Dear Family,
I am writing you in the late hours of darkness with a heavy heart after an utterly sleepless night. At the moment, I am an emotional cripple, unable to talk to anyone, even a stranger. So I apologize for using this group letter to communicate. An all-too-brief and impersonal communication will have to suffice until I don’t burst into tears every time I try to talk. Sadly, we are anxiously awaiting the confirmatory tests, but there is every indication that Nancy has the blood cancer called leukemia.
Last night, Nancy was admitted to LDS Hospital in Salt Lake City. Her skin was hot and the thermometer reading topped at 105.2 degrees. Purple bruises covered much of her body due to a deficiency of platelets, the type of blood cell responsible for clotting. The red oxygen-carrying blood cells were so severely depleted that Nancy’s blood count was barely more than half of normal, meaning she was quite anemic. And, hardest for me to witness, the bright aura that normally surrounds my bride’s demeanor seemed dimmed to a mere flicker.
Though her radiant smile retained its warmth, her normally gentle forehead lines were pulled tight with discomfort and her speech was flat and barely audible. In fact, the only words Nancy uttered loud enough for me to discern were, “Don’t say anything to the kids yet, Winnie. I don’t want Jaret and Jayna to worry.” As I held both of her hands and put my ear close to her mouth, all other sentences were just mumbles. She was in and out of consciousness.
Dr. Russ Morton, a doctor with expertise in blood diseases, was called to assume Nancy’s care. When, doctor-to-doctor, I asked him for the straight scoop in regard to what we were facing, he looked at the floor before engaging my eyes.
“Dr. Winn, Nancy is about as sick as a person can be. I don’t know if we will be able to get her into remission.” He paused, momentarily looked out the window, and before reengaging, took a quick gasp-like breath that could be heard across the room. “If we can’t achieve a remission, she won’t last the week . . . I am so very sorry.”
His definitive words were like the period at the end of the sentence. Final. No, they were worse. They were like the space after the period at the end of a sentence at the end of the paragraph at the end of the essay. Nothing more to add. Nothing more to say.
If you are a praying person, please add Nancy to your list. If not, please take a moment to visualize and remember a good time you had with her. Though she is physically weak, her spirit is strong as always. I know she will feel your love.
Sincerely,
Winnie