It’s always someone else. Until it’s not.

The surgeon from the ER is straight and practical about telling us what we face.

John wasn’t having a stroke.

I learn new words. Glioblastoma multiform, grade 4.

His brain cancer surgery is scheduled for this Friday morning.

It hurts so bad right now.

I tried to sleep some. But can’t sleep long.

I’ve had about 5.5 hours of sleep in 3 days.

One of our retired law-enforcement friends says it’s the adrenaline. And that it will run out.

And I know this.

I’m not trying to stay awake.  I’m just stuck there.

I’m still in shock.

I still want to wake up.

Now. Please.

John’s my rock.  And he’s in grave danger.

With everything I believe about energy and faith. I don’t know how to be right now.

I have to balance between being positive and being ready.

And there’s no peace in any of it.

There’s so much work to do.  So many legal and financial things.

Things I have no idea how to begin.

Why do we do this? Why do we make the system so painful?

It’s been almost 10 years since John came home from his last overseas deployment.

It was just in time, because I was falling apart.

I was afraid to be alone, because of my emotional state.

The gaping hole that simply his absence created in me.

I was not afraid for his life. He’s the most capable man I know.

It was the whole feeling of him being disconnected from me.

Not being able to pick up the phone.  Not knowing where he was.

Always waiting for a call in the middle of the night.  Maybe.

And I carried a gaping, oozing wound with me everywhere.

No matter how ok I was, I wasn’t. Because my life was constantly seeping from me.

My other half was gone, and the hole in my side would not close.

People were sometimes bewildered as to why I was so deeply affected in that way.

So was I.  It was so horrible. Long deployments are not kind.

And until that time, I had no idea how tied together John and I are.

Tough, down to earth people. We’ve faced so much hardship together.

Things most people never face. And never will.

All my greatest fears of losing this wonderful family of mine were faced back then.

I thought.

And then John went through it with me 2.5 years ago when I developed a blood clot from my ankle surgery.

And he fell apart having to face his fear of me dying.  Because his adopted sister died of a blood clot.

And now, I wonder if it was all to help prepare me/us instead. Like did God plan this all along.

And I don’t want that to take hold in me, because I don’t want to somehow manifest something I don’t wish.

I have poured out my soul in this.

I put a general announcement out to the worlds we’ve been a part of.  College, the Texas Guard, my spiritual groups, my crochet friends.

John’s name has been added to many prayer lists at churches around the world, thanks to connections we’ve gathered over time.

And I hope for many more.

Hundreds of people are praying and sending Reiki and doing energy work on him right now.  On us.

I know I’m alive because of prayer and positive will from communities and friends.

I know I’ve experienced many miracles.

But the only thing so dark as this that I’ve ever experienced before was nearly losing my son in the womb.

Those 8-9 weeks we didn’t know if our son would live or die.

The night I hemorrhaged, and prepared myself to lose my baby, I suddenly heard a voice that guided me then.

“Mommy, don’t give up on me.” 

It was clear as day, out of nowhere.

One of the most profoundly spiritual things I’ve ever experienced.

From that point on, no matter how much doctors told me that I wasn’t facing reality and needed to prepare….

I knew my unborn son was alive.

It carried me through the face of so much medical disbelief.

I so desperately want to hear a voice right now.




Filed under Friends and Family, Writing

13 responses to “It’s always someone else. Until it’s not.

  1. madcroscientist

    I hate that this is going on in your lives. My thoughts and prayers are with your family right now.

  2. kathleen Robins

    I am so sorry. Your family is in my thoughts and prayers. I send you peace and calm and solace and hope.

  3. Paula

    Oh honey. I have so been where you are right now.Twice with ourson —in fact he was released from the hospital again less than a week ago.
    You articulated so beautifully and so perfectly all the feelings. It was like reading my own experiences. I can’t tell you how helpful that was for more than just a few reasons. It would take too long and anyway you don’t need to hear all that; you’ve enough on your own plate right now . But I did want to take a moment to thank you for that, and far more importantly, to add my support, energy, and prayers to the many I know are already on their way to you and your family.
    Please keep posting updates if you can. I know there are many who care, myself among them.
    Peace be with you,
    Fellow crocheter, Texan, and one who has walked a similar path

  4. Liz Taylor

    Julie, God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. Have faith that John will be fine. Take care and healing prayers coming from OH/KY. Liz

  5. Kathy Sahagian

    Dear friend, I am so sorry you and your husband are facing this difficulty. Whatever you are feeling or have felt in the past due to your separation is normal for people who love each other very much and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. Add my hopes and blessing for his speedy recovery. I’m not in Austin anymore I’m in CO, but if you and or any family want to visit I’d be happy to see you guys when he gets well enough to travel. Love, Kathy

  6. Pam Fairchild

    Oh my, I’m so sorry! Know that my prayers are with you & John. My aunt was just diagnosed last Wednesday, she had surgery Thursday and her team is putting together a plan. You are not alone on this journey, I’m sure all of us who follow will be lifting you up as much as we can. Sending, hugs & peace! Pam aka Pansy Cottage

  7. You have faced many hardships before and found your way through and you will get through this. You are supported and loved with prayers, positive energy and forces unknown. Remember, your track record for surviving each day so far is 100%. Sending comfort and positive thoughts to you and your family.

  8. Doug

    Sending love and hugs and prayers…

  9. Minimomes1 / Victoria

    I am so sorry to hear what your family is going through. Sending you positive vibes and thoughts. You will all be in my thoughts today.
    I’m hoping to make it to Round Rock possibly in May, but definitely over the summer. I’d love to be able to catch up with you if you are around.
    Fingers and toes crossed for today. Hugs, Victoria

  10. Thinking good thoughts for you, John and your family. I loved the link someone shared on your wall about the woman who survived and thrived after GBM. It’s possible.

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