The Face of Courage

Last updated on: May 7, 2019 at 4:06 pm by Layne Wallace

The Face of Courage 2019-05-07T16:06:00-04:00 Layne Wallace

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

1927852_505075085019_5214_n

The sign said “7200 Family Waiting,” but it might as well have read, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” It was the kind of place that could lead one to conclude that hell and hospitals have the same interior decorator. There were only a few empty chairs in the room as the families who stayed in the room to care for their loved ones were many. There were stains from spilled drinks on the floor and empty coffee cups on the tables. The fluorescent lights were somehow dim, which made the room feel uncomfortable. The room was warm and stuffy. It felt like a human petri dish. The pressure of knowing that a loved one’s life was hanging in the balance made the room feel oppressive. Some families had arranged the chairs so they could stretch out their legs and get some sleep, although comfort was in short supply. In 7200 Family Waiting, families’ only comfort was in information.

(*I seldom write about Jenni because even ten years after her loss, it is too close to the surface. I have decided, however, that to do what I am called to do requires that I let people know why I think and write the way I do. That means I have to talk about losing Jenni and the consequences in my life. I have spent the better part of the last decade thinking and praying about the problem of evil. I believe I am called to be a guide for those who have suffered loss, and I want my writing can serve and a source of hope. I want to point all who have suffered an illness, the loss of a loved one, who have buried a child or a spouse to find hope in the One who is goodness itself. The next several articles will describe my journey from darkness to healing.)

Information, was in short supply, however. The doctors did their rounds without the families in their loved one’s room. So, the families had to rely on summaries by nurses or finding the doctors later in the day for conferences. At times, waiting in the dirty, stuffy, warm, crowded room was intolerable. The only escape from the oppression was to step outside of the room for air.

That is where I saw Josh. He was leaning on the door frame talking to his mother. His over-six-foot frame towered over her as they spoke. He was wearing khaki cargo pants and his standard University of North Carolina t-shirt, a brave choice at Duke University Medical Center. Although he was young, in his mid-twenties, he looked haggard. He had not shaven in many days, and the weight of what was occurring pressed down on his shoulders. He could barely lift his head.

What I have come to know is that his haggard face was the face of courage. I had learned to have a deep respect for Josh. The first time I met Josh was at a family Thanksgiving celebration. He had come from college with my sister Jenni and apparently they were a “thing.” Being introduced as a boyfriend to the family is always unnerving, but Josh handled the situation with class. We all liked Josh immediately. It was not long after that, the following Christmas as I recall, that Jenni brought home something else with Josh, sickness. Jenni came home with a terrible raspy voice. We all thought it was mono, something that runs rampant on college campuses. We insisted that she go to the doctor, she agreed, reluctantly. When the doctor took a chest x-ray of Jenni, his demeanor changed. He immediately wanted to talk to dad. After getting Dad there, he announced the diagnosis. Jenni did not have mono, she had lymphoma.

There is no news worse than hearing that your loved one has cancer. It terrified the entire family. One could expect that this might have been too heavy for a college kid like Josh. And one would be wrong. Josh stood by Jenni. Her course of treatment was chemotherapy and radiation, and with him by her side, she handled it beautifully. She even made a 4.0 while undergoing chemotherapy. I was impressed with both of them.

On the day that Jenni and Josh were married, we knew that the lymphoma had returned. As I pronounced them husband and wife, I was terrified at Jenni’s prospects for recovery. Like before, though, Josh was with her. He bore the ravages of her cancer, chemotherapy, radiation, and nausea with great grace. We loved him for it.

After the second bout with cancer, Jenni seemed to be doing quite well. The family breathed a sigh of relief, at least for a while. When Jenni was at my daughter’s birthday party the following October, I noticed something odd. One of her toes was in a spasm. It was curled up unnaturally. I suggested that she go to the doctor immediately. She did. What she discovered was terrible. The radiation and chemotherapy that had saved Jenni’s life caused a major complication. In about 5% of people who have Hodgkin’s disease, radiation and chemotherapy cause leukemia. Jenni was among the 5%.

The treatment for Jenni’s leukemia a stem cell transplant. Among her siblings, I was the closest match. So, I gladly donated the stem cells. After weeks in the hospital and clinics at Duke, Jenni went home. The transplant was successful.

During the weeks and months that followed, Jenni’s progress went well. She was able to live a normal life, although, with a stem-cell transplant, no life is really normal. In March of 2009, Jenni entered Duke University Medical Center to deal with some complications. She had developed graft versus host symptoms in her eyes and mouth. She had developed Diffuse Alveolar Hemorrhaging in her lungs. Thrombotic Thrombocytopenic Purpura was ravaging her blood, and the doctors seemed to believe that this last problem was the source of her other issues.

When I arrived at the hospital, Josh struggled to say that the doctors were putting Jenni on a ventilator. They were unsure if she would ever be able to come off of it, but she could not survive without it.

As I looked at Josh while he leaned on the door frame, I thought that no person this young should have to go through this. He was a kid. He was barely out of college. He had been married only a few years. Where would he find the mental and emotional reserve to cope with the unfolding events? At any rate, I was there now, and I committed that I would do anything to help my sister and anything to help him.

Uncategorized

Previous Post

April 30, 2019

No, The New Testament Does Not Affirm Slavery

Next Post

May 8, 2019 The Good Fight

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category Biblical Studies Mental Health and Religion News Philosophy of Religion Uncategorized

Select a Month August 2026 July 2026 June 2026 February 2025 January 2025 November 2024 October 2024 September 2024 July 2024 June 2024 May 2024 February 2024 November 2023 October 2023 September 2023 August 2023 July 2023 April 2022 March 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 July 2021 June 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 January 2018

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

Which couple taught Apollos more accurately about Jesus in Ephesus?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Lydia and Titus Ananias and Sapphira Mary and Joseph Priscilla and Aquila