Nelson’s Day

Posted on July 5, 2022 by Margaret

Many of you frequently ask, “How was Nelson’s day?” Some days are more dramatic than others, but during a typical day in the hospital, here’s what he’s doing.

Blood draws are frequent, starting at 5 AM. A lab lady knocks and enters every 4 to 6 hours, dragging a massive medical cart behind her. She searches for a good vein in Nelson’s bruised arms and sometimes has to make multiple tries. This is especially hard on Nelson during the night when she rolls in at 1 – 2 AM. It’s not a happy way to wake up.

As soon as the shift changes (6 AM for doctors, 7 AM for everyone else), The medical personnel begin their visits. They take Nelson‘s vitals again and again, change IV bags, check lung fluid accumulation, record it all on a computer and fuss over him till he wishes they would go away.

After that, a parade of other “helpers“ come and go throughout the day— a skin specialist to check on bedsores, a palliative care nurse to ask about pain meds, a social worker, a chaplain, a cleaning crew, a food server, and a transport person to take him away for x-rays, procedures, or tests.

The nurses are in and out multiple times every hour, delivering meds, fetching ice water, checking oxygen, updating the whiteboard, and unnumbered other tasks. And of course the doctors on Nelson‘s team of about 20 are part of the parade, too. When they come in, they often bring students or interns with them. Sometimes a nurse accompanies them, and the visitor headcount increases.

By the end of any hospital day, Nelson is thoroughly depleted. He asks for the lights to be turned off, even when it’s not bedtime. And his frustration mounts when every person who enters his room asks a series of questions. If he has just taken a pain pill for his constant lung pain, he finds it difficult to answer.

Tonight when Ann Sophie, Will and I were visiting, he told us that each day felt like an eternity and he was just marking time so he could call the day done.

Wanting to encourage him today, Ann Sophie suggested we all go to a rooftop patio that’s furnished with comfortable tables and chairs, just so Nelson (who loves the outdoors) could be outside for a while. It took a crew of helpers to free him from his many tethers, but he complied and seemed to enjoy the patio, once we got there. It wore him out in a good way, since so much time in the bed wears on him in a different way.

Nelson always thanks us, and his words about the patio were positive, but since he’s been in the hospital, there hasn’t been much sparkle behind what he says–unless he’s talking to baby Will. Then he becomes animated.

Little Will, approaching 4 months old, is a celebrity on the oncology floor. He’s only there with special permission. The nurses call him eye candy, and when he’s smiling, there’s no better mood-lifter than him.

We’re praying Nelson will get to come home soon, but not too soon. The clot issue, still unresolved, and his swollen limbs will have to improve before it’ll be safe to leave the hospital. He knows that but then said, “This is all so hard.” And we agree.

“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them.” (Psalm 34:17)

A Young Buck

Posted on June 2, 2022 by Margaret

Any day with surgery on the schedule promises to be a long one, and ours was no different. Today Nelson had a small procedure followed by a more significant one.

The day began with a phone call from his pulmonologist who started the conversation like this: “I’m thinking no news is good news.” He had given Nelson his personal cell phone number yesterday in case he had a lung emergency during the night. Nelson had told him he felt “different” yesterday and that something strange was about to happen, like a sudden collapse.

He’d been advised that if such a thing occurred, he was to go to the ER, call this doctor, and he, the specialist, would meet him there. Since Nelson hadn’t called him during the night, he concluded all was well.

“So,” he said, “did you sleep in a prone position last night?” It’s been weeks since Nelson has been able to do that, since the fluid in his lungs has made him feel like he was drowning.

Nelson answered honestly. “No. I still can’t lie down. It was another night upright on the couch. Breathing was still hard.”

“Well,” the doctor said, “in order to have today’s surgery, you have to be able to lie flat on your back. Can do that?”

“No. Not with all this fluid in my lungs.”

“Then come over this morning, and I’ll drain them again.”

And once more we were off to Mayo’s on short notice, thankful that our apartment was only six minutes away. Nelson felt a little better after the procedure but was surprised that already, in less than 48 hours, more than a liter of new fluid had accumulated in his right lung.

He was prepped for the surgery to place a stent in his superior vena cava vein just above his clavicle bone.

All of us (Ann Sophie, baby Will, church friend Keith, and me) were allowed in and out of his cubicle while he waited for his turn in the OR.

Keith had flown to Minnesota all the way from Tennessee to put his arms around Nelson and pray with him. He also brought lunch, though Nelson couldn’t eat anything pre-op. He prayed with Nelson and said, “You’ll get through this OK ‘cuz you’re a young buck who can put up a good fight.” A young buck. The perfect description.

We could also check a “live” progress board with his number on it, supplying information about where Nelson was in his surgical day.

Several hours later, Ann Sophie got a text saying he was ready for visitors. And once again, all of us were allowed into his room—even baby Will, despite a hospital rule that no one under five could visit. For some reason, they made an exception for our little guy. (Thank you, Lord.)

Nelson’s friend Derek had also joined us, flying north from Dallas to connect with his buddy.

Nelson was glad to see all of us but was especially glad when his wife and son walked in. This man has a lot to live for, and we could see it all over his face.

He’ll stay in the hospital overnight so he can be watched carefully by a trained staff rather than an untrained Ann Sophie and Margaret.

Then tomorrow morning he’ll be discharged before 8:00 AM, and a new day of appointments will begin.

“Let your eyes look directly forward and your gaze be straight before you.” (Proverbs 4:25)

Lightening the Load

Posted on May 28, 2022 by Margaret

The Mayo Clinic doesn’t generally do weekend appointments, so there are no new test results to report today. But the arrival of Nelson’s brother Lars from Chicago yesterday gave all of us a boost. Nelson, Ann Sophie, Will, and Lars are spending the holiday weekend at cousin Luke’s beautiful home 80 miles north of our apartment, where Luke continues to anticipate each need and stretch himself to meet it. He’s one of a kind.

During these days, all of us are sensing God’s close presence. Looking back on the week just ended, we see evidence of this dotting the days. One moment in particular served to sweep away disappointment and substitute joy.

Nelson, Ann Sophie, Will and I were together in an exam room listening to two experienced doctors describe what was going on in Nelson’s body. They came to the hard part about the places where cancer has taken hold, and the air became heavy with sadness.

But just then, baby Will decided to answer nature’s call, and with one quick grunt accompanied by lots of explosive noises, he filled his diaper.

All five of us burst out laughing—right in the middle of the sadness. Nelson said, “We call him the Authentic Man. He doesn’t hide anything from anyone.”