My Piece is Done
When I last saw my oncologist he had a plan. I was to get an MRI. He was to talk with a radiologist. We were to meet again in three weeks. My sense was that he thought it would take me a few weeks to get the MRI. Nancy is a pretty good scheduler of my appointments. We left the oncologists on Friday and I was set to have the MRI on Monday. Monday afternoon came and I got my MRI as instructed.
A few days after my MRI I started to get impatient. My “work” was done. If Dr. Saroha was ready to meet and discuss the future I saw no reason to wait. I called the office and told the nurse, “If Dr. Saoha is ready I am all set to meet sooner than three weeks.” The next day scheduling called to change my appointment. “Dr. Saroha would like to meet with you to review your MRI and talk treatment options.”
We moved my appointment to this Wednesday afternoon. There is no use waiting.
I still feel good. My energy level is okay. I get tired but nothing like when I was first diagnosed. This appointment will be interesting.
As we have traveled this journey Nancy has taken opportunities to share her piece of the experience. Every now and then I will get an email from her with the subject line “something I wrote”. I have to be in the right frame of mind to read it. I know it will capture the heart of this journey in vivid and real ways. Her latest offering is no different. I share it with you here.
Awake at 3 a.m., mind full of dread as we enter back into the valley of the shadow of death
My fear is real as I lay still and try not to share my emotion
Instead, without a sound, l cry silent tears.
Earlier in the day, as the doctor walked in with a frown and began to describe the next wave
I began to envision what was coming down the path
Trying to be calm, inside I shed silent tears.
Sharing information with family and friends is a delicate balance of relaying facts while also
Trying to portray a feeling of hope, even if unsure
So I try to sound cheerful and hide the silent tears.
During church, as life goes on normally around me and I try to converse and be myself,
I want to shout out that nothing is OK right now
But instead, I smile past my silent tears.
On the outside I can work and take care of my family and shop and talk and smile
But my mind strays even as I try to keep my focus
Off our troubles to avoid the silent tears.
Time will heal and a diagnosis may change. My tears will dry up and my life may go on.
But as I look around me, I hope I start to be aware
Of who else is experiencing silent tears.
© Nancy Nicewonger; January 14, 2018
Shedding tears aside you and shuddering along with you at the thoughts of other “Waiting Room” experiences. Agreeing that others need helpers along their way. Sending gentle, caring, forever hugs, Joan
Wow. Praying for you and Nancy.
Raymond Albertson says
May others share in your in your loving kindness.
Sue Chesbro says
Beautifully written Nancy, I am familiar with the silent tears, as have many who have gone before us and those who walk beside us now. The Lord hears our frailties, fears and humble prayers through those tears and each one is counted! My heartfelt prayer is that you both experience the Lord’s loving arms around you and the peace that passes all understanding in each and every moment. He truly is our strength.. God bless you both
Marnie Gibson says
It was my husband going through diagnosis and tests and doc meetings with results but still many of these feelings were mine… life going on around me and wanting to shout things aren’t ok but always portraying hope to my husband and others! Lots of silent tears, especially at night when all alone. Dr Saroha was amazing. He was the best listener of any Doctor I have ever known! And God was with us every step! God bless you both!