Registering at the Outpatient Clinic at John Hopkins was so smooth that I thought wow, it has never gone this fast before. All my hopes were dashed when I approached the extremely overcrowded waiting room for my appointment. There was not a seat to be had, and many were lined up surrounding the chairs waiting to pounce on the first one that came available. If you never have experienced John Hopkins before, it is a city in a city. It can seem very overwhelming with people everywhere on their way to somewhere.
I finally found a seat. There was a gentleman sitting next to me talking with the man who sat on the other side of him. Since you are sitting close to others with nothing to do, but wait for your name to be called, you hear all conversations around you. The waiting room is strictly for surgical patients, many who have cancer and have a story to tell. This was the conversation I was hearing as the two men talked of their experience, diagnosis, and fears. As the gentleman on the other side of the man sitting next to me got up for his appointment, the man next to me began a conversation. We shared together for awhile. There was a point when he began to share his life living with his son. He said you know my son said to me one day, "Dad I believe you are depressed". He responded, "Do you think!" He had been through so much pain and his recovery was a long one dealing with so many issues from surgery. He told me that his son wanted him to do more and more. "I would cut the grass, and was so exhausted that I would have to rest for two days. My son just does not understand." "I think I will go live with my brother, at least he is my age and understands the body's limits even without health complications." I so connected to a man who I really did not know, but I sure did understand him.
What really hurts is that your own children, spouse, and family in general do not understand what you really go through. The least little set back, body aches, etc. can set you into an emotional tail spin. Each one of my children has hurt my feelings in one way or another. Most of the time it was not intentional. They just have no understanding of where my head and heart where at the time.
I was talking with my Boss recently at work. He said something that is so true. He said he remembers his Dad going through rough times as he got older. He had no understanding of where his Dad was at the time. But, now that he is older, oh boy "understanding" he now has.
I had a good friend that had been battling cancer a few years when I had was first diagnosed and had my first surgery. His words ring so true. He said to me, "No one really understands until they go through it. Now you understand." And yes I do! God Bless Him, he has gone home to be with the Lord.
When you battle a serious illness, your heart and mind are in a different place. You will be more sensitive to things said and heard. You cry real tears and your heart hurts many times over things that others will never know or understand. Yes, there are times of depression, times of so many unanswered questions, and times of fear. You feel all alone with family all around you. Sometimes it is a very dark place, you desperately want to shake off. Nothing is the same and you want to go back to a time of joy and happiness. You want your family to understand. Truthfully they have "limited understanding." They hurt for you, but do not know the battle and can not imagine where you are.
Where do you find comfort? (Psalms 147:5 "Great is our Lord and mighty in power; His understanding has no limits") When no one understands, God does!! He is my comfort. He is my rock. He is my sounding board. He has no limits and understands. If I did not have God, I literally would crash. He is my hope. I will stand and trust Him.
What about you?
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