Monthly Archives: October 2009

It’s raining.

Posted on by

Today as we headed for radiation #9, Klaus was at the wheel. Torrents of rain accompanied us the entire 80 miles, but I was able to relax in the back seat for a change.

Earlier in the morning, as Nate and I gradually came awake, we did our daily weather check by looking out the bedroom windows. Six tall, narrow windows make up our headboard, and while still lying down, we can look up through the leaves to the sky, as if we were sleeping in a tree fort.

“Looks like more rain,” Nate said. We could hear the pitter patter (pound and splatter) on the roof. As we lay there holding hands and listening to the rain, Nate quietly said, “The rain falls on the just and the unjust.” (Matthew 5:45)

I didn’t respond, waiting for his further thoughts. Finally, when he did speak, I could tell he’d been asking the “why question.”

“The reason I got cancer doesn’t really matter. It’s God’s will, and he knows best.” Although I felt my tears beginning to sting again, he seemed stoic and calm. His statement might have been an important turning point in his thinking.

Those quiet early morning moments wedged between nourishing sleep and tiring medical activity are becoming more valuable every day. Nate’s stamina decreases after each radiation treatment, and life has developed into a tightrope walk between too much pain and too much sleep.

I’m thankful for two on-line mentors who have repeatedly told me, “Cherish every conscious minute before he wants to sleep all the time.” These women, whom I’ve known for years, have not only been through terminal cancer with their husbands, they’ve been through pancreatic cancer with them.

In the last 24 hours, Nate has been awake for only five of them. The sleepy days these women have described are almost here.

After our radiation appointment, as Klaus drove us home, he said to his dad, “I’ll bet you’re really ready for a nap.”

“You’re not kidding,” Nate replied, his passenger seat all the way back and his eyes pinched closed.

Once back at the cottage, he walked in the door and straight upstairs, skipping lunch in the process. The rain was still pounding on the roof as the two of us climbed back into bed. Outside the windows it was dark and stormy… a good day for a long nap.

“It is vain for you to rise up early, to retire late, to eat the bread of painful labors; for He gives to His beloved even in his sleep.” (Psalm 127:2 NASB)

Making friends with a rock

Posted on by

As we drove toward Chicago for radiation #8 today, Nate’s cell phone rang repeatedly. Each call was from a client. I listened to his end of the conversations while the miles ticked off on our familiar route. Suddenly I noticed something strange. Instead of answering legal questions, he was answering personal ones.

“Well, it started in the pancreas. Yes, radiation. Probably chemo. Not for a few weeks. No, not that bad.”

One after another, business acquaintances called to express concern for Nate, and it dawned on me that during his 37 years of lawyering, many of his strictly-business clients had become good friends. After discovering his diagnosis, they were now checking in. I marveled that he had an entire circle of support I knew nothing about.

Last year Louisa and Birgitta were waiting impatiently for Nate one Sunday morning after church. Brunch was next on the agenda, and they were anxious to get to it.

“Where’s Papa?” Birgitta asked.

“Oh you know him,” Louisa answered. “He’s probably chatting somewhere with someone he never met before. He could make friends with a rock.”

I loved the creative way she complimented her father’s interest in conversing with people. His favorite subjects are history, politics and current events, but it doesn’t stop there. He’s fascinated by the stories of people’s lives and has an uncanny ability to remember the details they offer.

This afternoon, on our return car trip, Nate was extremely tired. The doctor had increased his radiation and added an x-ray appointment afterwards. When he was finally settled at home in his lazy-boy, he breathed a sigh of relief and began opening the mail. In it was a letter from an office colleague who loved teasing him because he loved teasing her back. She’s a woman who’s fought her own battle with cancer and can honestly say she understands.

She wrote, “This place isn’t the same without you here. Everyone asks about you all the time. You are always in our hearts. There aren’t words…”

The letter said other important things too, each line a proof of friendship. Although Nate’s day included many low points, these business friends buoyed him greatly through their calls, cards and a powerful letter. It even gave me a boost as I watched this phenomenon unfold.

As for making friends with a rock, that turns out to be a pretty good idea:

“I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.” (Psalm 18:1-2a)

A message from Nate

Posted on by

Blogging now stands for what used to be called stream-of-consciousness writing, so here it is. My Mom died at 91, Dad at 76. I am 64, and at noon on 9/22/09 a team of highly respected doctors told me I might have less than six months to live. My parents got more decades of life than I ever will, but I am grateful that during my six decades I’ve enjoyed good health.

It’s really not about how many years a person gets. Rather its how we use the ones we have. It’s not about the number of candles on the cake but rather how good the cake tastes.

During these last two weeks, many thoughts have crowded my brain. First came numbness, then pain. I’ve thought about finances for the family, and also about my own uncompleted work. I also pondered soul-issues. In addition, many of my life goals will remain unreached, although I know now that some of them were unattainable anyway.

The family I’ve had has contributed strongly to the quality of my life. I’ve also had many opportunities, such as attending college and law school and participating in the military, that others haven’t had. I’ve been able to attend the best churches in the country and have been taught by the greatest preachers.

I enjoy a personal faith in Christ, especially now, despite the circumstances. I have assurance that it will all work out for good, eternally. (Romans 8:28)

If I could sign on a dotted line to get out of this, my pen would already be out of my pocket. But that isn’t reality. In the end, it all boils down to two things, just as the old hymn says: trust and obey. Apparently this is God’s will for me, and I accept it.

“Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus…” (Hebrews 1:1b-2a)