Thank you for all the love and support this week. We have felt very held and are grateful for it. My surgery went really well, and my recovery is going a little too well, in that I am tempted to do more than I should. It is hard to encapsulate and process all that has happened this past week, but writing it out has always been a positive tool for me, so hopefully these ramblings are part of the healing process as well.
When we went to church on Palm Sunday, the priest encouraged us to really think about Holy Week—and with a hospital admission scheduled for 6:30 a.m. the next morning, it’s been hard not to. There have been glimpses throughout the past six days of suffering… and support… and shared meals… and friendship… and loss… and waiting… and hoping that have all pulled me closer to the passion (and compassion) of Christ.
When people refer to the final acts of Christ as “The Passion,” that word is taken from the Latin pati, which means to suffer or endure. And even if that story is not part of your journey, I hope these connections points help you embrace all that is human, and hopeful, and divine on your path. (And if you want/need a refresh of what went down 2,000 years ago, you can recap here.)
The Last Supper – We had one. The night before surgery, we ordered Thai and sat around the table as a family. Then we took turns going around the table, thanking my breasts and saying goodbye. The kids, in their own ways, thanked them for what they had been told about the dutiful nursing that saw them thrive. (And, yes, it was beautiful and hippie, and have I mentioned we have offered both kids counseling?)
And then Brew shared a mostly appropriate sendoff that included calling them the “Muggsy Bogues” of boobs, for the way they always outperformed perceived size limitations. He then poured his last bit of Stagg bourbon into a glass and toasted them farewell.
Triumphal Entry – Walking to the hospital with my friend at 6 a.m. on Monday morning, I thought about the feelings of losing control, and the not knowing, and the hope and faith that whatever hardship and loss you are about to go through will result in something healing and more whole—and how helpful it is to have a friend by your side as you walk into the unknown.
April Fools – Not technically part of Holy Week, but it feels appropriate that this year’s calendar put it there. There are times when this still feels like a joke—moments of distraction when I forget about the diagnosis or the fact that I just had a double mastectomy, and then I’ll have a shooting nerve pain or my drain will get tangled, and I’m brought back to the reality of the situation. But we continue to laugh and cry in equal measures, with Nate Bargatze and Jim Gaffigan specials up there next to the oxy in terms of pain meds.
Washing of Feet – The most gut-wrenching and love-filled part of the week was when I took my first shower at home. It was the first time to really just stand in my new body and look down to see what was missing, see the scars, and watch the water run over it all. And my husband stood right there with me, helping me wash and condition my hair and soap my body in places that my T-Rex range can’t quite get to yet. It felt sacramental, part baptism, part vow renewal—it was a very raw “in sickness and in health” moment.
Mardi Gras – As long as we are going out of order and connecting tangential holidays… thank you to all the women who so willingly and vulnerably flashed me, sent me pictures of their chests, or described their post-surgery looks in detail. There are strong opinions about it all, and while the right choice looks different for different people, I appreciate the shared stories and experiences that will help inform my decision.
The Cutting of Ears – I’m telling you, they’d do it!! My friends are fierce, and they have shown up to do battle with me—often over-eager with the food, flowers, and generous acts of service. There is nothing that they wouldn’t do to help, and I think the hardest part for them is when I suggest that they stop with the knife fight and just help create space for me to rest and heal.
The Rooster Crows – We were worried I would be the one struggling with restless nights, but it’s the boys in our house who are struggling to sleep. And while not flat-out denying the fact that I just had surgery, they seem to forget it first thing in the morning when they come cranky and exhausted to the breakfast table. Their fatigue serves as a reminder that my health journey bleeds past a personal struggle to familiar anxiety that often goes unchecked in the midnight hours. And it really is so difficult to be in your right mind, keep perspective, or make good decisions when you haven’t slept - especially before coffee.
Casting Lots for Clothes – It is very strange to look into your wardrobe and realize that there is a solid chunk of clothing that you will probably never wear again—and a drawer in your dresser filled with bras that have no use.
In the Tomb – The waiting. Oh… the waiting. Was it worth it? What’s next? Do we get the results that we want and that we have prayed for? You go through the cuts, and the pain, and the loss for the hope and promise of a clean pathology, and for the following week you don’t know what those results will look like. In some ways it feels like a total loss of control, and in other ways a very strong statement on hope and faith - and you realize that those two things might be inherently interconnected.
Resurrection – Knowing that we are going to be okay, even without knowing. Believing that the war is won, even though there might be a few battles still ahead. Trusting that your fate is certain, even when momentarily shrouded in darkness and uncertainty. That is the message of Easter. And how providentially fortunate am I that the celebration of this immutable truth happens to fall at this precise moment in my journey?!
Please know that with these connections that I am not seeing myself as a Christ figure into the Resurrection story; rather, I am accepting the invitation to go further up and further in along this journey of faith with a guide and friend who invites us to share path and offers to carry the load.
I once had a pastor who was diagnosed with cancer say, “I don’t believe God caused the cancer, but I believe He’s too good not to use it.” And that has felt and seemed true of late. It is often the challenges in life that bring us into a deeper knowledge and understanding of God, and the struggle that reveals divine gifts of peace and gratitude. This has been one of the hardest weeks of my life and at the same time... undoubtedly holy.
