Category Archives: Disease

Nelson’s journal 6/6/22

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It’s been three weeks since Nelson last journaled, 21 days of unexpected change and increasing pain.

He, with Ann Sophie and baby Will, made the quick decision to leave YWAM open-endedly in order to pursue medical care for Nelson. Cousin Luke convinced them to move to Rochester, Minnesota, 80 miles from his home, to be treated at the Mayo Clinic.

On May 16, after packing two suitcases with clothes but taking nothing else, they left their Kona apartment and everything in it, as well as their jobs, their cars, and their history there. The destination was Luke’s house where he generously told them they could stay as long as they wanted.

 

I drove north from Michigan on that same day, meeting them at the Minneapolis airport with Luke. Their planned future had been erased, and whatever was going to replace it was unknown…all of it.

Job one was to find a place to live that was near Mayo’s. Nelson had looked at apartments on his laptop from his Kona hospital bed. 

So we started there, and secured a small two-bedroom apartment to call home—with literally nothing in it. 

 

 

 

 

But Luke came to our rescue yet again, providing multiple pieces of stored furniture he said he didn’t need. We were immensely grateful.

During these three weeks, Mayo was doing a thorough analysis of Nelson’s health. We learned it wasn’t lymphoma after all but was far worse: stage 4 lung cancer. Nelson was meeting with doctors and scan techs every day, giving blood and receiving a measure of breathing relief by having his lung drained repeatedly.

Even still, he’d suffered three more panic attacks, unable to get enough air. Each resulted in a rush to the ER, the last one requiring hospitalization.

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June 6, 2022 

Sitting in this hospital room for the second night trying to get a handle on the vomiting and pain caused by opiates and fluid in my lungs. They’ll put a stint in tomorrow morning so I can drain it on my own.

Lots of panic in the night time. Hard to keep my mind through it all. Been at the breaking point many times, hanging over the toilet and trash cans. It’s so painful and scary, but I know God is here somehow. =\]

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”The Lord himself will be with you. He will never leave you.” (Deuteronomy 31:8)

Nelson’s journal 5/15/22

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As the dreadful reality of cancer sinks in, Nelson weighs his options and gets some counsel from a close cousin, Luke, who lives in Minnesota.

Ann Sophie struggles to make her own adjustments at the apartment, 20 minutes from the hospital, while tending to a month-old baby. Thankfully her midwife/friend was with her when Nelson called with the awful diagnosis.

The next day Ann Sophie called me, and when she said the word “cancer,” we wept together over the phone.

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May 15, 2022 

I’m at the hospital for the 4th night now. Last time I was admitted here was in 2003 when I was almost killed in that scooter wreck with Andrew. We were so reckless, and God was so kind. This time, I might be here because I was reckless too, but not recently.

Maybe the mass in my lungs is from smoking or any number of other things that could give you lung cancer. It’s pretty much what I have. You never think it will happen to you, even though you have a chest pain once in a while and think of worse-case-scenarios like that.

Then all of a sudden a doc calls me on the phone after looking at a scan and tells me, “We found a mass next to your heart and nodules without number in your lungs. Looks like general lymphoma.”

More tests and lots of coughing later, I’m here after having 1.3 liters of fluid drained from my right lung alone in a hospital bed. I’m enjoying the buzz of a couple pain pills as I stay here for the last night, hopefully.

It’s Annso’s birthday tomorrow, so I would like to be there for that if possible. She has been by to see me every day so far. Thank God she’s willing to do what she has to do to get in to be with me. It would be super lonely otherwise.

 

 

Last night I had this panic attack, because I felt I couldn’t get enough air. Even just sitting here, I was out of breath, and I was on oxygen. Luke offered to help us get into the Mayo Clinic if we want that, and we took him up on it, considering this island is so hard to make things happen on.

When it’s a dryer you have on order that takes 12 weeks to get here, and once it comes in, they don’t even call to tell you it’s in, you can laugh about it. But when it’s your cancer scan results and they don’t bother sending them to the other doc or just loose them all together, it’s hard to stick around and trust them with your life when there are other options.

I’m thankful, Lord for Luke and his generosity, for BBC and theirs [Brentwood Bible Church], and for a total change of plans. For everything. Not what I would have wanted, but you can use it. I wonder how it will be—like Papa? Or will I get better, at least for a little while?

NO one knows.

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“Every day of my life was recorded in your book…before a single day had passed.” (Psalm 139:16)

Nelson’s journal 5/10/22  

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On this date, Nelson is journaling on his laptop from a hospital bed. His pain and breathing issues had escalated rapidly, resulting in two separate trips to the ER.

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May 10, 2022 

Today is day 2 at the hospital, my second time coming in to the ER because the pain and coughing were so severe. Annso pretty much insisted I do it. I went to campus and taught the Korean Foundation School, then came home, ate a nice salad with her and came up here [to the hospital].

Once I was here, there was this really young doctor who zeroed right in on fluid in the lungs. Once I told him I was coughing so hard at night and that I was so out of breath, he ran and got a mini-ultrasound machine and found fluid in my heart cavity and lungs.

That led them to do tons of tests, including a CT scan showing a tumor or growth in my neck and a few lymph nodes in the lungs, about 11 cm at the biggest. All of a sudden the fluid makes sense, the cough, and none of it has to do with the Thyroid, which is what everyone has been looking at.

At this point the admitting doc calls me on the phone and tells me–she really thinks it’s cancer. So does the tech who does these scans all the time. They will test more tomorrow, including a full body CT scan to see what else is going on. Maybe there are things growing in other places, not that these places aren’t severe enough.

When she told me that, I could hardly believe it, but at the same time, I could. All the intense pain and coughing now add up. I even said a couple times, “If I was told I had stage 3 lung cancer, I would believe it, because it feels like I think that would feel.”

It’s yet to be confirmed, and I would love for her to be wrong, but everyone is praying and it seems a likely scenario. Lots of things come into perspective all of a sudden, but I’m trying not to go worse-case-scenario right away.

I think of what happened to Papa and wonder, “Will I be alive this time next year? Will I be alive at Christmas? Will I be alive still even in August?” Unknown for all of us, but especially me. I don’t know anything. But the people I worry about the most are Annso and Will. What will they do? How hard for them will it be?

I would have the easier situation, and they’d be left to pick up the pieces. How terrible. How terrible for her to be turned into a single Mom so soon after our answer to prayer and miracle baby. I don’t even want to ask WHY. Doesn’t matter, and no answer will come to that one anyway.

I just think of those who went before me and how they did it. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that and I can beat it, whatever “it” is.

God, help me to know what to do now, to be the best man to Annso, strong and optimistic, someone she can rely on and who knows what to do, the one who may not know, but who knows who to trust.

I pray for strength. I pray for healing, for a miracle, for different results on tomorrow’s test, for there to even be a mistake somehow. Thank you for getting Annso in here [hospital] today. That was a miracle [because of strict Covid rules]. I pray she gets in tomorrow too. I pray for supernatural strength for her too.

What will happen to us? To me? To Will? Tomorrow will worry about itself. Amen.

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“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34)