I cried...

"Tears are words the heart can't express."

These days, I feel guilty when I cry in front of Jud. I don't want to add to his sorrow or to have him need to spend his energy taking care of me. It was bound to happen. We visited Stanford yesterday and looked at a different treatment, a radioactive knife that will remove tumors. We felt we had things in place before we left and we worried this would happen...that we would see something new and feel confused about what we should do. 

Stanford is a nice place and the people were kind (I give people lots of points for "kind" these days, especially in major medical centers). They were collecting blood samples in hopes that they would someday find a tumor marker for pancreatic cancer. Jud was asked to be part of the study and I was pleased to be asked to be his control. I could do my part, in a small way. Then...the blood draw. I am not very good with needles. I used to be downright phobic but repeated drawings for a pulmonary emboli twelve years ago somewhat desensitized me. I was glad to do my part. It went fine. I always thank the technician if I get a good draw. Really. It's a blessing! God slipped in!

We got home and the floodgates opened. It was not pretty. I sobbed. I started talking, amidst the sobbing, and all my worries came out. I thought the doctor was trying to "sell us something." I didn't understand all the "medicalese." I couldn't see how this was any better than what we had been offered at home. The "survival rates" were no better. My outburst lasted a long time. We snuggled together on the bed as I continued...snort...snort...sob...sob. So much fear. So much sadness. Serenity gone. 

I finally calmed down. Two hours later. My head is pounding this morning, but I feel calm. The Presence has returned. Once again, I am ready to continue up and down this roller coater called cancer. 

We will be here for the morning. Jud is meeting with an old high school friend who is head of radiology here (how did THAT happen?). Bob was actually at Jud's "Tumor Board" meeting yesterday. Then Jud is going to have some acupuncture with a Stanford-trained doctor. I will rest and read. We are renting a car and heading an hour or so north to see our friends, Susan and Gary. Susan was diagnosed with lymphoma a couple of years ago and is doing well. She is an old South Dakota buddy and we have known her forever. 

Hopefully we will have some great talks and some laughter. I am sure there will also be a few tears.

"Perhaps our eyes need to be washed with tears every once in awhile so that we can see life once again with a clearer view."

Alex Tan