Surprises–Good and Bad

Christmas time is full of surprises, most of them good. But 48 hours ago Nelson got a surprise none of us would want. After an exhausting day of appointments at Mayo Clinic there in Minnesota, he found himself being admitted to the hospital—his absolute last choice of things to do at Christmas—or any time.

He’s had new breathing struggles with his lung cancer, and on top of that, he’s been suffering severely from what appears to be breaking bones. It began with a neck bone, which finally healed after about six weeks of misery, followed by breaks in a rib, a back vertebrae, his pelvis, hip, and most recently, his knee. Each of these has been accompanied by relentless sharp pain, though Nelson has done a stellar job of remaining on his feet with the assistance of a cane, and staying as active as he can be.

Last week doctors intensified their testing of the bones and learned that the cancer cells have been doing their dirty work on the marrow, weakening the bones to the point of fractures. The doctor said he shouldn’t be putting any weight on his right leg where most of the pain is, because x-rays showed his femur had dangerously thinned and in some places was actually paper-thin. This is when they admitted him to the hospital.

Doctors weren’t sure he could withstand surgery because of his many risk factors, especially his breathing issues, but there wasn’t much choice. So yesterday they operated, putting a long rod into his thigh and stabilizing his hip so it won’t fully break. Nelson did great after the surgery, and Ann Sophie has been in there fighting for her husband’s welfare at every turn, morning, noon and night.

It’s not a surprise that Nelson is angling to get discharged ASAP, but doctors have found a puzzling white substance on the wall of one lung and believe that whatever it is, this is what’s causing his new breathing troubles. So of course they won’t let him go home until they can figure that out.

Meanwhile, little Will just turned nine months and is enjoying his first sled ride. Ann Sophie’s mom and dad, a couple of very hearty grandparents, are working hard on the home front to make everything run smoothly. I marvel at how their cheerful spirits and big smiles never end. Surely their heavenly crowns will be loaded with jewels!

Nelson’s repaired leg can now bear his weight, and he can walk, with the stabilizing support of his cane. His immuno-chemo pills have been temporarily set aside while he recovers from surgery. And yesterday, the cancer itself got a surprise. While the surgeon was inside Nelson’s leg, he zapped all the cancer cells with radiation. At least those cells won’t have their way with Nelson.

We all thank you greatly for your prayers as you battle this terrible disease shoulder-to-shoulder with us. Those prayers are the best Christmas gift ever!

“Answer [us] when [we] call to you, [our] righteous God. Give [Nelson] relief from [his] distress; have mercy on [him] and hear [our] prayers.” (Psalm 4:1)

Living like you’ll Live

We have small group tonight, and have been trying to get plugged into life in Rochester as much as I’m able. We have some new friends and most of them are from a great church we became part of almost right when we got here. 

From the first day here, I’ve been trying to do things that assume I’ll be alive and well down the road. When I got a Minnesota driver’s license, I took the extra test and paid the extra money to get my motorcycle endorsement transferred over from my Hawaii license even though I no longer have a bike. I’m sure I’ll get one at some point and I want to be ready when that day comes.

Annso and I got ourselves a 75 gallon fish tank with a bunch of African Cichlids in it because everything we do doesn’t need to be about medicine, survival and hospitals.

It’s still amazing what you can get on Craigslist.

 Of course having a baby assumes a certain level of commitment and participation in life, then again, we didn’t know I had cancer when Will came along. 

And… if everything goes as planned, Annso and I will close on a single family home right here in Rochester that was made into a triplex sometimes back in the 50’s. We hope to occupy one of the downstairs units and a couple really nice tenants already occupy the others. You can see the house in the background of this joyous tomato harvester.

It’s always been my dream to own a rental property and now we just might be able to do that and cut our monthly housing payment in half in the process. God really does the impossible if you let him. 

God really does take pleasure in looking out for the weak. He loves to help out the broken-hearted. If you read the Bible, you can find it everywhere. He takes the side of the low and the meek while opposing the proud and the self-righteous. 

In the goals I made while we started this fight back in May, 1 of them was to accomplish something every day that didn’t have to do with cancer or directly to do with getting well. 

The fish tank and the house came out of that plan. 

It’s healthy, I think, to work on things that are not only about survival. Write down dreams and share them with God,  then see what happens. He just might help you out in ways you’d never expect. 

Annso and I are looking forward to life here in Rochester, Minnesota even though it’s not a place I thought of living in a million years. 

When our time in Hawaii ended abruptly, I knew we were coming here, but not how long. 

We figure it’s as good a place as any to raise out little family and I need to stay close to the clinic for a few years anyway. Might as well embrace life in Small Town USA. It’s been good to us so far.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us…”

Ephesians 3:20

Back on the Wagon

Monday I resumed taking the Mekinist / Tafinlar chemo-combo. It amounts to 1 of the Mechanist every other morning and 1 Kafinlar every morning and every night. The last time I was at the ER, I was told, “These are heavy duty drugs. It’s no wonder you have side effects like you do.” 

The thing is: I had 5 weeks with minimal fallout and at the end there, I had 103 degree fevers, headaches, and extreme fatigue. But the other thing is: the pills are killing this cancer like nobody’s business. 

Annso and I are a good team and God is asking something very different from me than from her. She does 90% of the work with our little baby boy and helping me and I pretty much try to exist and follow the doc’s orders as far as rest, pills, and overexerting myself. 

When I started back on the pills the fever came back right away.

I was hoping it would take a few weeks like it did the first time around. I take Tylenol for it but it’s a far cry from actually handling the headaches and fever. Just takes the edge off a little. 

I ask myself, “Can I do this for 6 weeks straight, a week off then another 6 weeks, then evaluate?” There’s always the chance the symptoms back off and that’s what we’re banking on, but who knows. There are no guarantees. But for me, I really have no choice if I want to live. Cancer is still all over my body and would surge back with a vengeance without this treatment.

The other day I saw an embroidered plaque on the wall at the clinic that said, “Fighting since 2007.” I got a queasy feeling in my stomach when I read it. Wow. Fighting for 15 years. Fighting like I am right now for that long… good grief.

On the one hand, that person was probably delivered a death sentence like me… 2-5 years tops and now they’ve been at it for 15. 

I think that’s why God doesn’t tell us the future. We are capable of far more than we think (with his help of course) if we don’t know what’s coming. 

It seems like forever since we moved to Rochester, but like they say with raising kids, “The days are long but the years are short.”

The days do drag on when I feel like this, but I’m thankful we have the solution and IT’S WORKING. I need God like never before and Annso would tell you the same. She just went on her second walk of the day with little Will in that baby carrier just to keep from going crazy. 

I did the first, but wasn’t up for the second. 

We jumped in at a great church with both feet. 

One of my doctors invited me while I laid in the hospital. 

We have small group and meetings with others who have suffered and overcome like me. Those are some of the biggest helps.

Also, many of the things I learned in Alcoholics Anonymous come in handy. 

“One day at a time.” 

“You won’t always feel the way you do today.”

All we can do is keep on duckin’ and swingin’.

Thank you all for your prayers. We need them now more than ever!