I’m in the hospital again.
I took my lowest dose of pain meds before going to bed on Wednesday evening. At 1:30 I woke up to a lot of pain and added a higher dose. At 4:00 I was an terrible pain and another dose did absolutely nothing. Betty helped me down the stairs. The pain was such that could hardly move. I had my oncology appointment scheduled in a few hours, but we realized I could not wait.
The pain was hard to locate precisely – it could be just the lymph nodes which are overdue their chemotherapy and which are the bellewether for me of what’s happening with the metasticized cancer in my body. On the other hand, it could indicate serious problems with the bile duct bypass surgery I had completed last week – infection, damage, displacement… That was worrying both of us.
In any case this was not the kind of pain that could be ignored, it truly was the worst pain I had ever felt in my life (though I joked with my nurse later “except when I amputated my left foot with a rusty tin can lid” … she looked, we laughed!). It was a solid 8 on the smiley face chart – the pain was all I could think about.
Betty summoned the ambulance. She was delighted to see one of the EMTs was the son of a former patient and himself a fine young man she had worked with in the area in the past. He and his burly colleague were gentle and encouraging and we had a nice chat (through pained gasps!) and drive to the hospital, only 5 minutes from my house.
My initial stay is still a blur. I think they gave me morphine but to no effect. After the usual IV hookup, evaluations, vital signs, etc. they tried another pain killer and I finally got quick relief. We’re discussing modern medicine and such in another thread – it was interesting to obtain a good example for a discussion on use and abuse of pain killers! – I’m ready, take me on!
They sent me for a CAT scan. I know the drill, I’ve had quite a few in the past months. One of the techs even recognized me from recent encounters. Then there were blood draws and x-rays and waiting for results. As the results trickled in we were very encouraged to see the liver numbers improving and to find that the source of the pain was not from my newly installed plumbing. Actually I think we were beyond relieved.
We still don’t know what the precise source of the pain was, but we know that I’m making great progress recovering from my last procedures. I have been having persistent shortness of breath and they confirmed pneumonia. The pneumonia might have contributed to the flare up in the pain I had experienced even, so they started me on IV antibiotics. I got a room at the hospital overlooking some of very woods I used to walk not many months ago. There are some wonderful tasting and rare mushrooms back there. Even though I was in the hospital it felt much more like home than the big urban center I was in last week.
A year of living.
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Wayne in Maine
In the hospital - again!
Continued...
I had a good “therapeutic” night last night. I didn’t sleep well but dozed on and off. With the normal day’s rhythm gone, sleeping, even when tired at night, gets disrupted. I’ll probably spend my quieter hours today snoozing.
My roommate is an 83 year old Ordained Southern Baptist minister. He makes no bones about it to the staff attending to us! He’s my ice-breaker though in chatting spiritual matters with other folks here. It’s hard to explain but I truly find a big difference among us sick folk and the staff between those who have a hope of going the heaven because they have been “born again” and my own experience of living in the Kingdom here and now. I’ve met an amazing number of professing Christians in the past 24 hours - a veritable great crowd of witnesses. And there is a lot of spiritual banter issuing from this room!
Mark, my roommate has internal bleeding from ulcers. Today he’s having a capsule endoscopy – swallowing the pill cam. I did that when they thought I had Crones (it mysteriously cleared up a couple years after the diagnosis when I took an anti-biotic). I can tell him all about the procedure, which is a simple as swallowing a big pill and getting hooked up to some electronics that transmit the images from the camera. His concern is “what happens to the camera?” “Well what do you think?” “Thats’ what I thought...”, he said. I retrieved mine when it had passed through, cleaned is up and took it apart – always the Engineer!
Being locals it’s no surprise that I have already met staff member who know and have even worked with my wife during her nursing career here in Maine. That’s nice to make connections. My CNA worked under Betty at a long-term care facility. He’s a nice Christian guy and we had some great chats when he came to take my vitals. The staff here do not seem so rushed and busy that they can’t take the time to hang out and chat. I played the Oasis Corale’s flash mob video of "Ndikhoikhele Bawo" for one of my CNAs. She was enraptured by it! She knows nothing of Amish or Mennonites but she loved the hauntingly beautiful melody and resonating "Bawo".
I’m just resting today, recuperating! This is quite a racket! Lay around all day snoozing and pushing a button to get someone to serve me hand and foot!
I had a good “therapeutic” night last night. I didn’t sleep well but dozed on and off. With the normal day’s rhythm gone, sleeping, even when tired at night, gets disrupted. I’ll probably spend my quieter hours today snoozing.
My roommate is an 83 year old Ordained Southern Baptist minister. He makes no bones about it to the staff attending to us! He’s my ice-breaker though in chatting spiritual matters with other folks here. It’s hard to explain but I truly find a big difference among us sick folk and the staff between those who have a hope of going the heaven because they have been “born again” and my own experience of living in the Kingdom here and now. I’ve met an amazing number of professing Christians in the past 24 hours - a veritable great crowd of witnesses. And there is a lot of spiritual banter issuing from this room!
Mark, my roommate has internal bleeding from ulcers. Today he’s having a capsule endoscopy – swallowing the pill cam. I did that when they thought I had Crones (it mysteriously cleared up a couple years after the diagnosis when I took an anti-biotic). I can tell him all about the procedure, which is a simple as swallowing a big pill and getting hooked up to some electronics that transmit the images from the camera. His concern is “what happens to the camera?” “Well what do you think?” “Thats’ what I thought...”, he said. I retrieved mine when it had passed through, cleaned is up and took it apart – always the Engineer!
Being locals it’s no surprise that I have already met staff member who know and have even worked with my wife during her nursing career here in Maine. That’s nice to make connections. My CNA worked under Betty at a long-term care facility. He’s a nice Christian guy and we had some great chats when he came to take my vitals. The staff here do not seem so rushed and busy that they can’t take the time to hang out and chat. I played the Oasis Corale’s flash mob video of "Ndikhoikhele Bawo" for one of my CNAs. She was enraptured by it! She knows nothing of Amish or Mennonites but she loved the hauntingly beautiful melody and resonating "Bawo".
I’m just resting today, recuperating! This is quite a racket! Lay around all day snoozing and pushing a button to get someone to serve me hand and foot!
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Re: A year of living.
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Try hard not to offend. Try harder not to be offended.
I think I am funnier than I really am.
I think I am funnier than I really am.
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Wayne in Maine
Re: A year of living.
I saw that posted on MennoNet and reposted it on my Facebook page. There are some other beautiful renditions of it on like that were bringing tears to my eye.
The words and translation:
Ndikhokhele Bawo, zundi kokhele (Lead me oh Father [Lead me])
Ndikhokhele mmeli wami (Lead me my savior)
Ezintsizini, Zalomhlaba Bawo (in all the sorrows of this world Father)
(Bawo, Bawo, Bawo) ( Father, Father, Father)
Bawo ndiyabonga (Father I thank you)
Ngoba wena usandigcinile (for you still protect/keep me)
(Repeat)
Thaluthele thuze kwami (You calm all my fears) x2
(Bawo, bawo, bawo) ( Father, Father, Father)
Bawo ndiyabonga (Father I thank you)
Ngoba wena usandigcinile (for you still protect me)
Mmeli wami bawo uthaluthele thuze kwami (Father, Savior, you calm my fears)
Bawo ndiyabonga (Father I thank you)
Ngoba wena usandigcinile (for you still protect me)
(Repeat)
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Wayne in Maine
Re: A year of living.
I wasn’t expecting to make post here about my year of living to include living in the hospital! But that’s where I am still!
I was quite improving yesterday but I did not have a really good night. I was surprised by pain coming on early at night, and it’s become hard for me to move without it hurting. I did get medication earlier (twice in fact) so that I could get some sleep. But as I am not trying to sleep now and I want to help the doctor correlate the pain to any particular spot on my PET scan or activity I’m gathering data from the pain instead. I’ll get some relief applied before it gets “painful”. I’m comfortable enough and writing even this “blog” is therapeutic in keeping my attention. I’m not merely being stoic.
Last night Mark, my 83 year old roommate, was finally allowed to eat. He was loudly praising God -it sounded like an old time revival meeting. You would think he was slain in the Spirit when I sent some chocolate over to him! He was constantly talking about food – he loves Crab Rangoon and that’s going to be his big treat when his wife and daughter come in today.
My taste buds are messed up, probably from the chemotherapy. Strong cheddar cheese tastes like sliced American at best. Pasta is bland, chicken completely without flavor. If the food does not taste good it really is not attractive but I’m trying to eat better. I feel sorry for people with Covid who lose their sense of taste altogether, I’m just losing parts of my pallet. But not the chocolate part! Maybe not the crab Rangoon part, we’ll see.
Steven and Betty dropped in for the last hour of visiting yesterday. Steve beat me at cribbage! It was fun having them hang out. We just needed a hissing Coleman lantern to give it a proper camp feel! After that my primary care physician called (after hours from his home) ”What’s up Chris, did you call me because you needed cheering up?”. He appreciates my indomitable spirit in this. We talk a lot of spiritual matters when I see him in the office – his college major was comparative religions. He’s fascinated by the new term he has learned from me “Gelassenheit”. He gave me the rundown on the information he had om my health and I updated him on my status. He sees things now as getting me back in good health by getting over the pneumonia and blood infection while my liver heals from the bile blockage – the goal being to get strong for the next round of aggressive chemotherapy which we anticipate (or at least hope) will have similar results as my first round – melting the cancer, pruning it back. I’m enthusiastic to do that so I’m entirely cooperative with what they are doing. Even if it means blood draws at 3:00 AM and changing antibiotic bags every half hour through the night. The best nurse cannot do that without disturbing my sleep, but I generally lay quietly so that they don’t know they woke me. Sometimes though I am awake and we’ll joke around or just converse. My evening nurse and I could have a comedy act, we had the CAN laughing at us. "Your oxygen canula is upside down", "Oh, I've been breathing 2O instead of O2!)" I didn't say we would be a good comedy act.
My might CNA was Mildred. I recognized her Haitian accent. Haitian folks are rare here in Maine. I used to work with a lot of Haitian people when I was in Mental Health 40 years go in Massachusetts. They were a relatively new immigrant group. One woman I worked with was, for reasons I don’t know, highly respected among her peers and active in helping her fellow Haitians settle in the US It seems like Johanna LeFevre worked three jobs simultaneously!
Mildred seemed a little shy to chat, after I exclaimed that I recognized her accent. But we did strike up a conversation! Her family back in Haiti was only lightly affected by the recent earthquake “just bumps and bruises”. But she lost family in the 2010 quake. “Why”, I asked “do people who are willing to work so hard [which was my experience with Haitian Immigrants] find it so difficult to make things better in Haiti?” She says politics and gangs fueled by politicians. “Lining their coffers”. She warmed up and we enjoyed talking ”God knows” she said. I suspect few Mainers she has contact with know much or care much about Haiti. She knows I care.
As I was writing this the pain slowly eased, so I’ll wait on my pain meds. I think sitting up is one of the triggers for the pain – that’s a good piece of data for my medical team. Of course it’s not happy news for me as I was looking forward to cleaning and dressing myself this morning. No Mr. Independent here! They even set my bed alarm on so that if I dare try to get up alone I will be electrocuted and pierced with iron bars (well that’s what my night nurse warned me of!).
Another day of living.
I was quite improving yesterday but I did not have a really good night. I was surprised by pain coming on early at night, and it’s become hard for me to move without it hurting. I did get medication earlier (twice in fact) so that I could get some sleep. But as I am not trying to sleep now and I want to help the doctor correlate the pain to any particular spot on my PET scan or activity I’m gathering data from the pain instead. I’ll get some relief applied before it gets “painful”. I’m comfortable enough and writing even this “blog” is therapeutic in keeping my attention. I’m not merely being stoic.
Last night Mark, my 83 year old roommate, was finally allowed to eat. He was loudly praising God -it sounded like an old time revival meeting. You would think he was slain in the Spirit when I sent some chocolate over to him! He was constantly talking about food – he loves Crab Rangoon and that’s going to be his big treat when his wife and daughter come in today.
My taste buds are messed up, probably from the chemotherapy. Strong cheddar cheese tastes like sliced American at best. Pasta is bland, chicken completely without flavor. If the food does not taste good it really is not attractive but I’m trying to eat better. I feel sorry for people with Covid who lose their sense of taste altogether, I’m just losing parts of my pallet. But not the chocolate part! Maybe not the crab Rangoon part, we’ll see.
Steven and Betty dropped in for the last hour of visiting yesterday. Steve beat me at cribbage! It was fun having them hang out. We just needed a hissing Coleman lantern to give it a proper camp feel! After that my primary care physician called (after hours from his home) ”What’s up Chris, did you call me because you needed cheering up?”. He appreciates my indomitable spirit in this. We talk a lot of spiritual matters when I see him in the office – his college major was comparative religions. He’s fascinated by the new term he has learned from me “Gelassenheit”. He gave me the rundown on the information he had om my health and I updated him on my status. He sees things now as getting me back in good health by getting over the pneumonia and blood infection while my liver heals from the bile blockage – the goal being to get strong for the next round of aggressive chemotherapy which we anticipate (or at least hope) will have similar results as my first round – melting the cancer, pruning it back. I’m enthusiastic to do that so I’m entirely cooperative with what they are doing. Even if it means blood draws at 3:00 AM and changing antibiotic bags every half hour through the night. The best nurse cannot do that without disturbing my sleep, but I generally lay quietly so that they don’t know they woke me. Sometimes though I am awake and we’ll joke around or just converse. My evening nurse and I could have a comedy act, we had the CAN laughing at us. "Your oxygen canula is upside down", "Oh, I've been breathing 2O instead of O2!)" I didn't say we would be a good comedy act.
My might CNA was Mildred. I recognized her Haitian accent. Haitian folks are rare here in Maine. I used to work with a lot of Haitian people when I was in Mental Health 40 years go in Massachusetts. They were a relatively new immigrant group. One woman I worked with was, for reasons I don’t know, highly respected among her peers and active in helping her fellow Haitians settle in the US It seems like Johanna LeFevre worked three jobs simultaneously!
Mildred seemed a little shy to chat, after I exclaimed that I recognized her accent. But we did strike up a conversation! Her family back in Haiti was only lightly affected by the recent earthquake “just bumps and bruises”. But she lost family in the 2010 quake. “Why”, I asked “do people who are willing to work so hard [which was my experience with Haitian Immigrants] find it so difficult to make things better in Haiti?” She says politics and gangs fueled by politicians. “Lining their coffers”. She warmed up and we enjoyed talking ”God knows” she said. I suspect few Mainers she has contact with know much or care much about Haiti. She knows I care.
As I was writing this the pain slowly eased, so I’ll wait on my pain meds. I think sitting up is one of the triggers for the pain – that’s a good piece of data for my medical team. Of course it’s not happy news for me as I was looking forward to cleaning and dressing myself this morning. No Mr. Independent here! They even set my bed alarm on so that if I dare try to get up alone I will be electrocuted and pierced with iron bars (well that’s what my night nurse warned me of!).
Another day of living.
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joshuabgood
Re: A year of living.
Thanks for the update Wayne. And below is a song that reminds me of this thread, written by the Lancaster County Amish's own native son, Conrad Fisher, currently the number 1 song in bluegrass, I've still got some living left to do.
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Betty in Maine
- Posts: 21
- Joined: Mon Aug 23, 2021 9:54 am
- Affiliation: Anabaptist
Re: A year of living.
Thank you for this song this morning, Joshua. It is both comforting and encouraging. This time of year brings bluegrass music to us right next door, the Thomas Pont Beach Bluegrass Festival. It was a family event for us - we used to sell our produce and baked goods down there, meet lots of wonderful folks, and enjoy some superb music. Wonderful memories.
Blessings,
Betty in Maine
Blessings,
Betty in Maine
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Wayne in Maine
Re: A year of living.
Great song.joshuabgood wrote: ↑Sat Aug 28, 2021 6:52 am Thanks for the update Wayne. And below is a song that reminds me of this thread, written by the Lancaster County Amish's own native son, Conrad Fisher, currently the number 1 song in bluegrass, I've still got some living left to do.
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Wayne in Maine
Re: A year of living.
My roomate is a Southern Baptist University trained minister (he used to minister at a church in Connecticut. We finally sat down to chat but it seems I'm a legalist to think we should do all that Jesus commanded. Because after all, the whole Gospel is that Jesus died for our sins and we just have to believe it to get to heaven.
Oh well. I'll nap more.
Oh well. I'll nap more.
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gcdonner
Re: A year of living.
Well being a saint is a whole lot different than just being "a sinner saved by grace". Too many folks think that you can go on sinning even after you have been saved. I think it was Martin Luther who thought that the more you sinned the more than grace abounded, which is totally contrary to scripture.Wayne in Maine wrote: ↑Sat Aug 28, 2021 11:45 am My roomate is a Southern Baptist University trained minister (he used to minister at a church in Connecticut. We finally sat down to chat but it seems I'm a legalist to think we should do all that Jesus commanded. Because after all, the whole Gospel is that Jesus died for our sins and we just have to believe it to get to heaven.
Oh well. I'll nap more.
There are lots of Baptists down here in the south who don't realize that the letters in scripture were written to the SAINTS. Well, that's true up north too I guess.Rom 6:1 What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound?
2 God forbid. How shall we, that are dead to sin, live any longer therein?
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