The Waiting is the Hardest Part

 

(continued from "Here Buddha - Hold my Ears - I've Got This")

Days went by and my mind was still on the idea that Terry had been told he has cancer. Would the universe put us together a short three years ago and then pull the rug out from under us? I made an attempt to keep busy with deliveries and other tasks to stop thinking about the what ifs. Keeping positive thoughts going through our minds was the way to handle this now.

Terry remained his usual self, determined to believe he would be fine. I do believe in Spirit and angels, of course, but could there be that one defining moment where this is one of those times in life, we don't get what we want? Could there be a higher purpose for Terry's misfortune in health? He just turned 70 years of age in April. Please, not now. 

***

As one of my distractions from what was happening in our world, I did some scenic driving while doing my deliveries. I could not help myself. Always wanting to see what was down there, I stopped once more at the fish viewing area by the North Umpqua River. Pretty cool. 

Shortly after my recovery period when I broke my leg in three places and dislocated my ankle, I stopped at this spot and peered over the edge of the outlook area to see what it was. I refused to make an attempt to walk down all the stairs to get to the base of the hill and see what was actually down there. But this time, I'm healed, need to keep my mind off things, and I'm ready to go. 

I paused along the staircase to snap photos of the waterway. 

I see the area all the time by traveling along the highway up above the river. 

Beautiful river. 

Walking down the long staircase, I finally got low enough to see the ladder closer. 

The last staircase would get me completely to the bottom where I could view the fish inside the cave-like setting. 

I had arrived, finally. Since the first time I saw the water flowing from my view at the top of the bridge, I have been wanting to get down here. 

From the outside of the cave, I noticed a few little details. This tree was rather interesting, although it does look dead. 

This is the cave entrance.

On the rock across from the entrance were designs in the stone. Various types and sizes of fish were there. 

These fish were along the stone of the entrance to the cave. 

I walked inside the cave, seeing large glass windows to spot fish swimming down the river and into the ladder from these windows. The river looked pretty bare today, at least in this area. It could have been the time of day I went too. 

Looking closely, I saw a tiny fish swimming along the window on the left side. The fish moves up to the top.

The viewing seemed rather fruitless today, but at least I had a chance to see what this cave offered. I will have to return, that's for sure. 

So, back up the stairs I climbed. As I was stepping onto every stone, it suddenly seemed like the world was moving. My eyes were catching something moving all over. Focusing, I found out what it was. 

A bunch of these little lizards were fleeing over the edge of the steps to get out of the way of harm. There were many of them. 

I took one last look at this beautiful sight before heading back to my car. The heat was getting to me, and I needed to get home to check on my reality again. 

***

Wednesday, July 1 came around. Terry and I had found out a couple of days before that his check in time would be at 5:00 AM on Monday morning (July 6), with his surgery at 7:00. We reserved a hotel room for Sunday, so we did not have to drive to Springfield that early in the day. It's about an hour and 20 minutes to get there and with an appointment that early, we would have to leave our home in Roseburg very early. 

Terry's daughter Mallory did not know of the situation yet. We had talked with the surgeon who practices in Eugene and Springfield too. He set up the appointment and had a chat with us to discuss options. During the conversation, we found out it was more aggressive than they thought. With our removal date coming soon, he was sure it would be fine. 

My heart skipped a beat, and my stomach turned. I closed my eyes and asked for help from the Divine, one for Terry, and two for me to be able to make it through this meeting without passing out. He reiterated how low Terry's PSA levels were, indicating that even with cancer, it was contained inside the prostate and had not spread. He was pretty certain of that. 

As I said earlier, Terry and I had begun meditating nightly. During those meditations, I focused a lot of my time and attention on him. In my visualization, I covered him with a beautiful white and blue light, from head to toe. Each night his began to grow, lighter, brighter, and with a rainbow of colors, shown one at a time. The colors ranged from white to pale pink, to blue, a gorgeous green, and even brown a couple of times. I researched what that meant and each color is associated with an archangel. 

Each night I noticed he was feeling differently while lying under those beautiful colors glowing over him individually. I set my intentions to heal him, to remove any outside dark, shadow, and negative energy that may be within him. My intention was also to heal him, to make it possible that once they remove the prostate, that everything would be 100% clean and clear. 

Over the time I "studied" this practice, it seemed he was having fewer dark spots during our meditation times and was beginning to shine brightly. Every time I saw a darker spot in him, I would imagine white light around my hand, dip it into his space, and would pull those dark spots out of him. I would throw those dark spots into the space around us, and then visualize the darkness turned to pure white energy again. Finishing up the process involved feeling him for more dark spots, then when gone, I would imagine bright, white light once again over and into his body. 

I figured since we are throwing light, love, and healing energy around the world through meditation, why not work on us too?

***

Now came the time to tell the family. It was Wednesday, July 1, and we only had four more days before we took off to Springfield. We felt as though they should know what we know up until this time. He has cancer but the percentage was high that they would get it all and everything would be fine. So, Mallory was coming over anyway. Why not now? 

She went to the bathroom, and I suggested that Terry tell her now. It only gives her four days to get prepared and go through her anxiety over it before it happens. He gave in and said he would. His worry about telling her was that her anxiety would drive her crazy without a need to be that worried. I felt the opposite and thought we should tell her now so that she could have a few days to work through it all. Knowing the anxiety would be strong anyway, no matter which way we did it, she needed to know. 

Terry sat her down when she returned to the living room. Of course, the tears and fears came through immediately, as had mine. She got up and ran for the bathroom. I went in, talked with her about the surgeon and the urologist saying he was all good to comfort her as much as possible. I held her for a while, and we returned into the living room. 

From that moment on, it was as though everything was happening quickly, and we had a magic wand waved over us all, but especially Terry and his side of the family. About an hour after being told about the issue, Mallory asked her dad if she could tell her five siblings. He said yes. 

Terry has had an estranged relationship with several of the kids. After divorcing, he and the kids had grown apart, living in various states, and with the mothers not wanting to share them out of anger. But Mallory felt the kids needed to know, as did I. The need was there, not only for empathy for their dad but the main reason was for their health. They should know all of the family health problems for their future questions about parents or familial issues.  

Mallory began to shoot texts to them all as she and I sat in the living room, watching a show. We chatted and she returned texts as they replied to her. Apparently, all of them were quite concerned over the healthcare of their dad, including Scott, the older son. Scott began to ask questions about his father's diagnosis and care. Mallory replied to each question and told him what was happening. Things grew quieter, so we began to look back at the TV. Suddenly, we heard the notification sound ring out again ... it was Scott. 

Mallory looked over the text, then began to scream, "What?" while laughing and crying at the same time. I asked what was wrong. Her reply shook me to the core, in a joyful, astounding way. Scott had announced he would be heading to the hospital the day of the surgery and would be there when his dad woke up. Tears began to stream down my face. I was imagining Terry waking up to see his son standing over him and I got the best feeling accompanied by goosebumps in my life. What a miraculous breakthrough this was!

The conversation continued for a moment or two, with Mallory and I sobbing with joy. She sent Scott a final text, asking him if it was okay to tell Terry. He replied that was up to her. A moment later, Terry burst through the door, asking if we wanted to head out to the park to have a picnic dinner from Subway. Of course, we did. "But first, mister, sit down. We have something to tell you." 

As the words came out of his daughter's mouth, he stood staring at her, without uttering a word. He had the face of a deer caught in headlights for a few moments as he processed what was being said. Finally, he spoke, "Wow. I wasn't expecting that," followed by a beautiful smile. 

***

Thank you for reading the blog. We send all of you hugs of happiness and hope that your life is full of pure love. 

Since this is such a long posting, I will finish up the rest of the story in the next post. Until then, take care. 

Terry & Vicki Macrae

Filled with light and love over life. 

"Blue skies brighten even unspoken dreams." -- Unknown