I know many of you were praying for John today. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! His surgery got delayed by over two hours, and when he woke up about two more hours after that, he texted me to say, “I am alive.” What a welcome message that was. He was able to call and say hi to the kids too. Since visitors are still not allowed at the hospital right now, I’m glad we can stay connected through our phones. Tonight he was tired and in a bit of pain, but otherwise “great,” eating jello and drinking clear liquids. Lord willing, he should be discharged in a few days once he is eating a normal diet and his bowels start functioning again. Our daughters both have birthdays coming up in the next couple of weeks (turning 5 and 3) so it would be the best present of all to have Daddy home. Whatever happens, I know we remain in God’s hands, and as always we are immeasurably grateful for your prayers.
“Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.” Psalm 33:22 ESV
Every doctor and nurse I have met with has, in a subtle way, attempted to make sure I know I am going to die. The conversation usually begins with, “I see that you met with Dr. So-and-so? What did they tell you?” At first I thought it was a listening comprehension test as I began rattling off every detail I could remember, regretting that I had not taken better notes. Then I finally figured out that they probably just want to make sure that no one dropped the ball and that I was aware of my impending demise. Even my family doctor called me up, basically just to make sure I knew I was going to die. Cheery bunch, those doctors. I want to live if only just to be able to tell them, as Nelson Muntz would say, “Ha Ha!”
I know doctors are just scientists, and as someone who appreciates data and logic, I understand their thinking in not wanting to offer me potentially false hope. Their data says I will die, but so what? God’s will can’t be determined by data and analytics. I’m reasonably confident the doctors can extend my life a bit, but they have all adamantly said they cannot cure me. I know God can. It is an incredible feeling to have to rely so much on God. I am absolutely powerless. I am totally in His hands and I know that is the best place for me to be.
Discomfort: I’m starting to feel greater and more frequent discomfort in my rectum. I guess it is getting closer to being classified as an ache or pain. I tried Advil today which seemed to help.
Bowel Movements: As my tumour grows, pray that I will still be able to poop have bowel movements. It is possible my bowels may become blocked at some point.
Warning: Juvenile Humour Below
If you find songs about cancer, poop or bums offensive, please do not watch the following video.
I admit you will get to see one of my cute little redheads singing her lungs out and it may be interesting for some of you who have not seen me play guitar before. But I realize some people just might not appreciate my twisted sense of humour. Really, I am taking my cancer very seriously, but why can’t I have some fun?
After being inspired by Mr. Padfield’s video, Daisy and I decided to write our own little ditty. The lyrics aren’t exactly based on scripture, but they do describe my situation quite accurately, albeit in a somewhat juvenile way. The music was flat-out ripped off and my sister told me not to post it.