Friday, April 14, 2006
When the Table Seems Empty
I have worked for the same division of state government, with many of the same people, for the past 17 years. For the first few years, life was good there. Then a few personnel changes occurred. Karen was hired, and for whatever reason, she didn't seem to like me. It seemed I was always having to deal with problems she created, and my life was miserable. I cried to God over and over throughout the years, "God, please, get me out of this place. I cannot stand it here." Yet, time after time, I was passed over for jobs I applied for. Jobs I was infinitely more qualified for than the person selected. I couldn't understand where God was in all this. Things seemed to move from bad to worse. Finally, in my despair, I cried to God, "You handle it, because I can't." - What a self-delivering prayer! What a revelation! Didn't he tell me that long ago? I was not delivered from my workplace, but I began to be able to cope. Things moved backward at times, and I would cry out again to God, to move either my Supervisor or me - I didn't care which - but just get one of us out of there. God continued to ignore that prayer.
A couple of years ago, some events that occurred in the workplace enabled Karen and me to make peace with each other. I don't think you would have described us as friends at that point, but we were no longer adversaries.
Last January, following surgery, Karen discovered a knot in her leg. The doctor immediately thought of a blood clot. An MRI however showed the knot to be a tumor, which was attached to bone and muscle. Karen was sent to an orthopedic oncologist in Dallas, who did extensive tests and then began chemotherapy. The routine was pretty much this - chemo for a week, rest three weeks, another round of chemo, rest, repeat the cycle, until the tumor was small enough to safely do surgery. During this time, Karen continued to work. From home, when her blood count was so low it was dangerous to be out; but more often coming in to the office. At the point the tumor was determined to have shrunk enough, surgery was done to remove any remaining tumor, and part of the small leg bone and attached nerve and muscle. The physical therapist told Karen she would never walk again without a leg brace. Karen told her she was wrong, and set about to prove it. She did.
In December, Karen returned to Dallas and was told the cancer was gone, and she could discontinue treatments. There was no sign of cancer. She was scheduled to have the treatment port removed. Early in that week, she began having headaches and experiencing some vision problems. On Friday, the port was removed. On Saturday (Christmas Eve), Karen went to the emergency room with an excrutiating headache. After conducting a CT scan, she was sent home and told to see her doctor on Monday. By this time, her right eyelid had drooped close. After seeing her doctor on Monday, she learned she had a brain tumor. She was sent to Lubbock for surgery, and following surgery was scheduled to follow up there with radiation treatments. The doctor felt he had successfully removed all the tumor but wanted the radiation to be sure. He was not able to tell her if her vision would return.
New tests revealed a new tumor on her spine. The doctor determined he would treat this with radiation at the same time as treating the brain. After a lot of delays in beginning the treatment, Karen traveled to Lubbock for 5 days of radiation treatment weekly. Three weeks into the treatment, she began to experience weakness in her legs. About the same time, doctors there told her the radiation was not working on the tumor on her spine. Karen collapsed in the shower, and was admitted to the hospital in Lubbock, where it was discovered another tumor on her spine had paralyzed her from the chest down. She was transferred by ambulance back to Abilene, and the family was called in. More tests showed possible tumors in the ribs.
Karen's first reaction to the news of the new tumors was to have no more chemo and let whatever happened happen. However, a new grand-baby of about three months of age, and a family who loves her and supports her, convinced her to go for another round of treatment.
I had occasionally visited Karen during her treatments in Abilene, but because I work out of town frequently and because she was working in the office whenever she could, I didn't spend much time visiting at the hospital during her first round of treatments.
This time around, I visited frequently and called on the days I couldn't go by. I was able to take her some information about our retirement program and the survivor benefits that would be available for her husband in the event of her death. In one of those "God moments", it happened that no one was in the room the day I went by with that information, and she could talk freely. She thanked me, because she said her husband and her mother were not able to discuss the possibility she might die. She told me later she had called the funeral director and he had come by the room to help her get things arranged.
The doctor began treating her with chemo and radiation. And little by little, Karen began to see improvement. A tingling in her feet, a little feeling in her abdomen.
About a month ago, she called me the night before my family was leaving town on spring break. "Do you want to hear some good news?" she asked. "I always like to hear good news." Of course I do. The latest tests had just shown that one tumor which had been 6 cm long was now only 1 cm long and the other could not even be seen on the tests. And, she said, "I can move my feet, and I can have a bowel movement on my own." Baby steps, but the greatest news in the world!!
As soon as we got back to town, I went by the hospital to see her. When she showed me how she could contract the muscles in her legs, we both cried. As she continued to make improvement, she was moved to the rehab hospital, in preparation for returning home and caring for herself. She had regained feeling in her abdominal area. And one day, when I was visiting her, I noticed that she was blinking her eye a lot (left eye) and her right eye-lash would flutter every time the left eye blinked.
After about two weeks in the rehab center, Karen has progressed to the point of being able to transfer herself from the bed to wheelchair, wheelchair to potty, potty to wheelchair, back to bed. Her right eye still doesn't open, but the lid does blink much more than before. And when she holds it open, the eye is tracking right as it should - moving with the left one. She can see some light. She can get herself dressed, almost without assistance. And she learned to catherterize herself (the bladder still doesn't function on its own). So many things we take for granted, but such progress for her.
Tuesday, a couple of our co-workers went with me and we had lunch with Karen. It was a boost to her, because she is always asking about work every time I talk to her. On the way back to the office, I told Richard, "Karen and I are friends now." He said, in an understatement, "It wasn't always that way." Thank God I could say that. What a burden to have lived with had she died.
Today, Karen was scheduled to go home. Instead, she had a biopsy for a new spot on her lungs. She had been running a fever and one day threw up and spit up blood. She told me about this when I visited her on Monday. They did chest xrays and told her Wednesday about the spot. Her husband has been working feverishly to get the house handicapped accessible. It's almost ready. She did get to go for a drive in the country Wednesday afternoon. She went by the house and sat on the porch for a while.
The doctor said the spot could be an infection, possibly an abscess, maybe a fungus. That's what we're praying for.
Yesterday, I stopped by the hospital to see Karen. I took her some scarves (she gets excited about those) and we caught up about work. She always asks. I told her I wanted to pray for her before I left and she said it would be good. I held her hand and prayed. She cried. And, as I always do before I leave, I hugged her. This time, though, when I hugged her, I said, "I love you." It just came out, like I'd been saying it all my life. But you know what - I do. And she said, "I love you, too."
God, today, please heal my friend Karen. I know that you have the power. That you are bigger than any tumor,than any abscess, than any infection. I know that you who parted the sea can make her muscles move again, can restore strength to her legs. I know she leans on you. She has never complained and never asked, "why me?" but throughout her entire illness, has continued to think of others. You have prepared a table before us. God, I ask that Karen's table be a table of healing. Thank you for the healing that has occurred in our relationship and that you have allowed me to walk with Karen through this illness. To you who can do abundantly more than we can ask or even imagine, to you be all glory throughout all ages. Amen.
"What a friend we have in Jesus. All our sins and griefs to bear; What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer."
A couple of years ago, some events that occurred in the workplace enabled Karen and me to make peace with each other. I don't think you would have described us as friends at that point, but we were no longer adversaries.
Last January, following surgery, Karen discovered a knot in her leg. The doctor immediately thought of a blood clot. An MRI however showed the knot to be a tumor, which was attached to bone and muscle. Karen was sent to an orthopedic oncologist in Dallas, who did extensive tests and then began chemotherapy. The routine was pretty much this - chemo for a week, rest three weeks, another round of chemo, rest, repeat the cycle, until the tumor was small enough to safely do surgery. During this time, Karen continued to work. From home, when her blood count was so low it was dangerous to be out; but more often coming in to the office. At the point the tumor was determined to have shrunk enough, surgery was done to remove any remaining tumor, and part of the small leg bone and attached nerve and muscle. The physical therapist told Karen she would never walk again without a leg brace. Karen told her she was wrong, and set about to prove it. She did.
In December, Karen returned to Dallas and was told the cancer was gone, and she could discontinue treatments. There was no sign of cancer. She was scheduled to have the treatment port removed. Early in that week, she began having headaches and experiencing some vision problems. On Friday, the port was removed. On Saturday (Christmas Eve), Karen went to the emergency room with an excrutiating headache. After conducting a CT scan, she was sent home and told to see her doctor on Monday. By this time, her right eyelid had drooped close. After seeing her doctor on Monday, she learned she had a brain tumor. She was sent to Lubbock for surgery, and following surgery was scheduled to follow up there with radiation treatments. The doctor felt he had successfully removed all the tumor but wanted the radiation to be sure. He was not able to tell her if her vision would return.
New tests revealed a new tumor on her spine. The doctor determined he would treat this with radiation at the same time as treating the brain. After a lot of delays in beginning the treatment, Karen traveled to Lubbock for 5 days of radiation treatment weekly. Three weeks into the treatment, she began to experience weakness in her legs. About the same time, doctors there told her the radiation was not working on the tumor on her spine. Karen collapsed in the shower, and was admitted to the hospital in Lubbock, where it was discovered another tumor on her spine had paralyzed her from the chest down. She was transferred by ambulance back to Abilene, and the family was called in. More tests showed possible tumors in the ribs.
Karen's first reaction to the news of the new tumors was to have no more chemo and let whatever happened happen. However, a new grand-baby of about three months of age, and a family who loves her and supports her, convinced her to go for another round of treatment.
I had occasionally visited Karen during her treatments in Abilene, but because I work out of town frequently and because she was working in the office whenever she could, I didn't spend much time visiting at the hospital during her first round of treatments.
This time around, I visited frequently and called on the days I couldn't go by. I was able to take her some information about our retirement program and the survivor benefits that would be available for her husband in the event of her death. In one of those "God moments", it happened that no one was in the room the day I went by with that information, and she could talk freely. She thanked me, because she said her husband and her mother were not able to discuss the possibility she might die. She told me later she had called the funeral director and he had come by the room to help her get things arranged.
The doctor began treating her with chemo and radiation. And little by little, Karen began to see improvement. A tingling in her feet, a little feeling in her abdomen.
About a month ago, she called me the night before my family was leaving town on spring break. "Do you want to hear some good news?" she asked. "I always like to hear good news." Of course I do. The latest tests had just shown that one tumor which had been 6 cm long was now only 1 cm long and the other could not even be seen on the tests. And, she said, "I can move my feet, and I can have a bowel movement on my own." Baby steps, but the greatest news in the world!!
As soon as we got back to town, I went by the hospital to see her. When she showed me how she could contract the muscles in her legs, we both cried. As she continued to make improvement, she was moved to the rehab hospital, in preparation for returning home and caring for herself. She had regained feeling in her abdominal area. And one day, when I was visiting her, I noticed that she was blinking her eye a lot (left eye) and her right eye-lash would flutter every time the left eye blinked.
After about two weeks in the rehab center, Karen has progressed to the point of being able to transfer herself from the bed to wheelchair, wheelchair to potty, potty to wheelchair, back to bed. Her right eye still doesn't open, but the lid does blink much more than before. And when she holds it open, the eye is tracking right as it should - moving with the left one. She can see some light. She can get herself dressed, almost without assistance. And she learned to catherterize herself (the bladder still doesn't function on its own). So many things we take for granted, but such progress for her.
Tuesday, a couple of our co-workers went with me and we had lunch with Karen. It was a boost to her, because she is always asking about work every time I talk to her. On the way back to the office, I told Richard, "Karen and I are friends now." He said, in an understatement, "It wasn't always that way." Thank God I could say that. What a burden to have lived with had she died.
Today, Karen was scheduled to go home. Instead, she had a biopsy for a new spot on her lungs. She had been running a fever and one day threw up and spit up blood. She told me about this when I visited her on Monday. They did chest xrays and told her Wednesday about the spot. Her husband has been working feverishly to get the house handicapped accessible. It's almost ready. She did get to go for a drive in the country Wednesday afternoon. She went by the house and sat on the porch for a while.
The doctor said the spot could be an infection, possibly an abscess, maybe a fungus. That's what we're praying for.
Yesterday, I stopped by the hospital to see Karen. I took her some scarves (she gets excited about those) and we caught up about work. She always asks. I told her I wanted to pray for her before I left and she said it would be good. I held her hand and prayed. She cried. And, as I always do before I leave, I hugged her. This time, though, when I hugged her, I said, "I love you." It just came out, like I'd been saying it all my life. But you know what - I do. And she said, "I love you, too."
God, today, please heal my friend Karen. I know that you have the power. That you are bigger than any tumor,than any abscess, than any infection. I know that you who parted the sea can make her muscles move again, can restore strength to her legs. I know she leans on you. She has never complained and never asked, "why me?" but throughout her entire illness, has continued to think of others. You have prepared a table before us. God, I ask that Karen's table be a table of healing. Thank you for the healing that has occurred in our relationship and that you have allowed me to walk with Karen through this illness. To you who can do abundantly more than we can ask or even imagine, to you be all glory throughout all ages. Amen.
"What a friend we have in Jesus. All our sins and griefs to bear; What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer."
# posted by pawatson @ 6:13 AM 
