Tomorrow will be day 18 in the hospital – it is almost tomorrow and I cannot sleep.

I have shared so much of our journey I may as well try to paint a picture of the past few days – but it will be a mess of a picture because that his how my brain is working right now.

All of our children (and grandchildren) have been here today which has made the day sweet. Kimberly was able to jump into her car on Thursday as soon as I let them know of Mark’s status. David was here by midday on Friday and Nathan’s family drove through the twelve hours to arrive in the wee hours of the morning. Natalie flew in from Virginia this morning – running through two terminals at Chicago O’Hare with less than a minute to spare. Greg and Jackie are hosting their siblings and have been present and supportive.

Several health care workers mentioned how they love to walk into our room because it feels so good. Someone said they can feel the love. I believe it is the Spirit that they are feeling and I am glad. I am also very glad that the charge nurse came into our room yesterday and told me that she heard our children were gathering. She offered to let us move rooms and we are now in what we have referred to as the VIP Suite – it is a large room with plenty of seating at one end. Attached to Mark’s room is another type of front room with cabinets, fridge, microwave and sofa-bed. This is where I get to stay. Our new room has made all the difference and is yet another tender mercy.

I remember times this past year when I thought we had it tough. Staying at Hope Lodge for five weeks. Surgery. Doing all of the driving. Mark sleeping for days while exhausted from chemo while I ate meals alone. Three-night, four-day stays in the hospital.

Did we have it tough? I am so sorry if I complained! What I wouldn’t give to be able to go back to those “tough” days! They seem wonderful to me right now.

How does one stop crying? I feel like I have exhausted all of my tears, and then they return all over again. That was actually me, sitting in the windowsill of the skybridge (with my daughter), publicly sobbing into my hands – not caring that people were walking by. Just wanting to feel good again. Wanting this to all go away.

It isn’t going away. Something else I wish would go away – those doctors (and we have all sorts) who want to “have a talk” about the big picture, or the state of affairs, or whatever… as though we aren’t fully aware of what it happening.. I don’t like “talking about it” over and over with strangers. Mostly young doctors who know a lot about their field of expertise but don’t really have life experience. It isn’t their fault, they just haven’t lived long enough.

Mark is slowly shutting down. The hardest part for me is his inability to communicate – and yet he will suddenly be able to say something. We have spent a lot of time gathered around his bedside – hours actually. Lots of tears. Lots of laughter. Lots of time gazing at this man that we all love.. Often he muttered, but most of it was about the light and the beauty of love and of family and of Jesus Christ. Over and over he expressed love to each family member. “I love you” seemed easier for him to say than other words. Today he is much more quiet and has more trouble forming words… until he doesn’t. Then he will come up with a phrase or two – often something that makes us laugh.

Here are a couple of moments I have enjoyed.

For years he has been after me to buy a nicer car but I don’t like to spend the money and my car may be uncomfortable, but it works every time I turn it on so it is fine with me. So today I was trying to goad him into speaking or reacting. I promised him that if he would just live long enough he could pick out my new car – otherwise I might buy a Ford. He spoke right up, “NOT a Ford!!” This brought a laugh – we know he is able to listen and comprehend everything that is going on. (By the way he drives a Ford F150.)

Last night we stood around his bed as the kids were getting ready to go and David offered a family prayer. We spoke for a moment afterward and then did an impromptu high-five across the bed. What a fun surprise to see Mark’s hand shoot right up into the air to join us. He is still with us.

Now I have become the one with difficulty breathing. This is hard!

I am thankful again for a bishop who was inspired to ask for a special fast. God knew that we were going to be needing some help this week.