November 16, 2012 – Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore.
On this Friday morning, we are exhausted physically and
emotionally. Aisha and I do not talk a lot. Her voice is fading; it’s getting
closer to a whisper. But she can smile and she can't stop smiling. I want to
capture the moment with my phone camera. She offers to give more: a little
message for our daughters, and a special one for me. I can see some tears
running out of her eyes. She cries, for the first time, since she was diagnosed with cancer.
I remember the fog of that morning.
I remember our short night. I especially remember our hope to see the cancer
wiped out. For good!
The travel time to Baltimore seems
to me an eternity. I have not had time to ask myself what would happen after
the surgery. I am confident. Extremely confident… The tumor will be taken out and
we will return home a few days later. All we know for sure is that Aisha is
going to lose her vocal chords. But this is the least of our worries!
The music program on WGTS 91.9 seems to be made for us. Soft,
relaxing and inspiring. But at this early hour of the day, all my thoughts come
back to me, consistently. Our life is going to change radically… All I need now
is a vacuum in me, so I can be better filled with God’s grace. I do not know
what is going on Aisha’s mind. I am so afraid to ask… But her smile reassures
me more than millions of words.
The week has been so hectic: we went to the Philadelphia branch of
the Cancer Treatment Centers of America (CTCA) with the hope that the diagnosis
would be different from what we were already told. Long story short: the second
opinion was no different from the Johns Hopkins’. We quickly decided to keep
the initial plans unchanged. The surgery which was optional in the beginning of
the treatment is now considered critical.
And here we are in this corridor, facing the reality of esophageal
cancer and its complications. As Aisha is being taken to the surgery room, as I
see her waving me goodbye, I can’t handle it anymore… I burst into tears. Things
are falling apart. Literally!
The surgery is planned to last at least 8 hours. I need to fill my
mind with some good memories. I start watching some family pictures, including those
of our wedding. I am so into it, that I do not notice the presence of Pastor
Norm and Kingsley. They are here to accompany me in what would be an unexpected
path: God’s path.
Stay blessed, God loves us!
Rigo
