Category Archives: Life’s disappointments

Commentary from Nelson on a tiring day

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We have received some good help today. As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on a bed in a small room like any other hospital room. There’s a TV and snacks and a little table with the IV drip stand like usual, only this time it’s for chemotherapy and immunotherapy.

Picture this. I come to the hospital at 6:45 in the morning for a blood draw for them to continue testing things. Then I go into another room to talk to a doctor for a while about medications, making sure we should move forward with the chemotherapy.

After that, at about 9:30 AM, I come to this room. Today it took two nurses and one doctor five different attempts to find a functioning vein in one of my arms so they could run the IV. I guess I’ve been stuck enough times to make it difficult to find success.

Once they get that squared away, they begin emptying one bag of liquid into me after another. The amazing thing is that the contents of the bags are poison in one sense. After this, I’m not supposed to kiss my wife, and when I go to the bathroom, I’m supposed to flush the toilet two times after sitting down to pee, because the fluid is so radioactive. But apparently this stuff is death to cancer.

It’s not cheap, though. I’m told that the bag containing immunotherapy costs more than $30,000. Can you imagine spilling it by mistake?

I have five of these chemo/immuno infusions scheduled over the next many weeks, each one with a CAT scan in between to monitor progress going forward. Today I’m receiving the second of the five. In three weeks I’ll get the next one.

All the testing, scans, appointments, consultations, studies, and everything else comes down to me sitting here in this hospital bed with that clear liquid going into my blood. And that’s the cancer-killer. Isn’t that weird?

After the three hour infusion was over today, I was scheduled for another draining of my lung called a thoracentesis. This time it was the left side instead of the right. In the four months since this medical drama began, I’ve only had the left lung drained once, and there wasn’t much extra fluid there then. Today they pulled out 2.2 liters—breaking my old record for biggest draw ever, which was 1.6 liters. No wonder I needed oxygen all the time. There will be pain for a few days every time I take a breath, but that will gradually subside. And meanwhile, I’m able to get more air.

It’s been a tiring day, but as I said, we received some good help today.

“In the Lord…my heart trusts, and I am helped.” (Psalm 28:7)

From Linnea about her brother Nelson

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I owe a lot to my big brother Nelson.

When I went off to college, I began to drift away from the things I had always believed. I used my doubts and questions about God as a reason to basically do whatever I wanted, even things I knew were wrong.

Then during my senior year, Nelson moved to town. He had been out serving at the Youth With a Mission (YWAM) base in Hawaii for several years, but since he was only one year short of his bachelor’s degree, he decided to come back to the Midwest to finish it. The two of us graduated from Anderson University together on the same day in May of 1999.

What a relief that must have been for my dad! Education was a top priority for him and he worked hard to make sure we all had the chance to go to college. Nelson mostly finished school to honor his father, which makes me think of Ephesians 6:2-3: “Honor your father and mother, which is the first commandment with a promise, so that it may go well with you and that you may have a long life in the land.” When I pray for Nelson now, I love thinking about how he has obeyed this command!

During the year we were together at Anderson University, Nelson went out of his way to spend time with me. We would go out for coffee and talk about spiritual things. He never preached at me, but always listened to me without judgment and tried to answer my questions. And he talked a lot about YWAM.

As graduation approached, I had a growing uneasiness about the direction I was going. I felt guilty for some of the choices I was making and wondered if I needed to make a complete break from my life as it was. I began to think maybe God had a better plan for me.

I will admit, I might not have initially decided to try YWAM for holy reasons. But once I got out there, far away from everyone and everything I knew, I could suddenly see my life more clearly—how ungrateful I had been, how self-focused, and how deceitful.

As I read my Bible, listened to the teachings, and talked with my leaders, I realized I was far from who God wanted me to be. And I was a wreck, filled with regret and desperate for God to forgive me and change me. After two months there, I was baptized in the Pacific Ocean off the main pier in Kona, and I knew I would never be the same again.

During those early months on the YWAM base, the same thing happened many times. Someone would mention my brother Nelson, and a new acquaintance would say, “Wait! You’re NELSON’S sister?!” And then suddenly, a virtual stranger would give me a hug and start telling me a story about some crazy adventure they’d had with Nelson in a third world county. I had instant friends everywhere because I was Nelson’s little sister. I loved it.

A year into my time with YWAM, I met Adam, who became my husband. At that point Nelson was living in Nashville and not on the YWAM base, so Adam had never met him, but he knew all about him from the stories his leaders had shared!

(Conclusion tomorrow…)

Planning Ahead

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We’re all agreed it would be nice to have no more emergencies stemming from Nelson’s lung cancer. We’ve had three visits to the ER, two hospital admissions, one ambulance ride, and a variety of crises here at home related to the above—in four weeks.

Having no more would be nice.

But cancer keeps us guessing, and this morning we had yet another beat-down moment that took us by surprise.

We had just loaded the car for a 30 minute ride to a special appointment at a distant post office. We were trying to accomplish Nelson’s chosen task for the day (a #4 on his list of goals) to deliver paper work that would eventually bring an American passport to baby Will. After all, his mama is a citizen of Germany, and his relatives there are anxious to meet him. So our errand was a future-focused undertaking of how life might be after cancer.

Nelson had started the car and was waiting for us in the parking lot. Ann Sophie brought Will out, and I followed, each climbing into our respective car doors. Then Nelson said, “Did you bring an anti-nausea pill?”

Ann Sophie said, “No. Should I go back and get one?”

Nelson flung his car door saying “too late” and bolted for the building entrance, which of course was locked. Ann Sophie realized he was about to vomit and said, “Do it in the bushes!” When he didn’t head that way, she ran ahead with her keys ready for the locked doors.

The two of them disappeared into the building just as Will began to cry in his car seat. I got out and went around to open Will’s door to pick him up, and there we were, a screaming baby and his grandma, pacing around a parking lot near a running car with all four doors wide open and no one inside.

Ten minutes later, out they came, Nelson pinching a paper towel over his bloody nose (due to blood thinners), and Ann Sophie dragging the heavy oxygen machine with its tubing, cannula, and cords–on loan from ever-helpful cousin Luke.

Nelson had made it to the toilet, his mouth filled with saliva, knowing that the retching was about to tear into his mid-section with excruciating pain and then morph into a cardiac event as it always had before. He felt he was about to pass out and asked Ann Sophie to run for the oxygen.

He took several whiffs while kneeling in front of the toilet, and in just a few seconds, the intense nausea magically disappeared. He hadn’t done any retching, there hadn’t been a cardiac event, and he felt just fine.

Ann Sophie dragged the heavy oxygen machine to the car, and while wearing the cannula, Nelson felt good enough to drive. Though we were late to the appointment, our mission was accomplished.

Such is the world of day-to-day cancer. Though we’d like to know what tomorrow will bring, that’s not how it works.

“When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider this: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore, no one can discover anything about their future.” (Ecclesiastes 7:14)