I was supposed to be in my bed last night, snuggled up close to my husband after two weeks away. Instead, I was sitting awkwardly in a hospital recliner, pressed as close to his hospital bed as I could get. My husband has a brain tumor. A brain tumor. A tumor.
No matter how many times I say it out loud or in my head, it isn’t any more real. It isn’t any more okay. It isn’t any more my life. It’s the life of that other person I’m watching go through the motions. It can’t possibly be me. Not my husband. Not my children. But it is. It is. It is.
I’ve talked to doctors and nurses for what seems like forever. I brought him to the ER because I thought he was severely dehydrated after a bout with a rough stomach bug.
A couple of hours later and I was being cupped around the shoulders by a gentle natured doctor being told words that I thought were some sort of hideous mistake.
“I’m so sorry. Your husband has brain cancer. I’m so sorry. So sorry…”
I believe my exact eloquent words were, “What?”
I’m learning medical jargon pretty quickly here, and have come to understand that all tumors of the brain are considered “cancer” but they vary in prognosis from benign to malignant. We have no clear answers yet, but it’s a process and we’re walking as steadily as we can through it.
I’m also learning with ever more clarity this one hugely important thing: God is still on His throne.
You guys, my husband has a massive, raging brain tumor. We’re still in shock. Our kids don’t even know that their daddy is this sick yet. We’re surrounded by machines and weird noises. We don’t know what’s to come. But can I just tell you…God has not turned away from us. He has not forsaken us in this. He has a plan and a purpose in this that we cannot even begin to comprehend. We’re waiting, anticipating the ways this will be used for His Glory. He is a good God. A gracious God, who placed us in this place in this time surrounded by just the right people who are giving Jesse the best care available.
Pray for this man, people. Ask the Lord to heal him as only He can and keep him safe as we transfer him from one place to the next. We need swelling to go down, tumor to shrink, protection from hemorrhage, guided hands in surgery, and we need the transfer process that usually takes hours to take minutes. This is a big request. Jesse has a big tumor. But we serve an even Bigger God.