Cancer–Plus and Minus

Fighting cancer can be a full time job, and it’s not just the many doctor appointments and tests. It’s also the drain of committing to battle the disease. A cancer patient can fight and fight some more, yet still lose ground. Determining to continue, then, can wear a person down till there’s no fight left.

Nelson has had his highs and lows during his war against lung cancer and was pulled into another low just yesterday. Without an end-date to the cancer, it can seem like it’ll go on forever.

He and Ann Sophie were tempted to cancel a doctor appointment with a new oncologist yesterday afternoon, hoping to take a little time away from thinking about cancer, but the staff persuaded them to attend.

As it turned out, it was God’s rescue from the low. Ann Sophie said, “The doctor was very positive and filled us with hope.” He told them that Nelson had lots of reasons to be stressed but that he was handling it well, better than most in his position. This was uplifting to hear.

Ann Sophie said the doctor looked a lot like Santa Claus and made her wish they could stay and have him read stories to them all afternoon. Looking back on the day, it was clear that just when they’d needed a strong boost, God brought Dr. Santa Claus into their day.

It turned out that Nelson’s albumin level was extremely low, causing him to feel worse than usual. The doctor recommended he take in as much protein as he can eat or drink, and then as time passes, his levels will slowly rise, making him feel much better.

Dr. Santa also schooled them in how to take the first immunotherapy drugs, which Nelson did last night. The two pills, which had arrived via FedEx (one needing refrigeration) were to be taken exactly 12 hours apart, two hours after eating. So Ann Sophie went to work on making a chart to help keep things well regulated. What a blessing she is!

Dr. Santa said Nelson should be feeling a little better even at the end of the first week—more encouraging news. And it’s no small gift that the nausea of chemotherapy is now in the rear view mirror. Nelson takes no anti-nausea meds now, after having needed them daily. This, indeed, is progress!

“Better is the end of a thing than its beginning.” (Ecclesiastes 7:9)

Little Victories

As we suspected, Nelson is pressing the hospital staff for an exit-date from the hospital. Now that he’s been transferred from the ICU to a regular hospital room, there’s a new set of physical goals to reach. For example, he needs to be weaned off the high density oxygen without his numbers slipping below 95. And he needs to be able to walk around without his heart rate rising above 120. Nelson is doing everything in his power to meet these requirements, but most of it is out of his control. He did have several victories today, though.

1. The cancerous nodules in both lungs that were “too numerous to count“ have all significantly shrunken.
2. The swollen lymph nodes on both sides of his neck have also gotten smaller. They can’t be felt anymore from the outside.
3. His platelet count is up and all other blood numbers are stable.
4. He needs one less blood pressure medicine to keep his pressure up.
5. Two catheters have been removed, along with one IV line.
6. The lab lady was able to find a vein on her first try for this morning‘s blood draw.
7. Pain meds are no longer being given by IV but only by mouth.

But sadly, today wasn’t only about victories. We received one negative piece of news that both shocked and disappointed us: Despite being on blood thinners, Nelson now has a large blood clot under his clavicle bone area.

When his team gave him the details about this, he became overwhelmed with anxiety. After the doctors left, leaving his mind swirling, he called and told us he couldn’t handle “all this“ anymore, because there was no end in sight. They had asked him questions about making choices for moving forward, and he had been unable to organize his thoughts enough to answer. He seemed on the verge of panic, so we quickly mobilized and were in his room in just minutes.

He was still feeling anxious, telling us he felt like his hospital room had become a prison he could never get out of. But he was relieved to see us, especially his beloved Ann Sophie.

Just before we arrived, they had done a 90 minute ultrasound of his swollen arm, looking closely at the clot. They learned it was not just a small, marble-sized clot but one that reaches into four different veins: the internal jugular vein, the subclavian vein, the auxiliary vein, and the upper arm cephalic vein.

As a result, blood is flowing into Nelson‘s arm and legs but can’t get out. His limbs are so swollen now that he virtually can’t bend them.

The head nurse came in to answer more questions, bringing a print-out to help us understand. Once we saw the scope of the problem, we quizzed her at length about how to “fix it.“ She told us three teams of oncology experts would be arriving tomorrow morning: vascular, pulmonary, and radiation. All of them are familiar with Nelson‘s case, and together with him, they will structure a plan. We hope to be there listening in.

Before we left tonight, Ann Sophie questioned Nelson‘s nurse about his anti-anxiety meds, and they promised to be sure he had enough. Nelson never asks. He just carefully thanks every person who enters his room, telling them what a good job they’ve done and how he’s thankful for their care. This goes for everyone from medical people to food servers to cleaning crews. We’ve watched him bring light and goodness to each one.

Nelson is making a difference in the lives of many at the Clinic. As the old Sunday school song says, “Brighten the corner where you are.“

And despite today’s bad news, that’s what he’s doing.

“You are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light.” (Ephesians 5:8)

A Blog by Nelson

The last month has seemed like a year and also like a week, all at the same time. A month ago, for the first time, I heard the word Cancer used by a  doctor talking about the condition of my body, Stage 4 Lung Cancer. At first it felt like something that would only happen to someone else. Then I realized I had no comprehension of what I’d just been told.

One dominating thing for me throughout the month since then has been PAIN. It’s been nearly more than I could bear, and no meds could get on top of it. When you hit your hand with a hammer and the pain shoots into you, no encouraging word will help at that moment. And up until recently, I’ve had pain that’s been much like that.

It has included an intense and painful cough with severe pain in the bones around my whole rib cage, along with ongoing constipation, nausea, and vomiting. Constant shortness of breath was and is the norm for me. I still get completely out of breath after the slightest exertion.

It took almost an entire week at the hospital with nonstop appointments and continual visits from nurses and doctors to stabilize the medications and their side effects. They needed to get ahead of my pain and then create a treatment program to get me to where I am today. Only since I came home from the hospital two days ago could I stop to take stock of what’s really going on.

Being told that you have “Stage 4 Lung Cancer” is a foreboding diagnosis. It sounds more like a death sentence. And tonight I sit here trying to think it through.

I wonder why having a son and getting a cancer diagnosis happened at the exact same time. After having wished and hoped and prayed for a baby, I wonder why God would do that if I wouldn’t be here to raise him anyway. Will I be alive in a year? In five? How much pain will there be before it’s over? How long will it be before I no longer have to sleep sitting up? Will I ever be able to swim a mile in the open ocean again?

I know none of us can answer these questions, and the Scriptures tell us not to obsess over the future, so living for today is my plan. That’s what I’m determined to do. And it has proven to be a massive challenge and has shaken my whole thought process—as I’m sure it would many of yours.

I want to thank all of you for the love and support you’ve shown us during this month by showering us with gifts, helpful Scriptures, relevant sermons, cards, emails, texts, just all of it. Thanks you. It means so much to us.