Counting our Blessings

We have had the privilege over the past few months of having many family meals together.  This is the one place where we are all able to slow down a little, to catch-up on the day's events, to see how everyone is doing, and to have some good conversation.  We were fortunate enough to have a wonderful Thanksgiving meal with the Yunginger Family where Pop was able to both share in a bit of the meal, as well as in the good conversation with the extended family.  He spent a good part of the day laying under a blanket on a lazy-boy, but was just happy that he could be with everyone.  On the drive home, he stared out the window and talked about it being nice that everyone could be together for the holiday.  Joel and I smiled, knowing that Pop must have had a good time, because it is not every day that he expresses joy about being in large crowds.  He had saved-up energy for a while to make sure that he could make an appearance and be part of the fun.  His energy has become a rarer and rarer commodity.  Over the past few weeks, there has been a noticeable difference in his ability to accomplish simple tasks.  He gets short of breath quickly, and his walking has become labored and unsteady.  It is the symptoms that we knew would eventually come, but have prayed would stay at bay.  Even Pop acknowledges them, but would rather tackle them with humor than anything else.  As we all sat eating dinner the other night, Pop brought-up his trouble in balancing himself when he walks.  Since we had been talking about hunting season, Mom chimed in, "Yeah, you know I've been thinking, maybe we should make you a cart that the boys can pull out into the woods so you can go with them."  Dad squinted his eyes a bit and casually commented, "You might as well give me a bib and a bottle.  I'm not getting pulled in any cart."  Everyone at the table burst out in laughter.  "Well, I'm sorry I suggested it," Mom shot back.  We all laughed for a long time.  As we were beginning to regain our composure, Pop, with his small grin, looked at Mom and whispered, "You're going to miss me, aren't you."  Mom's eyes welled up with tears and she laid her head on Pop's shoulder.  She wanted to say, "You know I will.", but words escaped her.  As tears streamed down her cheeks, Pop put her hand in his and kissed her on the head.  No one had words.  It is simply the reality of the fine line that we walk.  There are too many joyous moments to mention, but there are also moments when each person just wants to sit down and cry.  Not so much at the thought of what lies ahead, but more the changing of a man we all know and love.  However, the changes haven't stopped Pop from trying to get out to exercise, nor have them robbed him of his humor.  When you sit and talk to him, it is easy to see his faith alive and well.  There is comfort in the presence of the Lord.  Even when it seems like things have gone awry, Christ is there to calm the storms of our life.  He has promised that when we are built upon His rock there is no storm that we can't weather.  From this place of strength, we can see all the blessings that He has poured out; and they are too numerous to count.

Pop-pop

"Pop-pop...Pop-pop", Emma yelled as she came running into the Cancer Center waiting room. Throwing her arms around Pop's leg, she got a big grin on her face. Pop chuckled as he reached down to pick her up. "Did Emma come to visit Pop-pop today?" he whispered in her ear. Unfortunately, Emma doesn't know how to shake her head up and down (signaling yes) yet, so she started shaking her head side to side. We all started laughing. "Well, I guess she's not here to see me," Pop said smiling. He laid his head back on the recliner, and pulled the blanket close around his neck. Soon, he was in a light snore again as he drifted off to sleep. This was November 1, and he was receiving his second dose for this round of chemotherapy.
The day before he received this second dose, we had conversed as a family to see if Pop was up for another dosage. His energy level had been slowly depleting, and the nausea has been near out-of-control. Of course Pop doesn't talk about how he's feeling, but when his primary movements are between the sofa and the bathroom sink, it is obvious his nausea is worsening. Still, he wanted to finish this round of chemo. So, Monday morning, Nov. 1, we took him into the Cancer Center for his second dosage of this round (there is a total of three doses for each round).
He tried to stay on top of his medication regiment the following week, to hopefully stay ahead of the nausea, but to no avail. The nausea lies just beneath the surface, and any kind of movement or food odor can set the gag-reflexes into motion. So, Joel would take Pop up to the apartments each day and set-up a lawn chair for him to rest and "inspect" as Joel called it. Having a break from the house felt good to Pop, but the traveling (even though it was 10 minutes) was never a fun ordeal.
Seeing the energy slowly slipping away from Pop the first week of November prompted us to talk again as a family. We asked Pop how he was feeling about the treatments, and what his preference would be. He sat quiet for a minute before responding, "I don't know. Maybe we stop all of this. If we don't know what is causing the nausea, and I'm not able to do the simple things, maybe we just stop the treatments." We all nodded, and discussed for a while longer. We talked about the benefits of stopping, as well as continuing treatment, and eventually made the decision to stop chemo treatments. It was a bittersweet decision for Pop, and I could see the struggle in his eyes. He has fought so hard, and put his body through a ravaging process to beat this cancer. But, where do you concede and say enough is enough? Pop is not one to give up on anything, so allowing the thought of stopping treatments to enter his mind was a difficult process. He sat for a long time on Sunday, November 7th looking out the window. The weight on his mind could be felt from across the room, and there was a far distance in his stare. This wasn't defeat, but certainly a concession.
Monday morning, November 8th, we all traveled into the Cancer Center to talk to the doctor. It was a short meeting where we informed him that Pop was going to be stopping chemotherapy. Unless the scans show that this regiment of chemo has significantly stunned the cancer, Pop will likely not start treatments again. But, we will cross that bridge when the time comes.
The past week has been one filled with rest, and laying-low. The nausea is still quite high, but we are hoping that time will help it. With so much uncertainty, we can do nothing but offer up our prayers and wait upon the Lord. There are many moment of strife, and sadness, but God has spared us the emotions of fear and anxiety. We have a great hope that is not shaken by our struggles, nor is faith rattled by the pain. We will still give thanks for each moment that we are blessed to be together, and for the ways we see His hand at work. May Christ's peace and presence be felt by Pop in these coming days.