“STRONG” NEEDS “OTHERS”

(circa 2004)

Good health is a precious commodity and, when you have it, you rarely appreciate it. But when it declines, it becomes a dim memory, and you yearn for it to return.

Although there were permanent, life-long, life-altering health issues, Bill’s strength returned by spring of 2004 – and with it, so did his ever-present obsession with home improvement. Before his attack of pancreatitis in 2002 we had just finished building a huge two-story, 900 sq. ft. addition on our house and were in the process of remodeling the kitchen. Mind you, we (mostly Bill) did the work ourselves. The only thing we paid someone to do was the concrete foundation and for someone to install our mini-blinds. Oh, I could tell you stories …

But for now, I’ll focus on our back yard… When we bought our house in 1985, the description of our landscaping on the real estate listing said “natural”. Translation: “dirt” (and when it rained, “mud”). It was awful! So shortly after we moved in, we had tons of volcanic cinders delivered and spread across our side yard and part of the back yard. It sufficed for the next 19 years. However, in 2004 it was time to make a big improvement.

And so in May we had the cinders removed. Then we shoveled, skreeted and compacted 29 yards of crushed rock, then 10 yards of sand. We then proceeded to install 8,232 baked red clay bricks. That’s what our entire summer consisted of – every night, every weekend, every spare moment, shoveling and skreeting and compacting and hauling and laying bricks. I did it in my sleep! And every now and then friends would show up, lending a helping hand and a strong back.

One day as we were shoveling rocks, I was ready to drop from exhaustion, sweat pouring into my eyes. I looked over at Bill who was still going strong, and said, “Do you realize that one year ago, you were nearly dead? Look at you now!” We both breathed a prayer of thanksgiving.

Back To The Hospital

However, in late November Bill was building a new two-story storage shed in the back yard when his pancreatitis flared up again and he was back in the ER. In a CT scan they discovered a mysterious mass in his abdomen, so after they got his pancreatitis somewhat under control, they decided to do surgery to see what that mass was all about. And so I settled into my all-to-familiar chair in the hospital waiting room to await the surgeon’s report.

After surgery the doctor finally emerged, looking very solemn. There was not just one mass – there were four – and they looked cancerous. The surgeon had made a hard decision. He only took out two of the masses and sewed him up, figuring that Bill had about 6 months to live. If he removed the other two masses the quality of his life for the remaining 6 months of his life would be very poor. I took a deep breath and steadied myself as I walked into the recovery room to gently break the news to Bill.

Healing Prayer

His first response was “I need my prayer team.” The next day was my birthday and our faithful prayer warriors showed up in Bill’s ICU room. We all gathered around his bed in a circle, laid hands on him and prayed to our loving heavenly Father to remove any cancer that was present and to preserve Bill’s life. God’s powerful presence palpably filled that room. When one of the men touched Bill he felt something powerful go through his body. As he left he told me, “Don’t worry, he’s going to be fine.” I thought to myself, “How do you know?” It was then that I realized the power and strength that I needed would come from my Christian brothers and sisters. I couldn’t believe by myself. I needed their faith. They could believe for me – and that was okay. They could carry my weakness.

Later that day in the darkened ICU room, Bill was asleep, and I sat, alone, in a chair underneath a small lamp in the corner of the room. It was my birthday, and I was reading a letter from my mother, weeping quietly. My dad had passed away four years before and I was remembering him and pondering what my future would be like without Bill. My mother had endured losing my dad. Maybe I could survive this too.

Suddenly Bill woke up. Lucidly and clearly, he spoke, “I saw your dad!” Ummm … sure … I thought he had lost it but decided to play along with him anyway. So I hesitantly queried, “How was he?” Bill said, “He looked great and he told me that everything was going to be okay.” Then he fell back asleep.

I sat back in the chair, stunned. This was just a little too coincidental. But I settled back into my musings. A little while later Bill woke up again and lucidly said, “They were praying around me and I saw all these evil things flying out of my body.” And he fell asleep again.

Now this was getting just a little too weird. What was happening? Was this God doing something, or was Bill wacked out on drugs, or was it just a fluke? I really had no idea how to process it all. Since then, I have realized that anything is possible, and that God is beyond figuring out. (Incidentally, Bill has no recollection of this but I will never forget it.)

An Exhausting Day

Note: I have learned, having spent so much time caring for Bill in the hospital, that you need certain things like phone chargers and jackets and extra food (because you never know when you will get a chance to eat, especially with the hospital cafeteria closing between meal times). Besides other personal items and flowers and cards and other gifts that friends bring, you amass quite a collection of things and moving them to different hospital rooms requires a lot of work.

Anyway, two days later on my way to work I stopped by the hospital. While there, they decided to transfer Bill out of ICU to a regular room, which was located way at the other end of the hospital. So after Bill was in his new room, I set about transporting all of our things across the hospital and stored them away.

Finally after getting him settled, I was about to leave for work. But just then, the surgeon danced into Bill’s room with a huge smile on his face. He happily announced that the pathology report came back. Yes, one of the masses was cancerous but it was encapsulated and he had removed all of it. The other mass was not cancer after all. Therefore, it was likely that the other two masses were not cancerous either; however, he wanted to remove them just to make sure. And so he scheduled another surgery which was to happen two days later.

I cheerfully traipsed across the hospital yet again, to where my car was parked and drove to work. 45 minutes later Bill called me. They had a cancellation in the operating room and were just about ready to wheel him back into surgery.

And so, I drove back to the hospital and parked near Bill’s new hospital room, then walked across the hospital to the surgery waiting room and again, settled into my chair to wait. The surgery was successful but they needed to put him back into ICU. After he was settled into his ICU room, I trudged back across the hospital to move all of our belongings – again.

By then it was late at night. I hadn’t eaten all day and was hungry, tired and stressed out. The hospital cafeteria was closed by that time but the dining room was still open and it had a microwave in it. I just happened to have a can of Campbell’s beef & barley soup in my stash. However, I didn’t have a bowl to heat it up in or a spoon with which to eat it. Plus, my car was parked at the other end of the hospital. And so I slogged across the hospital again, clutching the can of soup.

A sweet, compassionate nurse took one look at me and asked me if I was okay. I pitifully looked up at her with tired, blood-shot eyes and pleaded, “Would you have a bowl and a spoon?” She mercifully emerged a couple of minutes later, with a paper bowl and plastic spoon. I’ve never been so grateful for a paper bowl and plastic spoon! I then plodded back across the hospital to the dining room, warmed up my soup and hungrily ate its contents.

It was about 10:30 pm as I stumbled back to Bill’s room to pray together and kiss him goodnight, then one more time across the hospital, down the stairs, out into the freezing December night, across the parking lot, and into my waiting car. The road home was a blur and as I drove into my driveway, oddly, through the haze of my muddled mind, I noticed Shannon & Gabe’s cars parked in front of the house.

I drove into the garage and as I got out of the car, I distantly heard the faint strains of “Silent Night” drifting through the cold night air. Was I dreaming? Christmas was a couple of weeks away, but Christmas was the last thing on my mind. I staggered into the house, afraid I was hallucinating.

There, sitting on the couch were Shannon, Gabe and Shannon’s friend, Missy, grinning. I looked up and there was a beautiful Christmas tree, decorated with all of our old, familiar ornaments, greeting me like old friends, and the lights twinkling a happy “welcome home”.

As tears spilled onto my cheeks, all I could do was gather my sweet kids into my arms and weep in thanks to God for them. They took such good care of us and loved us through this whole ordeal.

Never Alone

How do people travel through this life alone? The love and care we received from our friends and family carried us through our darkest nights and shone rays of hope into our hearts. They believed when we couldn’t. Their faithful visits lifted our vision higher, helping us remember life outside the “prison” of our hospital room. Their prayers of healing lifted us to God’s throne and gave us the encouragement to persevere for another day. Our kids helped us remember that Christmas was coming – and a caring nurse gave me a paper bowl and plastic spoon. These were the hands and feet of Jesus.

It’s okay to need others. In fact, that’s how we were made. “Strong” does not equate “alone.” “Strong” needs “others.”