That is not How These Things Work

“Help me…” she whispered as faintly as a light breeze. My heart sank even further, as if this entire time it was just slowly hitting branch after branch before it hit the ground only to continue past the topsoil. I rang the nurses who immediately called the doctors.Within a minute flat the room was filled with white coats, including her oncologist, all examining my wife and conversing among each other while the nurse I spoke to earlier repeatedly apologized to me “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I thought she was just tired!”

They rushed her out of the room as quickly as they came in, another nurse physically removed apology nurse and began speaking to me, all I remember is “Your wife is” and it trails off. I didn’t really need someone to explain to me what was going on, my wife was dying. We rushed to another floor where I sat in the waiting room and sent out a text to her aunt, and I am pretty certain it was only her aunt I told. We have received a few criticisms for this particular move since everyone wants to feel like they were the first on the list, like they were #1 in terms of importance but, like life, sometimes you just aren’t. That is not how these things work, you don’t alert the people who deserve to know or the people who want to know, you alert the people who can help and act in the immediate moment, the people who can get stuff done when it needs to be done.

So there I sat for who knows how long. Thinking. Plotting out every possible outcome in my mind I could think of to mentally, emotionally, and spiritually prepare for whatever was about to come. I prayed, but not with tears, but with the full understanding that my wife was only my wife because she was given to me, and it was not my decision to make if she were to be taken away. I was sad, I was angry, I was in shock, and I was tired. Her oncologist came out at some point, again I have no idea how long it had been, and gave me an update. I cannot recall verbatim what he said but it was along the lines of “We don’t know what happened, I am calling everyone I know to find out, your wife is dying, it’s not looking good.” He had slightly better tact than that, but tact wouldn’t really have made it any better in all honesty. I knew it was bad before he came out so this wasn’t news to me. He looked at me and asked if I was ok. I said I was, he didn’t believe me. The first scenario I plotted out was my wife dying, having to tell her whole family and mine what had happened, spending the next few months in solitude while I grieve, potentially losing my job due to depression, finding another job I hated but kept me busy enough to make it through a day before heading out into the world to slowly rebuild life, another few years before I would be healed enough to love again at the same level. That was one scenario, I had already accepted as a fact that my wife could very easily never come through those double doors alive. It wouldn’t hurt any less, it wouldn’t be any less lonely, it wouldn’t be any less bleak or depressing, it wouldn’t be any easier, but it would just be. So I said I was ok, he didn’t believe me, but in a sense I was. I knew that if this scenario were to occur that, while it would be a long time, I would get through it with Christ. So I shooed him away, not so subtly suggesting he go do his job and stop chatting it up with me. A while later he returned; “We think your wife’s body rejected the chemo and is in sepsis; her body is effectively poisoning itself to get rid of the chemo. We had to put her into a medically induced coma and put her on life support so her body can relax while we try to help it heal, but it is not looking good. We cannot do a blood transfusion until her levels stabilize otherwise it will kill her. Are you ok?”

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GO DO YOUR JOB!