Cancer is all I heard and could focus on during the first day. I wish I could say there was a white cloud with an angel bringing peace and comfort, however, that did not happen. It was an extremely stressful day. We knew Lyn had a significant stroke, and there was a good possibility there would be a cancer diagnosis coming. While I could only focus on the word, “cancer,” it was not the most serious concern for Lyn.
It is amazing how we both heard the same report; however, our concerns were vastly different. Lyn was most concerned with the stroke and recovery. However, the neurologist was clear that she was very concerned with Lyn’s melanoma from when she was 19 years old, and suspected brain cancer caused the stroke. But at this point, the cancer was a secondary concern for Lyn.
It took me a bit of time, but I soon recognized that her stroke complications were priority number one at this point. It was frightening for Lyn to not have the ability to swallow, or to breathe through her nose. Even with the fear of cancer front and center, we spent most of our time on day one praying for stroke recovery and started stroke therapy.
As day one wound down, two of our three kids had finals for school, so Lyn sent them all home. I could tell it was difficult for all three to leave, but it’s what Lyn wanted.
Fourteen hours after the stroke Lyn was able to draw a simple picture of a house and wrote the letter “G” in large print. At first, I was puzzled, but she kept tapping on the letter G, and drawing arrows to the house.
Our youngest son is Garrett. Lyn frequently called him, “Big G”, or just “G”. It finally dawned on me what she was attempting to convey: “Jeff, GO HOME and be with G!” Her momma instincts kicked-in and she did not want her 16-year-old at home alone and fearful of the unknown.
Leaving Lyn’s side was heart-wrenching, but I knew it was the correct decision because she was clearly stressed about Garrett being home alone. She wanted me to go home to care for our child. It was a double-edged sword because I am sure Lyn wanted me to stay, as much as I wanted to stay. But even in the hospital and dealing with the magnitude of her illness, she was selfless and wanted her son cared for. Lyn always put the needs of others before her own needs.
As she was sending me off to be with Garrett, it was complicated, and I did not know what to do. What Lyn did not know was that just prior to her sending me home, I was pulled into a private room by the neurologist to give me a preliminary report. The neurologist saw at least four small cancer spots in the brain and went on to say that it did not start there, and she would be ordering a CT scan the next day to find the source.
As the doctor told me Lyn had stage-four metastatic melanoma cancer, it was quite a blow to me. I couldn’t even think of follow-up questions. The doctor wanted me to decide whether to tell Lyn then (on Mother’s Day), or to wait. I elected to have the doctor wait until the morning rounds. With Lyn struggling with issues related to her stroke, there was no point in adding additional stress.
While we knew all-day that cancer was a possibility, I suppose I was in denial. I stayed composed because I still needed to go back into the room to say goodnight before heading home, however, inside I was crushed for her.
As I drove home to be with Garrett my heart was heavy. My brain was swimming out of control. All I could do was to pray for peace, clarity, and strength. God delivered. While the situation was no less daunting, I did feel the peace and strength, and my thoughts were much clearer.
When I arrived home, I spent a bit of time with Garrett. I asked if he had any questions. In a very quiet voice he said, “Not really.” I said to him, “Your main question is probably wondering if your mom is going to be okay.” He responded “Yes.” I said, “Son, I can’t tell you that right now. You mom is very ill, and we need to pray because she is in God’s hands.”
After Garrett and I prayed, I tried to sleep. I spent much of the night awake praying that Lyn would be able to sleep, have God’s peace, and attain some level of stroke recovery by morning. Morning could not have come soon enough! While I knew what lay ahead, and that the neurologist was going to be coming in to break bad news, I was ready to get back to the hospital because Lyn and I were a team.
As I arrived to the hospital early the next morning, I had about a ten-minute walk to get to the room. I had no idea what to expect. However, when I got to the room, I was completely taken aback to what I saw. As I entered, Lyn greeted me with a huge smile! She was SO happy to see me! It was one of the most beautiful moments of our marriage. I could hardly believe I was looking at a happy face. But for those that knew Lyn, she smiled from her eyes.
While I wanted to hear her patented greeting to me, “Jeffy!”, all she could do was to beam a smile. She had not made any progress in speaking; but she was able to let me know that she had begun to be able to swallow and breathe again! All I could say was “Praise God.” She was relieved.
Her swallowing and breathing were not completely back, but it was on the way. I could see the relief. God had heard our prayers and delivered! It amazed me to see Lyn smiling and happy in the midst of such trauma. But those that knew Lyn know that she smiled much of the time in the midst of her illness. Many people she worked with did not know the difficulty she had on a daily basis because she kept a smile and had incredible joy.
What her smile did for me was to let me know, “Jeffy, I am okay!” It was a huge moment in the early part of her journey. While we both knew the neurologist was going to be coming in shortly, we were thankful for this answer to prayer. Looking back now, this was one of the moments in which we learned to be thankful for the little things, and to look for the positives in the midst of hard times.
Lyn taught me to smile in the midst of struggle.