Friday, March 14, 2008

Here I Go Again (apologies to David Coverdale)

I'm sitting here in Iowa as the playoffs start in a matter of hours... not caring one bit about hockey right now... Terri called me and I knew it was coming, but I still felt the sucker-punch to the gut. Her cancer had spread to her vertebrae. I just sat here in silence, wishing I could find the words to comfort, to love, to show compassion... but nothing came to mind. She told me they're going to try a different chemo and even though it only has a 30 percent chance of working, as Terri so eloquently put it: “30 is better than zero...” She told me she's not giving up (in between the sobs) and kept saying “Mickey, I want to live”. I sat on my hotel bed, just numb. I asked what I could do to help and she tearfully offered up “please pray for me, that I have the strength to go through this...” I tried to stay strong and reminded her that this is where we have to have faith. I completed the call with her telling her about my drive out here from Ohio to Iowa. That made her laugh lots and lots and I hung up with her feeling a little bit better. Me, I wanted to just go down to the bar and drown my sorrows big time. But I came to the computer and was chatting with the gal pal. I was feeling really down, and she knew it. She didn't have any answers, but she was there for me. She was there. That's why I didn't go down to the bar. Not too long ago, I wouldn't have even bothered turning the computer on... I would've just sat at the bar ordering a beer, drinking shots while I waited for my beer to arrive. Today, I knew it wasn't worth it and that it would've been the wrong choice. So I sat here, chatting with the gal pal and when we said goodnight, I flipped on the TV and heard a song that made me think of my sister who started raising me when she was sixteen. I lost it, and wanted to punch the wall out of feeling so helpless. I just sat there looking up and for the first time, instead of saying “God ya gotta heal her”, through tears of pain, I let go and surrendered, saying “Lord, your will be done.” and after a while, I felt the bitterness go away. I felt a little more peaceful and was able to sit here and pound out this entry. I'll be broadcasting hockey games online, for the next couple of days on and I will not mention anything at all about my personal stuff... But know that I'll be thinking about God, Terri, the gal pal, and everything but hockey...

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