The Time Capsule

“We need to talk.  I could meet you Saturday at the office.”  It was a text from MDC- Jeff’s doctor.  Yes, we texted.  Sometimes I’m sure he regretted ever giving me his cell phone number.  I tried hard not to abuse it.  But this time he texted me first.  Jeff had had a scan earlier in the week.  This wouldn’t have been the first time the doc had given up his Sabbath activities to meet with us.  But this week was different.

“It’s never good when you ask us to come to the office instead of calling me and giving me the results.”  I texted back.

“No, I suppose not.”

“I don’t want to know right now.  We’re celebrating Jeff’s birthday Saturday.  I’ll call the office and get an appointment for Monday.”

“Sounds like a good idea.  Enjoy the celebration.”

Two days went by.  The suspense was killing me.  It no longer sounded like a good idea.  I knew we were dealing with something, but what?  If I just knew how many spots…..maybe surgery was an option again….

“How many lesions are we dealing with?  Can you just tell me that?”  I texted to MDC.  No response.  Maybe he was busy.  Waited.  Waited.  Nothing.  No text ever came.

We had our birthday celebration.  What do you give someone for their last birthday?  How do you celebrate?  I didn’t know.  Our daughter knew.  She made a book of memories.  We went to the store and bought anything she thought she might like to use.  I have never spent so much money on so few pages in my life.  It was worth every penny.  She made a scrapbook depicting her relationship with her dad.  She thought she was making it for him.  I knew she was making it for herself.  And he treasured it.

We went to the doctor Monday.  He came in with no reports in his hands.  He pulled nothing up on the computer.

“How many lesions are there?”

“It’s like you took a pepper shaker and shook it over the liver….  We can try chemo.  It may buy you some time.  We don’t have to be as aggressive as we were before.  We can dose it based on your symptoms.”

“Thank you.”

“Call me when you decide.”

“Thanks.”

Two weeks passed.  His office staff called.  “What have you decided about chemo?”

“No thanks.”

Time.  What is it worth?  Little time spent feeling as well as possible, or more time spent feeling worse?  Time.  We’re trapped in it.  Time.  Never enough of it.  Time.  Thank God for eternity!  What will we do with all that time?

(You can read Jeff’s story under the page “Then God”. The next chapter in the sequence of events is entitled “Face of Death”.)

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