Thursday, May 03, 2007

The following is from my daily journal that I kept while Brent was at Johns Hopkins Hospital.

I arrived in his room at 8:45 am. The nurse was feeding him a little breakfast. He had eaten a little bit of egg and drank some milk. I hadn't missed the doctors rounds.

Brent was always wondering when I'd make it to the hospital. I would tell him that I had to take care of myself and I insisted that I get a good nights sleep. I would wake up when I needed to. Our youngest two children and I had moved to Baltimore, MD so that I could be Brent's caregiver while he was at Johns Hopkins Hospital. We were in a strange city and for a long time didn't know anyone. I had to leave my children alone in the apartment every day. I would visit with him everyday, but had to leave time for the children too.

At 9:00 am the doctors came into the room. The doctor walked over to me and knelt down in front of me.

I instantly knew it wasn't going to be good news. Brent and I had hoped that things would turn out the way we wanted them to. He had accepted his diagnosis with the determination to do his part and leave it up to God to take him home or to leave him here with me and the children. He said he was ready either way. Brent told me early on during his illness that he hadn't ask God "why" this time. He had ask God "why" when our still birth daughter,Katie, was born. This time he didn't ask "why", because God had told him, "I Am".

"Mrs. Davis", said Dr. Huff". "Mrs. Davis, Mr. Davis' leukemia has come back, and there is nothing we can do for him. He has 2-3 days left."

There was a flood of emotions that swept over me. There were several other doctors in the room. They were all looking at me with sorrow on their faces. I wondered what my face looked like to them. Were they expecting me to faint, to fall apart, to scream, to start crying? I wanted to be brave and in command of my faculties. The hope that I had had all these months was gone. Just like that, my husband was going to die. It was a shock to hear those words. My knees went weak, even though I was sitting, my stomach started churning and tears welled up in my eyes.

I looked at the doctor and said, "Oh, my. I don't think I can tell him because I might cry. You'll have to tell him."

We went to his bedside. I was standing next to her with my hand on Brent's hand. "Mr. Davis"?, she said softly and with compassion. He looked directly into her eyes. "Your leukemia has come back and there's nothing we can do." "There's nothing you can do?", Brent said. "No, Mr. Davis, there's nothing we can do." With acceptance and knowing that God had chosen to take him Brent said, "Well, okay then." I ask him if he was afraid. His response was, "I don't know."

I called his parents first, my oldest daughter at work, and then my sister. I sat with him for awhile. Rhonda, the chaplain, came in and prayed with me and for Brent. Now, I had to go back to the apartment and tell my children Samuel, age 14 and Abigail, age 8 that their father wasn't going to live. Telling them that, was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.