Category Archives: Adult Children

Long Ago and Far Away

Posted on by

Today’s blog includes something special that’s far away from cancer, hospitals, and medicines. As Nelson adjusts to being home from the hospital, we need a break from all things cancer, and maybe you do, too. So…

When Nelson was ten years old, he became a published author by writing a column for a booklet put together by a group of church moms who all had preschool children. The publication was called “The Crib Sheet,” and Nelson’s submission was for a regular column, “Children of the Heavenly Father.”

In 1983, this is what he wrote:

____________________________________________________________

My name is Nelson Hamilton Nyman. I am ten years old. I would like to write why I like having brothers and a sister. {Louisa and Birgitta had not yet been born.}

 

I like Lars, my brother, because he is only two years younger than me. He is very agreeable and loving. He is my best friend, and he will always be there, even when all my other friends move away. We can talk privately in bed, and talk about anything we want.

I like my sister Linnea because she likes me and thinks I’m pretty neat. She looks up to me.

I like Klaus because he is someone to play with when Lars is gone. He is a real nice boy, also.

Hans is the youngest of all. He is nice to talk to when I need someone to smile at and talk to. It is great to have them, because I have someone to play with most all the time. I am the first born child in the family, and that means that I have a lot of responsibility, because all my brothers look up to me and do what I do.

But someone who is an only child, they have to use the TV for a friend, and sometimes his or her parents are busy and don’t have time to play with them. There are times when I wish I was an only child. Like when everyone is crowded around the TV and I have the worst spot in the room. And like when Mom is busy with the other brother’s homework, and I need help, too.

But God wanted me to be in this family, and that is why I am here. And I know God is glad that I am happy with the life he gave me. The End

__________________________________________________________

I’ve enjoyed remembering back when Nelson was ten, and I thank God for those happy, busy days. But more than that, I’ve thought about Nelson’s last sentence in regard to what’s happening these days. Back then he wrote, “I am happy with the life [God] gave me.”

But I’m wondering–in light of everything–is that even possible today? Actually, I think I already know what Nelson’s answer would be, 39 years later:

“What is impossible with men is possible with God.” (Luke 18:27)

Coming Home

Posted on by

Today Nelson came home from the hospital. He’s been there a week, and during that time many expert medical people rode with him through days of vomiting and nights of pain. They stuck with him through bouts of severe constipation and periods of restlessness when he walked the hospital halls all night, unable to sleep. They calmed his severe anxiety when it threatened to overwhelm him and kept all of his medications straight.

And today, after a 3½ hour discharge process, they all found it hard to say goodbye.

“You’re my favorite patient,” the head nurse told him. “You’ve been so easy to care for, and I don’t like to see you go.” Her team felt the same way, dropping in to his room just to chat and staying longer than necessary after delivering scheduled pills.

As for Nelson, he had high praise for all those who helped him, thanking them for their care often. But his opinion today was, “I want out of here, a.s.a.p.”

As he left the hospital, his pain was “only at a three” and his breathing was slow and steady. He was very tired, but the bad constipation was gone, and he wasn’t at all anxious. His nausea was still there, most likely from the chemo and immunotherapy, but it was mild, and we have a remedy for that, should it escalate. He’s in a good place, and we’re going to do our best to keep him there.

Walking into our little apartment on a sunny, warm Minnesota day was satisfying for him and also for Ann Sophie and me. We’ve missed him a great deal. Little Will, too, grinned ear-to-ear whenever Nelson talked to him.

Now that we’re together at home again, new challenges begin. The hospital pharmacy handed us a shopping bag full of orangey-brown pill bottles—14 in all.

After a dinner of Ann Sophie’s delicious chunky-vegetable soup, we worked to figure out the prescriptions the hospital pharmacy sent home with us. Nelson and I threw in a comment or two, but it was Ann Sophie who had the pen and paper, marking bottles and her own chart. As Nelson said, “She’s the best person in the whole world.”

Behind all of these adjustments from hospital to home, working more efficiently than even Mayo Clinic’s finest, is God himself. We’ve seen his special touches many times now, but even if we hadn’t, we’re believing the Bible and what it says about him:

“If you commit your way to the Lord and trust in him, he will act.” (Psalm 37:5)

The Busy Day

Posted on by

Hospital rooms are busy places, even when outside visitors are restricted.

Today Dr. Oliver strolled in to check on his patient’s welfare. He is the radiation/lung cancer expert and said he was pleased with Nelson’s progress. He was also completely enamored with little Will, who has become a celebrity on the oncology floor.

Later, a young woman named Sydney arrived in Nelson’s room with a guitar slung over her shoulder. “I’m from palliative care,” she said, “and I thought I’d bring you some music today—if you’d like that.

“Music, she explained, “can be very soothing—any kind you like.”

Nelson suggested she sing a Willie Nelson song in honor of baby Will(ie) Nelson Nyman. She said she was a fan of “old school country” and sung through Willie’s “Blue Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain.” Her voice was clear and beautiful. Before she left, she sang a few more, including “Amazing Grace.”

Another interesting visitor was a hospital chaplain, Alex, who sat with Nelson long enough to make a request. “Would you be willing to think about a couple of questions I’d like to ask? Not to answer them now, but just to think about them.” Of course Nelson said yes.

“If God added ten years to your life, how would you use them to get closer to him?” And, “If you could ask God to do one thing for you now, what would it be?” He quickly added, “Most people ask for their cancer to be removed. But what one thing after that?”

These are good questions for anyone to ponder, but especially for someone with cancer who has a young wife and a baby to raise. Nelson tapped the questions into his phone to do as Alex suggested, to think about them later.

Before he left, Alex reminded Nelson that his cancer experience won’t be wasted, that good things will come from it.

Later, Nelson mentioned to us that fear has been hovering over him since the beginning of this ordeal—the fear of not being able to breathe.

When nurse Jean visited, ostensibly to play with Will, she reminded him that such a scenario is highly unlikely, since the fluid in his lungs is being drained daily. More than likely it isn’t breathing that would be the trouble but pain from somewhere else that’s running away with his emotions. She challenged him to think about that before giving in to panic.

With today’s many visitors we saw that Nelson is being prepared to leave the hospital, both physically and emotionally, probably tomorrow. He has to be weaned off the little black button and its pain relief before he can go—leaving it up to pills after that.

There was so much activity in his room today that he texted us in the afternoon, asking us to cancel our planned evening visit. “I’m really tired,” he said. And so of course we didn’t go.

“I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish.” (Jer. 31:25)