The Hairpin Turn

Every lifetime is a journey….each one filled with many ups and downs, twists and turns.  Some of those bends in the road are so severe and  unexpected that you never have a chance to react before careening totally off track.  I call those my “hairpin turns.”  They take your breath away and leave you staring off in utter confusion.  On September 12th, 2017, I hit my worst hairpin turn yet, at least that’s what I thought at the time.  I had no idea how that turn would continue to spiral downward, down the side of a narrow cliff with no guardrails.  I was left clinging to the rocky hillside all the way down with my fingernails digging into anything solid I could find.  I was holding on for dear life, and I was doing it blindly.  

The night of September 11, 2017, I was excited at the prospect of my husband, Jonathan, returning from an out of town business trip the next day.  Missing his presence, I never slept well when he was away, but that night was worse than normal.  After staying up quite late, I finally climbed into bed, but just felt so disturbed.  Something just didn’t feel right, and all I could do was lie in bed, pray, and wait.  Before the sun was up, I was ready to just start the day, ready to do something productive.  While Jonathan had been gone during the past week, I had been working on some decorating projects in our master bedroom.  I was far from done, so I planned to work on them all day, and complete them before he arrived home that evening.  Jonathan called me while enjoying his breakfast, as was customary.  While tired, he was excited and anxious to be coming home later that day.  He headed on to the jobsite, and I got to work with my hammer and drill.  Later that morning, I was up on a ladder trying to attach a bed crown to the wall when the phone rang.  Jonathan always called me once in his rental car and on the way to the airport.  A quick glance at the clock told me that it was a little too early for him to have headed out, and I was immediately put on my guard.  When I saw that the number on the caller ID was a mutual friend that he worked with, I knew in my heart that something was wrong……really wrong.

You know how people describe hearing bad news like getting a punch in the gut?  It’s never hit me that way.  Instead it feels like I have a boa constrictor wrapped around my chest, squeezing every last bit of air out of my lungs.  It physically hurts, I can’t breathe, time seems to stand still, and my heart almost beats right out of my chest.  Sounds dramatic perhaps, but I think that it comes with being such an internal person.  My thoughts and emotions get all bottled up inside, and when some outside pressure hits, there’s no where for it to go.  All those horrifying things hit me after hearing the words coming at me from the other end of the phone.  Jonathan had a massive seizure while on the job, and was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital.   He would have two more seizures before they were able to stabilize him.  It didn’t make sense to me, and I was totally confused.  There was no history of seizures.  When your husband travels a lot, and you have a very active mind, you do tend to think of these things.   Jonathan worked a high stress job, didn’t get enough sleep, didn’t always eat well, and at times had high blood pressure.  I always thought that if I received a call like this it would be due to a car accident or something stress related.  I remember asking, “Jonathan?  Are you sure it’s MY Jonathan?!?”  A seizure just didn’t make sense.  She didn’t have any more information at the time, so all I could do was……wait…..and pray.  I did both while nervously pacing back and forth in my torn apart bedroom.

After phone discussions with two different doctors with two very different opinions, the situation was more confusing than ever.  The ER doctor stated right off that the scans showed a very large tumor, however, the neurosurgeon believed it could possibly be some serious swelling.  I got a red eye flight booked for later that night.  Leaving my very confused and frightened children behind in Seattle was gut wrenching, and I had no idea what scene might be awaiting me in Plano, TX.  I landed and arrived at the hospital around 6 o’clock the next morning.  I felt a huge sharp pang in my chest when I got that first glimpse of my usually strong husband lying in a hospital bed in ICU.  He woke up and flashed me his customary grin, and then was suddenly confused when he realized I was actually in Texas with him.  It soon dawned on me that he didn’t remember anything about what had happened to him the day before.  After spending the remainder of the week in the hospital with no more seizures, we were released to fly home with still more questions than answers.  Later that month, we were finally scheduled for a biopsy of the brain.  It would be another nerve-racking week and a half before hearing any news on the biopsy.  We hadn’t heard or felt the worst of it yet……..

All we could do was stare at each other from across the room, our eyes filling with tears, and all the air sucked out of the room.  The diagnosis was level 3 Anaplastic Astrocytoma…….inoperable and considered incurable.  With treatment, patients are expected to live on average 2 to 3 years.  We had both just turned 40 and have four beautiful children that we want to enjoy together.  This was totally unthinkable!  Honestly, 13 months later and it still is.  Jonathan is still here, he’s still working, and his tumor hasn’t seemed to progress any, but I’d be lying if I didn’t confess that life is VERY different.  What you think about is different, how you plan is different, and how you live life is very different…..despite desperately trying to just keep everything in some semblance of “normal”.  We have a “new normal” now, and sometimes that even changes from day to day.  We have no idea what the future holds, but we trust in a very big God, and He gives us fresh grace to get through every single day.  It’s not always pretty.  In fact, many days it’s downright messy, but our story has a purpose, and so it must be told.  Some days I’m still digging in with all I’m worth while sliding down that mountain, but it’s not blindly.  No matter how far down I fall, there’s a safety net of grace there waiting for me, and a Father whose arms will hold me tight and see me through another day.  We have a promise…….someday, we WILL see the beauty in this situation.  I can’t see it today, but I know each day brings me closer to the fulfillment of that precious promise.