Category Archives: God’s character

Coming Home

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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)

Crushed?

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Having hope is something everybody needs, at every age, and in every category. But our enemy, the devil, works relentlessly to demolish our hope, especially in medical crises. For example, he whispers, “Nelson can’t beat this. No one can overcome cancer this extensive. I’m going to win this one, and you know it.”

But we don’t know it.

The only things we know for sure are the things God tells us—things like this:

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9)

Nelson is being hard pressed on every side, but we believe he won’t be crushed.  He and all of us are perplexed, but we won’t despair. He’s been persecuted by this awful cancer, but neither God nor any of us will ever abandon him. He’s been struck down, definitely. But we’re asking his Heavenly Father to protect him from complete destruction.

Today a worn out Nelson, who’d struggled with increasing pain through the night, was transported to a separate Mayo Clinic building where he endured what he called a “brutal procedure.”

Since his lungs continually fill with fluid making it difficult to breathe, his pulmonary doctor moved to install a catheter or shunt so Nelson will be able to drain it himself. In the process, he had his right lung drained for the 5th time, another liter-plus of fluid.

Following this, Nelson was taken to radiology for a chest x-ray to check the position of the catheter in his lung, and then back to his hospital room. When I asked him if he’d been transported by wheelchair or ambulance he said, “By bed.” Then he gave me a goofy grin, as if to say, “How ‘bout that.”

In addition to the lung procedure today, three other significant things happened:

  1. All nine of the biopsy studies came back, revealing that Nelson was a good candidate for immunotherapy. We were thrilled with that news, since this cutting-edge method of treating cancer, even Stage 4 cancer, is getting good results.
  2. We also learned that Nelson’s treatment would begin today. This was to be a combination of chemotherapy and immunotherapy, delivered through an IV. As I sat in his hospital room this afternoon, the process began right in front of my eyes.

I almost cried knowing the long wait was over at last. As of 5:30 PM today, his cancer cells would no longer be allowed to rule the day, even those recently found in his brain. Instead they would be forced to die.

  1. Something else wonderful happened today. Since the battle to get ahead of Nelson’s pain had failed as many days as it had succeeded, they gave Nelson his own button to push whenever relief was needed. When I arrived today and said, “How’s it going?” he lifted up something small and said, “This…. is a game changer.”

A cylinder the size of a chapstick with a button at one end was delivering high-powered pain relief with every push of his thumb. No more calling for a nurse and waiting for a pill that would take 30 minutes to work. He was in charge now, and he couldn’t have been happier.

…..not crushed, not despairing, not abandoned, not destroyed.

“Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial….” (James 1:12)

Just Following Along

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Today begins a new week, one in which the results of the biopsy will come in. They took nine bits out of a cancerous lymph node two weeks ago, though it seems like two months ago.

But today brought word of the first analyses, and what we heard was good news. Though they are still looking for certain mutations that will swing the door open to the new, effective immunology treatments, they did have one piece of good news. The numbers showed that Nelson’s immune system is extra-strong for his age, which should help him during immunology treatments—should he qualify for them.

Meanwhile, they told us he’ll probably start chemotherapy tomorrow, even before all the biopsy results are in, possibly alongside immunology. If they give him the first blast before he leaves the hospital tomorrow, it will be a helpful kick-start (the nurse’s words) to his long-term treatment.

One new problem is that Nelson’s veins are flattening. Drawing blood morning and evening is getting more and more difficult. The staff has to dig for it, and Nelson has bandage wraps around multiple places in both arms. He’s a good patient and endures without complaint, but it’s hard to watch them try and try.

Today they wheeled Nelson from his room multiple times for more tests that they can compare to last week’s information. Sadly, we heard the words “fast growing” today, an invitation to lose heart. But God wants us always to be on a blessing-watch, and today he gave us a special one.

Though no young children are ever allowed on the oncology floor, we asked Nelson’s nurse if maybe just once we might bring Will up to see Nelson—only briefly, and in the lounge at the end of the hall, not in his room.

The nurses are a fantastic crew, and this one went to work on it immediately. Today as Ann Sophie, Will, and I entered the hospital, we were stopped by the doorkeepers like everyone else. Ann Sophie mentioned that the baby should be allowed in today, expecting opposition. But the woman at the desk brought up Nelson’s patient-page and quickly said, “Yes. I see that here. Go right up.”

We skipped the lounge and went directly to Nelson’s room. No one stopped us. Will was wearing his onesie that said DAD’S BEST BUDDY and charmed all the nurses and other visitors along the way. His daddy was very glad to see him and vice versa. And thankfully Will was an angel throughout the hour we were there.

 

 

Another blessing was that the staff told us they’d gotten permission for Will to be on the cancer floor any time we wanted to bring him…a standing order of sorts.

And one more good thing was that the staff had finally gotten ahead of Nelson’s pain. When we came, he was relaxed and content, a big gift to him—and to us. He was sleepy, since they had literally doubled his pain meds, but that was OK, too.

And so we forge ahead, pleading with God for more years with Nelson, and doing our best to follow his lead.

“Your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way. Walk in it’.” (Isaiah 30:21)