Posted by Joe on his FB 4/19/11

I was waiting for him to say things in his own words because he is so good at it.-Katie

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

--T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding

Overwhelming. If there’s one word I keep coming back to the journey of the past three weeks, it is ‘overwhelming.’ I can’t describe a lot of what has happened physically, psychologically, and spiritually over the past few weeks without using that word.

The lab results confirmed what was suspected in the CT scans; that the football-sized mass of starboard kidney, tumor, lymph nodes, adrenal gland, and fatty tissue taken out of my abdomen was, in fact, cancerous. You hold out hope right until the word comes out of his mouth – I can’t even explain it. Inside, I knew it was – hell, they told me it almost certainly was! It was certainly no surprise, in the technical sense of the word. But for the word ‘malignant’ to actually be used – well, it’s overwhelming. Even when you know it’s probably not that bad.

The lab results also showed that the cancer had NOT spread to the adrenal, to the fatty tissue, to any of the surrounding lymph nodes. These are all, to put it mildly, good things. Overwhelming things, when one thinks about what it would have meant if these neighboring tissues had, indeed, been invaded by the carcinoma. And it’s overwhelming to think of what it could mean some day; microscopic bits of cancer may still be floating around my body. And some day, they may take root in another dark little corner of my abdomen. I’ll never feel it if it happens; spinning magnets will find it in a picture, and we’ll figure out the next course of action. Absolutely overwhelming.

By Thursday, I was overwhelmed in another way, too. I had an absolutely amazing care staff at Cleveland Clinic; in particular, a nurse named Caryn. I am absolutely convinced that Caryn had more than a little of Nana’s spirit in her. On Wednesday morning, I was writhing in pain. She asked where I would rate my pain on a scale of 1-10. I told her seven. Bullshit, she said, your face says nine or 10. Where some of the nurses had taken care of me, Caryn took command of my care. She got my painkillers changed, and life in hospital got just a little more tolerable. She brought me grape popsicles, and made me smile.

That Friday, I dipped again – an overwhelming crush of being weaned off of the painkillers, and a complete lack of sleep. And the overwhelming support of friends and family made it all right again. More on that in a minute. But there was light at the end of the tunnel – it was decided that Saturday would be my release day, and I was most assuredly done with being in the hospital. Saturday, Katie and my mom and dad came back, and I was sprung from the Clinic a little after lunch, slept most of the way home, and frankly, I remember little else from the massive doses of painkiller they threw down the hatch before the long drive home.

Overwhelming, too, has been a very real spiritual presence in my darkest moments. Father Mark, and our friend Dee, describe it as taking in a big breath of God. My friend Kate describes it as breathing in a purifying light, and exhaling darkness. Again, it’s difficult for me put into words, but I know it and feel it when it happens. Father Mark encouraged me to think of it this way: If we accept that there are only two equal and opposite emotions, love and fear; and then accept that God is love; then the only prayer that makes sense when we feel fear is a prayer for the presence of God, who is love. Whether it’s God, the human spirit, or however you choose to conceptualize it, it’s been a very real presence for me in a manner I can only describe as, well, overwhelming.

Overwhelming in ways I can’t describe has been the depth I have found in relationships with my family throughout the past three weeks. Intangible things, relationships are, and in our relationships is that common thread of love. The past three weeks have taught me just how deep my family’s love for me is. My cousin Marybeth visited me every single day, even when I didn’t know she was there sometimes! My mom and dad have just been there every step of the way, with support and encouragement, with laughs, and with score updates when I couldn’t get the Indians games at the hospital. My sister, I simply don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay. She was at my side every day, and was a pitbull to chase off the legion of housekeepers, student nurses, and nurses’ aides when I had a meltdown. She was there for everything. And reconnecting in a deeper way with my friend, and my brother (and her husband), Aaron, is a gift indescribable. But most importantly, I learned something about marriage over the past three weeks. Just as the words ‘support and defend’ took on a new and deeper meaning for people in the military just after 9/11, so too did the ‘sickness and health’ part of our marriage vows since this all began. Katie has been stronger than I could ever imagine being if our roles were reversed; she seems to be in 100 places at once in managing the logistics of child movement, maintaining her career, and taking care of me until I’m mostly vertical again. I always felt like I couldn’t love her more after our Encounter retreat three years ago this month, but I was wrong. My love and admiration for her could not be stronger than they are right now.

Most overwhelming, though, has been the love and support from all of you. Your comments on FB and the blog, your phone calls, your letters, have buoyed my spirits when they needed buoying. Those of you who are cancer survivors, you simply can’t know how much your counsel and courage has meant to me. Those who visited me in the hospital – Kennedy, Tom, Brandon, Ross, Janet, Uncle Bob, Ginster, Rick, Bets, Danny, Christine, Erik, Kim, Jessie – I may not remember a lot of details from when you came, but I remember that you came, and that meant everything as my mind wandered into dark little corners. Since I’ve been home, the companionship during the day has made life not just physically easier, but psychologically easier as I’ve had someone to talk with every day, and keep my spirits high. I’ve had more laughs than one should have with Peters and Randy the past two days (Randy, my side still hurts from the flying phone incident), and I have no doubt that’ll continue with Aunt Eileen, Mike, and Lisa the rest of the week. The meals you all have made; the contributions my coworkers made in the form of gas cards that allowed Katie and Mom and Dad to make the trips out to Cleveland in the face of high gas prices; and my legion of prayer partners – well, I think the Dropkick Murphys may have put it best, “thethoughts and prayers of a million strong might keep this fool from dying.”

So has this been overwhelming? You’d better believe it. As Kate W. said the day we went out for the consult, ‘This is going to change your life.” I am just smart enough to know that I’m just seeing the beginning of those changes. There are so many things I hope never to take for granted again, and all of your love and friendship is damn near the top of that list. My friend Kristin always had a signature line from Walt Whitman, “I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don’t believe I deserved my friends.” I feel that saying in my bones tonight.