A glimmer of light...

Headed 700 miles away from home and family. The doctor there is the country's leading expert and says he can fix her. At least 80% survivability at the age of 60 he says. I'll take it. From no wife in a few months, to keeping her around. I'll take it. We'll be gone for a month. Thank God for good friends and family to keep us safe, ease our burden, and care enough to help. Never really knew how many friends I had, nor how my wife had affected the lives of others till now. She is a dear, sweet girl. The hardest is accepting the help. I'm a fairly proud person. Never been given anything in my life. I've scraped and fought and bled for every single thing I've done. All of it. High School, College, Career-all of it. So, to have a person that is no better off than we are, hand us a $500 check is, well, it's humbling. Humbling. I'm not sure how this is all going to play out, but I know one thing, the Lord is watching us and there is a small army at our backs. That's the big one. I think most of my readers and fellow blogger types are the same. Hard working SOBs that don't like help or interference, but when push comes to shove, as long as we have a solid friend, at our back, with rifle in hand...well, we're ok. So thanks to all those unnamed, glorious SOBs at my back. I'm going to need it. I'll take point; let's go.

Y'all have a good 'un.

Change of direction...

They called and said it was an appendicitis. Ok. No big deal. I'll be there in a few. I get to the hospital and there she is; my brunette love. Joking, laughing, already made friends with half of the staff. They say the scans look funny, but we'll see when we get in there to take out the appendix. I wait in the room anxiously, but thinking the whole time, it's just some abnormality-nothing big. The GYN walks in and doesn't dance around it. Cancer. My girl. Not supposed to be this way. They say it is all in her belly, sticking to everything. She has some family history, but we weren't expecting this. They say it came from her appendix. Kinda' rare, but we caught a good diagnosis quickly. As I hold it all in(you know, tough guy and all) I can't help but think I don't anything about prom dresses, bras, tampons, girl issues, you know? Three little girls. What in the hell am I supposed to do? I am a problem solver. That's the sum of my life. I fix people's problems. At their worst, my crew and I are at our best. People are running out, we're running in. Well, solve this one. Can't do it. I go downstairs and kneel in the chapel and beg, and beg, and beg. Please take me instead. Do what you will; I don't care. Just don't take her from this world and our babies. Please. Please.

A week later a little hope. There is a treatment for this but it's rare and very different than any other cancer treatment. We're hoping for the best. A month of surgery and recovery, away from home, away from the girls. Loss of an income. A new house. We had just got a little breathing room. Well, the hell with that, I guess. I've never been given anything in this life. Ever. I've worked hard as long as I can remember, so, why not a little more. But, it's time we didn't have. So heap it on. I'll strap the weight to my shoulders and carry it as far as I can. I've seen what the life has done to my Dad's health, but if that's the deal than so be it. I love her. I love her so.

 I've cried more in the past two weeks than all my life combined. Now...well, just looking at her laughing with the girls does it. I leave the room a lot. I spend time in the barn for made up projects. Just hold it together I tell myself. You're the linch pin. All of it is on you. Not sure how this is all going to shake loose but for now...well, we're hanging on.