Through the Valley

He is there, always! As I sat in the small waiting area anticipating the results of Robin's colonoscopy, I didn't know what to expect the outcome to be. Our hope was it would be something minor that could be dealt with minimally. We never want to think the worst in these situations, but there I was sitting in an outpatient room now void of my Robin who at that very moment was undergoing a procedure that would ultimately change our lives forever. At that point, a sense of loneliness began to close in on me. All of our families are far from this place. Our closest child was more than six hundred miles from us, and I didn't know what to expect when the doctor emerged from the procedure room. Forty-five minutes to an hour had passed, the door opened to the procedure room, and Robin was wheeled back to her holding area. She was obviously tired and still under the effects of the anesthesia. I leaned over her bed and kissed her and asked her how she did. She awakened with tears, and she looked at me through those beautiful big, green eyes and says the words that no one ever wants to hear. “The doctor says…it's cancer.” I would love to tell you at that moment I was filled with a deep sense of peace and became a great stalwart of the faith. But my heart sank. Our world, Robin's world, had just been turned upside down in an instant. With one test, one diagnosis, the valley dropped miles deeper.