The Drive

The alarm rang at 3:30 AM. We had an appointment to arrive at the hospital for Dawn Ann’s mastectomy at 5:30. We got ourselves ready and loaded our gear into the car.

We had a word of prayer together just before we left. We asked that the Lord would bless and sustain us through this ordeal. We asked for strength and comfort from the Lord. We asked that the hands of the surgeons may be guided as they operate on her. We prayed that all may go well with her recovery from the surgery. Finally, we prayed that the cancer may be removed from her body.

We listened to some quiet classical music and held hands as we drove to the hospital, which is about ½ hour away from our home.

As a husband, I had very mixed emotions as we made that drive. I couldn’t help feeling that I was taking her into harm’s way. What were they going to do to her? They were going to remove a member of her body. A very personal member of her body, that is so wrapped up in womanhood and femininity, and self image. Four years ago, she had a hysterectomy. After her initial cancer diagnosis, Dawn Ann expressed a fear that she was losing all of her “girl” parts. Now I was taking her in for a surgery that will remove one more of those "girl parts". Things will be different for her from now on, and that is something that we both will have to come to grips with.

Intellectually, I knew she needed the surgery. The cancer must be eliminated from her body. We couldn’t run the risk of having the cancer spread to other parts of her body, and threaten her life. We have to do this thing to save her life – even though it will cause much pain, discomfort, and many adjustments. It would be a huge mistake to not take cancer seriously.

Even knowing this, it is a different matter emotionally. There was a part of me that wanted to run the other way. As we approached downtown, we passed the Salt Lake International Airport. I mussed out loud for a moment that it sure would be nice to be turning into the airport to catch a flight to Hawaii, instead of going to the hospital. Dawn Ann agreed whole-heartedly with that idea!

We went to Hawaii for our honeymoon. Whenever we go through particularly hard times in our life together, we always recall “Turtle Beach”. Turtle Beach (our name for it) is on the island of Kauai. We spent the last evening of our honeymoon there. We rolled up our pant legs and dipped our feet into the water. We watched the waves roll in, and observed fish in the tidal pools. However our most pleasant memory of that time was watching the sunset over the ocean, and watching two sea turtles bob up and down in the waves just off shore. Hence the name: “Turtle Beach”.

We thought of Turtle Beach when the children were born, as Dawn Ann endured two C-Sections. We thought of Turtle Beach when she had her hysterectomy. We think of Turtle Beech whenever we need to picture something calm and peaceful in the face of something frightening, distressing, or painful. It has often times given us a few moments of respite, until we can collect ourselves and face whatever difficulty is before us at the time. Hence, my desire to take the “Turtle Beach Exit” at the airport, instead of proceeding on toward the hospital.

We reluctantly arrived at the hospital. Parking is always an issue there. Most of the on-street parking was already taken, but it was only for 2 hours maximum anyway. I knew I would be there much, much longer than two hours. Dawn Ann would be staying the night, but I would be going home sometime that evening, and returning the next morning to bring her home.

As we got out of the car, I opened the trunk and got the things out that we would be bringing in with us. Then we turned to look at each other. Spontaneously, and almost simultaneously, we both brought our right hands to a salute, in honor of the soon to be departed right breast. Whereupon, Dawn Ann and I began humming “Taps” -- in honor of the breast that would be gone when she would return home the next day.

We joined hands, and walked to the hospital entrance, to begin a new phase of our lives.