Ian's POV

It all started with a stomach ache, something so simple to understand yet complex to accurately discern a remedy. It wasn’t excruciating, but uncomfortable, it could be read on her face. It seemed the best idea was to wait it out, perhaps it would pass. So we opted for the warm security of the bed instead. That security was short lived as in the morning it went from uncomfortable to unbearable for her, I awoke to tears streaming down her face as she got ready for work. I insisted she stay home and go to the hospital, but she was adamant about not missing work; I am well aware of the fact that she was simply scared of what they might find, that by looking in the closet they were to reveal the very monster she feared that does not attack the victim unless observed. We finally agreed she would stay home, but the hospital is not where she wanted to be so I made my way to work apprehensively.

Within hours I was leaving work for the hospital. The pain had intensified within her stomach beyond contain. Our friend, the late David Cyrlin, rushed her to the ER which was mere minutes away. I think everyone knew this was going to be more than a mere stomach ache at this point, and we were all subconsciously preparing for the worst. Meanwhile the nurses half-heartedly attempted to keep spirits high with a plethora of non-answers and interpretive word dance that amounted to a lot of “We don’t know.” Emergency Rooms, in case you have never been, have a juxtaposition about them. You are there to receive treatment, to feel better, but everything there makes you more anxious than the majority of reasons you are there. I’m not criticizing the state of ER’s or medical practitioners in general, I understand there is a limit to understanding and methodology, just pointing out there are reasons we wanted a room and one of them was a feeling of certainty; being around people who are suffering might make you appreciate your pain in a new light, unless your pain is already at a 10 (sad face with a tear on the pain chart, fyi).Several tests, too many text messages to fathom, and several hours of waiting later, we finally get a room.

I do not recall how many days were spent in the hospital room, or which days brought which events, they all seemed to blend together into one moment that never passed and several moments passing at once. Nurses, Doctors, and visitors flowed through the door consistently enough they might as well have removed it entirely. Note to the reader; if you have not experienced a hospital setting with someone in extreme pain always confirm ahead of time that they want visitors, the constant attention can quickly turn from encouraging to harmful. Between the medical professionals, family, and friends my wife saw little sleep and little reprieve during these days on top of the agonizing pain. All I really remember is seeing her in pain, the rest are pieces of information that I struggle to pick up, most of this is likely written from third party information that I have absorbed into a first person perspective. I remember her tears, her face writhing in pain, her cries of pain. I remember sitting there unable to do or say anything to help or ease her pain, just to sit there in pain separate from her own. I also remember her strength, telling the nurse the pain was manageable when it was clearly debilitating. I remember her constantly reminding herself (and us) that this is in God’s hands no matter the outcome. I remember not wanting to believe that my wife would possibly have cancer of any kind, that Crohn’s was a more acceptable outcome in my mind. I could not fathom why, almost immediately after becoming the Head of our local church’s Children's Ministry, this amount of pain would be allowed to enter my wife’s life. I asked God many questions with the full understanding that I may not receive any answers, some questions I knew I would not receive answers for, and some I didn’t really want answers to and was simply venting frustration about the circumstances. Some people have asked me how mad I was with God, as if my immediate reaction was to blame God for pain. I know better than this, I was not mad with God, dumbfounded, perplexed, shocked, and in utter bewilderment, but never mad.

I made sure my wife was almost never alone during her stay as terrible news could come at any point in time, and having someone with her would ease some of the discomfort of being in a hospital completely bed bound. We were there when they told her it was likely Colitis. We were there when they told her it could be Chron’s. We were there through the tests, prodding, questions, sleepless nights, unconscious days, and vital checks; every single vital check. Then, for 10 minutes we were not there, and that is when she received the news that she had Colon Cancer.