well, it's not exactly yellow, it's more of an olive-ish goldenrod, but for all intents and purposes, "yellow" will suffice.
he was diagnosed on wednesday with stage four pancreatic cancer (non-treatable). we all got as many people praying as humanly possible, and on friday the doctors decided it looked more like tuberculosis. maybe. christian (benjamin's father) was moved to a different hospital, and is currently in the middle of lots and lots of testing. he's in enormous amounts of pain, and his visitors have to wear masks (in case the tuberculosis is airborne).
we went down on friday, to get benjamin to his family and help in any way possible. benjamin's rallying well, as is his eleven-year-old sister. the whole thing was so sudden, i've a suspicion everyone's still in shock. i am, at least. christian's not even 50--jeez, not only does this happen to "other people", it happens to "older people". not christian, not this family that's already been through the ringer several times.
we spent most of the weekend with marie, while barb stayed with christian at the hospital. it's a university facility, and the whole experience has been chaotic for them. and dehumanizing. no one seems to be in charge, no one knows where the right reports are, no one knows why these tests are being run. and no one's been taking the time to find out, so these people can have some grasp of their own situation and retain their flipping dignity instead of being shuffled around mindlessly like so much cattle.
jeez.
on a brighter note, the church family has formed an incredible line of support. people are making meals so barb doesn't have to cook, taking marie for a few hours here and there so barb can be in syracuse, organizing yard work crews to get the house ready for winter without christian, praying nonstop. and through them, god is present, comforting and healing.
had an impromptu chat with marie this morning:
what do you say to that? how do you tell an eleven-year-old, "no, sweetie, if god wants to take your dad away from you, it's the right thing to do"?
- marie
- i hope daddy has tuberculosis instead of cancer, because then he won't die.
- gemma (completely out of her league)
- well, there's always hope either way. god's the one who makes those kinds of decisions--who'll live and how long, who'll die and when. no matter what the doctors say, he's in charge.
- marie
- i think he makes the wrong decision sometimes.
i can't imagine that christian's illness would end in his death. (it took me a couple tries just to type that sentence.) he has one of the strongest presences i've ever known, for all his meekness and quiet nature. the idea that he could suddenly cease to be--well, the words make sense on the page, but my gut just rejects them out of hand. and i'm just the daughter-in-law. pray, folks. please pray.