Category Archives: Thankfulness

Nelson’s journal 6/16/22

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Nelson’s medical team has done a biopsy of the mass growing in his neck, dividing it into nine specimens. They’re looking for the “key” that will unlock the specific mutation of Nelson’s exact cancer. If they can find that, he has a chance of survival—at least for several more years.

Simultaneously, the rabid lung cancer is growing so fast that they decide to do a series of general chemo treatments while waiting to find the mutation. He received the first treatment on June 7, before he left the hospital. It felt good to actually be doing something to fight the cancer directly.

Meanwhile, Nelson felt energetic enough to do something he’s always loved to do: go car shopping. He liked everything about this hunt for a used but good vehicle, and though my car has been available thus far, he knew he and Ann Sophie would need one of their own eventually. Since he’s always been partial to Hondas, he began by looking for a Honda Pilot that would be good in the deep snows of a Minnesota winter.                                      

                                                   >>>>>>>>>>

June 16, 2022 

5 am.

I’m up here at our little apartment near Mayo. I’m thankful this morning for a lull in the action, for all the people who love me, for money to do all these things with, and that Annso and I never struggle with it or between us.

I’m thankful for our great marriage that’s always such a pleasure to be committed to, for friends who come by and all the gifts people send. For the friends back in YWAM Kona, for the Chemo treatment we have available to us thus far. I’m grateful for a little health coming back day-by-day, that I had a movement today already and it’s only 5:15 am.

I’m thankful for the turn the country is seeming to make toward a conservative leadership, for these “woke” people who act the whole way crazy so good people can see them for what they are and get rid of their influence once and for all.

I’m thankful for how tragedy brings people together and how two of my brothers are coming up to Luke’s place this weekend with maybe DY. I’m thankful that Rob and Ken are coming.

I’m thankful you knew all my days before one of them came to pass, Lord, and that they are written in your book. I’m thankful for Little Will, for Mom and Annso, the little group we have here at this apartment in Rochester day after day.

 

 

I’m thankful for our newly acquired Honda Pilot and how fun it is to see Annso drive it around, an SUV in America, and how nothing like that is running around Europe.

11 pm.

 A good day overall. Lots more to be grateful for as we went along. Got the Pilot (a 2011) fixed up real good with some new brakes, and the dealer buffed out the headlights for me real good. All of it with the alignment diagnosis and hearing that mostly everything has been well-taken-care-of was good news to me.

Just $745 to get that info and the rest of it. No wonder they have the money to give you fancy waters and coffee while you wait for your car to get fixed. I told the service manager about my cancer, because he asked, and I think I made a new friend. He told me he would do whatever he could to help and even asked if I golfed or anything.

Of course I can’t right now, but the people in Minnesota here are some of the nicest people we’ve come across in ages.

                                                     >>>>>>>>>>

“What does the Lord require of you? To love kindness….” (Micah 6:8)

Nelson’s journal 5/15/22

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As the dreadful reality of cancer sinks in, Nelson weighs his options and gets some counsel from a close cousin, Luke, who lives in Minnesota.

Ann Sophie struggles to make her own adjustments at the apartment, 20 minutes from the hospital, while tending to a month-old baby. Thankfully her midwife/friend was with her when Nelson called with the awful diagnosis.

The next day Ann Sophie called me, and when she said the word “cancer,” we wept together over the phone.

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May 15, 2022 

I’m at the hospital for the 4th night now. Last time I was admitted here was in 2003 when I was almost killed in that scooter wreck with Andrew. We were so reckless, and God was so kind. This time, I might be here because I was reckless too, but not recently.

Maybe the mass in my lungs is from smoking or any number of other things that could give you lung cancer. It’s pretty much what I have. You never think it will happen to you, even though you have a chest pain once in a while and think of worse-case-scenarios like that.

Then all of a sudden a doc calls me on the phone after looking at a scan and tells me, “We found a mass next to your heart and nodules without number in your lungs. Looks like general lymphoma.”

More tests and lots of coughing later, I’m here after having 1.3 liters of fluid drained from my right lung alone in a hospital bed. I’m enjoying the buzz of a couple pain pills as I stay here for the last night, hopefully.

It’s Annso’s birthday tomorrow, so I would like to be there for that if possible. She has been by to see me every day so far. Thank God she’s willing to do what she has to do to get in to be with me. It would be super lonely otherwise.

 

 

Last night I had this panic attack, because I felt I couldn’t get enough air. Even just sitting here, I was out of breath, and I was on oxygen. Luke offered to help us get into the Mayo Clinic if we want that, and we took him up on it, considering this island is so hard to make things happen on.

When it’s a dryer you have on order that takes 12 weeks to get here, and once it comes in, they don’t even call to tell you it’s in, you can laugh about it. But when it’s your cancer scan results and they don’t bother sending them to the other doc or just loose them all together, it’s hard to stick around and trust them with your life when there are other options.

I’m thankful, Lord for Luke and his generosity, for BBC and theirs [Brentwood Bible Church], and for a total change of plans. For everything. Not what I would have wanted, but you can use it. I wonder how it will be—like Papa? Or will I get better, at least for a little while?

NO one knows.

                               >>>>>>>>>>

“Every day of my life was recorded in your book…before a single day had passed.” (Psalm 139:16)

Nelson’s journal 5/5/22  

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Reading Nelson’s statement that he was feeling better at the beginning of last May has been bittersweet for us—because we know now that he wasn’t really getting better. But he was trying to be optimistic, and optimism is usually helpful.

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May 4, 2022 

The sickness is getting better. Every day is better than the last one. I sold my blue Easter Egg Dodge truck last night, ending my love-hate relationship with that thing. What a relief. Again, the verse applies, “The end of a thing is better than its beginning… and patience is better than pride.” Or… finishing is better than starting.

The baby boy is giving us a run for our money most of the day, not napping more than 30 minutes at a stretch, then waking up in full force not really ready for anything but crying and fussing… and eating some, but not enough.

You always wonder what to do as a parent. Mostly you have no idea and only learn that you don’t know what you’re doing or how to do it.

No more sermons to prepare, which is nice. I am glad God called me away from pastoring the church. It was also true there that “the end of a thing is better than its beginning.” I remember the beginning and how hard it was. Actually, it was pretty hard the whole way through in certain ways, but it was good to do it, and also good it’s over, at the same time.

“Accept the way God does things, for who can straighten what he has made crooked? Enjoy prosperity while you can, but when hard times strike, realize that both come from God. Remember that nothing is certain in this life.” (Ecclesiastes 7:13-14)