I Remember. . .

Look what I found today!  This made me smile. . .and laugh.  (Thanks, Lindsay, for capturing these precious moments. This video was taken on May 7, 2016 -- just a few days after we found that the cancer had metastasized to Brendan's bones.)

There are so many good memories and hard memories from this past year.  Today was the Thursday after LDS General Conference.  Last year, October 8, 2015, was the Thursday Brendan had the MRI that discovered the tumor in his sinus, nose, and brain area.    (But today feels like that day -- being the Thursday after conference.)  I've spent a lot of the day comparing days.  Last year it was blistering hot, and today was frigidly cold.  Last year the leaves in the back yard were still green, and this year they have already turned yellow and purplish-red.  Brendan was wearing his favorite cut-off jeans and a t-shirt, today the kids left for school with jackets and long pants.

I remember last year on that Thursday, Shaun left for work early, I got Aaron off to kindergarten, then we met up at the hospital for Brendan's MRI scan  -- (which had been scheduled after discovering Brendan had lost the vision in his left eye) -- somewhere around 10:30 a.m.  I really wasn't very nervous.  "What are the odds that it's something bad?" and "Brendan has always been very healthy, so  they probably won't find anything,"  were the thoughts that kept the fear at bay.  After the scan, I remember Brendan laying across the seats in the waiting room with a splitting headache and trying hard not to throw up.

I remember knowing something was definitely wrong when the technicians tried super hard to treat us like nothing was wrong.  When they wanted us to go visit with a doctor in North Logan we'd never met and said, "Don't stop for lunch or anything -- go straight there!"  (I've often wondered how many doctors they had to ask if they would be willing to give us the "news." Our doctor was out of town that week.)

I remember how nice the receptionist was at that doctor's office we went to and I was impressed with how fast she worked to get Primary Children's Hospital doctors in contact with us.  (They called us within 15 minutes of us leaving the office.)

I remember, despite the pain and the nausea, how insistent Brendan was that we stop by Shaun's office to pick up his new ukulele and kendama that had just arrived that day.  Brendan had been waiting weeks for his order to arrive.  I remember rushing home for a change of clothes and our charging cords (modern day necessities?) while Shaun stopped at the office to grab Brendan's stuff.  Then it was a mad dash to get to the hospital in Salt Lake.  From the moment we watched the technician make a phone call while conducting Brendan's MRI scan we felt that we were in a race against time.

I remember the valet at Primary Children's Hospital parking our car (the only time we ever used the south entrance or had our car parked for us) while we rushed Brendan to the ENT office just inside the doors.  Within minutes of arriving, Nick (who we came to know very well) had a scope up Brendan's nose and we were seeing Brendan's sinus cavities on the screen above Brendan's head.  I remember seeing the white tumor mass, but not realizing what it was until they checked the other sinus and I began comprehending what a normal sinus should look like.  Then I wished we could go back and look at the tumor again.

I remember talking to the surgery "admitting" secretary shortly after and feeling like I was in a fog.  She acted like everything was completely normal, and I wondered if she was just so used to dealing with people who were in shock that she didn't notice anymore.  Did she realize just how stunned and dazed we were about this whole situation?  Could she tell how hard it was to answer her questions because it was so difficult to focus on what she was saying?  Or was it just me that didn't seem to be making any sense?

I remember how sweet the anesthesiologist was in prepping Brendan for his biopsy.  She helped put Brendan (and us) at ease about what was happening.  I always hoped we would work with her again, but we never did.

There are a million more memories, all tiny snapshots of time.  It was a day that seemed to drag on forever -- probably because it went well into the night.  I remember hoping we would just wake up from the nightmare.

Funny, how much you remember when emotion imprints indelible memories on the mind.

Today, I spent all morning in the temple.  I figured that was the best place for me to be today.  And it helped. A lot.

In looking back, I can't believe how much we have all changed in a year.  I think my wonderful sister-in-law, Angie, summed it up perfectly when she texted, "What an amazing, crazy, hard, learning, sorrowful, joyful, testimony building journey of a year!  Maybe this next year can be a  little less amazing."

Amen.