The Ride

On our grade 12 tour, about a hundred years ago, we went to British Columbia by train and it was a blast.  One of the things we did was go to an amusement park, I believe it was in Vancouver and it was a pretty huge roller coaster for that day and time.  And for some reason I thought it would be fun, well that’s what you think when you’re young and stupid.  I had never been on a roller coaster before so this would decide whether I would ever do it again.  Hmmm, that took me about 10 seconds after the ride started to decide that!

We climbed into the open car and they locked us in place, at that time with just a bar across your middle.  We slowly started to climb and then whoosh we dropped and everything was kind of a blur after that.  We were jerked back and forth, up and down and you never knew what was around that next corner.  Closing your eyes didn’t help and screaming your head off didn’t change the situation you were in.  You just had to ride it out and pray the car would stay on the tracks so you wouldn’t die before you’d ever had your first date.

I remember getting off and my legs were like Jell-O, my head was spinning and I was trying really hard not to think about my stomach.  Although a few kids got off and threw up right there.

Some days I feel like I’m still on that roller coaster, the only difference is you can’t get off this ride and there’s no limit as to how many rounds you’re going to be on here for. 

When we were in HSC the nurses warned me over and over, we can’t predict how a brain tumor will behave from one day to the next.  One day you’ll think, “This is it” and the next he’ll be sitting up and everything will look fine.  But every day as the disease progresses the highs will not be quite as high and the lows will dip a little lower.  But you will never be able to predict what’s going to happen next, the only thing you do know is that the ride will end one day, but the course it will take you on is unpredictable.  And so you listen, you smile, maybe nod so you look somewhat intelligent and then you foolishly think, ok, I can deal with that. 

Uh huh, right!

It’s not quite that simple.  The physical and emotional energy that it pulls out of you can almost make you a little bit crazy and I will say that it also causes some serious napping to happen.  In one moment you are saying your goodbyes because he’s weak and not super responsive and in the next (like about 2 hours ago) you’re sitting side by side on the bed smiling at each other as he finishes his night snack of Chapman’s Vanilla Ice Cream.  And round and round we go folks.

Then there’s the loop-de-loop.  What’s that you ask?  Well, let me tell you.  You wake up in the morning not knowing what kind of day it will be.  Will it be hard to wake him up?  Will he know people when he does wake up?  Will there be confusion today or is he going to smile and even laugh?  Will you help him clean up after breakfast and stand with him in the bathroom asking him if he wants to dance?  Yes, I did do that because I love it when he grins his little crooked grin at me and shakes his head.  He hugs me instead.  

You really don’t have a hot clue what any of your days will be like.

A very dear friend of mine dropped in this afternoon to see me and we sat together in the family room that is beside Wes’ room and she asked how my day was going.  Well, it’s hard to explain, he was sleeping all day but when he was up for meals he seemed pretty good.  He still feeds himself and although he’s not completely stable on his feet he's still able to walk short distances. 

So, I shared with her that I had wondered about my last blog post because right then everything seemed so dark.  Did I do the wrong thing by telling all of my readers how I was feeling and how bad the day was?  And we came to the conclusion that maybe it’s ok to take you all (or if you’re from the south ya’ll) with me on this emotional roller coaster ride that I’m on.  Maybe taking you on that back and forth gives you a small taste of what I try to cope with on a daily and sometimes hourly basis.  One moment everything is dark and heartbreaking and the next the air in the room seems a bit lighter and things may not feel quite so bad. 

So hold on tight, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

I’ve been warned over and over again the good days are still not going to be as good as they could be and the bad days will slowly get worse.  They just can’t tell me anymore than that.  Even our doctor has said he can’t predict a timeline, he thought last Friday when he saw Wes that it would only be days and now, well, who knows.  Those are the twists and bends in the ride that is being driven by a brain tumor.

But you know this experience has given me so much valuable insight into caring for those that are living in this world.  The things we should say and even the things that we shouldn’t.  People have surprised me with great ideas of how to care for me and my family.  And the bottom line is that everyone wants to show their love.  Those who have sent us cards, flowers, called, messaged, text, brought food and sent emails care so very much, family who have walked through his door offer hugs and words of support and they love him deeply and they are hurting and everyone feels completely helpless and everyone wants to do something, anything to make this ride easier and that’s a tough spot for people to be in.

People have said, “All I can do is pray!”

And I say, “That’s more than enough.”  Those prayers are so amazing!  They are why we can sleep at night, they are why we have had wonderful moments together as a family and they are why there is a peace that passes all understanding in this room.

And so as my husband gives off a healthy sneeze in his sleep while I’m writing this, I’m able to say, “Bless you!” and smile.  Just because it’s the most ordinary thing I’ve done all day.

"Yet you do not even know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." James 4:14