knowledge, tools, and determination to actually repair stuff. All my manly determination adds up to driving our malfunctioning car to Livonia Auto with a prayer in my heart that whatever is wrong won't cost too much. My dad actually fixes things and is used to being able to do so.

So then you can imagine the confusion and frustration of being presented with a problem that is potentially unfixable. It's one thing to have a cruddy second-hand car that you can't seem to get to run exactly right and it's entirely another to face the possibility of your spouse being sick and not being able to get well.

Ecch. I feel maudlin. I hate maudlin. Maudlin is like grief's weak, lame cousin. There's nothing cool about it.

Here's something that made me laugh. I'm planning on getting one of these for my dad in another decade or so:

toothpastefordinner.com