A Whipple Reflection

Life got a little crazy for my family two months ago.  In some ways it seems so much longer than that considering what has been happening. On February 14, my father had something called the Whipple procedure. Don't worry if you are not in the know. I hadn't heard of it either.

This particular procedure is used to remove tumors from the pancreas. It is a complicated surgery with too many details, which I won't bore you with, but basically after having the Whipple, you wake up with less than what you started with, and I am not just talking about the tumor. (If you Google it, you can get all the amazing details and you can even watch the surgery if you are up for that.)

Once the tumor was analyzed we learned it was cancer, but dad's doctor is confident that it was caught early and all the bad stuff is gone. The chemotherapy has begun, which is just a precaution, in case there are any lingering cancer cells, and in five months, my dad will be able to get back to normal.

I have learned so much since February. I have learned that the pancreas has three parts: the head, neck and tail. I have learned there are quite a few body parts people can live without. I have also learned that angels are around disguised as people, especially in hospitals.

A stranger hugged me when I was alone and needed a shoulder to cry on. A stranger made an elevator full of people, including my mom, laugh when we needed some comic relief. And nurses, don't get me started on nurses, we had a few who certainly have invisible wings. They treated my dad like he was part of their own family. Their care and concern made a not so good situation bearable.

My dad's five hour surgery happened on Valentine's Day and his first chemotherapy was on his 45th wedding anniversary. Those special days have even more significance now that we are on this journey. There was some wiggle room on the chemo start date, but my dad didn't want to wait. The sooner you start, the sooner you are done and that finish line will only get closer with each week.

So many families have their own stories about cancer and the aftermath. No two stories are exactly the same but it is comforting to know that we are not alone. A lot of helpful advice has been passed along and words of encouragement. It is like a warm blanket you can take with you. The cancer/chemo club is not one you choose to be a part of, but once you are in you find yourself in some pretty amazing company.

When my dad was serving our country in Vietnam, he made a sign that said U.S.A. Each day he was there, he would color a section of each letter in as a countdown to when he would be back home. Nolan and Nick made him a chemo sign to mark off each treatment as he moves closer to the goal of being cancer free and capable of enjoying all the blessings life can bring.