You Never Know

When we returned Joel to Sister Kenny on Tuesday after a fairly successful, though overwhelming, trial run at home, his neck and throat hurt badly and they decided to keep him another day to give those muscles a chance to rest before another car trip.  Dr. O, the internal medicine doctor, informed us they would perform a "swallow evaluation" to figure out why he kept having trouble.  We visited friends to examine their accessible van and appreciated the chance to ready a few more things for Thursday's homecoming.  We continued to pray that if Joel wasn't ready to come home, the Lord would make that clear to the doctors and prevent it from happening.

On Wednesday, Joel called to tell us that they discovered a leak in his esophagus with a sac of infected fluid between it and the spine.  At about 9:30pm, he said he was scheduled to have surgery to take out the abscess - that night!  And he wouldn't be able to eat or drink for seven days while the esophagus healed itself.  I pressed the nurse to give my number to the surgeon so he could call me as soon as he was finished, and Joel and I agreed that I would come to be with him on Thursday.

At 4:30 am, Dr. D called and in a hearty voice informed me that the surgery was successful and that Dr G, the original neurosurgeon from HCMC, had come over and taken the plates and screws out of Joel's neck also.  "It's hard for infection to heal in the presence of hardware so we removed it."  Wow.

Thursday morning I called the nurse's station as I drove, and the Sister Kenny nurse explained, "Oh, he's not on our floor any more.  Just a minute, I'll get you his new room number."  What??  I called the ICU at Abbott Northwestern Heart Hospital, and his nurse, Molly reported that Joel was experiencing almost uncontrollable pain, probably from the hardware removal.   I asked how long he would be in the ICU, and whether he would return to Sister Kenny after that.  "Probably overnight, and no, up to the spine or neuro unit."  I started fretting about this and that, but had the presence of mind to turn on the Christian radio station.  As I sang praise songs, they helped soothe me and remind me of God's power and love.  Then a d.j. came on and told how he was praying for a motorcyclist in a coma at the hospital and received the inspiration to tell him who God was.  "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, Who was and is and is to come."  And the biker started jerking and the machines started beeping and the nurses came running and - he woke up!  I determined to remind Joel of who God is when I arrived.

Molly had the pain mostly under control with a morphine drip plus pump by the time I got there at 12:30pm; it was at a level 6 or 7 instead of 9 or 10 (on a scale of 1-10).  I held Joel's hands for an hour, then one hand for another hour while we listened to praise music on his iPod.   The pain had been "as bad as I've had ever in my life," but by the time I left at 7 pm, he felt fairly comfortable and much more at peace.  Remembering who the Lord is and how much He loves us solves some of our problems at the deepest level.

Dr. O stopped in and expressed his gratitude that the swallow evaluation caught the infection, and reiterated that this may have been the cause of numerous problems for Joel.  Dr. A agreed, and further explained how much easier it is to treat infections without metal nearby.  Apparently bacteria love to hide in the pits and grooves of titanium hardware.   Dr. O seemed to think that Joel could possibly return to Sister Kenny when he's a little stronger, to make sure he's still up to speed for coming home.

As I drove back home (thankful that I was on 35W South because 35W North was backed up for at least 3 miles), I reflected once more on the futility of worry.  I lacked something to give Joel when I started the day, but the Lord provided it through the radio station.  Wherever Joel goes after this, Jesus will walk with him, and with us.

Wake Up!

One day this week, physical therapists placed Joel in the "standing machine," which helped him gradually move from a sitting to a standing position.  The very next day, the doctor pointed out more movement in his left leg.  We theorize that putting weight on his foot sent a signal to his brain - "Wake up those nerves!  You need to stand up!"   Doctor Velez encouraged Joel to name his left leg and speak to it;  "Kick out!  Wake up!  Move!"  She said it would make a difference; he thinks it's silly and says he won't do it.

What struck me is the parallel to the Biblical statements about faith.  Jesus told his disciples, "Whoever says to this mountain, "Be removed and cast into the sea, and does not doubt in his heart, but believes...it shall be done."  (Mark 11)  In Matthew 8, he commends the centurion for understanding that all Jesus had to do was speak to bring healing.  Solomon advised in Proverbs 18, "Death and life are in the power of the tongue."  Even medical science - at Sister Kenny, the premier spinal cord treatment center in Minnesota - is confirming the importance of faith, of hope, and of speaking "to call nonexistent things into existence."  (Rom. 4:17)  I hope Joel will change his mind about the value of talking to his leg; I hope we will all believe God's word in our hearts, speak it with our lips, and live it in our actions.

Goals, One Day at a Time

I'm home for the weekend, and I needed to be.  God used this time for Pete to see a breakthrough for Joel in terms of understanding what's going on.  Yesterday we asked for prayers for wisdom and discernment for Joel on when to "tough it out" and when to listen to his body saying, "That's enough."  Today his chest X-ray showed more clogged areas so the doctor put a PIC IV tube into his chest and started antibiotics.  This is a setback - another tube into his body instead of tubes being removed, as we had this week.

The doctor, nurse and respiratory therapist all agreed:  "If you don't do these breathing exercises, sit in the chair and generally move around more, you will keep getting pneumonia."  His lungs are more susceptible because he's had pneumonia recently.  I am praying that the antibiotics help him feel better immediately so he has more energy with which to tough it out.

I think I was getting comfortable in the hospital, with an idea of "I can do this" instead of the desperate crying out to the Lord which we need to continue until full recovery and wholeness returns to Joel and our family.  Now we will try "One Day at a Time" goal-setting; Pete did this with Joel today and he was motivated to reach the goals by accomplishing the tasks.

Thanks be to God for continued "Yes!" answers to prayers, and granting patience to wait through the "Not yet!" answers.

Giving Thanks part 2

Good thing I've been reading the book "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp!   On Thursday I drove down to Mankato to watch Sarah's fastpitch softball team lose their playoff game to Chanhassen, 6-0.  That wasn't so bad, as that team had been winning many games by scores of 17-0 or more.  On my way home, I called Philip (on Pete's phone) to see if the church slowpitch game had ended, or if I should come in to Willmar to see the rest of it.  I decided to attend, and halfway to Willmar Philip called to ask me to bring ice - "Dad hurt his leg.  He heard his knee pop - he hyper-extended it."  Rats.  Pete called before I got the ice to say that a member of the opposing team had brought some from his neighboring house.  We enjoyed cheering the team on to victory, 20-13, while Pete sat on the bench and Jason K. substituted on the pitcher's mound.

After the game, Lois Nelson declared, "Peter whatever-your-middle-name-is Stadem, you are going in!"  We hemmed and hawed as we drove to DQ, where Andrew and Philip purchased their usual post-game Blizzards, but finally decided we'd better get it checked out.  Daniel came to get the boys and I drove Pete to the emergency room at Rice Hospital.  After an hour or two, the X-ray revealed a compound fracture of the tibia and an insignificant fracture of the fibula.  The doctor insisted on speaking with an orthopedic surgeon and phoned Alexandria, where a Dr. Nelson recommended sending Pete home with a splinted legs and orders to call Willmar the next day to schedule surgery.   We crawled into bed at 1:30am - well, I crawled; Pete and I gingerly raised his leg to the bed and he slept on his back.  Ibuprofen controlled the pain fairly well, though.

On Friday, after numerous phone calls to Willmar, Alexandria and Olivia, we journeyed to Heartland Orthopedics in Alexandria because no orthopedic surgeon in Willmar could help us.  As it turned out, no orthopedic surgeon in Alex could help us either.  Surgery has to wait until this week because the swelling must go down or they wouldn't be able to close the incision.  We waited almost two hours for Pete's CT scan, because a sudden influx of emergency patients kept the scanner busy.  When we finally arrived home at supper time, I took a bath while Pete napped on the couch, and then I did go to the Gatewood's barn dance for about an hour.  Biggest crowd yet and so fun!

So - no trip to Plain View Farm this weekend; no softball for Pete the rest of the season; no graduation parties for him on Saturday; no going much of anywhere (just a funeral and church) until the surgery.  On the positive side - no ligaments or tendons torn (they think); no terrible pain; no work for several days, so time to think and pray about some long-term issues we've been procrastinating.  The kids have been very helpful, including taking care of the turkeys.  Lots of folks are praying for us.  And bone heals well.  God is good - all the time!

Lessons from Frankenpastor

The dinner theater has come and gone.  Frankenpastor was a great success; as usual, the Body of Christ at Svea worked together with precision and style to bless the audience for three stellar performances.  In the plot of the musical, the frustrated Loon County Lutheran call committee asks the mad scientist who's renting their basement to build a pastor for them (a la Frankenstein).  When the synod sends investigators to figure out why the church pays its benevolences without a pastor "to guilt them into it," they request a bride for Frankenpastor in an attempt to display "a more complete domestic lifestyle."  Mayhem, romance and the message of God's grace as an agent for change ensue.

Half the cast came down with the flu during the last week of rehearsals and the performances.  "The show must go on!" we declared, and they rose to the challenge.  One of the leading senior guys felt horrible for the last two days, but delivered flawless performances and fantastic energy.

I wondered what the ladies would come up with for decorations - monsters?  Instead, they called upon members who work at a clinic and a research facility, set up test tubes and beakers everywhere, and turned our church basement into a mad scientist's lab.  The servers wore lab coats and had mad scientist hair.  So cool!  It goes without saying that Lois excelled at the set, costumes and props, and that the parents cooked and served a delicious meal.

Every year the second-to-the-last week of rehearsals elicits groans, misery and despair.  The cast thinks the play stinks; they hate the director(s), and they're sick of each other.  Every year the director wonders if this will be the year that marks the end of the Svea dinner theaters.  Then the set goes up, usually the Sunday before Opening Night.  A burst of energy surges forth; people feverishly finish memorizing; we stop picking at every little detail and go through the entire play at each rehearsal; and everyone loves each other once more.   I'm happy to report this happened again this year.  Remember that for next time!

Peter Pan

When I entered the darkened theatre, the directors had just finished placing the actors in lines.  I could see Andrew in the middle of a line; knowing that Peter Pan would be at the front of a line, I realized Andrew had not received the part he had hoped to earn with his audition.  Sure enough, when they called out the cast names, Andrew was John, the middle brother of the Darling family.  An 18-year-old would play Peter.  I was a little concerned that Andrew would complain or fall into depression over this turn of events, but I was pleasantly surprised when he strutted back, handling his script, and announced in a manly voice, "I LOVE this part!"  Apparently, playing a know-it-all brother appealed to him.  Philip figured he would enjoy Starkey, a pirate, as well.  He's on the middle left below brandishing a sword; Andrew's on the top row, on the right, in the derby hat.

Having just returned from the second and final performance of Peter Pan, full of Cherry Berry goodness, I'm reflecting on the impressiveness of two directors handling 74 children in grades 1-12, plus acting the parts of Mr. & Mrs. Darling, Hook and Tiger Lil.  They seem to enjoy it also!  Andrew and Philip performed well; they said a lot of kids forgot lines, but we only noticed a few.  Another week of daily trips to town has ended, and both boys hope to participate in Tom Sawyer this spring.

More on Mindsets

Tuesday night Pete was on his way to bed when he noticed a light had been left on in the basement. Muttering to himself, he went down the stairs - and saw a flood pouring out of the furnace room into the carpeted area! It had just started, so he raced up, gathered the big boys and started supervising a massive effort to stop the leak, get the sump pump working again, and mop up the water. After multiple towels were soaked and the boys had put the wet-dry vac to good use, they finally got to bed around midnight.

Today they are disinfecting the carpet pad with a very strong product and cleaning the carpet with the Rug Doctor, and hope that will be the end of it. We've had fans and heaters running constantly.

What struck me, though, was Pete's determination to save the carpet and belief that he could. Many people would have thrown up their hands and resigned themselves to a new carpet - or if they couldn't afford it, a linoleum floor once again. Not he! And he will succeed.

Pete experienced major back trouble 10 years ago; he lay in bed for 2 weeks and then had spasms when he sneezed or moved wrong. When he finally recovered sufficiently to work, he searched for exercises he could do to strengthen his back. He just knew there was something that would work for him, and he visited a doctor, a physical therapist, a chiropractor and I don't know who else - but sure enough, from one or a combination of these professionals, a weight-lifting program emerged that Pete followed rigorously until his back became strong. Now he can jump off a truck or lift cases - or sneeze - without problems, and continues to lift weights on a maintenance program. How many folks would have given up and resigned themselves to a bad back for life?

I remember a friend who lived in Bangladesh telling how some people there don't look before they cross the busy highway. They have such a fatalistic mindset that they figure it doesn't matter what they do; God's will determines whether they live or die today. Could that be one reason Bangladesh is consistently one of the poorest countries in the world?

I wish I knew how to change people's mindsets, because I'm convinced that if more people had a "can do" attitude, there would be a lot fewer long-term problems in this world. Thanks be to God that He can change our minds!