A few days in hell...

It was Thursday that Scott called to say Jennifer wasn’t well. For a couple of weeks now, she had such a sore back that she could hardly sleep at night. For several days, her only sleep was on the couch propped up with a bunch of pillows. Scott took Jenn to the emergency room several times and the doctors said they couldn’t pin down what was wrong. Jennifer was having severe back pain along with numbness in her belly. First they thought it might be muscle pain, and then they thought it might be a kidney infection. Then Jenn was out grocery shopping with the boys last week and she was having difficulty walking. She couldn’t feel her feet as they would touch the ground. Finally, the hospital people decided to do an MRI. That was Thursday and that’s when they discovered the tumour on Jenn’s spine. What a shock. A tumour! Where the hell did that come from?! Jennifer has always been healthy and fit and always makes a point of eating the right stuff and being safe and healthy. So our big question was, is it benign or malignant? That doesn’t matter said the doctor. He said we have to cut it right now and take the pressure off the spine.
Seeing her in the hospital bed was heartbreaking. Scott was hurting so much to see his sweetheart like that. Jenn and I spent some moments talking and she saw the fear in my face and I saw the fear in hers. She reached out and grabbed my hand just like she did 20 years ago when she first came to Sudbury General Hospital. She was in high school then and was washing dishes one night after supper when she seriously cut herself on a broken glass. I remember seeing the cut and telling Jenn we’d have to take her in for stitches. She was terrified then and I remember being with her in emergency when the doctors sewed up her hand. She had a fierce grip on my hand. It was the same thing a couple of days ago. Jenn grabbed my hand and held it hard. We both knew how scared we felt. We both had tears in our eyes. Jenn was worried for the boys. Thank God Scott’s Mom and Dad, Denise and Don, drove in from Westree to look after the boys and keep the house running.
On Friday, the surgery didn’t happen, but Jenn was prepared with anti-biotics and then steroids to reduce inflammation.
Friday night Jenn seemed in better spirits. I sat with her and Scott for awhile and then she said she wanted to walk. So Scott and I held her arms and we walked all around the hospital. For a moment I was so encouraged, but then the reality of it hit me… Why did we have to hold her up? Why was she losing all feeling in her legs? What the hell is going on?
This morning as she was getting ready for the surgery, things were not better. She had less and less feeling in her legs. I tried to be positive. I told her Jenn - you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna get through this. Jenn seemed to sense my own fears. “I love you Dad,” she said with tears. “I love you Jennifer,” I said as I started crying. “I love you Dad,” she said again. I couldn’t talk. I could barely see as my eyes fill with tears.
I had to come to Timmins this morning for a few hours. I cried all the way home.
This afternoon, Jenn was still in surgery, I showered, put on fresh clothes and started driving back to Sudbury. My thoughts were everywhere. I barely noticed anything. Suddenly steam started coming out of the engine, from under the hood and then through the vents in the truck. The engine was overheating because my fan belt broke. I sat on the side of the highway for a couple of hours waiting for a tow truck. We dropped the truck off at the shop and I got in the door just before 11:00 p.m.
Scott says Jennifer came out surgery okay this evening, but not everything is okay.
It broke Scott’s heart to tell me that the tumour on her spine was cancerous. The tumour was also bigger than expected. The surgeon says he hopes he hopes he removed most of the tumour, but says he is not sure. Tomorrow Jennifer is resting and recovering. On Monday, the doctor says she needs a full scan, head to toe, to see if there is any more cancer. I spoke to Neil some minutes ago. I could tell by his voice that he too has a hard time accepting this. This is all so unhappy. I can barely write anymore. My heart is broken.