I’m pretty worn out from this long day, but, wanted to get a couple things outta my head of stuff I saw and experienced.

First, Mom came through her surgery fine.  She underwent a cystectomy.   It probably took about 5 hours, a little longer than expected.  A couple of the lymph nodes right by the bladder had some cancer in them, but, the doc said the good thing about lymph nodes is they can be removed.  Her liver, spleen, etc all looked good.

We were kinda expecting some issues coming out of the anesthesia and breathing on her own (have I mentioned here that if you smoke, you might oughta think about quitting for times like this especially??).  We didn’t get to see her until about 10:00 tonight but when I saw her, she looked pretty good, considering.  They were giving her some blood and she was still out of it. 

I just got a text from my sister that said that the fun has begun…she was waking up a little and sitting up and not realizing she was sitting up, wanting to sit up.  Ahh…the joys of post-surgery conversation….Sandra’s staying there tonight and I’ll get tomorrow night. 

Thank you to the coolest Reverend around, Matt, who came by and it was about more than we could stand for our good friend Dean/Geega to show up.  Dean has been helping his wife of 52 years fight Multiple Myeloma.  That he sat with us in the waiting room today for a few hours….no words.  Thanks also to so many friends and family members who kept in touch, largely via Facebook, and offered support and prayers for us today.  It DOES make a difference. 

I’m a People Watcher and a hospital waiting room is the perfect place to engage in such activity.  There’s pockets of families waiting all over the place.  We had the Clampetts right in front of us and I swear, I couldn’t hardly look at them without breaking into laughter. (Yes, I’m bad. Youda laughed too if you’da seen them)

There was another family sitting across from us.  Didn’t really notice them at first.  A little after Matt left, I saw a doctor come in.  I could tell by the way he was walking and the look on his face that he was not walking in there to bring good news.

The doctor sat down and began talking with a man who looked to be about 55.  Suddenly, the man broke down and the young man sitting next to him, who I presumed to be his son, also broke down. 

Nothing gets to me like seeing a man cry.  These two men had their arms around each other, trying their best to comfort one another…then the other family members present began to cry.  The man told the doctor “I know you did all you could….”    

It was totally gut wrenching.  I felt like I was totally invading their privacy but you couldn’t help but look and feel the pain of what these people were feeling.   There was a guy sitting next to us, with his head buried in his laptop, but, he made the comment later how horrible that was. 

The doctor stayed and talked with this family a long time.  I didn’t see this, but, my sister said that when he got up to leave, he hugged the man and wiped tears from his eyes as he walked away. 

Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, other people congregated with this family, most of them in tears.  There was a lot of hugging, crying and even in the midst of the sadness these people were experiencing, I could not helped but be moved by the fact that they had each other.  You could see the strength that the man was drawing from whoever all those people were.  The two, grown sons also were strengthened and held up by everyone around them. As sad as it was, it was also a beautiful scene.

You could tell that major decisions were being made right there.  They’d alternate from being totally broken down to business-like. 

Then, a young woman came in carrying what looked to be about a year old baby girl on her hip.  This baby looked like the Gerber baby…beautiful little thing, just learning to walk.  When the baby showed up, the husband who was told devastating news about his wife, melted.  Why?  This was his grandbaby.  Everybody in the group went from crying to smiling when this baby came in.   Babies teach us a lot during times like that.

My own Manchild was such a baby when going on 18 years ago, at the very same hospital we were in today, we brought him directly from Centennial Hospital to St. Thomas to meet his dying grandfather before we even took him home to our house.   When death looms…babies are a reminder that life continues.   Just like the Manchild was for us back in 1992 (and STILL to this day because the Gene Pool dumped a lot of my Dad’s genes onto him)  this Baby Girl is a unique part of the grandmother who lay upstairs breathing only because of a machine.

At one point, the whole bunch gathered, baby included and all went upstairs together.   We all knew what they were going to do. 

I have no clue who these people are, their names…none of that, but  I can tell you this…I will never forget them, their faces, their pain, their tears, their love, their joy…Them.

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