Church, Loss and Barium
This afternoon I start the prep for a barium enema. For some reason I waited until last night to Google what type of procedure this was because I am one of those rare few that takes the order from the doctor without asking any followup questions, such as – What the heck are you sending me to get done? The GI specialist told me that these procedures are exclusionary tests to ensure that the laparoscopy is the correct step to take – essentially to put the gynecologist’s (or eventual surgeon’s) mind at ease that there are no GI issues.
Knowing that these tests are simply to make someone else feel better seems like a waste of money when I have already been diagnosed with endometriosis, and my symptoms currently mirror my symptoms from 2005-2007. However, I will go along with this awful procedure on Tuesday, and the CT scan enterography on Friday like a good sport.
Aside from the shock of learning there’ll be a tube placed where it should not be, today was a good day. I woke up and went to church. I went by myself because the husband was not feeling well and wanted to watch online, but I felt this uncomfortable nagging pulling me out of bed and soon found myself getting ready for church. Watching church online just is not the same. It is nice and convenient when you do not have the option to attend in person, but when you can and are just trying to get thirty more minutes of sleep, I feel like I’m disappointing God.
Anyways, church was an amazing experience. I needed it. I was unable to go to the church I wanted because I did wake up later than I wanted – I thought service started at 11:15, turned out it was 10:30. So, I went to the church by my house at 11 am and sat through the Part 13 of its message my husband and I heard the first few parts from a few weeks ago. The pastor was passionate and the message struck a few cords, but really, my quiet reflection and conversation with God is what re-centered me and refilled my cup for the week.
After church, I went home and warmed up leftovers for lunch, told the husband about the service, and then retired for a mid-afternoon nap after taking some more pain medication. The next thing I know, I was being woken up for dinner at my in-laws. It was a great dinner and I was so grateful we did not have to cook ourselves. However, we were nonchalantly given news we had been expecting but were still devastated by — my husband’s great-grandmother had passed away a few hours ago.
We were shocked by how casually the news was broken to us, but it seemed the news giver thought we had already been told so it was understandable. My heart breaks so much for great-grandpa, though. I cannot imagine losing my husband after our seven years of friendship and, now, marriage. Yet, seventy-three (73) years. Seventy-three. Years. That is longer than my mom has been alive. Almost as long as my grandma! It is essentially, a lifetime.
They were so happy together. I am sure there were tough times. Everyone has them. Yet, gosh, his great-grandpa adores – no, he worships- the great-grandma. He was so affectionate, caring, attentive, respectful, everything a husband should be to a wife, and she was everything and more to him. To say that she will be missed is an understatement.
It is ironic that I wrote my post yesterday about time. Time will not make it easier for the family to live without her. Time will not heal the wound of her loss. Time is punishing. Yes, by surrounding ourselves with loved ones, by rallying around great-grandpa, we may be able to make the wound, the space left not so raw… but no one could replace her or fill her void. God has a plan. He used great-grandma to save so many people throughout her life. He used her to save my husband’s grandma by fostering her, who had his mother, and his mother soon brought my husband into the world.
So, I will forever be grateful to great-grandma for her kind heart. If not for her, I may not have my happy ending.
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