Rooms 19 and 21

Mike has finally gotten stable enough to be moved to a regular floor. The amazing staff at our community hospital moved heaven and earth to make sure he was a close to Mom’s room as possible. They’re two doors away—Room 19 and 21. I’m so thankful for small mercies!

Improving, But Not Strong

Mike went through a lot over the last three weeks. Yes, over three weeks in the hospital, with 10 of those days spent in the ICU. He’s still having positional hypotension, where his blood pressure drops and he comes dangerously close to passing out when he stands upright. They have him on a medication for that, but an episode happened again today while physical therapy was in the room, so they’re adjusting the dosage to see if that helps.

He’s also still just generally weak, which will probably persist until after he receives his transplant. He’s now the proud owner of a walker! It was fun having them find one that adjusted to a be high enough for him. The ones that are tall enough aren’t very sexy, but they’re practical and they serve the right purpose.

Despite all these challenges, he is alive and communicating and I’m grateful! Exactly two weeks ago is when Mike’s neurological issues began. He couldn’t communicate with me. He didn’t even know who or where he was. I was nearly certain I would either be planning a funeral or taking him home in a vegetative state. His current weakness is a welcome obstacle to overcome; and believe me, we will overcome this.

When Mike was rolled past the nurses station on the oncology floor, all the nurses were cheering for him. The folks at this hospital, especially on 4P, are amazing. He has been personally visited by nearly every nurse and all the managing staff from the floor, just to say “hi” and to personally witness the very real miracle that God has worked in him. Once more, I have to thank Drew, the Nurse Manager, and Shawn, the Nurse Coordinator for their leadership of this floor. They are the reason this floor exceeds expectations. They didn’t wait until he was back on their floor to visit, either. Nearly every nurse came to see him in the ICU and encourage me while I cried and prayed by his side. You guys, this stuff just doesn’t happen in your average hospital.

Mom’s a Champion!

So far, Mom has had no major adverse reactions to her chemotherapy. Other than being sleepy and some mild digestive discomfort, she is cruising through her first cycle of her chemo. She will be admitted in the hospital through the weekend to finish up Cycle 1.

It’s so nice having them so close here in the hospital. I can just hop down the hall and see her when Mike goes to sleep and then when Mom falls asleep, I go the other way down the hall. I sleep at home in the evenings.

Miracles Still Happen

I mentioned above that the nurses are stopping by to witness the very real miracle God has worked in Mike. Let me take a minute to praise God for that. Two weeks ago, Mike had tubes coming out of him everywhere. He never lost ability to breathe and his heart stayed steady, but nothing else was working properly. I watched him in that ICU bed with a blank stare, eyes and mouth constantly open, even while he was sleeping, and begged God to bring him back. I cried. A lot. I worried even more. And I tried really, really hard to keep all of that stress to myself and stay up for Mike. I didn’t want him surrounded by crying and sadness. I wanted him to feel hope and fight.

One day, I decided to do something that I’m sure the nurses and other visiting family members thought was lunacy. I got my phone out, played praise music, and proceeded to sing and dance and praise Jesus despite the fact that I thought he had forgotten me and couldn’t feel his presence at all. Mike was starting to become somewhat facially responsive at this time, so I just stood by his bed and played some of our favorites from the playlist I shared in another post. I sang loud and I danced horribly! But Mike loved it. He raised his eyebrows in a smile and shed some tears. He had feelings. He knew what we were doing and wanted so badly to participate, so he participated in the only ways he could…through his eyes. Here’s one of the songs . . . (but keep reading after the link, there’s more…)

Later, when his nurse came in, I asked her if I disturbed anyone while I was singing. She said “no, not at all. His facial expressions were the best!” It was then I remembered that the ICU has cameras in the rooms to watch the patients closely! They heard and saw the whole thing! (I’m sure you could probably find one of them and bribe them enough for the footage!) I’m a decent singer, but I’m a horrible dancer. I didn’t really care in that moment. Mike needed some joy, and I needed some hope. I needed to remind myself that God hears. I hope the ICU staff that day saw Jesus in that act, because it was the Holy Spirit who motivated it. I didn’t feel the feelings that would make someone do that. I did it so I could feel again.

That night, after such a joyous afternoon, I had the deepest, darkest night of my soul that I’ve ever experienced. I was lower than I’ve ever been. I wailed. I snot-cried and begged God to intervene. I spilled more ink in my journal than ever. I lamented . . . hard. I’ve never identified with Job in the Bible more than that night. I honestly thought I was losing Mike and I didn’t know what to do, so I yelled at God most of the night. I asked why and where God was more times than I can count. I’ve heard people say that you should never question God. Let me just tell you here and now, that sort of Pharisaical pseudo-theology knows nothing of who God actually is. The God of the Bible is gracious and compassionate, and his kindness draws us to him with all our needs. Sometimes those needs are to have honest questions answered, and God doesn’t turn away an honest question from a curious and hurting child.

Take your questions to God. Take your hurts to him. Tell God your honest needs. Don’t “clean them up” for him. He already knows what your deepest heart’s desires are anyway, so there’s no need to attempt hiding from him. God is near. Test his promise of nearness by crying out to him. It might not change the way you feel, but it will remind you to keep calling out when the night is long and even the days feel dark. Just keep calling. He’s there. He’s never broken a promise yet and he’s promised nearness to the brokenhearted. Claim that promise as his beloved child and press into it!