Dear Patient Patient-Partners:

 Dani and I have just returned home from her mapping appointment in preparation for six weeks of radiation. As has been the case throughout most of this journey, I was consigned to sitting in the waiting area whilst she had all the fun. When she had completed the process, she told me how they created this foam mold of her upper body so that she could be immobilized for the same procedure in exactly the same position for each of the thirty upcoming treatments. As near as I can tell, they put her in the same freeze machine used on Harrison Ford as Hans Solo at the end of Return of the Jedi, except it was quick-setting foam rather than carbonite and she was able to leave under her own power. She also told me about the radiation machine, which I picture as a giant CNC router, only it shoots radioactive rays rather than shaving particles off a block of steel. Whatever it actually looks like, I’m pretty sure it’s very cool.

Oddly enough, while I’m geeking out on the tech descriptions, Dani remains practically concerned about how these treatments are going to proceed rather than the subtleties of high-precision design. There’s a reason why Dani prefers my waiting outside; even when she’s informed that her husband could join her for some exam or procedure, she usually defers, telling the staff that I talk way too much, ask too many questions and randomly press buttons just to see what will happen. That’s why all involved graciously invite me to step into the hall. Leaving me with my private burden of FOMO (fear of missing out).

It's okay, she’s right. Burdened with nervous boredom, I’m quick with inappropriate humor and, even when I’m trying to sit quietly, I’ve learned that those little Styrofoam coffee cups spill way too easily. So I’m left with the job of faithful uninformed vigilance while watching an endless loop of health tips and medication advertisements on a video screen in the waiting area installed for free by some aggressive pharmaceutical sales rep. Most agree, it’s my best contribution to Dani’s healing.

Of course, this wouldn’t be a Minister’s Musing if there weren’t some deeper application or profound connection to justify my silly observations. Perhaps my impatience explains my deep and lasting affection for John Milton’s sonnet, “On His Blindness”. In it, Milton muses over his own sense of helplessness, standing by, unable to help in service to God’s Kingdom. I identify with the hard task of waiting in the rooms labeled for that purpose. The sonnet concludes:

…But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o’er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

So, I, with Milton, sit impatiently, wishing he were here to share the time. And in that space of heavy hanging time, I could guide his faltering hand to press and know what doth that button do.

Sitting and waiting… just waiting, I remain,

 With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor