there i was. dragging my feet through the house, solemnly bearing the heavy load of overwhelmth (not a word, but it should be). overwhelmed at my to-do list:

to-do
to-find
to-call
to-see
to-clean
to-fix
to-feel
to-file
to-put-away
to-dump
to-worry-about
to-buy-with-money-we-don’t-have

my former excitement about meeting up for lunch with friends before today turned to fear and dread. i can’t go. i feel so low. buried.

of course i can’t find what i need for pack meeting tonight and at every turn in my search i’m confronted with another pile of things i need to-do-something-about.

i want to go back to bed. too little sleep make all the rest of the tos feel even more heavy, more hopeless. i want to curl up in a ball and wake up to no more tos.

and then it happens.

walking past the bed–resisting the urge to throw myself upon it–towards the bathroom i glance down at the laundry basket erupting with to-files and to-put-aways and i notice a little brown corner of something. gently i tug. out comes the scout shirt i so desperately needed to find so my youngest (you know, the one who also needs new church shoes, new regular shoes and a new church shirt and with whom i have been supposed to have been practicing math facts all summer) can get his arrow of light tonight and transition from blue to brown without once more being humiliated for not being offspring to one of those with-it moms. the ones who have a new scout shirt for every son (neatly pressed and with all the requisite badges and bandelos and banditos (or whatever) neatly sewn on in perfect tiny stitches).

the phrase may be overused, but there are no other words.

tender mercy.

as i continue past the basket intending to hang the crinkly shirt in the bathroom (iron? really?), i smile, glance heavenwards and send up a tiny prayer. cognizant of the fact i have walked past that basket hundreds of times. knowing i’ve looked everywhere for that shirt, even dragging out the two adult shirts from my husband’s closet to see if perhaps one of them is really the one i’ve been looking for.

sure it is a simple thing. but it is no accident. i needed just a glimpse of light, some tiny ray of hope. reassurance that somehow i could make my way through it all.

sent, received and duly noted.

thank you.

it’s started already.

a couple of weeks ago a widowed sister in my ward stopped me in the hall at church.

“i’d like to buy a suit for your son for his mission.”

she wasn’t the first.

another widow–this one whose husband has been gone since before i was born–purchased a raincoat for luke before he left on his mission. luke had been her home teacher.

she pressed a check of equal value into zack’s grateful hands well over a month ago.

while we do live in what may seem to be your average–as far as incomes go–but aging middle-class neighborhood, we continue to be stunned and enormously grateful for the extraordinary generosity extended to us by our friends and neighbors. widows, widowers, a couple of small business owners, educators, contractors, only one attorney and maybe a couple of accountants. everyday people reaching into their not-so-deep pockets to help us outfit and send off another missionary.

just now i responded to a knock on the door. a retired gentleman greeted me. we are not well acquainted, but there he stood, extending an envelope with zack’s name written across it. i know what’s in it without even opening it. there will be more of the same next week after zack speaks in church just days before flying to the mtc in preston. i say this not because it is an expectation, but simply because it’s what the people around here do. they–even those who are currently supporting their own missionaries–do the same for all of the missionaries.

my good friend lil just came to the door to get some fresh eggs. we visited for a few minutes. lil and her husband, phil, though barely returned from serving as missionaries in New Orleans, currently serve what is almost a full-time mission in another area of town.

lil pressed a check into my hand.

“we’re sorry we can’t be there next week. will you please give this to zack?”

slc jan 2009

just over a week ago as shane and i were preparing for a little anniversary getaway in midway we couldn’t stop ourselves from saying from time to time, “a year ago today…” and “this time last year…”

it was just around midnight on the eve of our 21st anniversary when a very patient shane broke the terrible news he’d been carrying around heavy in his heart for most of the afternoon–he’d been diagnosed with cancer. after a sleepless night and despite second thoughts, we headed south the next day for a surprise he had already planned–a return to a bed & breakfast we’d stayed at years ago in manti, which is where we were married in 1987.

words fail to sufficiently describe those days. that trip. or how we felt. but

shocked
heavy
stricken
grieving
terrified

may give you a small glimpse.

***********

midway dec 2009

this year we headed north. we spent a quiet and cozy dinner right next to the fireplace at the homestead. and our hearts were both full of gratitude and yet oh so much lighter than they had been just a dozen months before.

on the morning of the 12th i woke up early and flung open the curtains of the condo where we were staying. as i took in the wonder of the freshly fallen snow and sent up yet another simple prayer of gratitude for being blessed to live in such a beautiful world, i recalled staring out the window at the snowy vistas visible from shane’s hospital room just after his surgery at huntsman.

what a difference a year makes.

the once-again inadequate words written on my heart this day were

brightness
hope
faith
blessed
thankful

I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, but we have even better news. As I said we were still trying to process the information we received in the pathology report today, so I wanted to clarify the final diagnosis before I passed it on. I had several questions and I just received a response from the team at Huntsman:

Contrary to the findings of the first two pathology reports, the tumor was not a sarcoma–it’s called fibromyxoma–and it was actually benign (benign as in “Shane miraculously doesn’t have cancer,” not as in “it wouldn’t do some damage if they had left it in”). The surgery was still necessary both in order to remove the tumor (it is known to be locally aggressive and has a significant rate of recurrence if not all removed) and in order to determine the best course of treatment for Shane.

We’re not sure how to explain or understand exactly what we’ve been through the past several weeks–and we know the recovery has just begun–but we do know we have been very blessed by the priesthood blessings Shane has received and by the many prayers on his behalf.

Shane’s still hurting (but grateful for less pressure and the blessed removal of that darn screw stuck in the roof of his mouth) and the recovery will still be a bit of a process (read bear), but he’s hanging in there.

We’re still trying to wrap our heads around all of this, but I thought we should let you know.

p.s. But in case you were wondering, I still hate cancer.

They got it all. The doctor will present the case to the board next week, but his recommendation is no chemo or radiation needed. We will continue to follow up with the doctor to monitor the healing and then for some time after to make sure there is no recurrence.

We’re still trying to process everything (we’re trying to get clarification, but if we understood the doctor correctly the tumor may not even have been a sarcoma), but now our immediate concern is that dentistry can successfully fit the prosthetic (I’m usually one to call a spade a spade, but if someone handed me a good euphemism for the word “prosthetic” right now I’d take it) and that the wound heals quickly and well enough that Shane is more comfortable and better able to eat.

I can’t tell you enough how blessed we’ve been by your constant love, support and prayers. We couldn’t do this without you.

Much love,

I heart Café Johnsonia.

And I know her kitchen (as well as her heart) is true.

Amen.

But chez compulsive there is a warm glow of goodliness…

in the form of a cowpie(from the divine Miss M who even brought us leftovers from her birthday cake)

something even better than a little black book(from someone who read this post)

and this just in(from someone who I am glad to have in my life)

I had good intentions of taking a picture of the box of Godiva chocolates that arrived last week, but it practically begged to be opened immediately. And so I obliged.

There is so much more–warm slippers for my feet, a hand-knitted hug to wrap around my neck, hearty soup to warm our souls…I hate to start listing them for fear I’ll leave something out. Thank you everyone–especially for the warm thoughts and faithful prayers. The surgery is one week from today. We’re still feeling hopeful and oh so very blessed.

Great news: The chest CT scan came back clear!

No news: The doctors still don’t know what type of sarcoma Shane has. (This is no surprise to me; I am married to a man of mystery.) Apparently they need more tissue to make a definitive diagnosis.

Good news: The doctor seems very positive. So does the nurse. So positive she almost took back the information notebook she had prepared for me because she thinks they might not be seeing much of us after the surgery. I tried to take that positively instead of personally.

Good news: We go back up tomorrow so they can fit Shane with a prosthesis (called an obturator, for all you medical types). Apparently this will allow them to do reconstruction as part of the surgery and will help hasten the recovery.

Great news: It also sounds as though they will be able to go in through Shane’s mouth instead of his face, which means he should be able to avoid visible scarring.

Yay!

Shane’s surgery (called a partial maxillectomy, for all you medical types) is scheduled for January 27.

First of all, today was not a good day to be on the road. More on that later…

Huntsman. Given the drive up and the treacherous walk through the parking lot they kind of had me at the heated walkway (and we went in through the back door). And then, Wow! I’m used to waiting rooms (and occasional office visits) where we may as well have taken a ticket with a really high number on it from a machine. But this was different. Before we even met our doctor we were warmly greeted by a couple of nurses, the patient coordinator who’d been so great to get us in, one of the resident physicians and a social worker. Each one gave us their cards–phone numbers circled–and encouraged us to call them with any questions. And I think they really meant it. (It’s a little like the difference between being one of five weddings at the Manti Temple in mid December vs. being one of fifty weddings at the Salt Lake Temple on any given day in June.)

When we finally met the doctor he was accompanied by two other doctors and another nurse and we all had a good chat. The consensus was we all need more information (specifically they want to see the slides from the tumor because while it clearly points to sarcoma, the pathology report was a bit ambiguous as to which type, and we need a better CT scan to see what’s left, if anything) before we do something drastic. They did an EKG and some blood work tonight. Then tomorrow we get to head back up to “the palace,” as I affectionately refer to it, for CT scans of the brain and the chest.

Finally we are going to start get some answers regarding the rest of Shane.

The sarcoma team meets every Monday. So we decided to postpone surgery; spend the rest of this week gathering the missing pieces; and then wait till a whole team of doctors, nurses and pathologists who specialize in sarcomas and tumors of the head and neck get together to collaborate on Shane’s particular case.

We’ll know more–much more–a week from Wednesday.

By the time we were done it was well after six and the snow was still coming down. The traffic report estimated it was an hour’s drive from north SL to south SL and two hours to Lehi. We’d received news that a family member had been Life Flighted to University Medical Center with severe head trauma, so we decided to wait out the storm outside the NCC with family and friends. (If you could add one more person to your personal prayer roll, will you please pray for Quinn? His need is much more urgent than ours at the moment.)

Finally the traffic and the snow had slowed enough we felt it was time to head home. We averaged about 35-40 mph the entire way, but even at that we passed six different cars that had done 180s and were facing the wrong direction, several of which had crashed into other cars. And that was just on our side of the freeway. Who knows what mayhem had broken out in the other direction.

It was messy out there.

Special thanks tonight to my mother, for braving the elements when the snow was thickest to round up films and reports while I was at work; my SIL Jana, for a surprise gift of Scentsy sugar and spice; Christopher’s sister Lindsay and C Jane’s brother Jesse, who brought dinner over–along with a sweet note illustrated by their darling kids; my good friend Becky (with five kids of her own), who kept our two youngest kids like her own and made sure they all went to bed early on a school night (which is better than they get at our house); and to an anonymous group of generous donors, who left a Christmas Jar–filled with what we are quite sure are hard-earned pennies, nickels and quarters plus–on our porch.

Our jar (and our fridge) is full.

The *puzzle pieces are falling in to place.

(The snow is falling too, for that matter.)

And I’m beat.

(*One of the things I noticed about Huntsman in addition to the quiet and peaceful atmosphere and the general attentiveness to the patients’ needs was that in every waiting room there is a table with a couple of boxes of puzzles on it and one puzzle in progress. I thought that was such a great idea to help people through the waiting.)

You could actually draw a (mostly straight) line north and south through my neighborhood and mark homes of families struck by cancer. We used to be the one hole in that line, but not anymore. A friend of ours two houses north who survived her round gave me some good advice after she heard our news.

“Keep track of all the tender mercies that will come to you, because they will be many.”

I’m thinking I ought to get two notebooks. One for filing the medical bills and one for recording the blessings. My hope is that by the time we are all done with this, the blessing one will be fuller than the one for the medical bills.

We’ve only just begun, but so far that certainly seems to be the case.

I’m documenting most of the sweet blessings over on my other blog, but since, as most of you know, I have a tender place in my heart for teenagers, I’ve got one for you here today:

As a preface and on a seemingly completely unrelated note, you should know that the very last time I went grocery shopping I purchased something I have never in my life purchased before. Packets of gravy mix, including turkey gravy. Sure they were on sale, but gravy mixes…really?

Late yesterday afternoon found me feeling not very well. I was weak, fatigued and, for some odd reason, my right hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Not a great way to go into a fast. My husband was preparing for the usual run to the Saturday-night reunion held at the local grocery store because we were completely out of bread and milk. I usually have him pick up something for Sunday dinner as well. He asked me what I wanted and–this will sound completely wimpy, I know–at that moment the thought of making Sunday dinner the next day was completely overwhelming to me. Actually, the thought of even still being conscious was completely overwhelming to me.

Not 20 minutes later we heard a car engine running outside and someone knocked at the door. Our friends’ son Christopher–who grew up with Luke and used to be one of my cub scouts a way back when–was there with two huge trays of food. He and his mother (well, often the entire family) work for some other friends of ours who happen to be the best caterers in the valley (I’m pretty much including SL valley in that, too). Apparently there were leftovers from a dinner they’d done and I figured Christopher’s mother, Olga, had sent them. There was enough food for Sunday dinner and for Monday too (which is wonderful, because our appointment at Huntsman tomorrow is in the late afternoon and I have no idea when we’ll get back).

The trays of food were all sealed up, so I didn’t even open them. I’m sure Christopher must have said what they were, but I just refrigerated them and then drug myself to bed.

Today at church I went up to thank Olga and she asked, “For what?” I told her and she laughed and said that it must have been entirely Christopher’s idea. She hadn’t worked that night and didn’t know anything about it.

Now how many 18-year-old boys do you know who would do something like that? I love that kid! It may have been a simple thing in his mind, but it was a huge and welcome blessing in mine.

Today after church I opened up the trays to find the fixings for a fabulous turkey dinner: turkey breast, mashed potatoes and sweet corn. There was even a can of cranberry jelly sitting on the kitchen counter. I’d noticed it before but had no idea where it had come from.

All I needed was the gravy. And it had just so happened…