One Year Ago: Nate’s Fear

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Last year on this date, Nate spoke the words, “I’m afraid.”

We didn’t realize he was only four days from his death, although all of us knew the cancer would claim his life in the not-too-distant future. Nate knew it, too, but he was still walking, talking and clinging to the semblance of a routine at our house. Forty-eight hours from that day he would climb into bed for the last time, but none of us thought we were that close.

My calendar says Nate took his daily walk down our quiet lane that day along with several of us and his cane, but none of us knew it would be his last outing. By the following day he could no longer support himself on his weakened legs without a son on each side, although he kept trying, cause for great concern among the rest if us.

It was late afternoon when Nate whispered to me in a raspy voice that he was afraid. He said it twice. I thought the reality of death approaching was what had put fear in his heart, but he said no, it was fear of the pain. He’d been in severe pain for so long, particularly those last few days, that he knew he couldn’t handle an increase.

At that point we both realized he needed better pain meds. Hospice nurses responded with morphine, and Nate’s body responded with relief. It was a relief for all of us. Earlier in the day, Nelson had told his father, “You know I’d do anything for you, Papa.” We all felt that way. The sad truth was we were out of options. Radiation had done what it could, and chemo wasn’t even on the table. A team of learned doctors had concluded their treatment, and Nate’s life would soon end. The only task left was to manage what seemed like pain run rampant, and the Hospice nurses said they would do that.

Death will come to 100% of us, and it will most likely be preceded by pain. We may not all suffer from cancer and may have less or more than 42 days of warning, but in the end, we’ll all die a physical death. Many of us worry about what that might be: an accident? a disease? an infection? These are question marks without answers until we get there.

Nate needn’t have worried. He had one more difficult day, after which the morphine overwhelmed his pain completely and brought peaceful sleep. But what about the rest of us? Our question marks remain, a test for how thoroughly we can trust God to set it up just right for us.

For now, though,  it’s better that we not know.

“God shall wipe away all tears….  and there shall be no more…. pain.” (Revelation 21:4)

The Journal: Gratitude and Grace

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While Nate was struggling with his cancer, he often thanked me for helping him. He’d notice every little favor and then voice gratitude: “Thanks for reheating my coffee. Thanks for bringing me my good pen. Thanks for getting the mail.” Frequently he’d go a step farther and add, “You’re a good wife.”

I recall one moment as his physical strength was waning rapidly. I’d assisted with uncapping his toothpaste, getting him dressed and settling him into his lazy-boy. These mini-tasks were not difficult and took only a few minutes. After he was comfortable, I said, “Can I get you anything?”

He grabbed my hand, looked up at me with aching eyes and said, “What does a person do if they don’t have someone like you?”

It was an important moment as he acknowledged his helplessness, a guy who’d always run his life on fast-forward but now couldn’t even pull on his own socks. To be the helper is to demonstrate strength; to be the helped is to accept weakness.

Much of being able to handle serious sickness is coming to a place of need, then willingly accepting it. Nate could have morphed into a grumpy old man but instead became increasingly grateful.

How does an independent person, particularly a man who has been the head of a household and the one to lead, humble himself to be served? In Nate’s case, I believe the only explanation is that he and the Lord had been working together behind the scenes.

After we learned Nate had something wrong with his liver and pancreas, but before we knew it was cancer, I wrote out a prayer for him:

“As a result of the many difficulties Nate’s had and continues to have, I pray he will come to know you, Lord, in ways he never has before. Cause him to see new and spectacular things in your Word. In his feelings of weakness may he not despair but seek comfort from you to carry him through this misery. May he feel deep contentment and peace after placing himself in your care. Please do your heart-and-mind work within all of us to pull us through this health crisis.”

I realize, in looking back, how dramatically God answered those requests. Nate now “knows the Lord in ways he never has before,” because he’s in his very presence! He has “seen new and spectacular things” about God’s Word… because Jesus himself is the Word (John 1:1-2), and Nate is literally in his company! I prayed God would “carry him through this misery,” which he certainly did, bringing him straight into paradise! I asked that Nate feel deep contentment and peace in God’s care, a perfect description of his current heavenly existence. And Nate has been literally “pulled through his health crisis” into physical perfection.

He made a dramatic personal transformation during the six weeks he had cancer. He changed from a nervous, fearful Type A into a mellow, accepting man of tranquility. Because of steadily increasing pain and daily losses, this change goes against all logic, pointing instead to God’s work in Nate’s life.

Just as Nate was thankful for my help back then, today I am thankful for his excellent example and for God’s direct involvement in causing it.

“ ‘Because your heart was tender and you humbled yourself before God when you heard His words…. and because you humbled yourself before Me…. I truly have heard you,’ declares the Lord.” (2 Chronicles 34:27)

The Journal: Will it be widowhood?

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I remember the first moment the word “widow” entered my mind. It was about a year ago, just a few days before Nate and I were told he had terminal pancreatic cancer. I was sitting in a warm tub in the early morning hours after Nate had had a bad night with intense back pain. He was finally asleep, and I grabbed the chance to decompress (and think) behind closed doors.

The tub wasn’t even full before I was weeping, panicky at the unknowns in our immediately future. What if Nate really had cancer? What if he died? What if I became a widow?

Feeling isolated as a woman who’d just moved 110 miles away from her sister, her girlfriends, her prayer groups and her church, I clutched. But God, the tender Father, interrupted that downward thought-spiral by flooding my mind with a list of caring friends. These were women who would come to me if I asked, women who were faithful to God but also to me. They were people I could call at any hour, confident they would give me good counsel and be willing shoulders to cry on. In thinking of them, I knew I would make it… even if I became a widow.

When I climbed out of the tub, I felt much better than when I’d climbed in, even though our circumstances hadn’t changed. But God had spoken to my need, demonstrating again how close he was. And that’s one of the awesome things about him. He’s intimately aware of where we stand at every given moment, knowing precisely what we need. My focus, and also that of Nate and I together as a couple, had been riveted on his health issues for many months. God knew my meltdown was coming, and he knew exactly when. He was ready.

I’ve learned God is practical and that he faithfully rushes toward our needs with sufficiency. He perfectly measures out ideas and vigor to cover every situation. As a doctor matches drugs to a patient’s illness, God matches aid to his children’s crises.

A sensible daily prayer for all of us is, “Lord, prepare me for whatever’s coming, and when it gets here, show me what to do.”

And he will.

He did it during my bath-time meltdown and has repeatedly rescued me throughout the last bumpy year. I still crave and pray for his preparation, because new crises will surely come. But I’ve witnessed how superbly he answers that prayer, and I don’t ever want to be caught weeping over bad news without having first invited God to get me ready for it.

As for my God-inspired list of women supporters, as I thought about each name he’d given me, I realized how amazing his help really was. Every single one on his list was a widow.

“Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God.”

(2 Corinthians 3:4-5)