The door
That is the door the surgeon opened to tell us the results of my Dad’s surgery. We waited, the four us; my mom, my brother and my aunt, to hear the news.
The Chair
That is the chair the surgeon sat in to explain the news about my Dad’s surgery.
The room was small plain and very enclosed.
The surgeon had to repeat the possibilities 4 different times, 2 different ways for us to understand the situation. He never committed to any one way of thinking. He said we have to wait 3 days for the pathology report results.
How many times has that Surgeon sat in that chair and had to explain to a family the worse possible scenario? How often is that room filled with tears, confusion, denial and anger?
Not this day not for this family! The results were good but there is still gray area until the final pathology report comes back.
After the surgeon gave us the good news we exited that little room and started calling, texting and emailing loved ones. As I dialed another number with a smile on my face I heard a woman close by on her phone. Glancing over at her I saw her hand trembling and her lips quivering as she said “I had to sign a release form to have them take his legs.” The tears began to trickle down her wrinkled face and my heart sank. Here I sat with the best news and she had to deliver news that her husband would never walk on his own two feet again. That’s how it is at a hospital some come in and never walk out and others visit and leave stronger. My heart is wrenched for her pain. That man will wake up and have to face life without his legs. I can’t even grasp that concept.
That is the door we all stare n at when waiting in our own solitary purgatory of sorts. That is the chair where the surgeon changes your life.
This is very good. Very good thoughts.