Thursday, August 9, 2012

Cry baby

I'm not a cry baby all the time. Just the times I don't want to be. It's the one thing I don't like about being female.

People say crying is cathartic. Maybe. But I think it's more exhausting than anything. If I tear up for just five minutes, I'm drained and pretty much useless for the rest of the day.

Why couldn't I save up my crying for right before bed? Stuff a pillow over my face and let it go. But, no.

I have yet to make it through one of Dave's appointments without losing it. I start getting this little niggle, an ache, in the back of my throat.

And then my eyes well up. I try to keep it at bay. I look away, inconspicuously wiping at the corner of my eye. But inevitably I start leaking. The doctor or therapist or nurse leans over and hands me a tissue. And, then it's over. I take the whole box, using up tissue after tissue, stuffing the used, soggy ones into my purse for later.

Dave doesn't cry. Hasn't cried, moaned, groaned, complained once since his brain surgery. He's a rock. Not that he isn't struggling on the inside. He has to be. But for guys, hurt comes out in different ways.

I've heard that guys don't cry because society has told them not to. I don't think that's it. I think it's just that they're wired differently. Thank God. If He made us all girls, it would get way too mushy.

Thank you all for your encouragement and prayers during Dave's surgery and recovery. It means more than you can know.

The next step will be six weeks of radiation treatments on tumor tissue that wasn't able to be removed during surgery. It's tricky. The tumors are close to the brain stem and the nerve that controls hearing. There is risk, but Dave is getting the best care in the world by the radiologist specializing in treating these types of brain tumors.

We are unspeakably grateful to be at Mayo--both as employees and on the receiving end of patient care. We wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

None of this easy. In fact, you can get scared spitless dwelling on the what if's. You have to shelf the fear. But sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between having peace or being in denial.

Scripture helps. It comes to me in the middle of the night. I hold onto that. And roll over and give Dave a hug. Because I can.


  1. I should add this. Dave really is doing pretty good. If we didn't know the tumors were there, we could go on blissfully unaware. Unfortunately, we we do know what can happen if left unchecked, given Dave's history

  2. Awww....sis, tell David we are constantly thinking of him and praying for both of you guys and your family! Does he need more peanut m & ms? lol

    1. Vicki, you've spoiled him already with all the peanut m & m's throughout the years. You have always been such an encouragement to our family. Love you!

  3. Jacci- Know that God is watching over you all every minute of the day. Know there are many people sho care and Love you both. Take it one day at a time and cherish everyday. I'm here if you need me. Jenny