“I have cancer.”
Jocelyn’s voice sounded a million miles away.
Words I never expected to hear from my wife.
I’ve heard the words whispered by too many people I love. They’ve been uttered with tears and a tone that sounds sacred and scared.
Ironically, I was just about to officiate a funeral. One of North Pointe’s support staff summoned me from the platform with an ominous request, “Jocelyn needs you. Now.”
Seeing her expression, I knew our world had changed forever. “My doctor called. He says I have endometrial cancer.”
The following days were a blur of doctor’s appointments, oncologist consults, scheduling surgery, pre-op briefings, calling family, and sharing with friends who are cancer survivors. The words “so sorry” were heard from so many. We prayed back fear.
One solace Jocelyn held onto was an impression she had in January 2018. We were on a cruise. Out of the blue she heard the words, “You’re going to be OK.” Her first thought was “The ship’s going to sink or Bob’s going to die.” The day she got the news of her caner she realized those words were meant for her, to strengthen her before she needed the strength.
A dear friend and cancer survivor brought home a bracelet from a trip to Boston. The inscription on the bracelet was ‘Wicked Strong’. The phrase became Jocelyn’s go to words. They were kind of unexpected wording for a pastor’s wife—but that’s Jocelyn.
The initial surgery date of April 17 was delayed until April 26 because Jocelyn was in ill health. Each day of delay felt like a week.
On the morning of surgery, the alarm clock sounded at 4:20 a.m. Not that we ever were asleep. Going out our front door at 5:12 a.m., a bird was singing. En-route we saw a rabbit—Jocelyn’s favorite animal after golden retrievers.
We checked in at the Lois Hole Hospital for Women and sat in a waiting area. A dedication plaque on the wall acknowledged the Wiebe family—friends of ours.
Connie was Jocelyn’s prep nurse. She was genial, calming, light-hearted and humorous—suggesting I go to Kingsway Mall while waiting to buy gifts for my wife. She complimented Jocelyn on the purple coloring in her hair. Seems like everybody loved the purple, including a Dr. Mills who expressed surprise at seeing the choice of color. It made Jocelyn feel good.
On the day of the surgery, Ruth, a nurse from North Pointe, happened to be scheduled to work in the surgery-prep ward. Ruth’s familiarity was a godsend. Leading up to surgery, Jocelyn encountered four people from North Pointe at four different medical appointments. God winks galore.
Jocelyn’s brother, a paramedic, showed up on the ward in his work clothes. We prayed together.
Time to go. The moment came all too quickly. We kissed. Jocelyn was wheeled out of her room and onto the elevator. As the doors closed, Jocelyn gave me two thumbs up, smiled and declared, “Wicked strong!”
Tears still come six days later. My wife of thirty-nine years was in the good hands of God and those of her surgeon.
Observations About Cancer On A Road Well Travelled:
Robert (Bob) W. Jones is a recovering perfectionist, who collects Coca-Cola memorabilia and drinks Iced Tea. His office walls are adorned with his sons’ framed football jerseys, and his library shelves, with soul food. He writes to inspire people to be real, grow an authentic faith in Jesus, enjoy healthy relationships and discover their life purpose.
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