“Health is not valued until sickness comes.” ~ Thomas Fuller


The hours waiting while Dad was in surgery seemed to be taking a toll on Mom. I asked if I could do anything for her and she just shook her head. I could see that she was scared. Dad, my brother and I were her entire life. She slowly rose out of her chair and announced she was going to the Chapel to pray. I nodded, but part of me didn’t believe God could make this better; this seemed bigger than the universe.

Hours passed and finally the surgeon appeared. We all rose up out of our chairs and looked at him like little puppies. He said Dad made it out of surgery and was placed in intensive care. The kidney and tumour were removed; a piece of the tumour would be sent out to determine whether it was Cancer, although the surgeon believed it to be malignant. It was a large and fast growing mass, but he was hopeful that he ‘got it all’. I looked over at Mom to see her inhale and put her right hand over her mouth. At that moment, I noticed how frail she had become over the last few weeks. We all just stood there looking at one another then we stared at the floor. We barely heard the surgeon say,

‘Wait an hour and then you can go visit him. He will be groggy as he is on many medications for the pain, but I’m sure he would feel better knowing you are all by his side when he wakes up’.

The surgeon walked off; Mom looked up at me and quietly asked, ‘do you think he’ll be okay?’

How could I answer that? I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, ‘Yes, he will be fine’, but something in my gut made me feel otherwise. I looked into her brown eyes, gently placed my hand on her shoulder and said, ‘let’s take it one day at a time, okay?’

Mom nodded; my brother, Mom and I all sat back down in silence as we waited for some sort of sign.


© 2014 Paula Bilz. All Rights Reserved.









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