Through My Mourning Fog

By Marilyn Lange Broeske

The journey of our lives was filled with heartache and gladness. Sometimes I wondered which outweighed the other.

In just three months, we would celebrate another anniversary, or would God change our plans? Did I have the strength to face what may come next?

My ability to cope was hanging on each letter that formed my words. I wondered if this time, life may prove to turn in a direction I was unaware of. There wasn't one thing I could do to change the fog I was about to walk through.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098099237

Book preview

Chapter 1

February 6, 2015

Isat in the lobby of the Marshfield Clinic, waiting for Lare to finish his doctor appointment. It had been a long morning already. I was happy that Lare would find out what was wrong with his feet today. They had been hurting him for so long now, so to have him come into the clinic for relief was a blessing. For him to go to the clinic was kind of a miracle in itself, other than a yearly checkup. He mentioned that he had had trouble with them for almost twenty years. I had no idea. No more hurting feet for you, babe. They would be taken care of today.

I phoned my brother, who worked here in the hospital, to see if he had time for coffee and a cookie. He called me back saying he was here, but he couldn’t find me. He said he looked at everyone, but it had been a while, so I suppose he didn’t recognize me. That strikes me as so funny! He looked right at me and didn’t notice me. Of course, I was busy typing e-mails, so I wasn’t paying attention either.

So, as I sat there, I listened to two waiting patients telling how to skin a raccoon, why the deer don’t come out of the woods, and why we slow down as we get older. I wanted to laugh out loud, but I contained my urges in spite of myself and continued to type a bit of this and that just to pass the time while waiting for Lare.

This place was so busy today. People must be having lots of issues with their health. Each one must be considered and treated with dignity, but I didn’t see much of that happening here in this lobby. Everyone was in such a hurry not having time or taking the time to care for another. It broke my heart. So many were elderly waiting in their wheelchairs to be picked up or placed somewhere else. As they lined up the wheelchairs, the occupants looked so bewildered, maybe scared for what the future may hold for them. No one talked to them, not even the person who moved them to their place. One by one, they were wheeled to a waiting vehicle without a word being said to them. How rude was that for someone to treat another like that? How would they know where to take these people? I didn’t like it one bit, not one bit. No one had the right to be rude to another. No one. I was angry with how the elderly were treated as if they didn’t matter any longer. One day, it would be their turn to feel the loneliness.

I had been waiting for almost two hours, wondering how Lare might be doing and if he was okay. His feet hurt him so badly; and maybe today, just maybe, he would be able to find some help. I felt so badly for him. I understood pain and knew what pain was and how it could raise havoc on the body. He had been on his feet for so many hours in a day for so many years. God bless you, honey. My heart hurt when you hurt.

For too long, he had been dealing with the numbing, stabbing, and tingling pain in both of his feet. It wasn’t diabetes, but there was something causing the numbing, gnawing pain that visited him each evening. Too many years of being on his feet, pushing himself to his limits of fourteen-hour days for more than thirty-six years—I knew it would catch up with him someday, and I found it even sadder that someday was here already. Where did the time go? Where had the time gone? We were but a vapor in this world we lived in, with someone waiting to take the space we had at this moment.

Scripture said to die was gain. I knew that to be true in my heart, and I looked forward to the day that I would no longer be here but would one day be in heaven with the Lord—only because I knew that I was saved and would spend eternity with the Lord.

I looked around me and saw so many who I knew didn’t know the Lord, so why I didn’t just start talking was beyond me. Big chicken for witnessing to another. I thought I recognized someone, and then I thought again and realized that person was dead. Talk about filling spaces. Mercy! It was all so beyond sadness to know that this world was rotting away from the center with the people in it. Wow! Perhaps I had been sitting here way too long and getting to think crazy. I missed my lil’ Annie and the pleasure she brought us. She let me know when it was time to take a nap. She would look at me and walk toward the bedroom. If I wouldn’t respond almost immediately, she would growl or maybe even bark. She would do this until I finally let her know that I was ready. Such a precious little dog! Lare loved her just as much as I did.

*****

The podiatrist didn’t like a few bumps that she saw on Lare’s lower leg as she was looking at his feet, so she sent him to see a dermatologist. He didn’t really want to wait for his one-o’clock appointment, but since he was here, I asked him to stay so we could get answers instead of coming back. The doctor squeezed Lare in at one forty-five, so Lare was a happy camper. He called me in. He sounded tired from his long day already. We were thinking that his appointment would be only a half hour, but it was turning into more than six hours. That was okay since he was retired and so was I, so we could do whatever, whenever. God is good! Patience, honey. Patience.

We finally finished at the clinic around three o’clock with Lare having been seen by a dermatologist and giving another thirteen tubes of blood. Too much blood once again. He just gave blood, but this time the doctor ordered a blood count. What was the difference? I thought every time we had a physical, we had a blood count. Goes to show how much I don’t know. Lare mentioned also that he gave more blood for a total blood count, which was much different from a blood work. I was concerned and had been for too many months already, but I prayed he was well. When Lare went in for his physical in October, the doctor told him he was just fine, with the blood pressure of a teenager and a good weight, so why did I have a heart that was racing right now and heavy with fear? That was only three months ago.

We had a bite to eat before driving home, yet I couldn’t get Lare off my mind. When we arrived home, there were two messages from the doctor that Lare’s blood work was abnormal and that they would like to see him first thing Monday morning. Okay, we can do this. I was happy that he would be checked if this were the case. Yes, I was scared, yet Lare was unconcerned about all of it. He reminded me of his physical and how everything was all right in October and how hard he worked. If he were sick, he wouldn’t be able to work as hard as he did. He was constantly busy doing this or that. He was making a coffee table for Kelly as I was writing this, so he must be just fine. We would find out on Monday. Walk by faith, Mare, not by sight. Okay, Lord. I hear you and I know you hear my prayers.

Chapter 2

Monday, February 9, 2015

As we were getting ready to leave for the clinic, the doctor’s nurse called to make sure we were coming in for Lare to see the hematologist. My first thought was, A hematologist? What for? Okay, Mare, settle down because this is nothing. Don’t allow Lare to see you worry. Smile and let’s go! He will have noticed from the blood tests that Lare has had too many nose bleeds lately.

Lare and I arrived at the clinic bright and early this morning to Desk 3-A. We’ve never been on this floor. I thought, My God, why are we on this floor called oncology/hematology? Please someone pinch me and get me off this floor. Surely, the appointment secretary made a huge mistake. Lare and I sat down, and as I looked around, I knew something must be terribly wrong with Lare to have to be here. He laughed it off and said he was only seeing a blood doctor. Okay, a blood doctor can often come with the c word. Please, God, no! Please have mercy on my Lare. I could never live without him. He has always been my rock from age fifteen. We will celebrate our forty-fifth anniversary this coming May. Please don’t take him from me.

Finally, it was our turn when I heard the nurse call for Larry Broeske. I followed Lare like I was a lone puppy that didn’t want to be left behind. We walked into a little room with two chairs, a stool, and of course a table if Lare needed to be examined. The medical assistant took his vitals, which were all good. Thank you, God.

The doctor came in a moment later and started asking Lare questions, and as he asked them, he seemed to portray that all was well with Lare. Then Lare got up and sat up on the table for the exam that wasn’t deemed necessary in his eyes. He took deep breaths in and out and answered more questions. When all was done and the exam finished, the doctor stepped back and announced that he thought Lare had leukemia and possibly acute leukemia. I sat there as tears immediately started falling down my cheeks soaking my blouse, but I didn’t notice. With no possible way I could find my voice to ask what the doctor had just said, I looked up at Lare as he sat there stunned, not saying a word. Was his voice lost as well? What had we just heard? Surely we heard the doctor wrong. Lare was strong! He always worked like a horse and ate just as well.

Before we even met with the doctor today, Lare had two eggs, two pieces of bacon, breakfast potatoes, three pancakes, and two pieces of toast. This wasn’t how someone would eat who was sick with cancer. Dear God, please tell us we heard wrong and all will be okay. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity just staring off into blankness. My heart felt like it was in AFib and broken into tiny pieces, and as I tried to stand up, I couldn’t find my legs. The past forty-seven years just flashed before my eyes in two seconds. The doctor told Lare that he would be staying in the hospital from this point on for more tests and then of course treatment. Aggressive treatment as in chemo!

After what seemed like no words could be expressed in a sane way, Lare asked me to go home before they did the bone marrow test on him. Go home? No way! I need to stay! I need to see that this isn’t happening and you want me to go home without you? Pinch me, somebody! Wake me up! This isn’t happening to us! How can I possibly drive when I can’t see? No! I’m staying and that is that. Dear God, please, I’m begging you to end this strange beginning to a nightmare that I don’t want to be in. Lare convinced me that I needed to go home before dark and take care of our lil’ Annie and add wood to the wood burner. I couldn’t argue. There was no strength to argue. I couldn’t argue or ask why because I was already too numb for questions and didn’t want to hear any answers as to what was happening. I felt like a machine in neutral as I tried again to move my legs. I love you, Lare, was all I could get out. My throat was dry, and my head was spinning as I asked the medical assistant to walk out with me and show me where the elevators were located. I needed to ask her anything that might make sense to me. I asked her if she knew anything about this, and all she could do was give me a hug and tell me how sorry she was. Sorry? For what? Tears were once again flowing as she once again took my arm and told me she was so sorry. I walked somehow to the elevator and found myself in my vehicle. What do I do? Who do I call? How do I get out of this parking lot without hitting someone because I can’t see or think of the next step to do? God must’ve put me on autopilot because I called my sister Deb and couldn’t quite get my composure.

A short time ago my life, our lives were normal, with errands to run when we were done at the clinic and then of course we would go home together. Should I go back into the clinic and get Lare? Should I drive the two-hour trip home? Lord, what do I do? I’m so lost. I’m so confused. Help me please, God. Help me out of this. Help Lare to find his way to my car. Get him dressed and bring him out of the clinic to where I’m waiting for him. Who do I call? Kelly is working, and Shane doesn’t want to know anything right now about his dad or so he thinks. Who do I call? Do I call anyone? I don’t know. Oh my, Kelly. How do I tell Kelly? She has been Daddy’s girl from the moment Lare laid eyes on her forty years ago. How do I tell her?

I picked up my cell phone and tried to read the letters. I needed to find the letter K for Kelly. I scrolled down a bit, and finally her name came into view. I pressed the send button and heard her voice. Hi, Ma! I froze. I didn’t know what to say. I continued to cry as I poured out what the doctor had just told us. There was no other way to tell her, but to tell her the way we were told. She was so calm asking me if I was driving and that she would be driving up that evening. I could see her throwing things in a bag not knowing when she would be back home but hoping for the best. I then called Shane knowing he was at work. I didn’t care that he might not want to know anything about his dad. I needed to tell him and maybe scream at him as well for the pain I was feeling. I was feeling so much madness. I was feeling like I needed to hurt someone. Shane was calm as well asking me if I was driving. What is up with both of them asking me if I was driving? Of course I’m driving! I had to leave Lare at the clinic for hospitalization. Who else would be driving? It didn’t make sense to me, not until later when they both explained that I was in no shape to drive down Highway 80 where the deer would bolt out at any time of the day. Of course, I understood that, and even if I tried to tell them I was aware of my surroundings, my voice told otherwise.

God was with me, and I knew that as I finally arrived home and disciplined myself to go on autopilot. I filled the woodstove, checked on precious Annie, and collapsed into my chair where I was now safe to let what I had left of the tears at will. Did I call anyone else on the way home? I thought and thought who was next to call and who I had already called. My head was spinning, and my eyes were so sore and swollen. I needed someone to help me to understand. Please God. My faith is strong, but right now I need so much more to even begin to understand what is happening to our lives, to my precious babe. Rest in my arms, I heard as I cried. Once again, I heard my spirit tell me to rest in my arms and just let go. My God is that you? Of course! You know what is happening, and you know I need you more than the sun needs to shine right now. I sat still and cried silently as I knew I had to do just that—rest and let happen what was about to happen and know, really know, that God had this and He had Lare and me.

What can I do? Fall apart? Absolutely not! I will straighten my back, and I will face the wind as God takes us down this road of potholes, hiccups, and deep valleys. He won’t just take us down the road and through the valleys, but He will carry us when our legs are wobbly and unable to stand. Why? Because He knows I can’t carry on without Him. Lare can’t do this without Him. God will fight for me and all I have to do is be silent (Exodus 14:14). Okay, no voice in uprising, but just trusting in Jesus my Savior. Thank you, Father God.

*****

Kelly must’ve flown because she was here just two hours and forty-five minutes later. Thank you, God, for protecting her while she was driving. Thank you, Lord, for bringing her here. I need her more than she will ever know. She is so precious to me, like my right arm and the air I breathe many times over. She is strong and takes charge, but believe me she didn’t get that from me. It all comes from Lare who was always the strongest man I’ve ever known—always strong enough to take care of anyone or any circumstance. Thank you, Lord, for knowing my needs and my thoughts.

Kelly and I cried, and we talked and talked and talked. I was so thankful she was here. She made a plan that we would go see Dad right away in the morning and would take it one hour at a time as to what we would do next. She took control, and I was so thankful for I could not think straight as to what I would do in the next few minutes nor the next day, yet I knew God was with me, with Lare, and with Kell.

Tomorrow, we would find out what the tests revealed as to what Lare really had. Of course they would just send him home after realizing that they did indeed make a mistake in their diagnosis. The nightmare would end, and life would go on as it did the day before we came into this nightmare. How could a doctor make a diagnosis by just hearing answers to his questions? It wasn’t possible, and he should know better than to make such a statement without running tests.

Lare called, and we talked and talked and talked. He felt just fine and couldn’t understand the madness either.

I love that man so much. He was encouraging me. That’s right! Lare was encouraging me that everything would be okay and that whatever it was that he had, they caught it just in time