As I waited for Linda to get out of surgery, I discovered through the stories of others their struggles of their own loved ones.

Psalm 9:18 New International Version (NIV)
But God will never forget the needy;the hope of the afflicted will never perish.

My wife and I arrived at the University of Minnesota medical center by 10:00 am for her first appointment in the Nuclear medicine area where they injected a blue dye and removed the port that had called her upper left chest home since the beginning of her chemotherapy- a journey that began the beginning of this year. 

As I dwell on that thought, I realize that this journey has taken us on quite a ride with the near-weekly appointments to the University of Minnesota Masonic Cancer Institute. All of her doctors have been caring, professional, and each in their own way exemplified the human side of medicine. 

When she was finished in the nuclear medicine area they sent us to the pre-opt surgical room where I once again got a chance to see my wife one final time before she was wheeled into surgery. The emotions of that moment were occasionally hard, but I was able to be 'strong' for the sake of my wife. I occasionally recalled memories of other occasions when our daughter 'Maria' was hospitalized on a different floor after we completed her adoption in Guatemala or the memories of seeing two of our friend's young son's when they were hospitalized for their Cystic Fibrosis.

As I waited, waited and waited, I would pray to God for God's healing to take place in that surgical room that he would be the hands the surgeons would need to successfully perform this operation.

  Once she was finished, they wheeled her to the post-operation room where she laid trying to overcome significant nausea she was experiencing from the lingering effects of the anesthesia ( she experienced this same issue many years ago in another operation when our kids were much younger). She was in this room for approximately 3 hours.

  In the meanwhile, I met her doctors for a final briefing on how the surgery went. Dr. Wei, the main doctor describe the surgery going according to the expectations that she was anticipating it would go.  She described for me the importance of draining the tube every couple of hours and used the word 'plug' when she described this procedure. 

I immediately quipped, "oh this process is akin to changing the oil in our car?' Dr. Wei smiled before saying "close', but not sure if your wife wants you to compare her body to change the oil."

 For a day of emotions, this was my attempt to find some humor. 

 Next, we met with the plastic surgeon who described his part and what he did during the course of the surgery.  He said they were going to keep her overnight just for observation.  

There were other conversations in that waiting room. I spoke with a family who was waiting for their daughter to come out her 'reconstructive' surgery', the second surgery we will be experiencing later this year. Her daughter's husband described this journey they had been on which began years ago with his wife's bone marrow transplant. His in-laws were in that waiting room and the one distraction was watching the two guys play cribbage with occasional smiles and smirks that like Mount Saint Helens, allowed the tension to escape and smiles to surface. 

This was a very busy surgery day with families waiting anxiously for any news of their loved one. There was a bag of 'mixed' emotions as I watched family streaming into this room.

When I was able to see Linda at 8:00 pm in her hospital room, she was conscious, but coming out from  the effects of her sedation and as I looked into her eyes,  I remembered the marriage vows we took, 'for better or for worse' while momentarily thanking our Lord, Jesus Christ for being part of our journey through marriage.

  I truly believe that it is the hard times in life that draw us closer as a couple. It isn't the celebratory times, but the hard and difficult times when it feels like our ship is sinking under the weight of the stress that God reveals Himself on a much deeper level to us. 

When I look around the waiting room at all of the people experiencing different health journeys, I think of  God's church with people in the sanctuary lifting their hands in praise to the almighty despite their own suffering and what a beautiful sight that must be to God in heaven.  

As I reflected on our health journey, I recalled the advice I gave our 12-year-old son in June 2007 that the best thing we can do after a tragedy is to place one foot in front of the other while trusting Jesus that He knows what to do with our pain.

God is always good even when he doesn't feel good.