Category Archives: God’s plans for us

From Nelson: My Five Daily Goals

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Every day I try to meet five goals by the end of that day. These aren’t goals for healthy people as much as for someone like me who feels his life is on hold. If I have lots of time without something productive to accomplish, my mind quickly drifts to the worst case scenario.

Having these goals, then, is a way for me to live within my new reality but It’s dangerous to drift through each day thinking there’s not much I can do to change things and that everything is out from under my control. But setting these five goals has helped me see that such defeatist thinking is wrong. There are lots of things I can do. I even met these goals while in the hospital last week.

Here they are:

  1. I will complete a spiritual discipline twice each day, whether by myself or with someone else.

This might be our daily Bible reading as a couple that we do first thing every morning. It might be a prayer time, whether alone or with others. It could be journaling with an eye toward laying the words out before God.

This morning, for example, when my thoughts were straying in the wrong direction, I decided to write a gratitude inventory. It got the praises going inside of me and set a good tone for the day. It helped me look at the glass half full instead of half empty.

  1. I will perform an act of physical exercise twice each day.

This used to mean swimming a mile in the open ocean, jogging several miles, or working hard on a physically challenging project. Now it means a slow walk around the block or accompanying Ann Sophie on a short shopping trip.

Running or swimming is out of the question for me now, because I don’t have enough breath. But even in the hospital, I could gently walk down the hall and back.

  1. I will accomplish something every day toward my effort of waiting.

Living with lung cancer includes lots of waiting—waiting for appointments, test results, prescriptions, doctor-opinions, changes in medication. I’m also waiting to see what future, if any, I will have. At the moment, my life is in limbo. It could go either way. And so I try to accomplish something positive while I wait.

I think of it as doing the possible so God can do the impossible. For example, I can eat a healthy meal, rest intentionally, take my pills on time, attend an appointment.

  1. I will work to complete a physical task that will carry with it a feeling of accomplishment.

This might be doing the dishes, tidying a messy table, organizing a file, getting an oil change on the car. It’s something that can be checked off a to-do list in one shot, start to finish, something I’ve been wanting to do.

  1. I will intentionally do something with my family members and enjoy them in the process.

So much of what God wants us to do in life has to do with people. To miss that by plowing through a day while gritting my teeth just to make it is tragic. None of us know how much time we have with any one person. We need to appreciate people while we have them.

Our days in this apartment include lots of examples of this. We do almost everything together, like eating three meals together, listening to sermons together, attending medical appointments together, praying together, and sharing time with little Will. We wouldn’t have to do it like that, but we’re choosing to.

If I succeed in meeting these five goals each day, I can go to sleep at night knowing I’ve done what I can do, and the rest is up to God.

“Take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5)

A Dying Man?

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One of the best things about the Mayo Clinic is the constant communication  between doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel. They also communicate faithfully with us. Every patient can set up a portal on their phone that allows them to ask questions, arrange or rearrange appointments, and view test results literally minutes after the tests conclude.

Today’s appointment at the Clinic was the result of a question Ann Sophie had texted to the head oncology doctor. We’ve been concerned about the swelling in Nelson’s left arm/hand, and in both feet/ankles, and thought it was important that a doctor see him and make a judgment.

This afternoon we met with Dr. Oliver and his PA. Because of the frequent back-and-forth between them, both were well aware of the reason for our visit. They were current on everything that had happened to Nelson while he was in the hospital recently and in the days since then.

The three of us asked countless questions, and the bottom line of Nelson’s swollen limbs is that the cancer is causing fluid to build up not just in his lungs but throughout his body. When I asked if it would help to surgically remove the small mass in his neck, the doctor said, “We can’t do that because it’s not just that mass that’s causing trouble. The cancer is all over.”

We knew it had been growing but didn’t know how extensively. Just as we were absorbing that negative news, Dr. Oliver dropped a bomb on us. He said, “When I visited you in the hospital about a week ago, I took one look at you and thought, ‘This young man is dying. He won’t make it to the end of the week’.”

We were speechless. We had had no idea.

Dr. Oliver told us this, we believe, to encourage us, because he also said, “You were a very sick man. And now, a week later, here you are, looking a little better.”

All of us sat still, hearts beating fast, wondering what else he might know that he wasn’t telling us.

Later we talked about whether or not hearing the whole medical truth is good or bad. Would it have been helpful for Dr. Oliver to have come into Nelson’s hospital room telling him he thought he wouldn’t live through the week?

We concluded that it’s best if we don’t know everything the doctors know. They aren’t really in charge anyway.

God is.

As we arrived home this afternoon, we recalled the prayer we’d prayed over Nelson on the day Dr. Olivier judged him to be at the end of his life. Here’s part of our prayer over him that night, personalized just as we prayed it then:

“Let the morning bring Nelson word of your unfailing love, Lord, for he has put his trust in you. Show him the way he should go, because he has entrusted his life to you. Rescue him from this cancer, because he hides himself in you. For your name’s sake, O Lord, preserve his life.”

And God did.

(Psalm 143:8-11)

A Blog by Nelson

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The last month has seemed like a year and also like a week, all at the same time. A month ago, for the first time, I heard the word Cancer used by a  doctor talking about the condition of my body, Stage 4 Lung Cancer. At first it felt like something that would only happen to someone else. Then I realized I had no comprehension of what I’d just been told.

One dominating thing for me throughout the month since then has been PAIN. It’s been nearly more than I could bear, and no meds could get on top of it. When you hit your hand with a hammer and the pain shoots into you, no encouraging word will help at that moment. And up until recently, I’ve had pain that’s been much like that.

It has included an intense and painful cough with severe pain in the bones around my whole rib cage, along with ongoing constipation, nausea, and vomiting. Constant shortness of breath was and is the norm for me. I still get completely out of breath after the slightest exertion.

It took almost an entire week at the hospital with nonstop appointments and continual visits from nurses and doctors to stabilize the medications and their side effects. They needed to get ahead of my pain and then create a treatment program to get me to where I am today. Only since I came home from the hospital two days ago could I stop to take stock of what’s really going on.

Being told that you have “Stage 4 Lung Cancer” is a foreboding diagnosis. It sounds more like a death sentence. And tonight I sit here trying to think it through.

I wonder why having a son and getting a cancer diagnosis happened at the exact same time. After having wished and hoped and prayed for a baby, I wonder why God would do that if I wouldn’t be here to raise him anyway. Will I be alive in a year? In five? How much pain will there be before it’s over? How long will it be before I no longer have to sleep sitting up? Will I ever be able to swim a mile in the open ocean again?

I know none of us can answer these questions, and the Scriptures tell us not to obsess over the future, so living for today is my plan. That’s what I’m determined to do. And it has proven to be a massive challenge and has shaken my whole thought process—as I’m sure it would many of yours.

I want to thank all of you for the love and support you’ve shown us during this month by showering us with gifts, helpful Scriptures, relevant sermons, cards, emails, texts, just all of it. Thanks you. It means so much to us.