Iridescent

The pathology report came back today. 

"It's a good report," the nurse said, bemused, after Mom hurriedly handed me the phone.  "Lymph nodes were clean.  Margins were clean.  Stage Ia is confirmed.  So it's as good as it could have been."

"We've been praying," I replied and thanked her for the news. 

And we have - the outpouring of love and support has been tremendously moving.  From the nurses who prayed and friends who bring flowers and family who help.  It's just...lovely. 

I recited The Lord's Prayer into Mom's hair on Monday night as she cried, the pain overcoming her when she tried to lay down to sleep.  I helped her from bed and joined her on the couch, holding her hand and sleepily talking until her medication worked and I was able to settle her.  I rose with each sounding of my phone's alarm to dispense more pills and give gentle kisses on her forehead as she settled back to sleep.

She was feeling so well yesterday that we went grocery shopping for soup ingredients.  And I made mental notes of recipe tricks as we put together vegetable beef in a large pot. 

Aunt and Uncle came today to help change the bandages.  Mom and I got queasy, though we didn't really look, but Aunt was gently efficient. 

The Culligan man came to add water softener salt and joined us in the living room to pray over Dad. 

I took a conference call from the back porch, laughing when colleagues commented over the birds they could hear in the background from my line. 

"It's really good," I told them, looking out at my parents' acreage as it basked in the cool breeze and warm sunshine.  Good results and holding hands and dinners I've cooked.  We nap and watch television and read books.  I do work and return calls from recruiters and set up an interview out of flattery more than interest. 

I have the darkest of dreams, waking to see both parents in the doorway of the guest room in the middle of the night.  They tell me I called for them, sounding so alone and afraid, and I'm sad that my subconscious is so scared.  For it is frightening - the cancer and mortality and treatments that will eventually fail. 

But in the sunshine, it's happy - Dad's feeling better, though he insists on spending a majority of the time in his chair.  Mom is chipper and relieved - the pain not as bad as we feared, results even better than we'd hoped. 

So thank you for the prayers - for thoughts and wishes and hopes you've sent our way.  I'm so grateful and blessed.