Lacy was in her bed with the covers pulled up around her neck. As usual she was wearing her best hat. Standing at the foot of her bed was a man who was also wearing a hat. He was neatly dressed in a three piece suit and wore a tie with stripes of different colors. He could have passed for anyone's uncle, or he could have been an angel in disguise. "Have you come for me?" she asked. "Yes I have," he replied.

With this conversation, G.B. Trudeau, creator of the political cartoon Doonsbury, sets the stage for the final act of Lacy's life. The critical moment has arrived for her to pass on from this life to the next and the man wearing the hat is there to be her guide and companion on the most important journey she will ever make. So, in answer to his question," Are you ready to go?" she quickly said, "Yes. "

Throughout the history of humankind the subject of death has been most fascinating and engrossing ­demanding our full and complete attention. The reason is understandably clear: it affects all of us - the prince and the pauper, rich and the poor, the learned and the unlearned. And the sadness, sorrow and grief that flow out from this experience we call death affects each of us in equal measure. The pomp and extravagant ceremony of a Bishop's funeral may be vastly different than the funeral of a person living in poverty, but they are placed on an equal plane and become members of that group we call the dead.

My wife, Doris Williams Morrison was added to that membership on January 11, 1998. But why January 11, 1998? The answer to this question reveals one more fascinating aspect of this journey that leads us beyond this life to the experience of death. But, before death comes, there is a time for living and, for Doris, a time of high adventure that took her into unknown areas of life that most of us will never have the opportunity to experience.

One day, without explanation, Doris was moved from a room on one side of the hallway to the other side - both on the fifth floor of the hospital  The new room had two sets of windows. One set looked upon the outside world. The other set of windows allowed the personnel at the nurse's station to look into Doris' room in order to monitor any activity within the room.

My memory quickly reminded me that it all could have ended twenty years earlier when Doris was diagnosed with an unusual form of lung cancer. Adnocarcinoma was the medical term given to this form of a non­smokers lung cancer. Surgery was quickly scheduled and the family arrived at the hospital early on the appointed day for a last pre-operation visit and prayer. This gave us time for a quick breakfast before going to the surgery waiting room where we would receive first hand reports from the operating room.

However, the family never made it to the surgery waiting room. Our breakfast was suddenly interrupted by a visit from the surgeon who informed us that something had gone terribly wrong in the operating room. A life threatening event had occurred before the surgery had started. Doris had a serious reaction to the way the anesthetic was being administered. Her heart stopped beating and they could not get it to restart. It was an undeniable crisis of the first order in the operating room. It was a close encounter with certain death, resulting in the surgery being cancelled.

Upon the advice of her medical team, Doris was transported by ambulance to St. Luke's Hospital in Houston. It was there that doctors who were informed about what had happened in Alexandria, were able to successfully remove the deadly cancer cells from the lobe of Doris' left lung. The family was thankful for the spirit of cooperation that was demonstrated between the doctors in Alexandria and the doctors in Houston. We came back home with a renewed hope that vibrant health would be able to overtake any destructive illness and that she would be rewarded with a bed of roses. But that dream was not to be.
Three years later Doris was back in the hospital again. This time it was not lung cancer - it was an encounter with another serious form of cancer, Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. If left untreated, this cancer of the lymph nodes would eventually spread to other lymph nodes throughout the body. We were informed that there was no cure but that with a regimen of radiation and chemotherapy, the date of her time for dying would be postponed for an undetermined period of time.

This was not the bed of roses we were hoping for. It was more like a ten round championship fight between the 110-pound champion of her class, Doris Morrison, and her two heavyweight adversaries, lung cancer and lymphoma. In this allegory we watch as first one contestant and then the other gain the advantage.

Round four began on a high note of expectation. Her oncology doctor had consulted with the doctors at M. D. Anderson Cancer Clinic in Houston where they devised a plan of treatments that would bring the lymphoma into a state of remission. This was the kind of positive progress that enabled Doris to win round four. However, the high note of expectation was soon muted by the painful and debilitating side effects of the treatments which included radiation and chemotherapy.

This combination of the good and the bad caused round five to be called a draw. Round six was now in the waiting room and the family was left wondering if it would be good or bad or somewhere in between.

(Note: Chapter Two will appear in the next issue of The Senior News.)