Category Archives: Saying Goodbye

End-of-life issues

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Why is it so hard to talk about end-of-life issues? For people who believe in eternal security with God through Jesus Christ, discussions of death and dying ought not to be shunned. And yet, we do that.

After Nate’s 14th and final radiation treatment today, we met with his doctors and signed off. They’ve done everything they can for him, and our questions have all been answered, at least to this point. Saying goodbye was not sad, though, since it means we no longer have to drive from Michigan to Chicago and back, five days a week. Nate was thoroughly exhausted after today’s treatment but was pleased Lars had chauffeured us and shown interest in inspecting the massive radiation machine worth $3,000,000.

We made it back to our Michigan front door just as a Hospice Home Care nurse was arriving for our official sign-up. Pat and her team will help us navigate the next phase of our journey. She was efficient and experienced, plowing through a stack of paper work quickly. Although she addressed her presentation to Nate, he sat facing her with eyes half closed, worn out from the morning.

Toward the end of her explanation of services, she said, “Now we come to the hard part, the living will.” Pat waited patiently for the words “living will” to sink in. Then she said, “The question is, if you stop breathing, do you want us to resuscitate you by using a respirator?”

Nate didn’t have to think very long. Without saying a word, he shook his head “no”.

I rephrased the question and then said, “Are you sure?”

Again he didn’t say a word but with a somber expression nodded his head “yes” and reached for her clipboard and pen.

Sitting with us and listening to this question and their father’s answers were Lars, Linnea, Klaus, Louisa and Birgitta. “I’ll need two witnesses to sign as proof that Mr. Nyman’s signature is his wish,” she said. At least I think she said that. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurring.

Lars and Linnea stepped forward to sign under their dad’s curvy signature. As I became weak on the sidelines, both of them demonstrated great strength under enormous pressure. As for me, I was lost in the picture Pat had just described.

All of us cling to life. If things are going well, we eagerly want that to continue tomorrow. If things are going poorly, we hope tomorrow will be better. For us, the days are not getting better, and no one is telling us that they might. My new question is, when can we start talking about heaven? When will it not seem like I’m pushing Nate away to talk about his leaving us?

We moved through the remainder of our day with a busy dinner hour, the two grandbabies providing our entertainment, but I kept one eye on Nate. He’d lost all facial animation, all spark, even when little Skylar, just learning to talk, pointed to him and said, “Pa-paaaa!” with a lilt in her toddler voice.

Tonight, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed and holding his hand, I thought it might be time to crack open the door to eternity. As we do each evening, we quoted Scripture together. John 14 was on my mind, a message of comfort spoken by Jesus to his best friends:

“Let not your heart be troubled: you believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there you may be also.” (verses 1-3)

Nate closed his eyes, repeating only a word or two with me, but he made no objection and didn’t furrow his brow. I think the time has come to lift the ban on talking about his going away and shine a spotlight on his brightest hope. The truth is, he will go there soon, and there is no better place for him to be.

Take heart.

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As we readied for a short church service in our living room circle this morning, I thought of the thousands of families readying for church all over the country. We’ve not been to a “real” church since we got the shocking news of Nate’s pancreatic cancer less than a month ago. He’s not been up to going, and we all want to stay with him. I wondered how long it would be before we… or I… went back.

As we cleared our cluttered kitchen counter to set out eggs and toast, we found another Scripture rock tucked next to the microwave: Psalm 27:5.  We get to eat in our church, so we gobbled down breakfast while our daughter-in-law Katy opened the worship service by reading the rock-verse. “For in the day of trouble, He will conceal me in His tabernacle. In the secret place of His tent He will hide me. He will lift me up on a rock.” These days are an earthquake of trouble, to be sure. How good to know God can and will lift us onto solid ground. After praying, we listened to one of Pastor Colin Smith’s sermon CDs. The subject was love.

Later in the afternoon, I needed some time alone, a rare commodity for any of us in our crowded cottage. I’ve not wanted to leave Nate’s side since the diagnosis, especially lately when he’s kept careful track of whether or not I’m in the room. But while he dozed comfortably in his chair, I found a leash and walked Jack to the beach.

As we paced along the shoreline, a tremendous sadness settled over me like one of those lead aprons the dentist lays on people before taking an x-ray. It felt too heavy to get out from under. Although I’m resigned to Nate’s cancer and the devastation it’s causing in his body, today the whole dilemma seemed extra sad. I wasn’t mad at God. He’s been loving and gentle with us every single day. But the thought of losing our favorite husband, father and grandpa overwhelmed me.

I hadn’t planned on picking up stones today, yet as Jack and I shuffled along, the strangest thing occurred. My eye, following the line of rocks along the edge of the waves, fell on a rock that was shaped like a heart, first one and then another… and another.  I put each one into my coat pocket, commenting to Jack at how unusual such finds were.

The more hearts I found, the more my spirit lifted. We walked half a mile or so until my pockets were bulging, dictating it was time to turn for home. Spreading out the bounty, I was astounded to find a heart-rock for each member of the family, including our three unborn babies, and especially including Nate. It was as if God was telling me, “I’m not going to let you ‘lose’ Nate. You’ll always know exactly where he is: with Me. In the mean time, remember how much I love you and yours… times 16!”

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“What is man, that You should magnify him and that You should set your heart upon him?” (Job 7:17)


A day of losses

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Nelson and Hans accompanied us today, a pleasant variation for Nate and me. The wet, stormy highways made me thankful I could ride rather than drive. After two hospital appointments, our plan was to drive the mile to Nate’s office to visit his many friends there.

My sister had arranged for a wheelchair, but once at the curb in front of his office, Nate gathered his strength and wanted to walk his once-daily routine. We slowly entered the lobby, passers-by unaware of the significant event unfolding.

Emotionally-charged hugging began before we even got to the elevators as the security guard rushed from her place behind the counter to throw her arms around Nate. She patted him as if they were the closest of pals, telling us how much she loved him. Nate seemed to love her right back.

Stepping off the elevator on the 13th floor, we walked through the thick glass doors with Nate’s name included on the list of lawyers there. What were his thoughts? Three weeks ago, when he left the office to meet me at the doctor’s appointment that fateful day, he never dreamed he wouldn’t work again.

One by one people emerged from their offices to shake Nate’s hand, most putting their arms around him at the same time. It was “old home week,” and I watched him take it all in. Several were holding back tears. One labeled it bittersweet. Everyone knew the painful truth.

The conference room barely held us all, every eye on Nate, but we quickly fell into an easy banter. If anyone was shocked at his having become a shadow of his former self, no one let it show. I looked around the room and thought of the great differences in the many personalities there, politically, religiously, culturally and in age. Somehow this group had managed to work side by side for 19 years in a happy crowd of humanity that appreciated each other for what they had in common.

In a tender gesture, many of them wore Christmas neckties and necklaces. Nate’s legendary collection of holiday ties had allowed him to wear a different one each day in December. He appreciated the joke and mustered a smile.

Later, standing behind his desk surveying the monumental work Rob and Tom had done in his badly cluttered office, he was quiet. Again I wished I could have read his mind. When we left, I believe he knew he’d never be back. He didn’t say anything negative, but surely he was struggling with the many losses… his office, his files, his clients, his co-workers, his career, his identity, his routine and even the security guard. Although he’s had losses of some sort every day, this day was overloaded with them.

Later, back at home, Nate ended his day with the comfort of a hot bath. But one more loss was added to the day’s total when he had a fall getting out of the tub. It took three people to get him up, but we were thankful a badly bruised knee was the only damage. All of us, Nate included, are wondering what tomorrow will bring… or what it will take away. I marvel at his stoicism and refusal to complain.

When Nate was finally settled into his hospital bed for the night, his face flush with the effort to get there, we read today’s comments on the blog, as well as many encouraging emails. Quite a few of the messages mentioned Nate being a testimony of God’s faithfulness. As we prayed together he said, “Oh Lord, I’m not worthy to be a testimony of you. Please make me worthy.” When I peeked at him, a single tear was running down his cheek.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you, for I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” (Isaiah 43:1a-3a)