When we started planning the memorial service for my son Shane, my daughter asked me if I wanted to get up and give a eulogy. As many of you know, I’m a person who loves to hear himself talk, especially in front of large crowds, but in this case it took me mere nanoseconds to decline. I really have no desire to stand before my loved ones and friends as I cry like a little girl who just had a big dog knock her down and eat the ice cream off her cone.
Streaming tears and shaking shoulder sobs aside, Shane’s life really didn’t deserve silence, so here’s what I’m not going to say about him at the service this afternoon.
{The room is silent. I stand and quietly walk to the podium dressed in tennis shoes, Levis, and a bright orange Broncos jersey donning the number 58. I reach the podium and stare at the crowd until the inactivity grows and the room begins to become uncomfortable and then I speak in a booming voice}
Why all the gloomy faces? My son just died! This isn’t supposed to be a sad time so suck it up, join me, and consider what I just said...
My son, Shane Robert Crawford is dead!
{pause for reflection}
Let’s consider what that means to us and then let’s consider an appropriate reaction based on what Shane would want.
My Grandfather died before Shane was born. One of Shane's grandmothers died while he was still figuring out how to walk and learning that when his parents say “hot” it’s a pretty good idea not to touch it.
Another of his grandmothers died a couple of years ago.
The way I always envisioned it, the order would be his Grandfather Crawford next followed by his Grand Patti and Grand John in no particular order, then his mom as a result of a threat that I would be placed to rest in North Dakota if I dared to go first. Finally after all that was out of the way he would carry on for another 30 or 40 years and THEN it would be his turn.
That’s how it played in my head. That’s how it was supposed to go.
From one perspective, I see Shane’s death as a form of cutting in line. It wasn’t supposed to be his turn and I’m totally weirded out by the concept of him meeting my father at the pearly gates and offering to show dad around. It’s surreal to me that he’s going to understand whether unborn babies, like his sister Stephanie Rae, get a soul and exist in eternity or if God, knowing they won’t make it to term omits the soul. I’ve been wondering about that since before Shane was born and now he gets to know the answer before I do. From the perspective of cutting in line, Shane sort of cheated.
From the other perspective Shane’s early passing is more of who Shane came to be. The product of my greatest desires, the result of his mom’s and my best efforts, so let me tell you about my 40th birthday.
Michelle was planning a surprise party and it was Shane’s job to get me out of the house. He offered a tennis match and I accepted.
As we walked to the courts my mind was overwhelmed with one thought. Not today! Shane and I had been playing tennis for years and this little snot nosed teenager wasn’t going to beat me for the first time THAT day. Not on my 40th birthday. I just couldn’t let that happen.
I’m proud to report that I beat Shane is straight sets. 6-1, 6-3. I let NOTHING go. If I had to dive for a shot and destroy an elbow, so be it. I wasn’t going to lose for the first time. Not on that day. Shane begged for a third set. “Just for fun” he said as I wheezed and choked down big gulps of air. I refused, we got back earlier than planned, the surprise was ruined and I suppose Shane failed in his mission.
I’m pretty sure that was the last time I ever beat Shane at tennis and as he progressed from snot nosed teen to young adult he methodically checked off victory after victory as he whittled away at all of the things I did better than him.
I suppose beating me at sports is no surprise. He was younger and faster so when he took a disc golf match or slammed a basketball jumper back into my face it was to be expected. Every time he beat me I was glad. It was my job to make him better than I was.
One day Shane came to visit, took a look at the bridge between my LAN and my WiFi, then sat me down and said “Dad, you’re really not technical anymore. You still think you are, but if it’s OK with you I want to reconfigure your DHCP server and security and make it better.
That was a little harder for me but upon reflection, this too was a blessing. My boy was better, he was beating me and that was how things should be.
The last time I remember watching my son and realizing he had bested me once again was when I watched his interaction with my grandson. Devin was the world to Shane and Shane’s devotion to his son and wife was second to none. I found myself realizing Shane was coming out of the gate as a better father and husband than I had been. Unlike the other times when there was a twinge of pain in the defeat followed by joy in seeing what my little boy had become, seeing Shane spend time with Devin was nothing but pure joy for me. His mom and I did a great job on the foundation then God and Cassandra were molding him into something amazing.
So here we are, sitting in this church feeling stunned and confused. At the tender age of 30, Shane is dead and gone.
It’s surreal.
Shane’s cancer and his death put my head in a fog and I struggled with the simplest thoughts, but as my mind clears I realize he’s done it again. This wasn’t a cut in line, it was Shane beating me yet another time. This time he has beat me to the ultimate prize and if I think about it, REALLY think about it, this is like seeing him with Devin. His arriving at the finish line first, getting there before his remaining grandparents, getting there before his mom and me, this isn’t a thing that is sad. This is a thing to be celebrated and talked about for years to come.
So I ask you again. Why all the gloomy faces? My son just died! This isn’t supposed to be a sad time so suck it up, join me, and consider what I just said. My son, Shane Robert Crawford is dead!
Let’s celebrate his life, and as my friend Chris Ifland said, let’s celebrate it well.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
You Can't Understand My Pain
One more "come say good-bye" call. One more "dump your life on everyone else and run" imposition on my friends.
You can't understand my pain. You think you can, but you're wrong. Let me try to explain.
First of all, this trip was different than the others, Shane died this time. Our friend Gwen found out something like 4:30 a.m. and immediately drove to Colorado Springs from Gillette Wyoming to comfort us.
Gwen, Michelle and I went to the Sonic drive in for Route 44 drinks. As we sat and drank our drinks the conversation drifted to the subject of Shane looking in on us from whatever form he was currently in.
I said, "I think that when we die we enter the realm where God exists and so logically that alters our time perspective to God's time perspective."
Next I asked "Do you believe that?"
Gwen thought and then said that she did. My next question was totally logical (in my mind anyway).
"If you believe Shane can come watch us, does he watch us when we poop?"
Gwen, who I think got a degree in Theology at some point, went on a long biblical based response that I must admit I didn't listen to very well (in my defense, I'm in a fog like I've never experienced before and I can't even connect with MY thoughts very well). When she got done talking I said this:
"The bible tells us that from God's perspective a thousand years is the same as a minute. That means 100 years, a tenth of a thousand, would take about 6 seconds which is a tenth of a minute. Now figure that Michelle and I probably have around 30 years left before we join him so that would be just under two seconds from Shane's perspective. Cassandra should show up in about 4 seconds and Devin will take more like 5 or six"
"There's no way they can watch us when we poop - it just happens too fast"
"We believe Shane's joy is complete. We believed that before he was sick, we believed it when he was going to die, we believe it now when he is dead."
"But it's better than that. For Shane he was writhing in the pain of his cancer, his brain was shutting down from the ammonia that his liver wasn't clearing out of his system then after 5 hours in hospice on a morphine drip he's in the presence of God and his Grandparents. Two seconds later he is joined by Michelle and I. Three seconds after that Cassandra shows up and a second or two later he's with Devin."
All that and he didn't have to watch us poop.
You can't understand my pain. It causes me tears (like the ones making the monitor fuzzy right now) but more than half the time the tears are tears of joy. The rest are like the tears when he went away to college...
...only this time it's better.
You can't understand my pain. You think you can, but you're wrong. Let me try to explain.
First of all, this trip was different than the others, Shane died this time. Our friend Gwen found out something like 4:30 a.m. and immediately drove to Colorado Springs from Gillette Wyoming to comfort us.
Gwen, Michelle and I went to the Sonic drive in for Route 44 drinks. As we sat and drank our drinks the conversation drifted to the subject of Shane looking in on us from whatever form he was currently in.
I said, "I think that when we die we enter the realm where God exists and so logically that alters our time perspective to God's time perspective."
Next I asked "Do you believe that?"
Gwen thought and then said that she did. My next question was totally logical (in my mind anyway).
"If you believe Shane can come watch us, does he watch us when we poop?"
Gwen, who I think got a degree in Theology at some point, went on a long biblical based response that I must admit I didn't listen to very well (in my defense, I'm in a fog like I've never experienced before and I can't even connect with MY thoughts very well). When she got done talking I said this:
"The bible tells us that from God's perspective a thousand years is the same as a minute. That means 100 years, a tenth of a thousand, would take about 6 seconds which is a tenth of a minute. Now figure that Michelle and I probably have around 30 years left before we join him so that would be just under two seconds from Shane's perspective. Cassandra should show up in about 4 seconds and Devin will take more like 5 or six"
"There's no way they can watch us when we poop - it just happens too fast"
"We believe Shane's joy is complete. We believed that before he was sick, we believed it when he was going to die, we believe it now when he is dead."
"But it's better than that. For Shane he was writhing in the pain of his cancer, his brain was shutting down from the ammonia that his liver wasn't clearing out of his system then after 5 hours in hospice on a morphine drip he's in the presence of God and his Grandparents. Two seconds later he is joined by Michelle and I. Three seconds after that Cassandra shows up and a second or two later he's with Devin."
All that and he didn't have to watch us poop.
You can't understand my pain. It causes me tears (like the ones making the monitor fuzzy right now) but more than half the time the tears are tears of joy. The rest are like the tears when he went away to college...
...only this time it's better.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Siding With the Underdog
Michelle sent me a three word email today.
"Liver is worse".
Just so we're all up to speed and on the same page:
In my last post (Vaccine?) I said that lots of people try to encourage me by telling me God has promised he will never give us more than we can handle.
I may have believed that before but lately it has seemed to me that such a statement is complete crap. Finally, I went bible mining to find the context of such a thing.
What I found was that I didn't find it. I found a place in first Corinthians 10 where we are told God doesn't do entrapment, i.e. we can handle any temptations that come along (1 Corithians 10:13 specifically) but that passage doesn't speak to my ability to handle this mess my little boy is suffering through.
My little daughter is really struggling with this thing and it might be so big that she can't handle it. I'm clear in my belief that Michelle can't handle it. For me, I think I got a vaccine that leaves me better prepared but I am in no way under the illusion that I can handle this thing either.
Oddly though, this dark place isn't where the three word email took me.
It took me to Judges 6 and 7 where Isreal was getting beat up over and over by a kingdom called Midian. God asked a guy named Gideon to be the vessel to solve the problem. Gideon recruited 33,000 guys to help fight the battle but God, apparently thinking the odds were not impossible enough, told him to let everyone who was afraid of the fight to leave.
22,000 folks booked and Gideon had 10,000 left. God still didn't like the odds and put together another test (based on how the remaining folks drink water) and whittled Gideon's fighting force down to 300.
Spoiler Alert - If you are going to read the book or see the movie you might want to skip this next paragraph:
Long story short, after trimming Gideon's fighting force down to 9/10th of 1 percent of what it was, God give Isreal the victory in the fight.
I wonder if there was a point in time when Gideon had something he couldn't handle on his hands?
The email took me to 1 Kings 18:25 where this guy named Elijah was in a "my God's better than your God" kind of a thing with the servants of a false God called Baal. The priests of Baal were trying to get their God to accept a sacrafice without their help (they failed miserably).
Anyway, Elijah and his helper dudes put some wood out and prepared an ox to be sacraficed to our God (the one I'm pleading with regarding my little guy). Then he had his helpers pour four pitchers of water on the wood, then four more, then four more. Then when the wood was so wet that it flowed out of the alter and even filled a trench around the alter, he prayed for God to accept the offering.
Fire came down from heaven and consumed the offering...and the wood...and the water in the trench...and even the rocks.
I wonder if, after everything was soaked but before the fire came down from heaven, Elijah could handle that task?
Bottom line here is God has given me something I really can't handle but that works because although it's massive for me, it's tiny for a God who doesn't need good odds.
I can't handle it so I'm not even trying.
I accept the solution might be he makes the situation completely abysmal and impossible then goes "TaDa!" and Shane gets to see Devin play the mushroom in the 2nd grade play.
I also accept that God's answer might be "Hey, this really sucks for Shane so I'm going to bring him up here where things are pretty freakin cool" and if that's his answer I'm going to be glad for Shane just like I was when he got his NBA Championship ring because that second solution would be better for Shane than the ring was. And I'll comfort his mother and I'll comfort his sister and we'll rebuild our lives just like the folks in Isreal had to rebuild the rock alter that God vaporized.
And if we're lucky we'll be like those guys, telling stories of how awsome this whole crazy thing was for Shane and how we can't wait for our turn to make our loved ones cry.
"Liver is worse".
Just so we're all up to speed and on the same page:
- Shane got diagnosed with Colon Cancer that is metastatic and has spread to his liver.
- Shane needed chemotherapy right away if he was to have any chance of prolonging his life
- After a single dose of chemo his colon ruptured
- Shane went into emergency surgery to have a portion of his colon removed.
- Shane had to stop taking the chemo because it will stop the surgery from healing.
- Shane needs to eat to get nutrition but his digestive system is broken
- Shane can't heal without nutrition.
- Shane can't be fed interveinously because his liver would have to process the nutrition (did we mention his liver is sick from the cancer?)
- If they don't restart the chemo the cancer will destroy his liver.
- They can't restart the chemo until he heals.
- Continue this list from #6 above...
In my last post (Vaccine?) I said that lots of people try to encourage me by telling me God has promised he will never give us more than we can handle.
I may have believed that before but lately it has seemed to me that such a statement is complete crap. Finally, I went bible mining to find the context of such a thing.
What I found was that I didn't find it. I found a place in first Corinthians 10 where we are told God doesn't do entrapment, i.e. we can handle any temptations that come along (1 Corithians 10:13 specifically) but that passage doesn't speak to my ability to handle this mess my little boy is suffering through.
My little daughter is really struggling with this thing and it might be so big that she can't handle it. I'm clear in my belief that Michelle can't handle it. For me, I think I got a vaccine that leaves me better prepared but I am in no way under the illusion that I can handle this thing either.
Oddly though, this dark place isn't where the three word email took me.
It took me to Judges 6 and 7 where Isreal was getting beat up over and over by a kingdom called Midian. God asked a guy named Gideon to be the vessel to solve the problem. Gideon recruited 33,000 guys to help fight the battle but God, apparently thinking the odds were not impossible enough, told him to let everyone who was afraid of the fight to leave.
22,000 folks booked and Gideon had 10,000 left. God still didn't like the odds and put together another test (based on how the remaining folks drink water) and whittled Gideon's fighting force down to 300.
Spoiler Alert - If you are going to read the book or see the movie you might want to skip this next paragraph:
Long story short, after trimming Gideon's fighting force down to 9/10th of 1 percent of what it was, God give Isreal the victory in the fight.
I wonder if there was a point in time when Gideon had something he couldn't handle on his hands?
The email took me to 1 Kings 18:25 where this guy named Elijah was in a "my God's better than your God" kind of a thing with the servants of a false God called Baal. The priests of Baal were trying to get their God to accept a sacrafice without their help (they failed miserably).
Anyway, Elijah and his helper dudes put some wood out and prepared an ox to be sacraficed to our God (the one I'm pleading with regarding my little guy). Then he had his helpers pour four pitchers of water on the wood, then four more, then four more. Then when the wood was so wet that it flowed out of the alter and even filled a trench around the alter, he prayed for God to accept the offering.
Fire came down from heaven and consumed the offering...and the wood...and the water in the trench...and even the rocks.
I wonder if, after everything was soaked but before the fire came down from heaven, Elijah could handle that task?
Bottom line here is God has given me something I really can't handle but that works because although it's massive for me, it's tiny for a God who doesn't need good odds.
I can't handle it so I'm not even trying.
I accept the solution might be he makes the situation completely abysmal and impossible then goes "TaDa!" and Shane gets to see Devin play the mushroom in the 2nd grade play.
I also accept that God's answer might be "Hey, this really sucks for Shane so I'm going to bring him up here where things are pretty freakin cool" and if that's his answer I'm going to be glad for Shane just like I was when he got his NBA Championship ring because that second solution would be better for Shane than the ring was. And I'll comfort his mother and I'll comfort his sister and we'll rebuild our lives just like the folks in Isreal had to rebuild the rock alter that God vaporized.
And if we're lucky we'll be like those guys, telling stories of how awsome this whole crazy thing was for Shane and how we can't wait for our turn to make our loved ones cry.
Vaccine?
In February my wife was diagnosed with a metastatic cancer. The doctor said "When I have to call someone in here and tell them they have less than three months to live I make them bring someone else to drive them home".
We were referred to an Oncologist who had Michelle do a scan. The radiologist read the scan and passed the info on to the Oncologist who told us it had spread to "many" of Michelle's organs.
She (the Oncologist) went on to say that it presented as a stage 4 cancer that would give Michelle less than 2 months to live, but Michelle didn't have the other related symptoms that should be present. We were told she must wait three months and get another scan.
June came. Michelle doesn't have cancer. It's something called Sarcoidosis.
A vaccine is an antigenic material that is injected into the body. The body thinks it is a nasty disease so the immune system goes nuts, builds lots of antibodies, and gets ready for battle. Then when (if) the "real" disease shows up it is totally outgunned and the immune system wins the battle.
June came. I has spent the last six months considering how I would handle it if/when they told me my wife was going to die in a few months. I spent way too many hours considering what it would take to get through the chemotherapy, how I would keep it together, what that meant to Michelle, what that meant to me, what that meant to my children.
Shortly before we got the "all clear" signal on Michelle's disease we got a call from my son who had just turned 30. Same story as my wife. Metastatic cancer. Months to live.
It was deja vu all over again. Essentially the same diagnosis (Michelle was pancreas and liver, Shane was colon and liver). Crazy coincidence, wasn't it?
Was it?
Since we started living this Country and Western song that is our current life, a bunch of people have told me that the bible promises that God won't give us more than we can handle. I've spent some time in the bible and I can't find what they're telling me. I can find 1 Corinthians 10:13 that tells me I won't get temptations beyond what I can bear but nothing about God not giving me more than I can handle.
That said, my first post on this subject of Shane trying to steal the thunder from his Mother's cancer diagnosis talked about my prayer being for Gods will and for grace for me if his will is out of sync with what I want.
As we near the end of July we all realize we need plenty of grace. This puppy is way out of sync with what I want, and then it occurred to me. A vaccine is used to build your immunity. A vaccine is an inert dose of a nasty things to come so you can build up and get ready for the "real" one.
So what are the odds that a doctor will give a 55 year old woman a false stage 4 metastatic cancer diagnosis and only offer a few months to live?
When a doctor makes a mistake like that, what are the odds it will take 4 months for the "truth" to appear?
What are the odds of getting a stage 4 metastatic cancer diagnosis offering a few months to live on or around your 30th birthday?
What are the odds of both things happening at about the same time?
What are the odds of the older person's diagnosis being proven false a few weeks after the younger person's diagnosis being proven true.
Is there a grace vaccine?
We were referred to an Oncologist who had Michelle do a scan. The radiologist read the scan and passed the info on to the Oncologist who told us it had spread to "many" of Michelle's organs.
She (the Oncologist) went on to say that it presented as a stage 4 cancer that would give Michelle less than 2 months to live, but Michelle didn't have the other related symptoms that should be present. We were told she must wait three months and get another scan.
June came. Michelle doesn't have cancer. It's something called Sarcoidosis.
A vaccine is an antigenic material that is injected into the body. The body thinks it is a nasty disease so the immune system goes nuts, builds lots of antibodies, and gets ready for battle. Then when (if) the "real" disease shows up it is totally outgunned and the immune system wins the battle.
June came. I has spent the last six months considering how I would handle it if/when they told me my wife was going to die in a few months. I spent way too many hours considering what it would take to get through the chemotherapy, how I would keep it together, what that meant to Michelle, what that meant to me, what that meant to my children.
Shortly before we got the "all clear" signal on Michelle's disease we got a call from my son who had just turned 30. Same story as my wife. Metastatic cancer. Months to live.
It was deja vu all over again. Essentially the same diagnosis (Michelle was pancreas and liver, Shane was colon and liver). Crazy coincidence, wasn't it?
Was it?
Since we started living this Country and Western song that is our current life, a bunch of people have told me that the bible promises that God won't give us more than we can handle. I've spent some time in the bible and I can't find what they're telling me. I can find 1 Corinthians 10:13 that tells me I won't get temptations beyond what I can bear but nothing about God not giving me more than I can handle.
That said, my first post on this subject of Shane trying to steal the thunder from his Mother's cancer diagnosis talked about my prayer being for Gods will and for grace for me if his will is out of sync with what I want.
As we near the end of July we all realize we need plenty of grace. This puppy is way out of sync with what I want, and then it occurred to me. A vaccine is used to build your immunity. A vaccine is an inert dose of a nasty things to come so you can build up and get ready for the "real" one.
So what are the odds that a doctor will give a 55 year old woman a false stage 4 metastatic cancer diagnosis and only offer a few months to live?
When a doctor makes a mistake like that, what are the odds it will take 4 months for the "truth" to appear?
What are the odds of getting a stage 4 metastatic cancer diagnosis offering a few months to live on or around your 30th birthday?
What are the odds of both things happening at about the same time?
What are the odds of the older person's diagnosis being proven false a few weeks after the younger person's diagnosis being proven true.
Is there a grace vaccine?
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Hoping for Terrible Things
My son, Shane, has two greyhounds. The biggest is named Ajax and the smaller is Tiki. Shane and Ajax have a special bond and one time while we were sitting in Shane's living room, Ajax walked up and plopped his head in Shane's lap. Shane started petting the dog and said "It's going to be really hard for me when you die, boy".
The night before last I was sitting on the couch where Shane ususlly sits and Ajax walked up and put his head in my lap hoping to get petted. As I mindlessly scratched his ears I heard myself absently say "I sure hope your break my son's heart a few years down the road, boy"
Then I thought "Wow, what a terrible thing!"
Looking back on the past couple of years, I realize I've spent a lot of time hoping for some terrible things. Some of the more recent include:
In February Michelle was diagnosed with metastatic cancer. Scans showed it was all over her bones, liver, galbladder, lungs and lymph system. Once the diagnosis was made she started seeing an oncologist who told us it was either stage four cancer or advanced sarcoidosis. We found our self hoping for sarcoidosis.
While Shane was in Brazil he got diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. When he came back to the states the doctors here thought it might be a nasty liver infection. The liver infection was dangerous but treatable so obviously we wanted it.
It's choices like that. If Shane is around to share the pain of Ajax dying a number of years from now it means, well, Shane is around a number of years from now.
It means this nightmare he's currently living will shrink back into remission then pop back out with an offer of new and different terrible things somewhere down the road.
It means our lives will be filled with many more future opportunities to hope for something terrible because the alternative is worse. It means more "get here right away" calls and more all night drives wondering if we will arrive in time. It means more pain, more tears, more struggling to "keep it together". If offers a future filled with terrible things.
We're hoping for more terrible things.
The night before last I was sitting on the couch where Shane ususlly sits and Ajax walked up and put his head in my lap hoping to get petted. As I mindlessly scratched his ears I heard myself absently say "I sure hope your break my son's heart a few years down the road, boy"
Then I thought "Wow, what a terrible thing!"
Looking back on the past couple of years, I realize I've spent a lot of time hoping for some terrible things. Some of the more recent include:
- For the last 4 or 5 months I've been hoping my wife has an advanced case of Sarcoidosis that has spread to all over her and is causing painful leisions on her organs and bones.
- A month ago I was hoping my son had a life threatening liver infection.
- Today I'm hoping Shane's pain continues and he will continue life with the hassle of a colostomy bag.
In February Michelle was diagnosed with metastatic cancer. Scans showed it was all over her bones, liver, galbladder, lungs and lymph system. Once the diagnosis was made she started seeing an oncologist who told us it was either stage four cancer or advanced sarcoidosis. We found our self hoping for sarcoidosis.
While Shane was in Brazil he got diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. When he came back to the states the doctors here thought it might be a nasty liver infection. The liver infection was dangerous but treatable so obviously we wanted it.
It's choices like that. If Shane is around to share the pain of Ajax dying a number of years from now it means, well, Shane is around a number of years from now.
It means this nightmare he's currently living will shrink back into remission then pop back out with an offer of new and different terrible things somewhere down the road.
It means our lives will be filled with many more future opportunities to hope for something terrible because the alternative is worse. It means more "get here right away" calls and more all night drives wondering if we will arrive in time. It means more pain, more tears, more struggling to "keep it together". If offers a future filled with terrible things.
We're hoping for more terrible things.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Choose Joy
The Crawford family has been spending a little extra time at
the bottom of the barrel lately.
Michelle’s mom died shortly followed by her grandmother. For
some reason that still totally escapes us her step-father turned on her and
spent over a hundred thousand dollars trying to (in his words) destroy us. Her MS got worse and for a while earlier this
year she was using a wheel chair. She
still gets scary bad pain in her legs. My
career of 28 years ended. Michelle left
her job in April. We’re in the middle of
moving out of the town we’ve lived in since 1989 and going to Oklahoma where we’re
both starting new jobs. Michelle got
diagnosed with Cancer in February. Shane
got diagnosed with cancer in June (and Shane’s is nasty bad).
Shane came home from the hospital yesterday and I had a
chance to take my head out of him reacting badly to chemotherapy, the
possibility of him going septic, and the pain they couldn’t control. My head instantly jumped back to Michelle’s
PET scan on July 10 to figure out more of her cancer diagnosis puzzle. My job in Oklahoma, which has spent the last
couple of weeks buried in the WAY back of my mind has come forward far enough
for me to realize that school starts in a week and a half and I’m WAY behind
where I planned to be on multiple projects. I’ve missed deadlines in my efforts with the
software used by the social workers. I
haven’t checked out the infrastructure and software build for my class. I’m behind on the disc golf course I was
going to have built before school started on July 18th. I’m behind in prepping for my first sessions
teaching computer programming. Sheesh, I
don’t even know when my classes will be held or who my students are.
Michelle and I went to a little 50s diner for breakfast and
were talking about our situation. At one
point I reminded her that Joy isn’t a normal state in life, it’s a choice. Mandy had a friend who was dying and her
friend used to say “I choose joy” as a guiding force in her life.
It’s smart.
Michelle and I decided to go to work at a ministry which
focuses on helping at-risk kids. Many of our kids have been through the kind of scenarios
that scary movies are made of. Many arrive with a chip on their
shoulder. Many arrive totally bewildered and hurt. We take them from where they are when they arrive and teach them how to deal with
this thing called life.
One of the big things the kids, and all of us, need to
understand is that there are things we can control and there are things
we can’t. When dealing with the things
we can’t control we still have a choice.
We can choose how we let them affect us emotionally.
I’m at a place where part of me wants to withdraw and just
find a way to make it all go away. When
I consider the pressing issues in my life right now, control is so far away
that I realize I can’t even offer myself the illusion of control.
And then it occurs to me that this just isn’t true. I can’t control Michelle’s health. I can’t control Shane’s fight with the liver
cancer, the colon cancer, and the mess that is flowing through his blood stream
to all the other regions of his body. I can't control the hate coming from Michelle's step-father and there
is an endless list of less important things that I also can’t control but I
still get to control my choices.I've thought it over and I choose Joy. To that end, this will be my last "dark" post for a while. That doesn't mean I won't have any more tears, heck, I know someone who crys when strangers win big on game shows (and I'm not naming any names, but her initials are Michelle Crawford). The fact is that most of what is hard and sad for me right now is the result of an incomplete picture from what is probably the wrong perspective.
I bet I will look back on all this in 500 years and smile.
(and Kudos to my little daughter’s friend Sarah who is already looking back)
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
I've Called to Make You Uncomfortable
Bows and flows of angel hair, ice cream castles in the air
feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way.
But now they only block the sun. They rain, they snow on everyone. So many things I would have done but clouds got in my way.
I've looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down and still somehow, it's clouds illusions I recall. I really don't know clouds at all.
When Joni Mitchel wrote that song she spoke to my sole (and apparently made me cry today). There are these things in life that have two distinct perspectives and after I put all my mental energy into understanding, I realize I got nothing.
When I had my episode with the pulmonary embolism there was about 48 hours when it was more likely that I would die than live. They actually kicked someone out of the ICU so they could give me the bed and Michelle asked me if we should tell people what was going on.
Beyond calling Shane and Mandy and saying "Hey, your dad is in the hospital and you can come visit if you want to" I decided not to tell folks what was happening during those first two days.
My reasoning was it would only upset people unnecessarily if they thought I was going to die and then I lived. If I died then Michelle could just tell them a couple days later and blame me (and at that point, being dead, I would have the ultimate trump card so nobody could be angry with me).
It worked out pretty well.
Then back in February of this year when Michelle got diagnosed with cancer we used the same strategy and didn't tell a bunch of people. My reasoning was we didn't have the full story and knew we couldn't answer all the questions. The news offered nothing good to anybody and it was pretty hard when we got it.
As it played out, someone we did tell told someone else who was very close to us. When the person we didn't tell discovered our little cover-up they were very hurt and upset.
So I've thought about the whole tell / don't tell thing and I find no easy answer. If I do tell you I feel like the conversations are best summed up like this:
He told me the most important thing is not to ignore it or avoid him. "It's bad enough that my wife is dying, but suddenly I'm damaged goods and people cross the street so they won't have to come face to face with me. That just makes it worse."
Next, he said, ask about her. Just ask "How's Michelle doing". That's all. Don't probe for detail because if I feel a need to dump detail you provided the opportunity with the three word question and I know I'm free to dump. If, on the other hand, it's too hard to talk about right then I might give a non answer. Something like "Fine" or "She's Michelle". When that happens, know that I appreciate you asking but I really don't want to talk, or more importantly THINK about what is actually going on. (by now you probably get that I substituted my wife's name to leave hers out of the post).
Most of you know that I'm someone who loves to hear himself talk (to the detriment of many) but these last weeks I'm pushed the "ignore" button many times when the phone rang. I've ignored people reaching out to me in text messages and in social media. When that happens, it isn't that I don't love you or care about your offers to help or pray - it's just that I can't handle it right now.
I tell my friends and break their hearts. This talk is doomed right from the start.
The truth can tear us both apart. My sharing brings us down.
But silence makes you feel outside. You're hurt if I should run and hide.
You want to stand there by my side. Yet I have left you out.
I see this news from both sides now. Shut up or share and still some how
This news will hurt us either way. I'm clueless which news I should say.
feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way.
But now they only block the sun. They rain, they snow on everyone. So many things I would have done but clouds got in my way.
I've looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down and still somehow, it's clouds illusions I recall. I really don't know clouds at all.
When Joni Mitchel wrote that song she spoke to my sole (and apparently made me cry today). There are these things in life that have two distinct perspectives and after I put all my mental energy into understanding, I realize I got nothing.
When I had my episode with the pulmonary embolism there was about 48 hours when it was more likely that I would die than live. They actually kicked someone out of the ICU so they could give me the bed and Michelle asked me if we should tell people what was going on.
Beyond calling Shane and Mandy and saying "Hey, your dad is in the hospital and you can come visit if you want to" I decided not to tell folks what was happening during those first two days.
My reasoning was it would only upset people unnecessarily if they thought I was going to die and then I lived. If I died then Michelle could just tell them a couple days later and blame me (and at that point, being dead, I would have the ultimate trump card so nobody could be angry with me).
It worked out pretty well.
Then back in February of this year when Michelle got diagnosed with cancer we used the same strategy and didn't tell a bunch of people. My reasoning was we didn't have the full story and knew we couldn't answer all the questions. The news offered nothing good to anybody and it was pretty hard when we got it.
As it played out, someone we did tell told someone else who was very close to us. When the person we didn't tell discovered our little cover-up they were very hurt and upset.
So I've thought about the whole tell / don't tell thing and I find no easy answer. If I do tell you I feel like the conversations are best summed up like this:
- Ring, Ring, Click ... "Hello?"
"Hey, person I love a bunch! I just wanted to call and give you some
news that you don't want to hear and is sure to make you miserable. Better yet, I'm going to put you into a situation where you are powerless to do anything, will have no idea what to say, and you will feel really awkward if you keep silent"
"Well gee, thanks for calling with the tragic news! Given that I can't really offer any solutions, how about I ask you a bunch of detailed questions that are sure to drag you back through this thing? Not only will it remind you how completely helpless we both are, but it will help keep the details fresh in your mind so you can use them to head-trip back into the worst case scenario that tortures you over and over each day!"
"Well thanks for calling and putting us both in this quagmire of helplessness."
"Any time buddy. You know I wouldn't do this if I didn't love you"
He told me the most important thing is not to ignore it or avoid him. "It's bad enough that my wife is dying, but suddenly I'm damaged goods and people cross the street so they won't have to come face to face with me. That just makes it worse."
Next, he said, ask about her. Just ask "How's Michelle doing". That's all. Don't probe for detail because if I feel a need to dump detail you provided the opportunity with the three word question and I know I'm free to dump. If, on the other hand, it's too hard to talk about right then I might give a non answer. Something like "Fine" or "She's Michelle". When that happens, know that I appreciate you asking but I really don't want to talk, or more importantly THINK about what is actually going on. (by now you probably get that I substituted my wife's name to leave hers out of the post).
Most of you know that I'm someone who loves to hear himself talk (to the detriment of many) but these last weeks I'm pushed the "ignore" button many times when the phone rang. I've ignored people reaching out to me in text messages and in social media. When that happens, it isn't that I don't love you or care about your offers to help or pray - it's just that I can't handle it right now.
I tell my friends and break their hearts. This talk is doomed right from the start.
The truth can tear us both apart. My sharing brings us down.
But silence makes you feel outside. You're hurt if I should run and hide.
You want to stand there by my side. Yet I have left you out.
I see this news from both sides now. Shut up or share and still some how
This news will hurt us either way. I'm clueless which news I should say.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Sometimes "Ok" Needs to be Enough
Ever go into a restaurant (or anywhere really) and have someone ask you "How are you doing?"
Sure you have. We all have. The whole asking how you are doing is a social norm where someone asks a question they don't want to know the answer to which is followed by a canned answer that doesn't need to be true because nobody cares what it is.
Here's an extension I've noticed in the past and haven't given much thought to.
"How are you doing?"
"Ok"
"Just Ok? Really? You aren't fantastic, you aren't great?"
We got one of those at the restaurant this morning. I forced a smile and said "I'm sorry, but ok is all I've got". In return she rolled her eyes and started the process of taking our order.
After the perky waitress left Michelle went completely out of character and said exactly what I was thinking (in a mocking tone no less - it was delightful):
"How are you doing?"
"Ok"
"Just Ok? Really? Not great?"
"Well, my son is in the hospital dying from cancer. Is that ok?"
Now we reach the part of the post where I impart some kind of amazing wisdom, but I've got nothing.
Well, nothing beyond sometimes "ok" needs to be enough.
Sure you have. We all have. The whole asking how you are doing is a social norm where someone asks a question they don't want to know the answer to which is followed by a canned answer that doesn't need to be true because nobody cares what it is.
Here's an extension I've noticed in the past and haven't given much thought to.
"How are you doing?"
"Ok"
"Just Ok? Really? You aren't fantastic, you aren't great?"
We got one of those at the restaurant this morning. I forced a smile and said "I'm sorry, but ok is all I've got". In return she rolled her eyes and started the process of taking our order.
After the perky waitress left Michelle went completely out of character and said exactly what I was thinking (in a mocking tone no less - it was delightful):
"How are you doing?"
"Ok"
"Just Ok? Really? Not great?"
"Well, my son is in the hospital dying from cancer. Is that ok?"
Now we reach the part of the post where I impart some kind of amazing wisdom, but I've got nothing.
Well, nothing beyond sometimes "ok" needs to be enough.
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