Family Comfort--About Me--Please read it All

Even at sixteen years of age, I was in school, working two jobs, and keeping an active social life.  As an adult, I had been called a whirwind.  The more activity, the more I thrived.  At thirty-three, I was back in college, teaching full time, and playing taxi driver to three extremely active munchkins.  If we were not at the ball field or church, we managed some other activity.  We read in the car to keep our academic skills up.  We sang when it was too dark to read.  There was never and idle moment.  My husband is more laid back.

            Kenny seemed to have watched us as if were an entity that he did not understand.  I cleaned house at night when the kids were asleep, and he was on shift work.  I was on a pretty strict laundry schedule.  There just was no reason for him to do much around the house.  He never had to.  I had always spun ahead of him and took care of it. 

I even handled the yard work and planted flower and vegetable gardens. When he went hunting, I dressed the deer, and when he went fishing, I cleaned the fish.  I wanted to take care of my family.  I liked the idea of being needed and useful.       

The year that my youngest child was in the second grade, I began to slow down, feel sluggish and let things slip.   I no longer kept everything juggled and was too tired to give my husband due benevolence. 

After a year of going to several physicians, my husband went with me to the doctor and told him point blank, "My wife is not a complainer.  You have to find out what is wrong with her.  I know you all are missing something." 

With that, the physician determined to find out what it was.  I think the doctor  must have loved his wife very much, because there was something in my husband's desperation that seemed to drive him.  Within a month, I was diagnosed with late stage (3-C) ovarian cancer, had had major surgery and was taking my first round of chemotherapy. 

I was so sick, but that family who I had taken care of for so many years loved me back.  I remember crawling around on the floor because I was too tired to stand, and then pulling myself up onto he couch because I was too tired to crawl. 

My husband, who never had had to lift a finger, was cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and even baking cakes.  I asked him where my husband was, and he told me that I had always zoomed ahead of him, never needing him, amazing him that I wanted him, and that he was glad to finally be able to take care of me. 

When my pain was too great, and I would get grouchy with him, he teased me and told me that if I tried to roll away from him, act mad, and lay on my side on the far end of the bed at night, then he would take a marker and draw a smiley face on the back of my bald head.  He thought that was amusing.  It was.

He looked at my scarred body and rubbed my bald head, but I knew he only saw the nineteen year old girl who he married.  He loved me as if I were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  I knew the truth. 

I was bald, swollen and pale from steroids.  I looked in the mirror and thought, "Put a lightbulb in my mouth, and you'd have Uncle Fester"  -but, he never saw that.

(70lbs ago, in a wig, swollen from steroids, sick with ovarian cancer, pale

 Even with his help, I felt so inadequate.  I remember thinking, "Isn't a mother supposed to be able to take care of her daughter?"  As it was, my little daughter would see me struggling, and say, "Mommy, can I help you put on your shoes? 

When I finally had to give into a wheelchair, that little third-grade pixie learned to yank that wheelchair out of the trunk with one hand and push that chair uphill or anywhere else -if it meant that I could take her shopping,  to baseball games, and field trips.  She did that throughout her high school years, until I started relying on crutches.

When I would feel sorry for myself, or well-meaning people had negative things to say about her hindered childhood, she would tell me, "Mommy, I don't mind; I feel like I 'get' to take care of you."

The boys helped also.  My youngest son's attempt to clean house was a little more comical.  One day when he was helping me clean, I asked him, if he had swept the kitchen floor.  He said, "Yes ma'am."  I asked him if he had wiped the counter.  He said, "Yes ma'am."  I asked him what shape the microwave was in.  He thought about it a minute, and then, absolutely seriously, replied, "Rectangle."  I needed that laughter!  He is our literal thinker. 

 Another day, when I was extremely nauseous from the chemotherapy, I asked him to go in the kitchen and get me something.  He asked what.  I told him that I did not care; I just needed something, anything, on my stomach.  Bless his heart, he brought the biggest pot out of the cabinet and pressed it onto my stomach.  When I asked him what he was doing he replied, "You said you wanted something 'on' your stomach." I laughed until I cried, while he explained that he thought I needed a place to retch the contents of my stomach. I explained that I needed something like dry crackers 'in' my stomach.  I guess I should have been more specific.

In all seriousness, my boys learned to be little men in a short while.  My husband had to start driving a truck to make ends meet because of my missing income and the medical bills.  My oldest took over as quite the leader, keeping the household in order.  He also served as the household comedian.

(Here is the comedian threatening his sister's first date with water in a Vodka bottle and a pellet gun)

(He is the one who instigated this as well.)

One night, I was outside on the trampoline, looking up at the night sky -so many stars were there that night -and I was crying and asking God, "Why?" I had told him that I wanted Him to use me in life or in death, no matter what it took, so when I got sick, I would not ask for healing.  Still, God knew the desires or my heart.  He knew I wanted time to see my children come to Him, to graduate, and to marry.    The doctor's gave me a fifteen to forty percent chance, depending on the study.  I know this is redundant, but oh, how I wanted to be there for their wedding days.   

(The other is in a serious relationship, so who knows!)

Anyway, Daniel discovered me missing and came out side.  He then saw the tears and went inside.  When he reappeared, he had black knee pads strapped to his ears and he was all dressed in black.  I couldn't decide if he looked like a monkey or a boxer, but then he started aping around and jumping, causing me to flail all over the place and giggle.  From then on out, he worked hard to keep me happy.  He will forever, affectionately, be called, My Little Monkey Man. 

I was so blessed and comforted by that little family of mine. 

One night I remember being so weary and thinking I was going to surely die.  I asked my husband if he would hold me while I did.  I couldn't sleep in the bed because it hurt to lie down.  I slept in the recliner, but he pulled that recliner next to the couch, and reaching over, held me through the night.  The sun came up the next morning, and has for me for last twelve years. 

My youngest was married last month and God has allowed me a great privilege in seeing my children grow into lovely adults.  I used to think that I had burdened them with too much responsibility, but now I only see good, responsible adults.             

I also did see all three of them come to God.  My youngest son has recently been licensed as a minister.

Now, I am fully recovered from the cancer, but not some of the side effects of treatments.  I now walk on crutches, and sometimes need the wheelchair.   I still have some pain, but life has been good to me and now I am praying for grandchildren.

My husband and I still share a wonderful marriage, but now that I am able to spoil him again, he seems to have lost his apron and cooking skills.  He teases me and says that I do it much better than him. 

I guess, looking back, I have learned to be thankful for the cancer.  It was through it that my family's love was manifested to me.  Cancer tried to defeat me; love healed me.  If I had not made it through, I still would have been so blessed. 

It is funny what God can use to bring us his comfort, but if we are looking for it, it is there.