Long Ago and Far Away

Today’s blog includes something special that’s far away from cancer, hospitals, and medicines. As Nelson adjusts to being home from the hospital, we need a break from all things cancer, and maybe you do, too. So…

When Nelson was ten years old, he became a published author by writing a column for a booklet put together by a group of church moms who all had preschool children. The publication was called “The Crib Sheet,” and Nelson’s submission was for a regular column, “Children of the Heavenly Father.”

In 1983, this is what he wrote:

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My name is Nelson Hamilton Nyman. I am ten years old. I would like to write why I like having brothers and a sister. {Louisa and Birgitta had not yet been born.}

 

I like Lars, my brother, because he is only two years younger than me. He is very agreeable and loving. He is my best friend, and he will always be there, even when all my other friends move away. We can talk privately in bed, and talk about anything we want.

I like my sister Linnea because she likes me and thinks I’m pretty neat. She looks up to me.

I like Klaus because he is someone to play with when Lars is gone. He is a real nice boy, also.

Hans is the youngest of all. He is nice to talk to when I need someone to smile at and talk to. It is great to have them, because I have someone to play with most all the time. I am the first born child in the family, and that means that I have a lot of responsibility, because all my brothers look up to me and do what I do.

But someone who is an only child, they have to use the TV for a friend, and sometimes his or her parents are busy and don’t have time to play with them. There are times when I wish I was an only child. Like when everyone is crowded around the TV and I have the worst spot in the room. And like when Mom is busy with the other brother’s homework, and I need help, too.

But God wanted me to be in this family, and that is why I am here. And I know God is glad that I am happy with the life he gave me. The End

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I’ve enjoyed remembering back when Nelson was ten, and I thank God for those happy, busy days. But more than that, I’ve thought about Nelson’s last sentence in regard to what’s happening these days. Back then he wrote, “I am happy with the life [God] gave me.”

But I’m wondering–in light of everything–is that even possible today? Actually, I think I already know what Nelson’s answer would be, 39 years later:

“What is impossible with men is possible with God.” (Luke 18:27)

The Busy Day

Hospital rooms are busy places, even when outside visitors are restricted.

Today Dr. Oliver strolled in to check on his patient’s welfare. He is the radiation/lung cancer expert and said he was pleased with Nelson’s progress. He was also completely enamored with little Will, who has become a celebrity on the oncology floor.

Later, a young woman named Sydney arrived in Nelson’s room with a guitar slung over her shoulder. “I’m from palliative care,” she said, “and I thought I’d bring you some music today—if you’d like that.

“Music, she explained, “can be very soothing—any kind you like.”

Nelson suggested she sing a Willie Nelson song in honor of baby Will(ie) Nelson Nyman. She said she was a fan of “old school country” and sung through Willie’s “Blue Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain.” Her voice was clear and beautiful. Before she left, she sang a few more, including “Amazing Grace.”

Another interesting visitor was a hospital chaplain, Alex, who sat with Nelson long enough to make a request. “Would you be willing to think about a couple of questions I’d like to ask? Not to answer them now, but just to think about them.” Of course Nelson said yes.

“If God added ten years to your life, how would you use them to get closer to him?” And, “If you could ask God to do one thing for you now, what would it be?” He quickly added, “Most people ask for their cancer to be removed. But what one thing after that?”

These are good questions for anyone to ponder, but especially for someone with cancer who has a young wife and a baby to raise. Nelson tapped the questions into his phone to do as Alex suggested, to think about them later.

Before he left, Alex reminded Nelson that his cancer experience won’t be wasted, that good things will come from it.

Later, Nelson mentioned to us that fear has been hovering over him since the beginning of this ordeal—the fear of not being able to breathe.

When nurse Jean visited, ostensibly to play with Will, she reminded him that such a scenario is highly unlikely, since the fluid in his lungs is being drained daily. More than likely it isn’t breathing that would be the trouble but pain from somewhere else that’s running away with his emotions. She challenged him to think about that before giving in to panic.

With today’s many visitors we saw that Nelson is being prepared to leave the hospital, both physically and emotionally, probably tomorrow. He has to be weaned off the little black button and its pain relief before he can go—leaving it up to pills after that.

There was so much activity in his room today that he texted us in the afternoon, asking us to cancel our planned evening visit. “I’m really tired,” he said. And so of course we didn’t go.

“I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish.” (Jer. 31:25)

Lightening the Load

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.”

Sometimes silly moments like this are God’s way of showing us He’s nearby. And if we’ve been given too much to bear, he’ll lighten our load.

Come to Me… My burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28 & 30)