The last week has been a gift of time. I have the time to just be with my father, by his side, as he goes from appointment to appointment and at the times of day when he wants company. One morning I just brought him a smoothie and stayed at his kitchen table for 2 hours until he decided he wanted to go to work. Monday my aunt and I again sat at the kitchen table, eating a leisurely lunch with him before going to the cancer center for a CT scan. Yesterday I sat in a rolling chair by the side of his lounge chair at the cancer center as he got his infusion. This morning I was his 5:45 a.m. ride to get a transfusion. I have time. He has time. Too much of life goes by in a hurry. There is nothing fast about this time I am experiencing by his side. There are hours of waiting and sitting. Amazing things can happen in this time. Silence shared that doesn't feel empty but weighty with love and presence. Comfort. The chance to look around and watch others that are going through the same thing. There are so many people in these places which means there are so many people sick, nurturing, grieving, hoping, surrendering. I feel strangely honored to be among them.
Yesterday was especially lively at the cancer center. We were anticipating getting results on the CT scan about the possible spot on my dad's lung. Maybe it was this that made us a little louder/on edge or maybe our energy came from running into a friend of my dad's from high school or maybe it was the nurses who brought the spark but the time was buzzing with energy. I watched each nurse come into our sphere, interact and leave brighter, lighter. Watching this again and again I realized how tangibly connection transforms us. We care for others as they care for us. This sickness has brought dozens if not hundreds of new people into my father's life. Mostly women, these people take care, share stories, listen. It is not all hushed and calm. One nurse yesterday shared how her oldest daughter "like girls." This has prompted her to pray that her daughter will "find a penis she likes" but now she wishes she had been "more specific." Her daughter has found this "penis" but it comes with piercings, tattoos, and a punk. Then there was the volunteer who kept coming around with offers of chips, cookies, juice, crackers and water but teasing promises that later she would bring margaritas and beers. There was laughter, lots of it. Yesterday, after a few hours of sitting, waiting, receiving poison (chemo) my dad and I left talking about what a pleasant day it had been. Sure his test results were inconclusive which means that there will be new different tests, he found out his blood counts were low and would need to get a transfusion and six days of nuprigin shots, and we found out a friend had been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer but still the actual time together was good. I am so thankful to have a model of presence in my father. Truly, he embodies serenity.
