Category Archives: Thankfulness

Palliative Care

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Being a non-medical person, I didn’t know what the word “palliative” meant until Nate had his cancer. The hospice people were using that word, so finally I looked it up. Palliative care is medicine or a medical treatment that lessens pain or other negative symptoms, without dealing with their causes.

When Nelson, Ann Sophie, Will, and I first got to the Mayo Clinic, one of the many doctors we saw mentioned that they were setting up a meeting with the palliative care people. Nelson’s immediate response was, “Well, I don’t think we need that, do we?”

Like me, he was thinking back to when his father had been in his final days of cancer and the nurse brought up palliative care. In other words, she was letting us know there was nothing more they could do for Nate except to mitigate his suffering. She called it “comfort measures.” That, they could do.

But the meeting at Mayo’s was scheduled for us anyway, and we met with the head palliative MD yesterday. As always, little Will came along and brought sunshine into the small exam room, charming the lady doctor with his smiles.

Ann Sophie, constantly thinking ahead, had packed Nelson’s medications in her bag and when asked the first question, she reached in and pulled out the prescription bottle the doctor was asking about. “I just brought them,” she said, “in case you needed to see them.”

In less than a minute she had them all lined up on the exam room bench, grouped by category. The doctor was impressed (as were Nelson and I), and it turned out to be a big help to have the bottles there. Though this palliative expert had all these same drugs on a computer list in front of her, she quickly pivoted to the bench-with-bottles to study labels, count remaining pills, and ask questions about their efficacy.

Dr. Christiansen spent well over an hour with us. First and foremost, she wanted to know how Nelson was feeling. What were his most bothersome symptoms? How did his current condition compare with weeks past? Did he need to continue all the pills, or could some be eliminated? Did he have questions about the many drugs he’s taking?

She took time to listen carefully to his answers, once in a while turning toward her computer to tap out notes.

Then she turned to Ann Sophie, asking how she was coping with managing all the pills and their different stipulations. Ann Sophie had her questions ready, and Dr. Christiansen had a detailed answer for everything any of us asked. She was profoundly knowledgeable about every drug, their different uses, and why each was prescribed for Nelson.

When we left, it turned out that the palliative care appointment Nelson didn’t think he would need had been very useful. Best of all, though, was when Nelson said, “I know one thing for sure. I feel a lot better now than I did a couple of weeks ago.” And beneath that heartening statement was the valuable care of palliative medicine—along with a few comfort measures from another source:

The Lord is “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles…” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)

Really?

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Last Friday morning, Ann Sophie got an email telling us a special delivery was arriving between 11:00 and 1:00. At about 11:00, a giant furniture delivery truck pulled into our apartment complex, and two strapping young guys got out.

They hauled several large pieces into our living room, putting them together in less than five minutes. And there stood a deluxe, gorgeous lay-z-boy chair, a gift for Nelson from his “home church” in Tennessee–Brentwood Baptist.

It had remote control and could move up or down according to his wishes, whether he wanted to use it as a chair or a bed.

We all tried it out, happy with its comfort and capabilities. The best part was watching the chair move Nelson from a lying-down position to a full stand-up without any effort on his part—other than pushing a button. This lavish gift is from a group of thoughtful, generous, supportive friends in Nashville, who wanted to do something special for Ann Sophie and Nelson.

Because lying flat is almost impossible for him, this chair now allows Nelson the comfort of a bed with the ability to put his lungs at any angle that makes his shallow breathing easier.

After welcoming the new chair to our living room, we were making weekend plans when Ann Sophie got a text from Tennessee. “There was actually money left over after we bought the chair, so what else would you like? We’re going to spend it on you guys somehow, so just tell us what to buy.”

After we stopped shaking our heads in wonder, Ann Sophie gave it some thought and chose a KitchenAid mixer. The beautiful KitchenAid she has in Kona, Hawaii, (too heavy to ship) will now be given to someone else way out there, who will receive a ricochet-blessing from the folks back in Tennessee. God does, indeed, move in mysterious ways. And he loves to use generous people to take part in his happy surprises.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good. Oh the joys of those who take refuge in him!” (Psalm 34:8)

Love in Black and White

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This weekend Nelson’s cousin Luke invited us to come to his home for the weekend. As we drove the 80 miles there, Nelson asked me to read aloud an email we’d received yesterday. It was written by Kim, who is married to Luke’s brother Andrew…another cousin of Nelson.

Kim said she was representing Andrew with her words, since he couldn’t put his feelings for Nelson into writing. The result is a tribute to the friendship these two cousins have. It’s love in black and white. Nelson and Ann Sophie had read Kim’s email earlier in the day, but as we drove along the highway, Nelson asked me to read it again, out loud. “It was just so good,” he said.

So here it is, written by Andrew’s wife Kim:

I don’t really know Nelson, but I know Nelson-stories and know that if you don’t have a Nelson story, you probably want one. I have had the split-spray from Andrew’s laugh hit me in the face as he recalls the time he and Nelson got stopped by the police late one night in Hawaii.

I have seen cousins cuddled in their beds listening to Luke tell a “Nel and Dod tale,” and I’ve heard Nelson himself recount memories that make you wish they were yours. Like all good story owners, he is easy to listen to.

Andrew loves Nelson. Many times he has told me (sometimes even with a little excitement) that if things ever go south, Nelson is the one he wants to be with. He tells me Nelson has street smarts, common sense, rationality, capability, and then he says, jokingly, “You know, like me.”

This was intriguing to me. Andrew is the most capable person I know. In my eyes he can do anything. I remember once when we were newly married, I tried to hem a pair of curtains that did indeed go south. Andrew replaced the fabric and hemmed them himself. Is he really telling me there is an Andrew 2.0, or did I marry Nelson 2.0?

Once I sized Nelson up at the beach. Andrew and I were getting ready for a bonfire, and Nelson and Ann Sophie were with us. Usually when I get to the beach with company, we grab our chairs and take a seat. Andrew then hauls the wood down, digs the pit, gathers brush, and starts the fire.

This time, as Andrew was bringing the wood down, Nelson immediately began to dig the pit. Once he finished that, he went and hunted sticks for kindling. Then he went back and helped Andrew carry more wood. He didn’t sit down once. Like Andrew, he was a doer.

While he was doing all this, I was telling Ann Sophie, “Listen. If the world ends, Andrew already told me he’s going to find Nelson and the two of them are going to save the world.” I told her that any time I compliment Andrew, he replies, “But have you met Nelson?”

(….conclusion tomorrow)

“Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.” (Proverbs 27:17)