Nelson’s fight with cancer continues with frequent appointments with doctors at the Mayo Clinic that usually include the whole family. Doctors and nurses seem fine with welcoming everyone into the exam rooms, stroller and all. But none of the appointments can tell Nelson what he really wants to hear—that he’ll live through this cancer. Even so, he believes he will.
[A reader warning: This post will be difficult to read, since we know the outcome.]
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July 27, 2022
Finished another couple appointments at the Mayo. Been feeling ok overall but lots of unknown anxiety. The Baby Boy is doing really good overall, and I’m super thankful for that.
We are putting our household together, and it seems like we might buy a house at some point soon. I just feel like it might be time. Other than that, there’s not a great reason to buy or not to.
My health is precarious at best. We are trying to jump through the hoops of the chemo and whatever the Mayo has for us, but it’s hard these days. There are different challenges with each phase.
At first, I felt better overall and could push through, but now, the feeling is weakness and panic. The panic attacks have been overwhelming and coming at all hours, day or night.
It’s Astrid, Annso, and I at the apartment now, with little Will in tow. Hard to put into words what things are like, but I thought I’d open up my mostly new computer and write out some thoughts, for lack of a better idea.
Restlessness—and just having the feeling that this will go on forever. I don’t know what to do to end it. I can’t breathe so good.
Annso is like my literal lifeline. I don’t know what I would do without her. She thinks of everything and literally helps me with everything all the time. God has given her to me like an angel. I couldn’t be more thankful.
We got through a couple doc appointments pretty well today, and now we’re back at the apartment. People follow the blog Mom writes and ask me about things. They pray, and the prayers work.
I try to keep ducking and swinging, even though it’s not easy. This is like nothing I’ve been though before. I couldn’t imagine it. I’m so glad I didn’t know it was coming. Wow. Cancer out of nowhere.
It’s like the worst nightmare that you can have, coming true in real life, in real time, no set duration. I pray for release from anxiety, Lord. I pray for the tools to use that the doc gave me. I don’t know how to do it or what to do. You’ve helped me in the past.
Annso and Astrid pray and are so faithful to help, and I’m so grateful for them. Thank you. Why do you do this to me? Why do you test me like this and twist me up like this? I don’t know how much longer I can do it, really. Please send relief.
The Word says to send the call for relief that a person would call out, and the cry would go out. Please do that and end this nightmare. It’s me and me alone who has this ailment that doesn’t end.
I know or at least seem to know that I will not die, but I’m fearful for some reason. We have verses written on the wall that declare things about you and your promises. I pray for the power to believe them to be true. Please let them be true.
How does a man overcome this? I read the Bible. I pray. I ask you for help, Lord. People pray, and I take a drug, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.
It’s 7:43 pm. Took 2 Lorazepam, and we’ll see what happens. It worked before, and nothing I know works like an actual drug, even though most people want to pray and sing and do Yoga or whatever to get through it. I need to interrupt it somehow [with drugs].
Lord, please help me. Where are you in times like these? A man left alone with his insanity. It’s like when I freshly quit drinking and couldn’t shake the feelings. Nothing took it away but another drink. You know the solution is also the kiss of death, but there it is, nonetheless. Please help, Lord.
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“We don’t know what to do, but our eyes are on You.” (2 Chronicles 20:12)
