Part of getting my health back on track means needles...lots and lots of needles. One of my biggest phobias and the reason I avoid hospitals unless 100% necessary! I have major anxiety every time I have to get poked and at this point it's averaging 3x a week for the last few weeks with a few more pokes to come. One particular poke is my least favorite and that is the iron infusions. The infusions themselves though they suck aren't the most difficult thing. They happen to be at the Ironwood Cancer Center. I don't need to go into detail as to why that is hard. The very first time I walked in there my heart just fell into my stomach. It was national colon cancer awareness day, there were patients sitting in the waiting room obviously battling that horrible beast called cancer and their loved ones looked like they had been punched in the stomach....repeatedly. The blank stares of "What does the future look like? What does TOMORROW look like? Will they make it? Will I make it? How sick is this treatment going to make me?" just broke my heart into a million pieces. We have been there. We have had those questions. We have felt the punch in the gut feeling. The fear. The anxiety. The uncertainty. The grief. It's hard. So incredibly hard! And unless you have walked that road you have NO idea the deep fears and incredible darkness that comes with a cancer diagnosis. So twice a week I sit in a room, needle in my arm, bag full of coffee-like looking fluid hanging from my pole, looking around the room at the faces of the people in there whose lives have been forever changed. At this point I have seen many familiar faces sitting in there and they amaze me with their strength. They still manage to get up and walk around, chat, go to the bathroom, have a weak smile on their face, and encourage the other people in there. I had no idea the emotional toll it was taking on me until yesterday when I just looked at your picture in my hall and the sobbing broke loose. Deep, hard, make your stomach hurt sobbing. I barely could walk to my room through the tears but I managed to make it to my bed and I curled up and just continued to sob. I remember you going through those treatments I see other people enduring. I remember the way you walked from the neuropathy in your feet, the look your skin got, the way your hair fell out, the way your lips got dry and cracked, the leathery skin on your hands, and the sunken in eyes. We didn't just have a few weeks of watching your body give-way, we had 2 years of it. Two years of watching our once healthy father full of energy and life start to become frail, less energetic, unable to eat much, walk slower, become more susceptible to falling from nerve damage and dizziness, need to nap more often, etc. But what sticks out the most is your attitude. You never let that change who you were as a PERSON. You were always Wayne. You still sacrificed of yourself to help others. Even with a chemo treatment hooked up to your port you would be opening someone else's irrigation port for them, coaching Weston's basketball team, helping me with the kids, mopping the floor on your hands and knees while the cord dangled from your pocket, sharing Jesus with the other people in the oncology office with you, and pouring into your wife as much as you could because you saw how tired and emotionally weary she was from everything going on. Many people remarked that as you were laying there, dying, you still encouraged them more than they felt they were able to encourage you. You never doubted the faithfulness, goodness, love, peace, and plan of your Savior and that was evident even up until your last breathe. It shined so bright no one could deny you were at perfect peace and ready to meet your Jesus. The One who held your hand as you endured physical pain and discomfort that only few experience and continued to hold you as you left this world and joined Him in eternity. I often wonder what that moment looked like for you, but I know one day I will get to have that moment and it will be incredible!
Well now that I have made myself cry again and have 4 kids looking at me like I am a crazy woman (I kind of have been crazy the last few days. Pregnancy hormones do that to you) I should probably wrap this up and get them out the door to dinner.
I love you and I miss you so very much! I have grandkid updates for you but they will have to wait!
Your Favorite Second Born,
Carley
I have to brag on your Weston because his team went to the championship game at the US Airways arena to play the WV and they BEAT THEM! OH daddy you would have been so proud! I couldn't help but be sad you weren't there to see this moment but I know you are so proud of him! He rocked it and played so well just like you!
1 down
Ready to meet this little guy
2 down
36 weeks...Feeling rather large!
3 down...2 more to go!
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