Outside The Comfort Zone

His name is Patrick, but, of course we didn’t find that out until much later.  We had our appointment in Clinic 2 in the Cancer Care Department of HSC and we were in a bit of a hurry to get into the office since we were running later than we would like.  There was a line-up at the reception desk so we walked in and tried to decide where the end was.  There was a gentleman just off to the side, kind of in the line and kind of not.  He was carrying a small black bag, fidgeting back and forth, so Wes turned to him and asked if he was in the line-up and the man smiled shyly back and said ‘no’, so we stepped up and it didn't take long until we were the next in line to the desk.  I told Wes that I would go and sit down while he reported in and collected his paperwork.  I moved to the chairs that were off to the side and took out my phone.  As I was flipping through my emails the gentleman made his way over to me and put the black bag directly beside me and sat in the chair next to it.  Strange, I thought, he knew I was here with Wes yet he takes the two chairs right beside me.  Oh well, I guess Wes will simply have to sit at the other corner, whatever.  Our wait times are not normally too long so it should all work out just fine.

He fumbled a bit more through his papers and stood up pulled out some hand sanitizer, rubbed it in his hands and sat down again.  I wasn’t sure why he had to stand to do this but he had been restless since the moment I had laid eyes on him so it wasn’t surprising.  Wes was nearly done talking to the receptionist when the man suddenly stood up, grabbed his bag and quickly moved across the room from me.  Again, he rifled through his bag and stood once more to apply more hand sanitizer.  Boy, he sure is a jumpy character.  He kept taking his sunglasses off his head and putting them back on, taking out some papers, reshuffling them and moving the bag from one side to another.  Wes came to sit beside me and handed me the clipboard which I quickly filled out.  No headaches, seizures, pain, nausea, etc. Thankfully I could check off all those questions as ‘0' which is the number you want on that chart.  Wes brought the clipboard back to the girl behind the desk and came to sit down once more.  Meanwhile, the man across from me was still moving up and down, not seriously agitated, but, never sitting still.  He kept looking at us and then he’d quickly break eye contact.  Now those chairs are only about 8 feet apart so it’s hard not to notice when someone is not acting how we would consider normal and I thought it was weird that he never went to report to the desk so I wasn’t sure what he was doing there.  He kept glancing over and finally he put his glasses on his head again, picked up his bag and came to sit beside Wes.  He turned so that he was as close to Wes as possible and began to speak very softly to him.

“My name is Patrick and I have cancer” he said and the second that he spoke those words tears began to flow, not like those in a light emotional moment, but, in a raw and heartrending kind of way.  He took a few seconds before continuing, “It’s stage 4.”  Wes murmured a few sympathetic words to him and the tears continued to flow off his face and fall between his knees to the floor.  “I just retired last year and now I have cancer.”  He talked about his work at Seven Oaks Hospital and that he had wanted to go home to see his family in the Dominican, but now...he grabbed a napkin from his little black bag and wept into it.  Wes spoke another few more words of sympathy and then Patrick lifted his face and would not take his eyes off of Wes.  His soft Jamaican style accent caused us to listen very carefully to his words, but we knew he needed to talk, so we listened.  He spoke about his fear, his disbelief that this could happen to him.  He told us where the cancer was and that his pain at times was unbearable.  He talked about all the pills he needed to take and that they didn’t always work so they had to be changed.  He poured out every single emotion he was feeling and still the tears were endless.  I never looked, but, I’m pretty sure there must have been a small puddle beneath his feet.  He talked about how his perception of life had changed, now when people complained about the snow, he said what is that to complain about, he’d much rather have his health back and live with a little bit of snow.   He talked about his lack of friends even though he had been in our country for decades; he had buddies he said, not friends.  He continued talking, sometimes they were simply random thoughts, other times little glimpse into his life.

I watched his eyes searching Wes’, looking for something, tears dangled from the edges of his long dark lashes, falling and then quickly replaced by another.  We let him talk and talk he did.  It was funny how, and I believe this was totally a God thing, that others who had come in after us, who had appointments after us, were being called in, we have very rarely ever waited for our appointment but it seemed as though God was giving us time and space.  Slowly our whole world spiraled down until our only focus was on Patrick, no one else in that room mattered in that moment.  Finally he said he needed to go and arrange a ride with one of the HSC volunteers so that he could get home.  The whole time he was talking I could feel the Spirit prompting that we should pray for him and I’ve had those feelings before, but, this was such a strong sensation that I knew I shouldn’t ignore it.  But, suddenly he began re-packing his little black bag and I nearly panicked thinking how can I suggest prayer when the entire time his whole being had been completely centered on Wes, I was there, yes, but, he was solely focused on Wes.  And my mind was rolling on how could I let Wes know that I felt God was saying, “Pray!  Now!” 

As Patrick was bent over working on organizing his bag Wes leaned over to him and whispered, “Can we pray for you?”  The man’s shuffling became more agitated and then Wes asked, “How can we pray for you?”  He stopped his movement and with his eyes to the ground he whispered back, “You can pray for me right now!”  Still no eye contact.  I’m not sure if he was fighting the idea or if he thought that Wes would refuse his request, yet Wes was the one who had just asked if he could pray for him, his confusion and desperation were nearly palpable.  Wes told him that we would love to pray for him.  He sat down on the edge of the seat moving again so that he was as close to Wes as possible, facing him, then Wes placed his hands together with Patrick’s on the armrest , I stood up and moved behind Patrick to place my hands on his shoulders and Wes began to pray.  He prayed for Patrick, that God would give him peace, that he would be near to him and that he would heal him.  The whole time he prayed Patrick never moved, it was the first time that he was not fidgeting.  It was as though God covered our little threesome with his Spirit, there were no interruptions, I knew people were coming and going, but, it was as though we were in a protected bubble that no one else could penetrate, it was a moment that was for God and Patrick alone and God was simply allowing us the privilege of being a part of it.  Wes said ‘amen’ and Patrick sincerely thanked him.  He stood up and we said goodbye. 

We watched him move to the desk to talk to the receptionist.  That conversation was short and he turned around to walk out, but, before he did he turned to us with the most beautiful smile and with a small wave and a quiet “Goodbye!”,  he was gone.

Patrick is never far from my thoughts right now and I wonder if God has healed him, physically and/or spiritually, but either way I know God is with him.  But, what Patrick doesn’t realize is that his moment of weakness was also a gift to me.  I have always been very self-conscious about praying in public, it’s not something that I would ordinarily seek out to do, but, the push that was there from God to do that was beyond anything I had ever experienced before and what made it even more fantastic was that I never had to say a word to Wes and he obeyed God’s calling for the both of us.  I guess that’s why they say that when you’re married you become as one – lol. 

Shortly after Patrick left we were called in to see Dr. Quan and within a few minutes of sitting in the doctor’s office I began shaking, I was struggling to breathe and my heart and mind were racing.  It was a pretty bad panic attack, something I had not had for years.  Poor Wes didn’t know how to help me.  Finally I forced myself to calm down and I slowly started getting my bearings back and then the doctor walked in.  I stared at his shoes as I tried to regain my emotional footing which I’m sure sounds a bit strange, but, his shoes made me relax and smile because they were so doggone cute and really trendy, but they helped to distract me and finally I could feel my heart begin to slow down to its normal pace and then I could focus on his face and his words.   Phew!  What an emotionally exhausting afternoon it’s been and we still didn’t have our test results yet!!

Dr. Quan didn't waste any time, he quickly declared, “The brain scan was good! I’ll see you again in 6 months!” and then went on to chat for a bit, kind of the same way the Dr. Schroeder always did and then I was reminded again of Patrick and how rarely these doctors are probably able to offer good news to people.  Slowly closing Wes’ chart Dr. Quan smiled at us and said, “Genetically, you had the good kind of glioblastoma! ”  A short while later as we got up to leave I took Wes’ hand and thought, “Yeah, and we have a good kind of God too!”

"Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him"  Psalm 34:8