Category Archives: Adult Children

Help is on the way.

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Today was originally the day Nelson was to exit the hospital after being admitted yesterday to stop his vomiting and coughing, and to help him breathe. He enjoyed his ambulance ride, knowing that better help was on the way.

Nelson’s cousin Luke, who has always shown up when it counts, came to Rochester today,    “…just to connect and be helpful any way I can.” When he texted that he was starting the 90 minute drive, he became more help that was on the way.

Luke and Ann Sophie appeared in Nelson’s room simultaneously while Luke’s two kids hung with Will and I in a hotel lobby across the street from the hospital. No children are allowed on cancer floors.

Cousin Luke was there only a few minutes before he texted me a list of what he thought we should strive to work on for Nelson today:

  1. Left arm has swelling.
  2. More consistent pain management.
  3. Cough suppressant to manage bronchial irritation.
  4. Draining of the lungs, or a shunt to steadily remove fluid.
  5. Acute anxiety med if needed at night.

By the end of visiting hours, Luke had worked his magic, and all five of these things had been addressed. In addition, a palliative care doctor will visit in the morning at the hospital, rather than having Nelson discharged prematurely to meet him elsewhere. Ann Sophie and I were relieved, and Nelson was feeling better.

As we often say, God is a very present help in trouble. He proved that again today, through Luke’s timely visit and in another way.

Since I knew I’d be partnering with little Will much of the afternoon, I decided to leave my purse in the car but slipped a credit card into my coat pocket.

Later, when Ann Sophie and I sat down to talk about Nelson at a Caribou Coffee shop (inside a hotel lobby), I reached for my credit card, and it was gone. Will and I had done lots of walking during our hours together, and somewhere along the way, it must have jumped out of my pocket.

Before sipping her hot chocolate, Ann Sophie prayed, asking God to show us where the card was. I left the table to search the sidewalk, hotel lobby, hallways, and everyplace we’d walked that afternoon, coming up empty. The hotel desk clerk said no one had turned it in. It was just gone.

Back at the coffee shop we chatted about Nelson’s busy day for 15 minutes while an older man sitting 30 feet away watched us. Ann Sophie and I wondered if he was homeless. He had a duffel bag and seemed to be trying to sleep on the hotel lobby couch. We agreed that he looked angry. His cap said “Vietnam.”

Suddenly he stood up, and believe it or not, help was on the way. He walked straight to our table. “Is this yours?” he said, holding up my credit card.

I was stunned but reached for the card, telling him what a kind and honorable man he was. He said, “I saw you wheeling the little one around and around, and when I saw it on the floor, I knew it was yours.”

After he’d returned to the couch, I borrowed $20 from Ann Sophie (I had no purse) and went over to thank him again—becoming help that was on the way to him. When I handed him the money, he said, “Oh bless you! I really need that! You don’t know how much!”

God sees to it that help is always on the way. And sometimes he even tends to it personally.

“Behold, God is my helper. The Lord is the upholder of my life.” (Psalm 54:4)

A Better Day

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The good thing about a bad day is that the next one is bound to be better.

Yesterday was rough, and it didn’t end at bedtime. Nelson’s vomiting continued through the night and into the morning, a vomiting like we’d never seen before—violent and ongoing for many minutes at a time. It seemed like he would pass out at any second.

This morning as the vomiting continued along with overwhelming coughing and choking, Ann Sophie and I didn’t know what to do. His pain was “off the charts” (his words), so we contacted his medical team. The first one to respond said, “Take him to the ER.”

And so back we went for our 3rd visit there in 2½ weeks. As we got in the car, we prayed, crying out to God to rescue Nelson—from vomiting, from coughing, choking, severe abdominal and lung pain, and inadequate breathing. Thankfully the ER was empty, and we went right in.

Several nurses and a doctor quickly focused on each problem in turn. Within an hour Nelson was breathing easier because of receiving oxygen, and his count had gone from 88 to 95. His pain was being treated with fentanyl and the vomiting with anti-nausea meds. And best of all was when Ativan diminished his panic about not being able to breathe.

Finally he fell into a sound sleep, which made me cry as I watched him. He hasn’t slept well in many weeks, some nights not at all. And always sitting straight up.

By 4:00 PM, the staff had decided to admit Nelson to the hospital for at least 24 hours to investigate the vomiting, a sky-high white blood cell count, and severe constipation from pain meds.

By 5:30 Nelson was being strapped in for his first-ever ride in an ambulance. This time he went to a different hospital, landing on a floor with only cancer patients. When he arrived, the staff said, “We are your people. We are already working with all the doctors you’ve been with so far, and we’re familiar with your medical situation.” It felt a little like coming home.

After they delivered all of Nelson’s meds along with an extra blanket, he  ordered dinner (an omelette, fruit and coffee), a welcome sight after not eating anything since yesterday’s nausea had begun. But today’s greatest delight was that we had cried out to God in the car, asking him to rescue Nelson, and he did.

Though his cancer and all the harm it’s doing remains, we were encouraged to hear that this week systemic treatment will begin. And our hope is that it won’t include vomiting.

“Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him. I will protect him, because he knows my name. When he calls to me, I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble. I will rescue him…” (Psalm 91:14-15)

The dominoes fell.

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Everyone has days that click along well without any stumbles, and we’ve all had days where nothing goes right. Sometimes it feels like a line of dominoes falling, the first one dictating the fate of the rest.

That’s the kind of day we had today.

We started with early alarm clocks and Nelson’s first medical commitment of the day at 7:45. This was tricky, because after yesterday’s surgery to put a stent into his vein, in the morning he was still a patient at the hospital. We asked if today’s early appointment could be moved to another day so he could rest a few hours more, but at Mayo Clinic, appointments with doctor-experts are hard to arrange and must be kept. (That was like falling Domino #1.)

The nurses rushed him through the discharge procedure, and he was at the curb in a wheelchair as I arrived in the car at 7:30. We drove through the maze of hospital buildings and parking lots, which are now becoming familiar, and he made it to his first appointment only a few minutes late.

Back in February, while Nelson and Ann Sophie were still living in Hawaii, his first symptom of a crisis had been a swollen thyroid gland. Initially, doctors had focused on that, diagnosing thyroiditis. He took meds for it then was taken off the meds, and the thyroid calmed.

Today we met with an endocrinologist who interpreted Nelson’s Mayo tests for us, and his thyroid gland is on schedule in a recovery. During our meeting, however, Nelson’s lung pain began to escalate beyond what he could manage, and just as he was planning to bolt from the room to cope with it (Domino #2), the meeting ended.

We went home to rest, but Nelson’s chronic cough, part of every day since early February, began to escalate. When a series of coughs starts, he becomes completely overwhelmed and can’t stop. He doubles over in pain that races around his rib cage and through his lungs, labeling it “unbearable.” (Domino #3)

He got no rest during our break from appointments because of the coughing (Domino #4), and sweet baby Will was having an off day, too. He cried more than usual and slept less, adding to everyone’s stress. (Domino #5) But by 1:45 we were back in the car heading to the Mayo campus for Nelson’s first radiology session.

Immediately on the heels of that came a consultation with an oncology radiation doctor who will oversee Nelson’s care in this area. He explained about radiating hot spots like the ones that had just been treated in his spine. Five different vertebrae where cancer has appeared on the bones were radiated today.

Before we left, Nelson explained to the doctor that the powerful pain meds he’s on were doing nothing for his excruciating pain while coughing. (Domino #6) Worse than that, though, was that the drugs were frequently wearing off half-way through the four hours they were supposed to cover. Nelson had to watch the clock, minute by minute, while suffering badly until the moment when he would be allowed to take another dose. (Domino #7)

The doctor agreed to add a different drug to Nelson’s regimen, this one with a touch of morphine in it—two pills every 24 hours. We wheeled our way down to the pharmacy in the same building as the appointment and waited for the prescription to be filled. It was quite busy so near closing time, and we waited over an hour. (Domino #8) Nelson was exhausted and fell asleep in his wheelchair. I confess my head was hanging, too. All of this is tiring.

As soon as we got the new pills, Nelson took one. But even on top of the other pain meds, his coughing pain broke through. (Domino #9)

Finally we walked through the door at dinner time, but no one was hungry. Nelson’s coughing seemed worse than ever, and we talked about going to the ER. But the thought of spending the next 6-8 hours there after such a miserable day led Nelson to say no. (Domino #10)

Right after that, though, his coughing began again, leading him into several terrible episodes of vomiting with lung and rib cage pain that he said was “off the charts.” (Domino #11) At midnight we went in search of an all night pharmacy for anti-nausea medicine and also a laxative, since pain pills are constipating. The ER at the hospital let Nelson in and through to their pharmacy. He succeeded in the laxative department but not in the anti-nausea. When we got home, there was more vomiting. (Domino #12)

And now comes the weekend. Nelson commented that it was almost a relief not to have any appointments for a couple of days. He desperately needs quiet down-time, and we fully intend to give it to him. We aren’t sure what tomorrow will bring, but we do know that getting there will have to be by going through another night of sitting straight up, coughing a lot, and sleeping very little. (Domino #13)

It’s been a falling-Dominoes kind of day, and we’re glad it’s over.

“Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.” (Psalm 34)