Monday, July 15, 2019

A Week Out, A Week Away


I’m a week-out from surgery, and a week-in to the kind of uncomfortable indignity that is part-and-parcel of this kind of surgery. Staples, a catheter… this time next Monday, God willing, I will have all of those implants out of me and I will be on the road to feeling more nearly normal.

I am not complaining. Things could not have gone much better than they have. Last week I was worried about 1) IV’s, 2) nausea, 3) discovery, and 4) the catheter.

So, by the numbers…

The nurse who did the IV left the back of my hand alone, thankfully, and found a good vein near my left wrist. It was not too bad a stick. The surgical team installed another in my other hand, which is scarred, but I was asleep. Both IV’s held all week, stayed open and did not have to be replaced. I was thrilled.

Various patches and drugs kept my stomach calm, so that I had no nausea at all—until after I got home, when the only thing on TV was “Christmas in July” on the Hallmark channel. Chemicals can only do so much against such toxins. Still, I had no problem while in the hospital (in the past, over the course of multiple surgeries, I have had my head in a bucket on account of anesthesia), so I am thankful.

The pathology report came back doubly early on Thursday morning: early in the day and early in the process. I did not expect to hear till sometime this week or later, nor did I expect to get the call from my doctor on the hospital phone. Now, if I had been awake, I might have been taken aback and worried: after all, it was my doctor’ early morning call, and unexpected, on the Monday after my Friday biopsy that told me I had cancer. That he called, early, and earlier, could have meant bad news. Quite the opposite, turns out. But I had to be sure… with my hearing the way it is, and the room phones the way they are, I was having trouble getting a clear “read” on what the doctor was saying. Fumbling with the volume control on the phone, getting my hearing aids adjusted, I finally heard him say, “clean lymph hones, clear margins, self-contained, you’re on cruise control.” I said, “Let me say that back to you. Is this what I heard?” He said it was. Great, good news. (Since that moment, which I have not properly toasted as of yet, I have been praying, humbly, for the many others who have heard other than good news. Seems only appropriate to join my prayers to theirs and to the Lord’s).  

              The catheter… well, that is what it is. And will be.

              Come next Monday, God willing, I will be free of these situational, uh, enhancements and able to drive again and begin the real road back.

              Meanwhile, Hawthorne Lane UMC has been so wonderfully gracious to me over these last weeks and months. So many pastors have gone through difficult diagnoses, procedures, recoveries and rehabs without any of the kind of support I have received. I have been so humbled by the outpouring of compassion and care.

              I hope more congregations realize that ministry and pastoral care is mutual. I hope more pastors are able to benefit from the blessing of receiving care. While it may be indeed be more blessed to give than to receive, I am here to prove that it is a real blessing to receive, too—which means others are enjoying the “more” blessing of giving.

Wonderful, God’s economy.

Fishing for the Future

takemefishing.org I was supposed to go fishing this afternoon.  Didn’t happen, though. Bummer. I love to fish, though I do not...