Good Friday. It doesn't feel very "Good". I'm in the hospital pre-op area with Mom. She was diagnosed a month ago with invasive ductal breast cancer. Mom and I have been together for the last three weeks, living with this knowledge about the cancer, but not being able to do anything about it. Mom called a month ago with the results of the biopsy. I fretted at home for a few days and finally just flew down here to the Atlanta area so I could be at Mom's surgeon's appointment with her. It's a small tumor so her prognosis is probably excellent. Mom is having a lumpectomy with lymph node biopsies followed by six weeks of radiation. She'll see an oncologist but probably won't need chemo.
Surgery date was finally set for today. In the last three weeks, Mom has done more than her usual cooking, cleaning, and taking care of my Dad (with mild dementia) and my aunt (who is 95) to keep her busy while trying not to stress but using the occasional Xanax. Thank you, Lord, for pharmaceuticals! I've been the occasional errand-runner and all-around general purpose try-not-to-be-a-nuisance. But I've been knitting and reading and hanging out.
And we finally made it to today. Mom didn't sleep too much last night. Neither did I, but I'm usually a late-riser. And we're finally here. Friday. Good Friday.
It's surgery day, but there are still so many questions. How many nodes will be positive? What will that mean? Will all the margins come back negative? Will she need another procedure? I'm scheduled to go home on the 11th. Is that too early? Will Mom still be able to care for Dad and Aunt Chris like she has been? Will the oncologist recommend other treatment?
It's Good Friday. 2000 plus years ago, Jesus' disciples (all of them, not just the 12 who were closest to him) also had questions. They had staked their lives on Jesus. He seemed like he was more than just the latest in the long line of messianic prophets. He claimed to be the "one"! But, here he was, being executed by the Roman authorities on the recommendation of the Jewish leaders.
And now, the questions. What would happen to them, the disciples? Where would they go, just back to their normal lives? And if Jesus wasn't the Messiah, would the next one be? Would they have to always live under Roman oppression? What about all the prophecies?
Today is Friday. But, no matter what happens with the breast cancer, we have the hope of Sunday. Jesus rose from the dead on Sunday morning to make the world right, to pay for our sins, to make us free. Jesus' disciples became the Church and turned the world upside down because of the Resurrection! Talk about getting an answer to their questions!
Mom and I are stuck with questions today on Friday. But Sunday is coming. No matter the answers about cancer, even if they aren't good medically, Jesus is still the Savior, he still conquered death, and we still have hope.
It's Friday. But Sunday is coming.