Sitting Still: A Note from Jan. Jud's Journal Entry Twenty-two.

The young resident sat down on the sofa by the recliner where Jud rested. Such a simple act. Sitting. He wanted to meet Jud. Said he’d heard so much from other doctors and nurses about him, his highly irregular case, his family. He spoke truth to Jud about this rugged treatment and its effects on the body and brain.

(As an aside on this day—Day +15 on Lunder 10—we learned from his medical team that his counts remain static.  Not moving down or up.  All are hopeful they will move up this weekend.  Meanwhile, Jud’s mouth and lips will remain raw and painful until his white count comes up. They are switching to IV nutrition since swallowing is so difficult for him, and they will resume a low dose of morphine to try to combat his pain.)   Back to the resident. No rushed feeling like when the doctors do morning rounds with an entourage of eager learners. He simply sat. No wrist twisting to check the time.

I suggested that it might be good if he could talk to our Dr. daughter to update her. He said he’d call her. Jud reached for a napkin and pen and began to write down Heather’s cell number. Big improvement in his sluggish brain.

As the young doctor stood to leave, he reached out to shake Jud’s hand. “Thank you, Jud, for your time.” Jud said, “Thank YOU for sitting down.  Doctors usually stand back or stand over me to talk.  I appreciate your sitting beside me.”

About a month ago, Jud was resting on the sofa in our living room while I scurried about fixing supper.  It was during that significant recovery time at home—almost three weeks—between his pre and post transplant battles on Lunder 10.  Jud and I’d spent much of the day working on finances and other concerns to prepare me if he died at MGH or shortly thereafter.  He has always been a realist, accepting truth without becoming resigned or fatalistic. His courageous balancing of truth and hope is an ongoing gift to me, to our family. But truth telling can be tiring, so Jud rested that evening.

 After awhile he called to me. ”Jan, come sit here for a few minutes.”  I thought he had one more thought to pass on, yet another instruction for my addled brain. “I’ll be right there,” I shouted from the kitchen. A shout of frustration at having to force feed my brain one more fact and stop supper preparations. When I FINALLY got there, Jud patted the sofa, smiled and said, “Please sit.” I mentally grabbed pen and paper while I sank slowly to the sofa. “What is it?” I sorta muttered. “I just want you to sit beside me for awhile.”

It didn’t take long ’til my head rested on his shoulder. Shoulders that have borne much over the years…  for our family, for Gordon College, BioLogos, Denver Seminary and now for me and for what was ahead for him and his family/friends in this battle. He wrapped his arms around me and for a sweet while we simply sat. No more instructions. No words needed. Life. Sitting still.