pa·thol·o·gy n
1. the processes of a particular disease, observable either with the naked eye or by microscopy, or, at a molecular level, as inferred from biochemical tests
2. any condition that is a deviation from the normal
Our lives seem to illustrate the importance of this significant word with both of its definitions.
On the positive side, we have received the pathology report from Deb’s surgery. The breast tissue as well as the sentinel lymph node were diced and sliced and scrutinized. Thankfully everything showed that the affected areas were all fully removed. So the disease is over, for which we thank and praise God. We are now eight days after the surgery, and today the next surgery for reconstruction was set--early January 2009!
So there is still a deviation from normal. We are still counting the amount of fluid drained from the operation site. Deb is still working on exercises that would make her grandchildren giggle, but they are painful for her. We are enjoying the presence of many friends—some of whom we have not seen in many years. We are basking in the confidence and knowledge that so many are praying for us particularly at this time. All of that is a deviation from the normal—and it is sometimes good to be outside the normal range.
One deviation from normal that is complicating things right now is the impact of the anti-seizure medications that Karl is experiencing. At this point a day in the hospital or a loss of memory of a few hours would be preferable to the frustration of feeling unable to focus, continually exhausted, just not really interested in people, and snapping at the most simple complication. Yes, the medication is having side effects that are devious, not just a deviation.
So, while Debbie is mending normally, Karl is bending away from normal. It raises the question of who is helping to heal and who is a healing helper. What we do know about our pathology is that the Healer made us whole and is still intervening in our lives to bring us wholeness. The “normal” of our lives misses the mark of His wholeness--which makes our lives pathological.
Pathology in most cases and certainly in our case, leads us to theology. Seeing our sickness helps us see and understand our Savior/Healer. One day all things will be made new. Today we are happy to have a step toward newness.
When we feel lopsided or loopy we remember that Jesus came not for those who were already whole, but those who needed to be made whole. We have some big holes that need filling.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Life support
Surgery is always a complicated process even when it is minor. This has been a full 30 hours!
By seven AM Wednesday, Deb was given a radio-active dye which was to help in locating the sentinel lymph node during surgery. She had several hours to wait then before it had moved through the system and was ready for the parade to begin. Since there were three surgeries, there were three surgery teams. Add to that the anesthesia crew, the nursing crew, and the recovery room crew. For most the routine was the same: check the name band on her wrist to be sure it was the right person. Then repeat all the processes that were to be done--that litany started to feel cuttingly cruel after only the second time. Do we HAVE to be reminded of everything that had to be done? But then I began to watch the story in a new way. All these people were part of the support system, each doing their j0b and each needed to be sure they had the right person and were doing the correct procedure.
So when the surgeon drew her lines on Debbie's chest it was to be sure everything was in the correct place. When the anesthetist looked into her throat it helped to ensure that the correct alternatives were in place when they had difficulty during intubation. All those on every team were well aware of the long list of drugs that could not be considered because of her Long QT. Finally the last nurse finished the routine and said "we are ready, lets go..." I watched as Deb walked with confidence into the surgery area with IV bag in tow. It was just before 11:00 AM.
By 12:30 the mastectomy and the plastic surgeon was finished and came back with a good report: everything had gone smoothly, quickly, and she was buttoned up--well zipped up might be a better description. Good skin preservation had been accomplished, the expander was in place, and the third procedure had been started in the pelvic area. Two hours later that too was finished--repairing and repositioning organs that had been jumbled by three children and infections of the past.
By 3:45 I was in the post-op recovery room with Deb and she was very much awake, but not quite as perky as she had been at 11:00 AM. All three procedures had gone well. The life support systems had sustained her as the doctors did their redemptive cutting and stitching. Although she did not FEEL better, and although there was a very little blood loss, the Life Giver was working in her body to knit it together again.
As the day wore on the pain grew more intense and movement became more difficult. The pain pump alleviated much of the pain, and slowly the shifting of position helped the movement to be less difficult. Hannah spent the night next to her bed and was available as her blood pressure dipped low and then returned to normal.
By 7:30 AM today the doctors had made their rounds and began removing tubes that had siphoned off body wastes or infused life-nurturing liquids. As her body gains strength those other life support systems become less needed, and we are reminded of the single life support system that does not diminish nor become redundant: God's grace supplied with His strength and often through His people.
As this afternoon comes, We await the doctor's decisions about whether Debbie will return home today to be embraced by support there--Donna, Rebecca and Hannah plus many others who have enlisted to encourage and help. We anticipate seeing people who have passed through our lives long ago as we receive visitors. They remind us of God's faithfulness through the years in His supply of life through His body.
Deb has started her exercises! A little head-rocking and arm-movement to there and back. Not much you know, but life movement begins with the regular and faithful demonstration of what we can manage. Call it a mustard seed approach to life.
By seven AM Wednesday, Deb was given a radio-active dye which was to help in locating the sentinel lymph node during surgery. She had several hours to wait then before it had moved through the system and was ready for the parade to begin. Since there were three surgeries, there were three surgery teams. Add to that the anesthesia crew, the nursing crew, and the recovery room crew. For most the routine was the same: check the name band on her wrist to be sure it was the right person. Then repeat all the processes that were to be done--that litany started to feel cuttingly cruel after only the second time. Do we HAVE to be reminded of everything that had to be done? But then I began to watch the story in a new way. All these people were part of the support system, each doing their j0b and each needed to be sure they had the right person and were doing the correct procedure.
So when the surgeon drew her lines on Debbie's chest it was to be sure everything was in the correct place. When the anesthetist looked into her throat it helped to ensure that the correct alternatives were in place when they had difficulty during intubation. All those on every team were well aware of the long list of drugs that could not be considered because of her Long QT. Finally the last nurse finished the routine and said "we are ready, lets go..." I watched as Deb walked with confidence into the surgery area with IV bag in tow. It was just before 11:00 AM.
By 12:30 the mastectomy and the plastic surgeon was finished and came back with a good report: everything had gone smoothly, quickly, and she was buttoned up--well zipped up might be a better description. Good skin preservation had been accomplished, the expander was in place, and the third procedure had been started in the pelvic area. Two hours later that too was finished--repairing and repositioning organs that had been jumbled by three children and infections of the past.
By 3:45 I was in the post-op recovery room with Deb and she was very much awake, but not quite as perky as she had been at 11:00 AM. All three procedures had gone well. The life support systems had sustained her as the doctors did their redemptive cutting and stitching. Although she did not FEEL better, and although there was a very little blood loss, the Life Giver was working in her body to knit it together again.
As the day wore on the pain grew more intense and movement became more difficult. The pain pump alleviated much of the pain, and slowly the shifting of position helped the movement to be less difficult. Hannah spent the night next to her bed and was available as her blood pressure dipped low and then returned to normal.
By 7:30 AM today the doctors had made their rounds and began removing tubes that had siphoned off body wastes or infused life-nurturing liquids. As her body gains strength those other life support systems become less needed, and we are reminded of the single life support system that does not diminish nor become redundant: God's grace supplied with His strength and often through His people.
As this afternoon comes, We await the doctor's decisions about whether Debbie will return home today to be embraced by support there--Donna, Rebecca and Hannah plus many others who have enlisted to encourage and help. We anticipate seeing people who have passed through our lives long ago as we receive visitors. They remind us of God's faithfulness through the years in His supply of life through His body.
Deb has started her exercises! A little head-rocking and arm-movement to there and back. Not much you know, but life movement begins with the regular and faithful demonstration of what we can manage. Call it a mustard seed approach to life.
Monday, May 5, 2008
The glory of God and of Kings
Yesterday morning awoke with misty eyes. We had picked up Hannah from Dulles Airport in DC and drove a short way to retreat in a friend's W.Va. mountain home. The Shenandoah valley at one point was simply filled with fog. From my view in bed I could barely distinguish a single tree in the early morning mist. But I knew the landscape was filled with early spring green and the river curled past the view point. An hour or so later the breeze had blown away the clouds and made even the distance seem near.
So with a hot cup of coffee in hand, Debbie and I waited for Hannah to arise out of her jet-lagged sleep. As I peered over the tree tops and allowed my heart to settle in the beauty of the majestic mountainside, Deb read from Proverbs 25. "It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings to search it out." At first that seemed odd and hard to understand. Why would God conceal a matter? Even more, why would that reflect glory to him?
We thought of our own life journey and those we have known and in whom we have sought to sow the seeds of the Kingdom. So many matters of our own lives remain a mystery. With us so many have sought God's face and mercy to intervene at our point of need. We have sought wisdom to understand and choose the right way forward. We have sought strength to accept the things we could not change. But even now we peer into the circumstances of our lives and see only mist and fog. Of course "why cancer?" has an understanding in the nature of a fallen world and the existence of evil and sickness. We thought about people we have known and loved who have chosen to leave Africa or Asia or some other global point of need to find employment in the U.S.A--a land of plenty. We are puzzled as to why God would have us of all people working out of this country. I thought of the thirty boxes of books that just left our house last week to start their journey to Sri Lanka. It represented the finest of two lifetimes of theology and pastoral library collection. The fog is ever so thick.
But I know that beyond the fog is the beauty of the River of Life even when I can't see it. I didn't create the roads, I only followed the map given by Someone Who Knows. I can only observe trees that are planted and grown by Someone Who Creates. And so the glory of God is seen when the questions are too big for me. God conceals the matter not out of some mean spite to hide understanding from me, but because the matters are beyond my comprehension. Can I fathom the pathway of the kingdom among the nations? Am I able to understand why God uses some people in magnificent ways and others in common ways to forward His reign of righteousness? Am I really able to comprehend even the pathway of my own life and know where my voice should be heard or my feet tread so to nurture seeds of life that He has planted? Can I know in advance the lessons that he has for me to learn through pain or loss? Would I choose the painful pathway even if I knew I would see His glory more clearly on that pathway? Certainly not.
So His glory is the greatness which conceals the smallness of my moment. And my glory? My glory is in seeking out some small part of that greatness.
We took a walk on the Appalachian Trail. For the first time I saw what I knew was true for much of my life. In the middle of the trail was a small acorn, it had sprouted and its tiny two-inch stem was reaching from the acorn toward the sunlight above in the midst of the mighty oaks all along the trail. Its glory was to stretch out its arms and absorb the light.
If I am that acorn, my glory is not to know that one day I will be sawed into pieces to make a grand banquet table for the king. My glory is to reach for the Light and allow the miracle of life to be seen in me.
It is that simple I guess. Cancer. Surgical removal of treasured body parts. Being pulled like a weed out of the garden of Africa. Books that represent aspirations of understanding and learning just heaped onto a truck and shipped half the earth away. Perceived opportunities to impact people and nations that get struck from the travel schedule because of economic realities. Visions of accomplishments quickly eclipsed by other's agendas.
I could feel sorry, or angry, or ashamed, or depressed. But this weekend I saw an acorn in the midst of the mighty oaks. It simply reached up for the Light.
Me too. How about you?
So with a hot cup of coffee in hand, Debbie and I waited for Hannah to arise out of her jet-lagged sleep. As I peered over the tree tops and allowed my heart to settle in the beauty of the majestic mountainside, Deb read from Proverbs 25. "It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings to search it out." At first that seemed odd and hard to understand. Why would God conceal a matter? Even more, why would that reflect glory to him?
We thought of our own life journey and those we have known and in whom we have sought to sow the seeds of the Kingdom. So many matters of our own lives remain a mystery. With us so many have sought God's face and mercy to intervene at our point of need. We have sought wisdom to understand and choose the right way forward. We have sought strength to accept the things we could not change. But even now we peer into the circumstances of our lives and see only mist and fog. Of course "why cancer?" has an understanding in the nature of a fallen world and the existence of evil and sickness. We thought about people we have known and loved who have chosen to leave Africa or Asia or some other global point of need to find employment in the U.S.A--a land of plenty. We are puzzled as to why God would have us of all people working out of this country. I thought of the thirty boxes of books that just left our house last week to start their journey to Sri Lanka. It represented the finest of two lifetimes of theology and pastoral library collection. The fog is ever so thick.
But I know that beyond the fog is the beauty of the River of Life even when I can't see it. I didn't create the roads, I only followed the map given by Someone Who Knows. I can only observe trees that are planted and grown by Someone Who Creates. And so the glory of God is seen when the questions are too big for me. God conceals the matter not out of some mean spite to hide understanding from me, but because the matters are beyond my comprehension. Can I fathom the pathway of the kingdom among the nations? Am I able to understand why God uses some people in magnificent ways and others in common ways to forward His reign of righteousness? Am I really able to comprehend even the pathway of my own life and know where my voice should be heard or my feet tread so to nurture seeds of life that He has planted? Can I know in advance the lessons that he has for me to learn through pain or loss? Would I choose the painful pathway even if I knew I would see His glory more clearly on that pathway? Certainly not.
So His glory is the greatness which conceals the smallness of my moment. And my glory? My glory is in seeking out some small part of that greatness.
We took a walk on the Appalachian Trail. For the first time I saw what I knew was true for much of my life. In the middle of the trail was a small acorn, it had sprouted and its tiny two-inch stem was reaching from the acorn toward the sunlight above in the midst of the mighty oaks all along the trail. Its glory was to stretch out its arms and absorb the light.
If I am that acorn, my glory is not to know that one day I will be sawed into pieces to make a grand banquet table for the king. My glory is to reach for the Light and allow the miracle of life to be seen in me.
It is that simple I guess. Cancer. Surgical removal of treasured body parts. Being pulled like a weed out of the garden of Africa. Books that represent aspirations of understanding and learning just heaped onto a truck and shipped half the earth away. Perceived opportunities to impact people and nations that get struck from the travel schedule because of economic realities. Visions of accomplishments quickly eclipsed by other's agendas.
I could feel sorry, or angry, or ashamed, or depressed. But this weekend I saw an acorn in the midst of the mighty oaks. It simply reached up for the Light.
Me too. How about you?
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seizure
the view of up top from down below