Category Archives: Hearing from God

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)

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)

A Better Day

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The good thing about a bad day is that the next one is bound to be better.

Yesterday was rough, and it didn’t end at bedtime. Nelson’s vomiting continued through the night and into the morning, a vomiting like we’d never seen before—violent and ongoing for many minutes at a time. It seemed like he would pass out at any second.

This morning as the vomiting continued along with overwhelming coughing and choking, Ann Sophie and I didn’t know what to do. His pain was “off the charts” (his words), so we contacted his medical team. The first one to respond said, “Take him to the ER.”

And so back we went for our 3rd visit there in 2½ weeks. As we got in the car, we prayed, crying out to God to rescue Nelson—from vomiting, from coughing, choking, severe abdominal and lung pain, and inadequate breathing. Thankfully the ER was empty, and we went right in.

Several nurses and a doctor quickly focused on each problem in turn. Within an hour Nelson was breathing easier because of receiving oxygen, and his count had gone from 88 to 95. His pain was being treated with fentanyl and the vomiting with anti-nausea meds. And best of all was when Ativan diminished his panic about not being able to breathe.

Finally he fell into a sound sleep, which made me cry as I watched him. He hasn’t slept well in many weeks, some nights not at all. And always sitting straight up.

By 4:00 PM, the staff had decided to admit Nelson to the hospital for at least 24 hours to investigate the vomiting, a sky-high white blood cell count, and severe constipation from pain meds.

By 5:30 Nelson was being strapped in for his first-ever ride in an ambulance. This time he went to a different hospital, landing on a floor with only cancer patients. When he arrived, the staff said, “We are your people. We are already working with all the doctors you’ve been with so far, and we’re familiar with your medical situation.” It felt a little like coming home.

After they delivered all of Nelson’s meds along with an extra blanket, he  ordered dinner (an omelette, fruit and coffee), a welcome sight after not eating anything since yesterday’s nausea had begun. But today’s greatest delight was that we had cried out to God in the car, asking him to rescue Nelson, and he did.

Though his cancer and all the harm it’s doing remains, we were encouraged to hear that this week systemic treatment will begin. And our hope is that it won’t include vomiting.

“Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him. I will protect him, because he knows my name. When he calls to me, I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble. I will rescue him…” (Psalm 91:14-15)