282

Days, 282 of them.  He has waited this long for tomorrow.  Dr. Simmon's incredible news that he delivered to the hopeful ears of my parents was the promise of relief.  He could straighten Dad's back, an incredible miracle itself, and that in turn would make Dad an elgible candidate for hip replacements.  This news was powerful and promising. 

Just a year earlier, early 2011,  Dad had been told there was nothing that could be done for his arthritis in his hips.  He could expect to be in a wheelchair, and that was the best hope.  Due to the curve of his spine,  he was not a good candidate for hip replacements and the doctor had no interest in attempting those procedures.  Devastating and discouraging, these words were hard to hear and very hard to process. 

Then, within moments of meeting Dr. Simmon's,  his words lifted our hearts to a place of renewed hope and encouraged Dad deeply at the promise of relief.

Tomorrow, Dad checks back into the hospital and will receive his left hip replacement.  His surgeon is confident and unconcerned at the outcome. It should be routine, and Dad will be happy.  Due to the deterioration of both hips, it was almost hard to pick which was worse.  His right hip will be replaced, as well, six weeks later.  Tomorrow he will receive the relief and renewal that at one point he was told could not happen.

He has been counting down to this day.  I heard the countdown start at "45 more days to go".  I think he may have been counting down from 282, just silently, hopefully, and prayerfully.

A Gentle Step

I have been praying about sharing this.  Feeling like the Lord has sent many gentle nudges that it would be okay, and maybe even more than that, possibly even helpful to share.

Just a few weeks ago, we passed the one year mark of our agonizing earthly separation from Todd.  One year that has wrenched our hearts at the same time as it was binding them deeper together in our journey of loss.  One year that we can only point to the strength from God as our source of hope.

As I look back over the year, there are moments that God took my heart from one point of grief and gently lifted it to a new level of managing, coping, and a place of knowledge that we were going to make it through our loss.  Through this year, turning points in healing were marked by sometimes insignificant events and at other times profound moments. 

The most recent moment is what I want to share.  On March 25,  our Pastor asked if I would share a testimony of our journey during his morning sermon, "The Road to Resurrection".

Below I have included the link to this sermon.  If I may, I would encourage listening to the whole sermon.  There is some music and singing in the beginning, then Pastor Sam starts to preach.  About midway through, he calls me up to share. 

What I share is a peek into how God sustained us, how He is using something I would describe as horrific and is turning it into good for the glory of His name.

The link to the sermons page is      http://www.fbcgalax.org/sermons  Then look down the list until you see:

3/25/2012 01_The_Road_to_Resurrection.m4a  It takes awhile to load, and when it does it will just be audio. 

After I spoke, Pastor Sam gave a truly unique invitation.  As the last song plays through, the gentle step of healing is taking place for me.  We are being hugged, cried with, and encouraged in abundance by dear hearts that God lead to our paths on that very special Sunday morning.  The love of the congregation poured deeply into the recesses of  my ache and filled them a little bit with healing. 

Maybe God will take this hurt and turn it to good even still.

Blessings

Blessings come in the most joyful of celebrations and in the depths of the fearful halls of the unknown. It is easy to think of them, recite them repeatedly, and relish them during the moments of happiness. It is sometimes impossible to recognize and rest in them in the disturbing times.


It would be almost impossible to recount the blessings that have rained down upon our family in the last month. We were overwhelmed by assurances of prayers and promises of concern. We knew that we were facing Dad's surgery, surrounded by the loving prayers and support of so many. It was an incredible comfort. We know that prayers have continued throughout this passed month of recovery as well. Thank you to all of those who have loved us and prayed for Dad.


Cards, visits, and food have been daily sources of encouragement. We have all enjoyed reading through the thoughts, chatting with smiling faces accented by eager eyes, and relishing the delicious expressions of comfort foods.
 

Dad has been doing so well. He has adjusted easily to the wonderful privilege of being at home. It has been neat to watch him regain his independence, with the added treats of his new height. His new posture provides the ability to shave and brush his teeth while looking in the mirror on the wall!  Ducking to fit into the van and under the flower box were surprising necessary moves.

We were taken with alarm and incredible concern, shortly after Dad's arrival home.  His incision, which was still healing, was partly plagued with infection.  His home health nurse was greatly alarmed and reacted with haste to contact Dad's surgeon.  A very trying 48 hours of waiting until we could see Dr. Simmons followed where it was incredibly hard to see blessings through the horrible concern and worry of the what-ifs.  We prayed.  We tried to trust God's healing hand, even if it meant through set backs.  He answered us with encouragement, reassurances, blessings.

The morning of the hurriedly scheduled appointment with Dr. Simmons was brilliantly sunny.  We were just three weeks passed surgery, scared silly about the infection, and headed to the one person who best understands Dad's total condition and had been the most comforting contact throughout this journey.  Dr. Simmons was calm, thrilled with Dad's progress and appearance, and very gently reassuring about the infection. It was just surface.  Relief and deep breaths competed for space in us.  With his recently reassigned antibiotic and more incision cleanings, Dad should heal up nicely in time.  We celebrated with lunch at Dad's choice, Arby's of course, and then a brief visit to Target, for his girls, he said.  We leisurely returned home and settled back into routine.

Dad's shown great strength and determination, with sincere caution through his movements.  Mom has been fiercely supportive and encouraging as she supports him.  I have had the incredible blessing of being here for these moments. We started this road as a family, and had to let Chad and Kevin return to life, after the success of surgery and recovery had started. We missed them so much.  Kevin was able to join us a few days ago, and he has been able to witness Dad's great progress.  Within moments, we will leave for home and Dad and Mom will continue along the recovery road.  We know support of family and friends will continue to abound, as well as the prayers for healing.  If a visitor comes, they may just find Dad relaxing in a setting similar to this. 

The kitty will scatter, for sure, but Dad will stick around and enjoy the visit.  The lives that have woven themselves into the blessings of our journey with Dad through his surgery and recovery will always be an encouragement to us.  Thank you.

Walking Taller

I have never been a parent, watching their child take his first steps.  I wonder, though, if the feelings I have watching my Dad walking might be similar.  I hold my breath as he reaches out to grip the walker, carefully positioning his feet in the unique way that works for him.  Upon reaching that standing position without groans of pain or wobbles, he slowly proceeds to follow that frame of support as he heads to his destination.

His surgery, straightening his back, seemed almost too simple before we went in last Wednesday.  Simple it was not.  Removal of the wedge was just the beginning.  In order to position the back in a more straight line, Dr. Simmons then broke the remaining part of his spine to align him.  If Dad was writing this he would probably say, Yep, they took a wedge out and then broke my back.

Unashamedly, when he stands and walks, I cheer and encourage, take pictures, gape with my mouth wide open, and sometimes still tear up.  He looks straighter, taller, and with a gaze that looks out, not down. I try to tell anyone that will listen that he has been curved my whole life, and that this is not some routine moment.  Looking at my Dad, standing taller, is monumental and a dream come true! 

Recovery, which really is learning how to work those degenerating hips to support this new straight back, is going to be a journey.  It might be a long one.  His next steps from the hospital room door are uncertain.  Would a rehab facility be the best? Can Mom and I take care of things for him at home?  We are certain that our trust in God to lead Dad through surgery is going to be the same trust in the same God who will lead him out of the hospital and down the road with his new perspective on life. 

One Day at a Time

My first glimpse of Dad after his surgery will be forever impressed in my mind and heart.  From his head to his feet, he lay almost level.  His gaze is now directed at the ceiling, so much so that he could not see the tv hanging from his wall.  They had the equivalent of one and a half pillows under his head. Before, Dad had to build a mini mountain of pillows to prop him up in bed while he slept. 

Extraordinary.  Living miracle. An unimaginable vision.  These are only a few words that I can use to attempt to describe him.  He looks so long to us.  I still cry each time I see him again.  I just cannot get over how straight he looks.

A nurse came into the ICU room shortly after we were allowed into see him for the first time.  She asked us how tall he was in a routine, mundane voice. We all stared at her.  We had no idea the answer to her question.  As our minds tried to answer that question, we stated what we knew.

He was 5' 10&1/2", forty years ago.  He was barely 5' tall yesterday.  We don't know how tall he is now.

We don't know today, but tomorrow we will see what height God has restored to him.  We are pretty sure he will be taller than Mom, but shorter than Chad! :)

His breathing tube did not come out after surgery, so instead of sending him to recovery as was scheduled, he was put in surgical ICU.  Breathing tubes, restricted visiting hours, staff that was still working to piece together his story made for a very unsettling evening and night.  We knew they were taking care of him, but we could not witness it for ourselves.

Thankfully, Dr. Simmons checked in on him this morning and was able to relay his progress.  His breathing tube had been removed, he was talking, and he had even made a joke.

When we got to see him, and talk with him the first time, he cracked us up repetitively with his commentary on the goings on around him.  We had our Dad back! 

It took most of the day for them to get him moved from ICU to his regular room.  When they finally released him, we were able to scurry up ahead and welcome him in.  The Lord blessed us with an evening of visiting, laughter, and a new buddy for Dad.  His roommate turned out to be a real character, and the two of them together are like a little comedy routine.  

We know the Lord has been answering all of the prayers that have been offered up for Dad and for us. We know because we are privileged to watch the miracle that is our Dad unfold moment by moment.

This Morning

At 4:30 am, with bleary vision, I caught a glimpse of the hospital through our windows.  Feelings of intense excitement and incredible anxiousness, collided with the calm of the Lord's presence in my heart. 
Dad's surgery is today.  So many people are praying. We all made it.  Dad is so brave.

I walked across the hall to check on Mom and Dad and found them ready to go.  Mom was smiling, and Dad was very thoughtfully packing his pockets with his necessities.  The moments flew by and  I was soon dropping them off at the entrance to the hospital.  Pulling away from the curb, watching some of Dad's last steps before he becomes straight, was indescribable.  With Mom tight by his side, they were entering to his miracle.

After parking the van back at our "home",  Kevin and I walked the short way back up the street to the hospital.  We found Dad and Mom being cheerfully escorted down the hall by a fuzzy haired, happy fellow they all call Father Richard.  Just minutes before, he had announced to a the whole reception area, "Who wants to go to surgery? Follow me!"

A really nice and thorough nurse went through all the necessary medical questions/history, and then described to us what would be happening with Dad while he was away from us. 

A quick call to Chad brought Dad's third hug walked through the door and we were all together as a family.  Dad waited up as long as he could last night, giving directions intermittently, but had to go to sleep before Chad made it. Reunited in the surgery preparation room, we were about to send Dad to a miracle that merely six weeks ago had been a thought. 

If we find the Dr. that helped this man in the newspaper, Dad, will you go see him?  It wouldn't hurt to just visit with him in his office.

They came to collect him, loaded him into the chair, let us have our last hugs, and wheeled him away.  We immediately held hands and prayed him into the hands of the Dr.

His status on the monitor in our waiting room has read  In OR/Procedure since 8:20.  Our next update will be a visit from Dr. Simmons.  We expect him around 2:00. 

I know people are praying.  I know God is watching over every step of this process.  Our hearts are encouraged, uplifted, sometimes scared, and entirely full of anticipation.

Our Dad

In our home, there was a phrase that was repeated often and with confidence, "When Dad gets to Heaven, he will have a straight back."  This was our complete assurance.  In Heaven, Dad's back would be healed.

Dad has ankylosing spondylitis, a degenerative spine disease which is associated with arthritis.  His spine fused throughout his early twenties, leaving his back curved and his neck unable to turn.  I would always say to people that he couldn't turn his head or throw a ball overhand, but other than that he was just fine.  He doesn't complain and has been content to live his life this way.

About a year ago, stiffness and pain settled into his routine and started to hamper regular activities.  Walking distances and riding his bike became great challenges.  Through many visits with a young arthritis doctor, who was full of new ideas and treatments, she eventually determined there was nothing more she could do for him and sent him on his way.  Much of his pain was beginning to center around his hips and they knew that the arthritis was now affecting them.  She recommended that he see an orthopedic doctor to discuss hip replacements.  After he met and assessed Dad, he was not eager to do surgery at this time- due to anethesia concerns and possible mechanical failure due to Dad's posture.  Although he desparately needed them,  healing successfully would be hampered by the curve of his back and it was a risk he would not recommend in his current condition.  The prognosis was bleak and lacked any encouragement.  Faced with no further treatment options or hope from either of these medical sources,  a wheelchair was quickly becoming a looming reality.

In November, Mom was sorting through items, attempting to clean and organize papers. She came across an article that had run in the local newspaper in 2002.  It featured a gentleman, diagnosed with Dad's same disease, anklosing spondylitis, who had received surgery to straighten his back.  The article included a picture and diagrams of his spine before and after. 

In 2002, Dad found it interesting enough to cut out and look at, but did not wish to pursue this man's story any further.  Dad was doing just fine, and had learned to live life quite comfortably with his disease.  An operation in '79 which had left him in a body cast, lying in a hospital bed for seventy-seven days, had been enough to help him to determine that he was not interested in another surgery for his back.  The treatment  had not been effective in the longterm. The sacrifice had been too great.  Another surgery was not at all something of interest.

But when Mom saw it this fall, the need and the hope it ellicited was unparalleled. We were looking at a picture of a man who had been straightened 10 years ago.  What could they possibly do for Dad now?  Could this be the hope we had been left without just a year before?  Would it be something Dad could benefit from now, in light of the need to walk strong again?

The article did not list a doctor, just a health organization's website.  Through some time of searching the computer, we landed on a doctor in Buffalo, a meer one hour from Dad and Mom. His website had articles about ankylosing spondylitis, some authored by himself. Was he the doctor who fixed the man in the newspaper that Mom had been carrying around since November?

In the first few days of this year, a phone call to his office brought great hope to our hearts.  His secretary emphatically stated that he was an expert in his field, and that Dad needed to come see him.  She had an opening in February and thought to schedule Dad's appointment for that time.  As she talked more with Mom and listened as she shared Dad's story and his present condition, she said she knew the doctor would only be happy with her if she squeezed him in earlier.  Would 2 weeks from now work? she asked.   Would it?  Of course!  The appointment was set, January 18. 

The doctor was not in the office that week, the secretary had mentioned. He was at a conference where he was lecturing.  His topic?  Ankylosing spondylitis. 

We prayed through those weeks leading up to his appointment.  I found myself praying for this doctor to be the hands of the miracle that Dad needed.  I also prayed for our hearts to be prepared to hear whatever news the Lord was going to allow that doctor to deliver to us.  Hope was impossible to hold back. 

Merely waiting until the appointment time did not prove to be so simple.  Tuesday night, the evening before the doctor's appointment, while enjoying a visit with a dear friend, a loud crack and resounding thud startled them.  There were high wind warnings for that night from 7:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m.  It was 7:55 p.m.  In that moment,  a huge pine tree had succombed to the wind, swept the edge of their house, and landed on both of their vehicles. So many branches covered the area around and all over the cars, that it was hard to assess the damage in the dark.  One thing they knew, all of Dad's medical records that they had been collecting for two weeks were inside the smashed van.  Mom climbed through branches, shattered glass, and bent metal in an attempt to retrieve them, but was unable to get the door open.  Within a short while, they had relayed their wind story to Grandma, and were returning home with her borrowed car, the car to get them to the doctor appointment the next day.

Wednesday morning brought great help and encouragement.  Dad's brother and nephew were there with chainsaws and muscles to uncover the damaged cars.  Their hard work reduced the toppled tree to pieces, and the wrecker was able to haul away the van for assessment, but not before Uncle Darryl pulled the medical records from inside.  In leaving for the appointment, they discovered that Grandma's car tire was going flat and that also had to be left at the garage.  Quick thinking and more generosity, landed them in the next borrowed vehicle of a friend.

Sitting ten and a half hours away from all of this,  waiting upon every text or phone call, was hard.  With all that had happened in the 12 hours prior to the appointment, what other obstacles might appear?  We had only been waiting two weeks for this appointment, yet really maybe we had been waiting my whole lifetime.

They told me later how it went.  I cried through every word.  They entered the doctor's office, and hanging on his wall in the lobby was a framed copy of the newspaper article.  The very one that Dad had cut from the local paper nearly 10 years before.  This had to be the doctor that helped that man!

After x-rays and waiting, they met the doctor.  His message was calm and assured.  He could straighten Dad.  It would be through a procedure called an osteotomy.   He would cut a wedge in the curved part of Dad's spine.  He would close the gap using bone grafts and stabilizing the spine with rods on both sides.  This process would straighten him.  He would not stand perfectly straight, because then he could only look straight out, since his neck would still not be able to move. He would leave him tilted at such an angle where he would be able to see down in front of him, as well as be able to look straight ahead.  It would be a 3-4 hour operation, followed by a day in the ICU and 1-2 days in recovery.  He would come home with a brace and recover for four to six months.  Within ten months, he would be healed enough to revisit an orthopedic doctor and get those hip replacements.

All of our hopes and our prayers were being answered in the most astounding message from this doctor.  We haven't made it to Heaven yet, and we are hearing that Dad is going to have his "straight back" here, on this Earth.

Surgery was not delayed. 

It is scheduled for February 15, 2012.  It has been two weeks now of unbelievable news and excitement.  I tell whoever will listen, some who have not met my Dad.  I try to express what this means to him, to us.  It is hard to find big enough words to hold the emotion and feelings.  I sometimes express it in these terms.  Todd loved our Dad dearly and did all he could to help around home.  We feel like one of the first things he would have wanted to talk to Jesus about when he got to Heaven was our Dad.  I think they probably talked at length about him, and in God's gracious way, He lead Mom to uncover that newspaper article.  To find it when Dad needed it the most, when we all needed it the most.

We ask for your prayers for Dr. Simmons and his team on February 15.  Please pray for my Dad.  He is so brave to do this.  We have always been so proud of our Dad and Mom. Their courage together to face these operations is astounding.  Please pray for them through this time where God is going to use earthly hands to heal Dad in ways we only dreamed would happen in Heaven.