May 13, 2009 Making God Laugh

Life is never as we plan it. I probably have mentioned this somewhere in my blog, but as they say in the old joke, if you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans for the future. As I sit here, late at night, once again I have made God laugh.

On Saturday morning, Julia and I had gotten up early to watch Justin play baseball in Scottsdale. We had the normal 45 minute drive turn into almost and hour and fifteen minutes due to the fact that the department of transportation always shuts down the main north-south highway going to Scottsdale on the weekends.

I thought that I would give my Terry (if you just started reading this, Terry has been my best friend for 30 years and is suffering from prostate cancer) a call before the game started to see if he had improved any since our call on Thursday. Although he had made some progress in the previous weeks, he had taken a downturn in the last few days and I was hoping that the antibiotics that they had given him on Thursday would have started to kick in.

Sadly, the opposite had taken place. He was feeling worse and I could tell in his voice that he was very concerned. By the end of the conversation, I knew that I would have to make one last trip to Columbus.

Although we were in the middle of nowhere, modern day technology came to the rescue. Julia did some initial look-ups for potential flights on her phone. She then called our good friend Laurie Liss who happens to be a flight attendant for Southwest. She was able to get me booked on an 8:20 flight for the next morning. Not the way that I wanted to spend Mother’s Day, but, as always, Julia was understanding of what needed to be done.

I once again tried the mask on the plane gig, but I quickly came to the conclusion that I was no longer the guy with a disease that had worked so well the last time I flew. I quickly became an oddball that was afraid of the Swine Flu. As a result, what must have been a former lineman for the Chicago Bears sat down in the middle seat next to me. For the next four hours, I not only looked like a goof, I had to scrunch up next to the window so that there was enough room to breathe.

After going through Chicago to get to Columbus, another good friend, Paul Collini, picked me up at the airport to take me to his house. Not only was I getting a free place to stay, but also a free BMW to drive around for the next few days. Paul even rode his bicycle to work the next day (15 miles) so I could use the car.

I went to Terry’s as soon as I dropped Paul off at his house and found him to be in a very non-Terry-like state. He had been told by the his nurse that visits twice a week that the last blood work came back showing that his liver function was failing and it was only performing at about one third of it’s normal capabilities.

Despite that, we were able to talk about the old times and everything else under the sun. I was still holding out hope that God had one more miracle in Him.

Monday became a busy day for me as I started off the morning at my old job with Abbott. This was the first time that I had been back since I was diagnosed so it was nice to prove to people that I was doing pretty good. It was also an opportunity to thank people for their prayers, cards and well-wishes over the last three months.

I then moved on to Terry’s for a while before I visited my mother in law, Fran, who was in Columbus for round two of her chemotherapy. Then on to Marysville to eat at Benny’s and spend some time with old friends from the boys’ baseball days with the 79’ers.

It was during that visit that things came crashing down. Terry called and filled me in on how his appointment with his doctor went that afternoon. Sadly, Terry was told that time was running out. With his quickly failing liver, he may only have days remaining.

The remainder of my visit was pretty subdued. What do you say to someone that only has days to live? I struggled for words. You feel so helpless when someone is in pain both physically and mentally and you can’t do a thing.

As the hours counted down, I dreaded walking out of the room for the last time. The last time I was in Columbus to see him, I still had a faint hope that he might survive. Saying goodbye was hard, but I still felt it might not be the last time. This time I knew it would be.

Thankfully, Terry was the strong one. I had trouble getting anything out without tears, but he was as stoic as he could be. Having to catch a plane, I finally gave him a hug and half ran out of the room as tears ran down my cheeks. His last words were, “I love you, John.”

Now I have to wait for the last call, the call I have feared would eventually come. Not sure I’ll be able to say much when I hear the words.