I am broken

In my family bad news is delivered through the weight of the words before the message is ever clearly spoken. A simple, “Are you busy?” can deliver a punch that buckles your knees and sends you reaching for a chair to sink into.

Last night my mother called just as I had sat down to dinner. I sensed the burden she was carrying the minute I heard her voice. “Are you busy?”

I took the coward’s way out and sought a reprieve. “I’m eating dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll call you back later.”

I hung up the phone and put whatever was waiting for me on the other end on hold. I finished dinner, sorted laundry, loaded the washing machine, walked next door to retrieve James from swimming lessons, and just busied myself in general until I could put it off no longer.

I sank into the couch and dialed my mother’s phone. “Hey. I just sat down. What’s up?”

She small talked a moment before getting down to business. That’s what we do. “Your [family member] went the doctor today. She has a fracture in her back.”

“How did she do that?”

Her pause was audible, “They think she has multiple myeloma.”

My heart stopped. I did not want to ask the next question. I did not want the answer. “What’s that?”

“Cancer. They think she has bone marrow cancer.”

After that all I heard was white noise. Since my Dad’s death that’s what I do when I hear the “c” word. My mind fades away and I no longer register the conversation. Frankly I can’t even be sure I’ve quoted the correct term above because the second I heard it I started blocking it. This is my greatest fear come to life.

What it comes down to is that they are not sure. She has a fracture in her back with no known cause. She exhibits a lot of the symptoms of the disease. The next step is that her bone marrow must be tested, and if she has cancer they can start treatments. Which they have already pointed out is not a cure.

I don’t know how to deal with this. My brain and my heart can not register that this disease wants another member of my family. I’ve done this already. I should not have to do it again.

I sat in my bedroom last night knowing that I needed to pray, but knowing at the same time I can’t. I feel like God failed me last time I prayed for someone to be healed of this disease. I have complete faith in God’s will, but I have no idea what to do when it does not coincide with my desire.

I know my mother will need me to be strong, but I have no idea where from where that strength will come.

I feel broken, and I’m clueless as to how to put the pieces back together.

read to be read at yeahwrite.me
 

Comments

  1. Oh the evil “C” word. I’m so sorry my dear. I hope and pray that the news is not as bad as it seems…

  2. I am so sorry you are going through this again. I hope with all my heart that there is another explanation for her problems- one that is a lot easier to address.

  3. Oh Jennifer, I am so sorry. My fingers are crossed that it is not what they expect and you can go back to the wonderful summer you were having.

    The only consolation if it is is that I know you are more than strong enough to help your mom through this. It may not feel like it now, but you are.

    Sending really positive vibes your way.

  4. Oh honey, I am so sorry. Hang in there.

  5. I’m so very sorry. I hope that through testing, they find out that it’s not cancer, and that your [family member] goes on to heal perfectly. Hang in there. I will be praying for your family.

    • Thank you. Since prayer seems to be failing me I will take all I can get from friends.

      (ps, I edited your comment to say “family member”. I changed that in my post this morning to try to maintain at least a little privacy. I wish I had thought about it last night when I was actually writing this post.)

  6. Oh, so sorry to hear this. Like how you can began the story with the phone call. Erin

  7. Jennifer, I’ve been there and I am sorry you and your loved ones are going through this. I actually live in perpetual fear of “The Phone Call” now. Especially on Mondays, which seems to be the Universal Day for Delivering Bad News.

    Thoughts and prayers for all of you!

  8. very sorry to hear. I hope tests come back soon and that is is NOT cancer as doctors initially thought. In our family an early morning phone call is ALWAYS bad news. Thinking of you.

    • They haven’t even ordered the tests yet. The back doctor forwarded the xrays and MRI’s to her primary care doctor who will have to contact whoever she needs to go to from there. Thankfully she is a nurse and knows the doctor and his staff personally so hopefully it will go quickly.

  9. Cancer is an insidious and brutal beast. It’s taken my grandfather and now settles in the breast of one of my friends. She’ s only 29.

    I effing hate cancer.

    I’m sorry that your family member has to face this particular monster. I hope she kicks its ass.

    • The problem is this is not one that can be beat… if she has it. Chemo can be done to slow it down, but that is it. There is no way to cut it out or destroy it when it lives inside your bones.

  10. I. HATE. CANCER. So many, many hugs for you and your mom.

    My father-in-law has cancer and has just learned that the surgeons are not going to operate any more. And that he’ll start chemo and that it will not cure him. My husband is a wreck…

    Many, many hugs…

  11. I am so so sorry Jennifer. Cancer is one of those “Why God” things. Hugs to you and your family…

  12. Oh Jennifer. HUGS from afar – and will be praying with you. I have no words. ((HUGS))

    PS… I can see now why you had some sheet cake. ;)

  13. My Dad died of cancer, too. Hate that you are having to deal with it again. Well told story, and I identify with the way you described the feeling of being broken and left hanging, with no idea of how to proceed.

  14. In our family, the code word is “bulletin”. When my grandfather entered his final decline, mom called with a “bulletin”. If it’s an e-mail, we drop it in the subject line (even if the conversation is ongoing). If it’s on the phone, we say, “Well, I have a bulletin for you.” So often, those bulletins are bullets.

  15. Jennifer, I am so sorry. I hope they find the answer and that its not what you fear.

  16. Jennifer, I’m sorry to hear this awful news. I love your honesty in this post, the way you don’t wrap it all up neatly, and the sweet human imperfection of this line: “I have complete faith in God’s will, but I have no idea what to do when it does not coincide with my desire.”

  17. i’m so very sorry to hear this.

  18. I’m so sorry Jennifer. Cancer is such a horrible, horrible disease. Big hugs and lots of thoughts and prayers as you and your family go through this time.

  19. Oh, Jennifer. I am so sorry you are going through this. My own father died of cancer as well, and last year, after her 60th birthday, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer (she is doing great, thank God). This sentence was so powerful to me: “I have complete faith in God’s will, but I have no idea what to do when it does not coincide with my desire.” Wow. Thank you so much for sharing this – I will be thinking of you and your family.

  20. Multiple myeloma is a shape shifter; these autoimmune diseases are so difficult to diagnose that it’s basically a practice of elimination. They have to rule out what you do NOT have before they can tell you, with certainty, what disease is at hand. Average time it takes to pinpoint an autoimmune disorder: 5-7 years. It’s that hard to diagnose.

    My mom has cancer both in the blood and in the bone marrow; they are still vacillating whether it is stage 4 lymphoma or a combination of lymphoma/myeloma. Watch her kidney function– if it’s myeloma, it should tank. However, that doesn’t mean she’s got it. Mama’s went into the bad zone and then they diagnosed her two weeks ago with scleroderma (another autoimmune asshole thing) and that explained the borderline kidney failure. Not good news, but at least we are closer to finding out.

    Jennifer, if you ever need to talk, email me or call me. This is rotten stuff, and I am so sorry.

  21. So sorry! Cancer sucks & unfortunately we can’t run away from it because as a population we know more and more people fighting it. My mom died of colon cancer 4 years ago. Her dad from esophageal cancer 3 years before that. My dad’s mom from breast/colon/bone cancer many years ago. A friend’s mom from ovarian cancer just over a year ago. A friend’s non-smoking niece from lung cancer a few months ago. I’ve had several friends go through breast cancer &, so far, so good, come out okay on the other side (for now?). Just the other day, found out an aunt has lymphoma.

    Each experience is different, of course. I was blessed with my mom, that she was “okay” with the end drawing near (even though she was only 54) – she knew that death is a part of life & she had faith that her glory was in heaven. While I miss her terribly- in a very selfish “I want what’s mine” kind of way, I am consoled by the knowledge that she is in a better place.

    About a year after her passing, my pastor preached about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. My pastor said something to the effect of “Jesus saved Lazarus, so that he would die again”. The point being that Jesus just postponed Lazarus’s death – that Lazarus would still die. That point struck me – my mom would have still died, even if her cancer had been “cured”.

    I am thankful my mom’s 4 years of treatment were mostly good. The first 2.5 years were great – she had little side effects & carried on life as usual, for the most part. The last 1.5 years were more difficult & she really wasn’t herself. When she passed, she was, really, no longer the mother I have in my memory. I’m thankful she didn’t suffer long & that she got to see 2 of her 4 grandchildren.

    Sorry this has gone on and on. I know nothing I’ve written changes your experience and your feelings. I’m just trying to offer another perspective & trying to say – you’re not alone. Reach out for & accept support, in it’s various forms. Continue to be honest about your feelings – that’s so important!

    • Thanks. I think that actually helped, or it at least helped me to see that even a cure is not a forever promise. Sometimes I lose sight of that.

  22. I’m so sorry Jen. That sucks. You know, just crying out to God, with no clear words, is a prayer too. So sorry.

  23. I am so, so sorry to hear this. I know it has to be hard to tackle after every thing you’ve already been through.

    But I know you’ve got the strength in you to do it. Rest first. Then find it. And it will come.

    I’m thinking of you. Be strong.

  24. I am so sorry. Cancer has taken way to many people from us all. I hope that as the tests progress the results are better. Hugs to you and your family

  25. Kristi Baumbach says:

    I’ll pray for you since you can’t do it yet….so sorry about this news. It’s horrible to watch those we love suffer. I just have to believe God is crying along with us as we try to handle the heartache.

  26. I’m so sorry to hear you have to deal with this. Cancer does not discriminate and does not care how many family members it attacks.

    For me, I found focusing that energy into volunteering for organizations like Relay for Life help me feel like I’m doing something productive to defeat cancer. I can’t cure cancer, but I sure the hell can raise money. And hopefully it will help Researchers find a way to get rid of it, so maybe my kids won’t have to deal with it. You’ll also meet people who are going through the same thing you are, and have the same goal as you…to get rid of cancer.

    That’s how I channel that hopeless feeling. I pray your family gets good news!

  27. I’m so sorry Jennifer.

    That’s my worst fear too. Praying for your family.

  28. oh lady, I’m sorry. It’s so SO freaking hard to wait and wonder and be scared. Cancer is one of the hardest parts of living and loving, I think. It just hurts too much. Prayers for peace to you,
    H

  29. I’ll never forget when my husband called from a foreign country – not that unusual. “Are you sitting down?” That’s when I knew something was wrong. Turns out a friend had died very suddenly. Amazing how we signal so much with such innocuous phrases.

    Sorry you are going through this.

  30. The waiting is the hardest part. Just last month I had to wait a week for skin biopsy results. Just a benign cartilage growth. I hope you hear similar news.

  31. God is big enough to be honest with. Your doubts and rage don’t hurt or faze Him. He created your feelings for a reason.

    I know I am in good company when I say, I’ll stand in that gap for you.

    Perfect love casts out fear.

  32. I hope things turn out ok. I’m sorry you’re going through this.

  33. Cancer is such a terrible thing.
    I hope that your family member had the best possible outcome.

  34. Oh you, I’m thinking about you, and sending you what I’ve got.

    {I’m so very sorry.}

  35. “I have complete faith in God’s will, but I have no idea what to do when it does not coincide with my desire.” That sentence puts into words what so many of us wrestle with. I am so sorry you are facing this again. You have another person in your corner praying for you and yours.

  36. Sorry to hear your family is going through this, Jen. I am hopeful that your unspoken prayers are heard, God knows what’s in your heart, and that his will is what you desire. We have been having some horrible health news here recently as well so I seriously feel your pain.

  37. I hope it turns out to be something else but if it shouldn’t and you need to talk, my aunt was diagnosed with this after having back pain at my wedding almost 12 years ago. I know more about the struggle than I would like to but I can also just be an ear if you need it. My heart is with you and you are all in my prayers.

  38. love – from me to you. That is about all I have because my heart breaks for yours and I understand not being able to completely pray. xo my friend.

Trackbacks

  1. [...] on the back end of my blog. I ran across this one that I originally posted in 2009. After my post from Tuesday, I really needed to read this and be reminded of what I know in my heart. I thought I would share [...]

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  3. [...] Thoughts: I want to thank everyone that prayed and sent good thoughts for my aunt and just offered me support a couple of weeks ago. Words can not express how much I appreciate each and every one of you for [...]

  4. [...] night I got some pretty nasty news so I drowned my sorrows in cake. Isn’t that what everyone [...]

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