Jan Needs Me Now!
Estimated reading time: 14 minutes, 3 seconds
Treatable But Aggressive
I arrived early and was pacing in front of the hospital like men in 1950s soap operas did when their wives gave birth. The air was warm but moist as rain showers were expected later. Looking at my watch, I realized Jan’s appointment was in five minutes, and she was still not there. I reached for my shirt pocket for my phone and started to dial but saw her sauntering towards me.
“Hi,” I said as all of the words I would have said when we were married no longer were permissible.
I quickened my pace and caught up with her.
She had a purse on her shoulder and a tote bag. I instinctively reached for the tote bag, and my fingers grazed hers. She mumbled thanks and proceeded to the doorway.
After registering, we sat silently next to each other. I knew why I was here but felt out of place, like a Penguin in the Sahara Desert.
I rose from my seat to go with her but was told to wait, and they would call for me. They called Jan’s name. As I sat down, I was unsure if they knew my name.
“Are you with Janice?” The nurse’s voice confused me as I was not here with my granddaughter but with my former wife. It then dawned on me that the insurance card probably had her full legal name, not Jan.
I was escorted to a small room where Jan was already sitting. She immediately reached for the tote bag.
“I realize how scary and awkward this is for you, but I am happy to be with you and want to be helpful.”
Jan took a deep breath and responded. “I am glad you are with me. I did not know who else….”
She could not complete her thoughts as the oncologist entered the room.
The doctor introduced herself and shook Jan’s hand.
Looking at me, she asked who I was.
Jan interjected, “Richard is my former husband.”
“OK,” said the doctor. “Your chart said you were not married. I am glad you have someone with you.”
As the doctor asked a few preliminary questions, I noted how knowledgeable and competent she was. It reassured me that Jan was in good hands.
“We have found from our blood work analysis that you have non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.”
I could feel the air being sucked out of my lungs.
“It is treatable but aggressive. We will start chemotherapy next week, and the sessions will be every three weeks.”
Jan took a pen and pad out of the tote bag and asked practical questions.
I listened, but everything was moving too fast to absorb all the facts.
“Let me show you the chemotherapy room and get you registered,” said the doctor.
I trailed behind them, carrying both Jan’s purse and tote bag. I desperately wanted to hold her hand but knew I could not.
After finishing the tour and registration, Jan and I walked out of the hospital.
I stopped her as we stood in the lobby.
“I will be with you for every chemo and medical appointment and help you every way I can.”
The world moved around us while I waited for Jan to speak. Did I say something wrong?
“I am very stressed and worried. But I am happy you are here and will be with me. I had no one else I could call,” Jan said as tears formed in both eyes.
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
