~and now that I am breathing again~

34 years ago today, just about this time of the early morning as a matter of fact, the call came to tell me that the greatest man that I will ever know, my father, had just passed away.   His 18-month long ordeal of trying to overcome lung cancer had come to a merciful end.  No longer would he struggle for every breath he took.

I had seen him the day before, twice actually, as he lay in his hospital bed.  It was during one of those visits that I snuck in my little 2-year old boy in order that his grandpa could see him one last time.  Back in those days, hospitals didn't cut a lot of slack in allowing little children to visit anyone.  Even those that were dying.  But I did it anyway, coming up the stairway with him and slipping in the back door.  We didn't stay long, only enough time for my dad to see my little Ricky and get a dose of the best medicine a man dying from cancer could take.

I had this feeling about me that it would be the last time he would see my firstborn son and I didn't want my father to be afraid.  So I took off Ricky's stocking cap and placed it into my father's hand and told him that if he was scared he could remember that little boy and not worry.  The fourth-floor nurses found it in his hands less than 12 hours later.  It was only a little blue stocking cap but I hope that it brought him comfort in his last moments of life.

He was 59 years old when he died.

Because sometimes I believe that "ironic" is my new middle name, it seemed appropriate that I would have to go back in for a repeat mammogram and ultra sound yesterday because of a suspicious looking area in my left breast.  I saw it myself on the screen yesterday and understood why it would send up that proverbial "red flag".   At first I really didn't even want to see it but decided I needed to understand what it was that they were concerned about.  The next 60 minutes were an eternity but was I ever thankful to hear the words that came from the radiologist's mouth.

"I am sure that it is a fluid-filled cyst.  I don't believe you have anything to worry about.  Be sure to come back next year for your mammogram."
And with that, the wait was over.  I went home with a much lighter heart and plans to continue living.

I learned a lot about myself in the 24-hours of time that passed between getting the call at school on Tuesday and yesterday afternoon at 4 p.m.  The news stopped me literally "dead in my tracks".  It had this way of paralyzing me.  My entire Tuesday evening was spent sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over online information about what I was going through.  In my sadness and frustration, I sat down to write a blog post about it, asking people to please pray for the results to be "ok".  And pray they did!

I went to bed and slept fitfully for the next few hours.  In my mind I kept thinking of a thousand things and not a one of them was good.  What if I really was sick?  What if this was really bad?  Who would take care of my students?  Would I ever see my granddaughter again or any other grandchildren that might be born in the future?  Even though my 3 children are grown adults now, they still need a mom around too.  What about them and Mike and Sally the Dog?  Now that I type these words, a smile comes to my face.  I had a lot of fears about the unknown and even though I tried my best to give them to the God that made me and keeps me, I kept taking them back from Him time and time again.  I guess that makes me only human.

This is December 11, 2014 and the day that the Lord has made for all of us to rejoice and be glad in.  Yes, it is the anniversary for me of my father's death but it is also a good time to remember how thankful I am to be alive and in reasonably good health.  When I reached my 59th birthday just a couple of months back, I told myself that I would make it to the next one.  The one that my father did not have.  The good Lord willing, that is exactly what I intend to do.

Dear friends and family, I thank you for caring about me.  You loved me enough to pray for me and to try and calm my fears.  I didn't realize just how many other women that I know have gone through the very same thing and not just once but many times over.  I was never alone in this and for that I give thanks to Heaven above.

I awoke this morning, for a reason.  God needs me to be here.  If you awoke, well then there is a reason for that as well.  Take care of yourselves my dear friends and family in what ever it is you do this day and I promise to do the same.  You know, I kind of like this thing called "living" and truth be told, I am sure that you do as well.

My dad was the greatest man I will ever know.  His life may have been short here on earth but he was able to leave behind some personal legacies.  I am his little girl and I am one of them.

Rest in Peace, John Scott, Jr.
Jan. 30, 1923~Dec. 11, 1982