Angels in My Midst

Joan Moon

For several years pain had been my existence beginning as an occasional, severe deep ache which seemed to be in my joints.  I never knew where the pain would occur next.  The pain progressed to a daily experience of deep, deep pain which was especially difficult at night.  Sleeping was difficult because a comfortable position eluded me.  The room was never cool enough.  Trips to healthcare practitioners left me with a continued wondering as all the tests that were performed came back negative except for chronic anemia which everyone thought was iron deficiency.  Trips to the emergency room left me feeling like I was a frequent flyer whose pain was of little significance to anyone but my family.  One nurse supervisor told me I was a frequent flyer and even downscaled my pain scale which I had rated as a "10” because she said I didn’t act like I was in that much pain. Of course, I am a nurse-midwife and know how to do deep breathing. Those 2 ½ years were a sad time.  I could not imagine living the rest of my life in that condition.  In the fall of 2005 my husband said he wanted to bundle me up and take me to the Mayo Clinic.  That suggestion was not taken seriously because, of course, our insurance would not cover going out of network.

At Christmas time, 2004, I crocheted scarves for gifts.  During that time my left arm began to ache.  The physician prescribed physical therapy after an MRI showed a torn rotator cuff.  The MRI also showed "abnormal” cells.  I was scheduled to see an orthopedic surgeon who said I needed to have a bone scan before he would operate on my rotator cuff.  At my next visit, I was told that there were multiple lesions that could be cancer.  That night, with potential cancer looming over me, I had three phone calls from friends across the country.  They were just calling to see how I was doing.  They were the angels of the airwaves.  Another thing happened at about the same time.  I teach for the Medical University of Ohio College of Nursing.  I received a call from one of our master’s students asking if she could do a preceptored experience with me that semester.  I had never had this request before.  She became my angel.  I had great difficulty walking that semester.  She would meet me in the Lobby of the hospital and assist me to the unit where I would sit at a table all day caring for student paperwork and charts while she supervised within the patient rooms.  I truly believe she was sent to me during this difficult time.

Long story short it was Stage IV nonHodgkin’s lymphoma which was diagnosed in March 2005.  The oncologist came into the recovery room after surgery and said, "I have good news, and bad news.  The bad news is you have lymphoma.  The good news is it’s treatable.”  Then she walked out of the recovery room and angels were at my side.  They were the nurses who surrounded me and cared for me as I absorbed the shocking news.  One of them was a breast cancer survivor. I was devastated, in denial, never angry, just in disbelief.  At that point the lymphoma was throughout my skeleton.  My bone scan lit up like a Christmas tree and I was unable to walk.  

On my first trip to the oncologists’ office I was in a wheelchair not knowing if I would ever walk again let alone live.  Into my room came a tall, kindly, man who commenced to tell my husband, daughter, and myself that he was going to "cure” me.  Now that’s a pretty tall order but when that ill one grabs onto every word of hope that can be offered and I took those words and held on tight but not knowing whether to trust them.  Every time I went back I would ask….he said he would cure me.  Is this possible? No one ever repeated that hope of cure. After I had completed chemo treatments I was at a dinner where the physician mentioned that one type of lymphoma is curable…and I found out that I had that type…oh to have known that for sure while I was in treatment~ 

The minute friends and family – many of whom lived at a great distance – heard I was ill they came forward, dropped what they were doing in their lives, and administered to me in my hours of greatest need.  For several weeks these angels did not leave my side.  They nourished me, took care of basic body needs, loved me, and cared for my husband as well.  From Phoenix, Albuquerque, Cincinnati, Columbus…they came…..these angels.

Angels not only came from far and wide.  They were the ones who ministered to me from church and from the university where I taught.  They brought meals, books, prayers from all faiths.  They sat by this frail, sad woman for hours letting her cope in the ways she knew best.  Some were soft and quiet, others were assertive in telling me I would be better, while others were just present.  They dusted my house, did my laundry, took me to appointments, all the while giving unconditional love.  They were not judgmental of my uncontrollable anguish.  My body was broken – years in the making – my spirit was weak – my heart aching – and a tormented soul.

My husband gave me blessings…three of them…the last one left such an impression…he blessed me with a "cheerful heart, hopeful mind and peaceful soul.”  So these were the angels in my midst.  They were tangible.  I could sense them, touch them, hug them.  

My life became better as the cancer went into remission.  My angels faded away back into their own lives and ministering to others in need.  My life was profoundly changed by my experience. I no longer fear death. I have lived as well as possible…no residual effects. I have loved my life and am forever grateful for the angels in my midst.