The waiting period for the results seemed like forever as I attempted to keep myself busy. A two week wait seemed unreasonable and agonizing, so I frantically called a week later. A very caring and compassionate nurse said "not to lose any sleep tonight" (which I took as a hint) and instructed me to call back the next day for results from the doctor....The next morning I dropped to my knees and repeatedly thanked my Almighty, Heavenly Father for the words I heard were, BENIGN... I also prayed a special prayer of gratitude for all of my "Prayer Warrior Sisters."
Although my life had been spared for that moment and please don't get me wrong, I am eternally grateful but I still felt such a heaviness weighing on my heart that I couldn't explain. It has taken a week to finally come to grips with what was bothering me. Why was I spared and my little brother, Kevin was not? Why was his cancer so horrific and hideous that I still struggle with haunting flashbacks of his suffering? Why were my prayers answered and all of the frantic, hysterical prayers to spare my brother's life were not answered? I am feeling guilty that I am living and he is NOT....His suffering was completely off-the-scale....The doctor at UCSF completely removed my little brother's entire tongue in a grueling, 14 1/2 hour surgery...He no longer had the ability to swallow, talk, eat or sleep in a horizontal position. Everything that we take for granted was stripped away from him....He sat in a recliner and suctioned his mouth and trach 24/7 for three agonizing months....
I used to give him a back/neck massage to relieve some of the gripping pain he was enduring and one day I just fell to my knees and wailed in front of him, like you see women do in the Middle East....I felt so incredibly helpless. He was dying and he had to literally pick me up off the floor to comfort me. The doctor took all of his lymph nodes out and there was no place for the fluid to go...so his entire face started to swell, and swell, and swell until his beautiful face was unrecognizable. He finally relented and my father and I admitted him into the hospital for the final time. Hospice took over...I was in his hospital room with him on Easter Sunday.. March 27, 2005, on his son's 18th birthday when he passed away at the age of 45...My mother just passed 15 days before him... I watched two of my loved ones dying at the same time.... There is not a day that goes by when I don't think of them. I sometimes wish that I did not love them so deeply and miss them terribly, as if the pain would be less. But I deeply love and I deeply miss both of them.
As I continue to struggle with their untimely tragic deaths, I pray that someday I might find some "Peace" regarding the unbearable suffering that they endured and I overwhelmingly witnessed... I have had all of the counseling you can imagine but sometimes it is "triggers" such as my biopsy that bring me back to haunting memories and "survivors guilt." I pray for more faith and more trust in the Lord who knows all of the "why's"... And I deeply pray that I finally accept that all will be revealed to me someday in God's time.
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalms 34:18)
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; acknowledge HIM in all your ways and HE will direct your paths (Proverbs 3:5-6)