Category Archives: Suffering

God is here.

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Throughout the Bible, God tells us he’ll never abandon us. He assures us of his love and says he’s as close as our right hand. But sometimes, when going through life‘s hardest challenges, we wonder where he is.

Here in Rochester, as we do our best to take one day at a time, we often pray this:

“Father, please let us see you today. Give us a strong sense of your presence.” Those are good prayers, since sometimes God seems to have gone away.

Or has he?

Yesterday when Nelson was discouraged about not being able to leave the hospital, he and Ann Sophie prayed, asking God to deliver some specific encouragement. “Show us your unfailing love, Lord.“

It didn’t take him very long to show himself. As Ann Sophie was leaving Nelson’s hospital room, one of the nurses said, “I’m praying for you. We need the Lord to make your path straight.”

That’s a direct quote from Proverbs 3:6, and suddenly, there was God, speaking his own words over Ann Sophie.

In the hospital elevator, a young man saw baby Will and said, “Is it your baby that’s sick ?”

Ann Sophie said, “No.”

“That’s good,“ he said. “It’s not my baby, either. It’s me.“

“Is it cancer?“

“Yes, but I hope to get some time.“

Before he walked away he said, “Don’t ever give up. Just keep trusting the Lord.“ And there was God, with another important truth from his word.

A few minutes later, as Ann Sophie was leaving the hospital after dark, she’d forgotten where she’d parked the car and was walking around several blocks. A man looking like he might want to cause trouble approached her. Her inner defenses went up, especially since she had the baby with her.

When the man passed her by, he stopped, turned around, and said, “May God bless you and your little baby. And remember, Jesus loves you.“

Ann Sophie thanked him and saw God again. None of us believe these encounters are anything other than God himself moving in close with love, courage and a special message: “I’m here.”

Also, today he showed his loving kindness big-time by giving Nelson the desire of his heart—to come home!

Of course things aren’t perfect. His legs, feet and left arm are still badly swollen, and chemo-nausea kicked in tonight with some vomiting. Then the catheter into his right lung refused to drain. So it’s back to the clinic tomorrow for further tests and a troubleshooting ultrasound.

 

But tonight, none of that matters, because our Nelson is home.

Jesus told his disciples, “Because you have seen me, you believe….” (John 20:29)

We soldier on.

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When Nelson‘s father was alive, he used to encourage his young children in a special way. If they were going through something hard—like stitches in an ER—he would say, “You’re being a good soldier, kid. Hang in there.”

These days, if he was with us, I think he’d say the same thing while watching his son fight this hard battle against cancer.

Today, after multiple doctors consulted with each other yesterday, a decision was made to perform a procedure on Nelson, despite the risk. They would transport him to one of the surgical centers here and establish a type of port going into his left lung similar to that on the right. It would be a drain that could open and close rather than remain open like the one in the hospital.

The reason it was risky was because they had to stop his blood thinner meds for six or more hours in order to successfully do the surgery. During that time, anything could happen. A piece of his existing blood clot could break off and move into his lungs—a disaster. Or other clots could quickly form elsewhere in his body.

But without this new drain he couldn’t leave the hospital. With it, Ann Sophie could manage draining his lungs at home, both sides. Today’s surgery would be one more step toward being discharged.

Two days ago we were round tabling the idea of this possible surgery, weighing the pros and cons. Nelson said, “I just don’t want that. Not another ambulance ride, another surgery, and then another recuperation. No thanks.“

But today, there he was, being strapped onto a gurney and wheeled away to an ambulance that was indeed headed for a surgical center, to do what he didn’t want to do. But he was being a good soldier.

When it was all over and he was back in his regular room tonight, he reported that despite pain in his side, he felt great. Also, after his stint in the recovery room, he was left free of all tubes and IV lines and is now taking all meds by mouth. But best of all, tonight the staff gave him the good word that he can be discharged—tomorrow! This soldier has won a victory.

Back at home, I was singing to little Will, and without realizing it, was actually singing about Nelson:

“Onward Christian soldier, marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus going on before.
Christ the Royal Master leads against the foe.
Forward into battle, see his banner go.”’

You’re being a good soldier, kid. Hang in there.

“Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus.” (2 Timothy 2:3)

Nelson’s Day

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Many of you frequently ask, “How was Nelson’s day?” Some days are more dramatic than others, but during a typical day in the hospital, here’s what he’s doing.

Blood draws are frequent, starting at 5 AM. A lab lady knocks and enters every 4 to 6 hours, dragging a massive medical cart behind her. She searches for a good vein in Nelson’s bruised arms and sometimes has to make multiple tries. This is especially hard on Nelson during the night when she rolls in at 1 – 2 AM. It’s not a happy way to wake up.

As soon as the shift changes (6 AM for doctors, 7 AM for everyone else), The medical personnel begin their visits. They take Nelson‘s vitals again and again, change IV bags, check lung fluid accumulation, record it all on a computer and fuss over him till he wishes they would go away.

After that, a parade of other “helpers“ come and go throughout the day— a skin specialist to check on bedsores, a palliative care nurse to ask about pain meds, a social worker, a chaplain, a cleaning crew, a food server, and a transport person to take him away for x-rays, procedures, or tests.

The nurses are in and out multiple times every hour, delivering meds, fetching ice water, checking oxygen, updating the whiteboard, and unnumbered other tasks. And of course the doctors on Nelson‘s team of about 20 are part of the parade, too. When they come in, they often bring students or interns with them. Sometimes a nurse accompanies them, and the visitor headcount increases.

By the end of any hospital day, Nelson is thoroughly depleted. He asks for the lights to be turned off, even when it’s not bedtime. And his frustration mounts when every person who enters his room asks a series of questions. If he has just taken a pain pill for his constant lung pain, he finds it difficult to answer.

Tonight when Ann Sophie, Will and I were visiting, he told us that each day felt like an eternity and he was just marking time so he could call the day done.

 

Wanting to encourage him today, Ann Sophie suggested we all go to a rooftop patio that’s furnished with comfortable tables and chairs, just so Nelson (who loves the outdoors) could be outside for a while. It took a crew of helpers to free him from his many tethers, but he complied and seemed to enjoy the patio, once we got there. It wore him out in a good way, since so much time in the bed wears on him in a different way.

Nelson always thanks us, and his words about the patio were positive, but since he’s been in the hospital, there hasn’t been much sparkle behind what he says–unless he’s talking to baby Will. Then he becomes animated.

Little Will, approaching 4 months old, is a celebrity on the oncology floor. He’s only there with special permission. The nurses call him eye candy, and when he’s smiling, there’s no better mood-lifter than him. 

We’re praying Nelson will get to come home soon, but not too soon. The clot issue, still unresolved, and his swollen limbs will have to improve before it’ll be safe to leave the hospital. He knows that but then said, “This is all so hard.” And we agree.

“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them.” (Psalm 34:17)