As most of you know, I am finally home.  Thanks for your continued support and prayers. 

MEDICAL UPDATE

Please forgive me for not getting a post to the blog sooner.  The last couple of days at Mayo were struggles.  After the episode with my heart I have tried really hard not to do much that seemed to make my heart twinge at all.  I didn’t even watch the UK-Florida game last evening!  (I did turn on the radio a couple of times just to get the score.)

But there was another reason that I really didn’t want to blog.  I have always enjoyed roller coasters—just not the one I have been on lately.  From a hernia to the return of the sarcoma and back to nothing has been a struggle.  So I wanted a few days of stability for all of us.

The final diagnosis from the pathologists at Mayo is this: they really don’t know what they took out of my body.  They are calling it a fibrous tissue and that is all.  They know it wasn’t the same sarcoma that was in my leg, but beyond that, they really don’t know.  We may never know.

There is a man at Daybreak who has had some very strange health problems and has been diagnosed with a rare disorder that maybe only a couple of dozen people are known to have.  The last Sunday I was at Daybreak he said to me, “I am a zebra.   There are lots of horses here, but I am a zebra.”

I guess that makes two zebras in one small church.  Whatever they took out of me they apparently have never seen before at Mayo Clinic.  A couple of weeks ago Scott Emmons talked with the children about each snow flake being unique and each child a unique creation of God.  I guess I never realized just how unique I am!

The good news is that the surgeon is confident that he got it all.  It is also good news that it wasn’t readily identifiable as a “you’ve got two weeks to live” malignancy!

I will have CT scans periodically and live each day like I should anyway.

LIFE UPDATE

The trip home was as you might expect after having your stomach cut open and your insides moved to places they had never been before.  Rick Terry was so loving and patient on the way home.  How do you thank a man who gives up a week of his life for you?  How about a free wedding?  That would pale in comparison.

The second day, though shorter, was far more difficult.  In one stretch near Indy the only way I could keep from adding some new colors to the interior of Rick’s SUV was to ride with the window down in about 35 degree weather.  I looked in the mirror and all I could see was Teresa’s nose she was so covered up.

Let me give you some advice: if you think you are going to have to have abdominal surgery, try to lose weight instead of gain it.  I had put on about 10 pounds since the first of November with mom’s death, Christmas, and the feeling that something was going on much more significant than possibly a hernia.  Sometimes we eat for pleasure or people wouldn’t pay what they do to go out to an expensive restaurant.  Losing 10 lbs instead of gaining 10 lbs would have made far less movement of the jelly in the bowl!

As you know, I have a marvelous wife.  This is now the third crisis in which she has stood by me.  We got a great compliment from the nurse who took care of me for half of the time I was in ICU.  Kim was more than you could expect from a nurse.  Gifted, insightful, loving, appropriate for those things that are really tough for a man.  When my heart was racing and we got to the ICU, somehow I knew she really knew what she was doing.

The second morning Teresa and Kim had some time just to talk.  Healing is far more than just giving the right medicine at the right time.  They were talking about Kim’s family and what it was like to be away from them for 12 hour shifts.

Kim asked Teresa how long we had been married.  For 30 years.  “Are you serious?” she asked.  “I wouldn’t have thought that long.  I can tell that the two of you are still in love.”

What a commentary on life in the world we live in.  Teresa and I have never been much for public display of affection.  We joke a lot which helps keep us sane.  But in one of the crisis moments of life what really matters is what is seen—a deep commitment to one another that endures the hardships of life and rises to the top.  Real love isn’t seen walking hand in hand on a star-lit beach.  It is seen taking the hand of one you love to help them make it.  I thank God for a wife like that.

On the lighter side.  I never take any medicine.  Two Tylenol a year would be two more than normal for me.  So the narcotics to help ease the pain have about put me under the rug.  I have been nauseous most of the time.  Finally last evening I actually had three things that I could stomach—in both senses of the word: strawberry ice cream, chocolate milk, and Chick-fil-A chicken nuggets.  At least it is a diet I can live with!

I need some time to recover and catch up.  I am staying in our newly remodeled Nanny quarters in the basement.  I don’t plan to be out of the house much.  Some visits would be okay but if you come, please call Teresa before hand and please don’t make it for the afternoon.  And we sure don’t need a lot of food because I’m just not eating much. 

The Lord willing, I hope to be back in the pulpit on February 19th.  The first two weeks back I want to be special Sundays.  The first one will be “Back to Church Sunday” for me and hopefully for some others who need to get back in church.   On the 26th I hope to share some things the Lord has shown me in this latest challenge.

I covet your prayers.  The battle is still at hand.  I need some folks who will stand by me and help raise my arms if this battle is to be won.

Sorry for the long blog.  I will try to update you every couple of days with much shorter posts!