Part 21: silent auction, and fundraise my spirit
The following few weeks were spent setting up physical therapy appointments for Dan’s hand and adjusting to life at home, continuing the recovery from his amputation. The stitches were still not ready to come out. His hand became what it was in the beginning, dead weight to tote around, and coddle while it healed appropriately before his therapy to re-learn how to use it began.
Dan was starting to look a little healthier. He weighed himself close to every day. We were all happy that he was able to finally keep food in his body. He committed himself to take short walks most days, even if it were just up and down our street with the kids. He offered to take some dishes back to the neighbors who had been supplying us with meals during the times we were just a few days home from the hospital. I loaded up a few casserole dishes in the basket under the stroller seat, and buckled up the baby in the front. I told him the address, and he left the house. The 15-minute of silence in the house felt good. Knowing Dan wasn’t dying in a hospital bed gave me the freedom to enjoy time alone. My thoughts were no longer an enemy. I felt that my husband had been through the worst part of his cancer, and for the most part, had already won the battle. A few more rounds of chemo, and a ‘remission’ pink slip were the only things standing between me and the path I desperately desired to be back on.
Although his appearance was starting to improve, Dan’s mind was still slow and foggy from all the damage the drugs had done to his brain. The phone rang. It was Dan. “What is the house number again?”, he asked. I chuckled a little as I gave him the two digit number he needed to find his destination, and then said good-bye. Only a minute passed by before he called me again, asking the same question. He laughed at his realization that he couldn’t remember the numbers. He was unreliable for memory, and still was suffering from the permanent hearing loss from chemo. A constant ringing in his ear made him irritable at night and frustrated when he couldn’t hear everything that was being said.
One more minute went by before I heard the phone ring again. I knew it was Dan. I picked up the phone and before he could say anything I said, “three, five.” He started laughing at this point, trying to speak through his embarrassment, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t remember those numbers as soon as I hang up the phone with you”, he admitted. It became a joke, and source of entertainment as I teased him about the real reason for the five phone calls he made asking me for the numbers. I told him it meant he missed me, and that he needed to come home.
Things ‘upstairs’ were obviously a little off, and he suffered from extreme mood swings consisting of anger and bitterness, to laughter and a happy demeanor. Dan’s doctor had told him this was due to the low cell count in his body and would improve over time as his body regenerated itself into a more normal range of health. It would take months before he would be feeling completely himself again. Chemo was scheduled for 3-4 weeks later, making the date of normalcy being overlapped by a bath of chemo. As he became more active, other nuances started to show themselves in the form of shaky hands, much like someone with mild partisans, achy joints, and a 4-hour nap every day. His body was still much like an 80-year-old man, although temporary.
None of that really mattered to either of us much. We were just enjoying the good news of his cancer diagnosis after surgery, along with his newly discovered peach fuzz patches of hair covering various parts of his body. Little hairs sprouted from his head, upper lip, and eyebrow area. The hairs gave us something to measure every day. They first grew in black, shocking us, as Dan was a fair blonde his whole life. Shortly after we shaved those black hairs away, a small amount of blonde ones began to slowly grow, giving us less joy and reason to fuss over. It was apparent he would remain mostly bald until he was completely done with his chemo all together.
A friend from church I had worked with in an activity committee was one of our regular visitors. She was energetic, kind, and Christ like. We never hung out on a personal level, but I deeply respected and admired her for her qualities. People were drawn easily to her, making her a natural leader.
She was one of few bold enough to ask me about our finances, in addition to the emotional burdens I had been enduring through out the hardest year of my life. Though difficult to reveal the truth, I pulled out the large stack of bills from the top of my microwave and began showing her the amounts we owed. My cover for the seriousness of my admission was to joke about the large dollar amounts and shrug them off with laughter. After all, it wasn’t her problem. It wasn’t even Dan’s problem; his only job for the last 6 months was to endure his treatments. The burdens beyond that were mine alone.
I was used to doing all the bills in our marriage and handling the finances, but what I was currently facing was something I couldn’t wrap my mind around, let alone begin to tackle with a plan.
Before ending her visit she asked me if the committee, at church, I once belonged to, could organize a fundraiser to aid some relief for our financial burden. The committee of women had come up with the idea to hold a ‘silent auction’ and breakfast for our family. They had already started organizing ideas for the event, and were gearing up to venture into the community, to carry out what they had planned. Gratitude filled my heart, although I was naive to the extent of what they had in mind.
I had never been the subject of a community fundraiser. I had no idea the magnitude of what a small group with big intentions could accomplish. When I was in grade school fundraisers consisted of going door-to-door, asking your neighbors to buy over priced candy bars, and magazine subscriptions.
The following few weeks as Dan was home recovering, little angels were running around town enlisting businesses of any nature to donate items to be auctioned off. Items were handmade, packages bundled, and services designed for silent bidding. As friends of the workings reported updates for the fundraiser, my mind wandered to some of the sacrifices some were making for our family.
The young mother behind the organization signed herself up to cook for the attendee’s of the event. Her husband, a home builder, donated his time to practically refinish basement work on an auction winner’s home. The intentions, thoughtfulness, and time put into the items up for bid came straight from the hearts of those that gave. It was a way for them to show they cared, and their deep devotion to help those that were in need. Most of the donations came from people we didn’t know. The Latter Day Saint church has long time been known for people helping those in need, regardless if they were stranger or friend.
The ‘Book of Mormon’ scripture that had been the source of so many primary lessons for me growing up took on a new personal meaning.
“When ye are in the service of your fellow beings, ye are only in the service of your God”
(Mosiah 2:17)
When we arrived at our church building Saturday morning, the vision of a mini breakfast, and small auction in my mind disappeared. A line of people came out of the cultural hall doors. Red tickets held in the hands of those who purchased plates for breakfast. Families grouped together, waiting to eat $25 pancakes, and shop the full tables of items to bid on.
Music played as we entered the hall. A slide show flipped through images of us from the time we met, to while we were dating, up until the time we were diagnosed with cancer. The images changed in timing of the music.
We were the center focus of why these people were all gathered there. Mini shock waves ran through my body, the emotions of love overwhelming. I can only imagine this was a glimpse of what heaven might be like. God’s angels commencing together, embracing new and old friends, working to lift his children and save each other from personal hell and unhappiness. These were the feelings I had felt on my mission. I had been on the opposite end, not recognizing the gift of service and love on the level and magnitude I was feeling in that moment.
‘Succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees’.
As a missionary this had been my scriptural motto when serving people and teaching them about Christ. I was the one who was now being lifted up, my feeble knees strengthened.
My parents came up, our friends were there, our neighbors and acquaintances also. People who didn’t know us felt that they did. Through stories shared about what we were going through, we had gained the sympathy of many. Like in a wedding reception people took turns coming to the table we were seated at, introducing themselves, and expressing support and sympathy. As people scattered around the room writing down their bids for giant scrapbook baskets, over-sized handmade nightstands, and donated works of art, I sat by my family while I watched the slide show play over and over again.
My eyes were fixated on the images that reflected my memories.
Songs from my favorite movie ‘Charly’ played reminding me of an early marital lesson, on the importance of making your life with someone count.
I watched my life with that ‘someone’ I chose flicker on the screen for most of the time we were there. Was the man I sat by at the table the same man in the photos I was entranced by? No one knew my worry that he might not be.
Generous hearts came and donated pure blessings that day. Our family picture sat on all 30 tables attached to an inspirational quote concerning trials. I read them, wondering if I was applying them to my life appropriately while in the midst of my current trials.
Trials teach us what we are; they dig up the soil,
and let us see what we are made of.
Charles Haddon Spurgeon
Every trial endured and weathered in
the right spirit makes a soul nobler
and stronger than it was before.
James Buckham
My self-evaluation forced me to review where I was personally at, opposed to where I began, when cancer had turned my life upside down. I knew I had done my best, and that I had actually grown because of it. I loved my husband and valued my marriage far more than I did before. The usual complaints of wife, and mommy never entered my mind anymore. I had learned how quickly the people behind those complaints could easily be taken away.
As Dan had endured his previous treatment and surgery, he had changed so much. It was hard to tell if he felt the same way. Some days I knew he did, while others left me doubting. As with his recovery, it would take time before we knew where we were at, and how to move forward from a new starting point.
As the auction ended, and people began to leave the building, our committee of angels let us know the totality of what was raised for us that day. Well into the thousands. We knew our community and friends went up and beyond what we had ever expected. The power that people have to do good in the lives of others is in everyone’s grasp. Choice, and action are the only things that either push us toward or away from that power. Those women had tremendous power in my life that day. The ‘good’ that they brought into my heart will forever stay with me, reminding me to pay forward the debt.
My spirits were much higher than they had been in the beginning of this trial. At the end of an emotionally uplifting day, Dan and I lay in bed, drifting into sleep, sharing our feelings of gratitude with each other, and our appreciation to belong to a gospel organization who teaches so much about not only making our lives better, but better for those around us as well. I missed having a church calling. It was a way for me to feel that I was contributing to ward family. For me, it was a large family, where everyone had a part in making it work.
The next day was Sunday. Dan stood up at the pulpit, and shared his testimony. The power of God in his life, the love of the church, community and friends, and his gratitude for me were his focus. He publicly thanked me, expressing his inability to have endured what he had without me. Had I just been given the sign that everything between us would be all right? I chose to believe that it was, and allowed myself to feel free from the burdens that caused me to worry from time to time.
I remembered the last letter Dan had written me from the hospital, after his surgery, and before he came home. I had contracted a staph infection from being at the hospital so much while taking care of him. The heavy medication I was on to clear my body of the stubborn bug made me sick, full of nasty side effects, and was long lasting. They made me a sick person taking care of sick person.
Tatum,
I just wanted to send you a quick note to say that I love you, and that I'm thinking about you. Sorry that you have so much going on right now. When it rains it pours I guess. Thanks for being such a big help for these last few months. That means a lot to me. I look forward to spending the next 3 months with you as I recover. You are the best...
Love always,
Dan
With confidence, I stood in our last hour of church and expressed my gratitude for the love and service others provided to my family, and me. I expressed my love for my husband, the faith I had in God’s hand in my life, and that no matter how hard it was to help my husband go through this trial, I knew what we had gone through made us stronger, and he would someday do the same for me. We were a team, and the work we did was a joint effort.
My eyes were wet as I spoke, along with most of the women in the room. Most of them were my long time friends. A few had recently suffered the same fate from cancer, leaving them with personal emotions and ties to what I was experiencing. The trials of a friend can bring an entire group together, especially when they help carry part of the load. That is how I felt. Those around us were closer, if not only to us, but each other.
Nothing negative could change my humble feelings, not even our congregation leader who had been disgruntle about the fundraiser from the beginning, and had boldly went to each meeting of church and publically announced that ‘the fundraiser for the Merrills’ should not have been held in the church, nor considered a church activity. Although his need to stand politically correct could have easily upset the spirit in my heart….it didn’t. I wouldn’t allow it to.
I let the images of my life with Dan from the previous day’s slideshow
flip through my mind as I went to sleep that night. They were reassuring to me. They brought me comfort, even if it was temporary, or false.
Some things were still unknown, but I never suspected that anything could
change the security and joy I had felt in that moment.
Were the images in my mind soon to be forgotten?
Nothing could allow me to accept that. I held onto the smiles
in those photos and clung to the dream of a 'happily after cancer'. Little did I understand that things could still take a turn for the worse. I would soon
find out that not all dreams come true, no matter how much you wish them to.
