Changing on a Dime

Life can change on a dime.

We got news on Friday that my mother-in-law, Madeline, soon to turn 82 (or is it 83?), has been having stomach problems. She went to the doctor on Friday who took x-rays, didn't like what he saw, and sent her to a cancer doctor. He ran a cat scan and told her that there is a mass in her pancreas and spots on her liver.

Definitive results will be here January 30. The agonizing waiting game begins.

It's so weird to me how, no matter your age, you still feel like you. Whether you're five years old or 25 or 47, you feel like that same person that you always did. Obviously your paradigms of life shift as you gain wisdom through the years; but regardless, you are just basically you. So whether you're fifteen or 85, you have a desire to live. Death comes as an unwelcome surprise.

I talked to Madeline on the phone for quite some time yesterday. Of course, she may be fine. Maybe the results will come back that the mass is benign and the spots are harmless cysts. That possibility remains and we're all praying for that. But I could hear the fear in her voice as she grapples with the reality that the news may not be good. She has a good life these days. She volunteers at a clinic and a hospital; she is active in her retirement park; she flies to visit her kids and her sister regularly; she has many friends that she eats breakfast with or goes with to the movies. She is active and happy and independent.

I remember when my grandfather got lung cancer. He was only in his 70's and it hit him like a load of bricks: healthy and well one day, practically on his deathbed the next. My grandpa was such a character. He cursed up a storm, smoked cigarettes and didn't have much room for God though he went to church every Sunday. But oh how we all adored Grandpa with his ornery ways that left my grandma frustrated and the rest of us laughing: that's just Grandpa. But then he got his diagnosis and everything changed. He couldn't handle senseless silly chatter. Life is short. Don't waste it!  He became so sweet, telling everyone how much he loved them. He made sure Grandma would be okay once he was gone, suddenly tender. And God? He, for the first time in his life, experienced freedom in his heart and stood up in front of the church and told them so. When he passed on in a stark hospital room, his last actions were to desperately try to kiss my grandma's hand. I need my hat! I'm leavin'.

Life takes on a different shade when death hangs in the balance. Last night we had the school banquet. The kids were all dressed up in their movie fare and the food, of course, was simply divine. The SA worked so hard to transform the gym into a movie theater (It looked ridiculously amazing!) and everybody was laughing and having such a grand time. And I was too--absolutely.

When your parents are in their fifties, sixties, it seems they will live forever. There is little thought that someday they may not be here. But when life passes by and suddenly they are hitting their 80's, well, suddenly things aren't so secure. The fragility of life starts to smack you in the face and one can't help but frantically put on the brakes, begging time to slow down...STOP!! I'm not ready!

Just a little more time please...

I haven't had the heart to ask Roy how he is coping with the news of his mom. Normally we talk about everything under the sun. We talk from the time we get up until we our eyes can't stay open another minute. We've never lacked for conversation and everything is fair game. But this? How does one voice the emotion it stirs in your heart at the thought of being parentless? How do you grapple with the reality that you're next on the chain?

When loss hits, unexpected or expected, perspectives change. We view life through subtle shades that ebb and flow. And yet? The sun keeps rising; people still go to the mall; the radio continues to play our favorite songs; we attend banquets in the gym decorated as a movie theater with our friends, laughing at the table while enjoying good food.

But in the backs of our minds, we know.

Life may never again be the same.