“You wake from dreams of doom and--for a moment--you know: beyond all the noise
and the gestures, the only real thing, love's calm unwavering flame in the
half-light of an early dawn.” - Dag Hammarskjold, Markings
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At 4:30 this morning, I awoke to the chime of my phone indicating I had a text message. In the darkened hotel room, I reached out for my phone to find a quote sent by one of my kindred spirits back home. This dear friend of mine often sends me inspirational, often deep spiritual, thoughts and I take great comfort in exploring my own humanity through these quotes, excerpts, or words she sends. As I rested still in my bed, I heard Elizabeth whisper, "Mom, can you get me more ice?" The past twenty-four hours have been quiet and uneventful, ones filled with silence or the gentle flicker of the Olympics in the background. After bringing her back to the hotel yesterday morning, she has been able to sleep and rest more comfortably. At this point, sleep is the best medicine for her, and she has asked for very little.
The ice brings her comfort from the swelling that naturally takes place after a craniotomy. Interestingly, the puffiness and blackness of her left eye has caused her the greatest concern. Her hair, because of its length and thickness, hides the 42 staples that decorate the side of her head, but the blackened eye and dark temple and jaw bone don't look familiar to her and make her look different. The surgeon has also prescribed a steroid to reduce the inflammation, and we know over the next week or two that will disappear. I filled her ice bag, and when she said her head "kind of" hurt, I gave her a stronger pain killer. While she has a prescription for oxycodone that she can take every three hours, she has taken very few of these, and says the Tylenol lessens the slight discomfort she has. Brian and I are still in awe that her head doesn't hurt; instead, as we were warned, her jaw hurts the most because of the cutting through of that muscle.
Being together in the quiet of a hotel room has been good, and we look forward to meeting with the oncologist on Wednesday. Elizabeth is ready to get home to see her brother, her pets, and her family and friends. Fortunately, her good Denison friend/roommate's parents live near Rochester, and they were able to visit yesterday for a bit. The mother is the person responsible for getting us into the Mayo Clinic so quickly, and we will forever be reminded of the importance of connections and action. Several family members called, and Elizabeth was also able to FaceTime our dear neighbor children. She had worried that her darkened eye and railroad track of an incision would scare them, but they seemed rather intrigued. Right before the FaceTiming, the three of us had had a bit of an argument over including photos of her incision in a public forum. Brian wanted to protect visitors to this blog, but Elizabeth was pretty insistent that to not sharing them keeps important information secret. The incision and the staples as well as the puffy and darkened face are part of the story.
Last night's weather report is calling for six inches of snow, and yet we seem oblivious to the world outside our window. We have no need to venture out so it will be another quiet day for the Schillings, and that is okay with me. The quote my friend sent me in that early morning text message was one by Dag Hammerskjold. It reads, "The longest journey is the journey inwards. Of him who has chosen his destiny, who has started upon his quest for the source of his being." May we each find solitude and clarity on this quest.
and the gestures, the only real thing, love's calm unwavering flame in the
half-light of an early dawn.” - Dag Hammarskjold, Markings
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At 4:30 this morning, I awoke to the chime of my phone indicating I had a text message. In the darkened hotel room, I reached out for my phone to find a quote sent by one of my kindred spirits back home. This dear friend of mine often sends me inspirational, often deep spiritual, thoughts and I take great comfort in exploring my own humanity through these quotes, excerpts, or words she sends. As I rested still in my bed, I heard Elizabeth whisper, "Mom, can you get me more ice?" The past twenty-four hours have been quiet and uneventful, ones filled with silence or the gentle flicker of the Olympics in the background. After bringing her back to the hotel yesterday morning, she has been able to sleep and rest more comfortably. At this point, sleep is the best medicine for her, and she has asked for very little.
The ice brings her comfort from the swelling that naturally takes place after a craniotomy. Interestingly, the puffiness and blackness of her left eye has caused her the greatest concern. Her hair, because of its length and thickness, hides the 42 staples that decorate the side of her head, but the blackened eye and dark temple and jaw bone don't look familiar to her and make her look different. The surgeon has also prescribed a steroid to reduce the inflammation, and we know over the next week or two that will disappear. I filled her ice bag, and when she said her head "kind of" hurt, I gave her a stronger pain killer. While she has a prescription for oxycodone that she can take every three hours, she has taken very few of these, and says the Tylenol lessens the slight discomfort she has. Brian and I are still in awe that her head doesn't hurt; instead, as we were warned, her jaw hurts the most because of the cutting through of that muscle.
Being together in the quiet of a hotel room has been good, and we look forward to meeting with the oncologist on Wednesday. Elizabeth is ready to get home to see her brother, her pets, and her family and friends. Fortunately, her good Denison friend/roommate's parents live near Rochester, and they were able to visit yesterday for a bit. The mother is the person responsible for getting us into the Mayo Clinic so quickly, and we will forever be reminded of the importance of connections and action. Several family members called, and Elizabeth was also able to FaceTime our dear neighbor children. She had worried that her darkened eye and railroad track of an incision would scare them, but they seemed rather intrigued. Right before the FaceTiming, the three of us had had a bit of an argument over including photos of her incision in a public forum. Brian wanted to protect visitors to this blog, but Elizabeth was pretty insistent that to not sharing them keeps important information secret. The incision and the staples as well as the puffy and darkened face are part of the story.
Last night's weather report is calling for six inches of snow, and yet we seem oblivious to the world outside our window. We have no need to venture out so it will be another quiet day for the Schillings, and that is okay with me. The quote my friend sent me in that early morning text message was one by Dag Hammerskjold. It reads, "The longest journey is the journey inwards. Of him who has chosen his destiny, who has started upon his quest for the source of his being." May we each find solitude and clarity on this quest.