Nate ran his life with Post-It notes. After we learned about his cancer, his note writing increased exponentially, partly because he had more time on his hands and partly because so many of his thoughts had “URGENT” flashing above them.
As the cancer spread, Post-Its piled up next to his lazy-boy, bringing unwelcome pressure with their presence. Although he kept writing almost till the end, he stopped reading his own notes half way through the six weeks. When that happened, I began removing the older notes, leaving the fresher ones for him to keep in his shirt pocket or hold in his hand.
Although his script had always been difficult to read, gradually it changed from the familiar, loopy hand of healthy days to an illegible chicken scratch. But God was merciful. As Nate wrote to himself, he seemed to know what the markings meant, never noticing the deterioration of his own writing.
Today I took all 115 Post-Its from those 42 days and spread them on the bed. Most were dated, making it easy to put them in order. As I read each one, the story of my husband’s journey from diagnosis to death was staring back at me.
The beginning notes were a mix of office reminders, days and times for doctors appointments and single word questions: “Back surgery 9/28. Dr. Mace 2:00. Stomach ache. Ulcer?”
On September 14 he wrote, “Melson. 1:35 pm, tumor on pancreas, lesions on liver, ultrasound.”
As I read Nate’s private impressions of his dilemma, my eyes filled with tears. Medical terminology popped up more and more between client phone numbers and court dates. One Post-It said, “Difficult road.” Another simply said, “Help.”
He listed bills that needed paying and people who needed to be told of his cancer. Nate’s brother Ken’s name appeared again and again, sometimes just his initials, a much loved friend continually on his mind.
Among the notes was his last commuter train ticket and a receipt from Panda Express. We’d shared a lunch there just before learning about his cancer. He also saved the parking pass from the hospital garage that same day. These bits of paper were a hold on our pre-cancer reality, because what we heard from the doctors about our future couldn’t possibly be true, could it?
One note included a list of doctor questions for our next meeting: “Life expectancy? Parameters? Time frame? Stronger meds?” At the bottom was a concern for Hans and Katy who were trying to get passport and visa issues cleared to come from England: “Hans, letter.” Nate asked the doctor that day to write a letter indicating it was urgent his son be allowed to come soon.
Another Post-It detailed personal documents he wanted to find, and at the very bottom he penned the word “bad”. His experience was so hurtful it couldn’t help but come out the end of his pen.
As I studied each note, tears plopping on them, I came to a square that simply said, in the strong, round letters of a young person, “I love you, Papa.” The timing was good, because immediately after that came Nate’s note with the words “Breath. Panic. Drowning. Urped up. Not good.” The lung tumor was pressing, making it hard to breathe.
Another note listed “Car title. Electric dog fence. Several phone numbers,” and the words, “No fun.” Nate never complained about his constant pain. He’d ask for meds but didn’t whine or express self-pity. At the bottom he wrote, “Trust and obey.”
Eventually there were no more business reminders, only medical events and terms: “Call dr. Cotton mouth. Chapped lips. Panic? Panic. Tests? Results?” Reading these notes, I’m newly impressed with the courage he displayed.
Nine days before he died, he wrote, “40th Roma.” He knew we couldn’t do much on our anniversary but wanted to do something. With the way he felt, I can’t imagine sitting in a pizza restaurant, but as always, he was putting me first. At the bottom he wrote the word “expectations”. I wish I knew what he’d been thinking.
On his last legible note, barely readable, are the words “Margaret Nyman. Blog.” But I’ll never know what he wanted to tell me.
“Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” (Proverbs 19:21)
He sure was a remarkable man! Thank you again for sharing and blogging! My breakfast reading.
Nate’s post-its were sort of a low-tech private blog, weren’t they?
Moved to tears, still praying for you and the family. Jer 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” We have to trust HIM. It’s difficult at times.
I also am moved to tears Margaret. I thank the Lord for the time He gave you with Nate before he died. I can see it was very painful and uncomfortable for him, but he could still communicate with you and the family. I have friends who never had that chance because it was sudden and unexpected. Easier for the person who went to be with the Lord but extremely difficult for my dear friends. Thank you again for sharing these precious times in your life with us. luv u
Margaret…how precious! I can’t help but remember praying for Nate’s ‘miracle healing’…and saying “Lord, if you don’t heal his physical body, let his spirit be the ‘balm of Gilead’ for those he loves and leaves behind.” At that time, I knew nothing of the extent of the cancer, until the next day when you blogged the doctor’s report. I cried for you and your family because I knew exactly how you must feel…and knowing too….miracles come in ways…we least expect…His wonders He perfoms. Those post it’s were a part of YOUR healing; I probably would have thrown them away…but there is purpose in them for you…it somehow makes him still a part of ‘now’…until the grief is gone and the pressure of it fades. God bless you..for sharing such intimate moments…your blog is such a ministry around the world…and the world sees HIS LIGHT in you. Praise His Holy Name
Look forward to seeing you soon, patzian
Dear Margaret,
If it is arresting for us to see such a powerful visual of Nate’s Post-It Diary, so much more for you, who lived it.
They look like a Roman legion arranged for battle- a 42 day siege- relentless, merciless, devouring, swatting aside defenses and pleas like flies.
Nate lost the battle, but won the war, and the survivors are still shell-shocked and weary.
He fought like a good soldier, knowing he was an overwhelming conqueror through Christ who loves him.
In the movie, Glory, Matthew Broderick asks his men, if the flag bearer goes down, who will pick it up and take his place? Nate flew the flag of faith high, and when he went down, his wife and children have over and over picked it up and raised it to the top of the pole. It takes incredible faith to trust and obey, to believe that the Christ who loves Nate and you would allow such suffering and loss. Well done, good and faithful Nate, and good and faithful Nyman’s.
Margaret, I am always struck by the big and little ways you loved Nate and protected him in every way. To remove the older notes as they began to accumulate was such a tender thing to do. The enemy will continue to fling his accusations and doubts at you. But you have two advocates in heaven, most recently Nate, but Jesus Himself has always been your defense- you have been an excellent wife whose worth has been far above jewels.
Love,
Terry
Miss him. Miss you.
Thankfully his painful journey was fairly quick. Even though I never met your husband I am so impressed by his selflessness, even in the face of dark, difficult days.
Beautiful blog! What a legacy for you and your family. When my husband died I found a note on his desk about a month after his death that simply stated “the love of God is constant-we are the ones who are inconsistent.” I found that note on a particularly bad day and couldn’t help thinking what an awesome God we have who knew how badly I needed to find that note on THAT day. Tom’s death was a sudden death so I had no time to prepare but that one piece of paper has brought me so much comfort so I can just imagine how Nate’s post-a-notes will be treasured until you are home with him in Heaven. God bless you Margaret for this amazing site. You have so touched my soul.
Wow! I have goosebumps and tears. Thanks for sharing.