Safe at Home

If you're reading this, then I'm looking over your shoulder and you should really close some of those tabs. Not really, I'm far too busy telling Jesus stories about my incredible kids to bother with you. Oh, and Bob Gibson showed up a little while after I got here. I'm still trying to snag an autograph. And they must have re-paved, the streets are more of a rose-gold.

10 weeks after Poppa/Dad/Daddo/Tim got home from his last hospital visit, he took his last breaths the way he wanted, surrounded by his family early morning on October 2. We had a lot of time we didn't expect together this summer, even more than we thought when he was diagnosed last spring, but far less than we all hoped for, if we're being honest. As much as we tried, and we're so grateful for the time we had, you just can't fit all the things you were wanting to do together into such short time. Hospice is a brutal gift - time at home to sort through necessary paperwork and accounts, to continue meaningful conversations and make more memories, and to care for someone as their body slows and their heart is called home. We made the most of every moment, and if there's an upside to this pandemic that keeps us socially apart, being able to work from home meant Mollie and Annie and Luke and our partners were able to be present together with Mom and Dad through this time. And he and Mom got to celebrate their 44th wedding anniversary together.

I'm not sure how you succinctly put someone's life into a few words in a blog post, but if you were lucky enough to know Tim, you know the imprint he left in the world. He loved his family fiercely, he loved Jesus and kept learning and growing with Him, he built a beautiful home which he loved welcoming friends to (with a great bottle of wine), and he leaves a legacy of kindness, generosity, intentionality and a healthy of dose of irreverence. We already miss him with the kind of deep ache that you aren't sure has a end, but we believe we'll see him again, and the love we shared isn't going anywhere.

At one point when the Cardinals were stuck in a hotel and games were delayed for weeks with COVID, he thought he'd outlast the season. Since he died the morning they lost the wild card playoff, we'll call it a tie. 

We have been so well taken care of by friends of all of us over these past 10 weeks, and years, truly, and we're so thankful to you all for food, and assistance with the yard, and for all of your prayers. Thank you for being on this journey with him, and continuing to be with us. 

We are holding a socially-distanced, masks-required service at Hope Church, 3000 Lenhart Rd, Springfield on Tim's birthday, October 19th, at 4:00pm. Visitation starts at 3:00 as you enter the building. Hope has rows marked off, and if necessary, we'll open up overflow space to keep safe distance. We want to celebrate his life with you, safely. Remember, no one fights alone. 

Going Home

Hi friends, a lot has changed since my last post, and I want you to hear it from me. Soon after, I went into the hospital for two weeks trying to fight off another mystery infection. It was very difficult, but I managed to get back home last weekend. Since then, the tests have shown that the cancer treatment is not working, and my body has just been through so much. I'm very tired, but with the unflinchingly dedicated care of our dear friend Dr. Agamah, we have fought a great fight. Therefore, after lots of prayer and conversation with family, we've entered hospice care at home, as of today; this means keeping me as comfortable as possible in the time that I have left with my family.

While this is obviously difficult, I'm very at peace with this decision, and I'm ready for this next step. We were blessed with a year we didn't think we would have, and it's been a wonderful year. And we know that this isn't the end: now I'm ready to walk into a new world with a new body with my Father. I've had an incredibly blessed life with my Nancy, with my children, and so many incredible friends. I wish there was some way to adequately thank all of you and say a proper farewell for now, and this is my attempt to do that. I had a great career with incredible coworkers and colleagues, who are still dear friends. I have a church home filled with people who became family. You all have been such a blessing to me and to my family, and there is no easy way to say goodbye.

Five years ago, I received an amazing gift of a new kidney from my Uncle Tom, and D'Artagnan (the kidney) has performed steadfastly through everything, for which I am so grateful. His gift, and the incredible care of the Memorial Transplant Services team, has given me quality time with my family; even through this part of the journey, they have checked on me and cared for me. I used to donate blood and platelets, and I'm an example of the beautiful gift of organ donation and recipient of blood to keep me going. If you're able, I would encourage you to consider giving these gifts to someone else, as well.

This is a hard place to be, and I want to be here with my family, but I feel my body winding down. I'm so happy to be with my family and I don't want to leave them, but the time is coming. I can't rationally know exactly what lies ahead, but I believe with all of my being that I'll be walking with Jesus soon, without pain, able to see clearly, and waiting for all of you. I know that you'll continue to love and support my family through this time, and I really appreciate that. Thank you for being a part of my wonderful life.

I hope all of you have the peace that we have, no matter what life deals you. What a gift!

Fourth Update

Having messed up Mother's Day, I managed to do the same with Father's Day. Another set of symptoms put me in the hospital for four days, but no infection was ever found. That delayed my new round of chemo by a week, but I did get the infusion earlier this week. So far the side effects have been minimal, for which I'm very grateful. The plan is for six doses given three weeks apart which will hopefully get things back under control.

As usual, the hospitalization took a lot out of me physically, so I'm doing exercises to restore strength and endurance to allow me to be able to once again do simple things around the house. Some days are easier than others.

I finally got in to see my eye doctor. My cataracts have gotten so bad nothing else can be done for my vision until they're removed. I have a consult with a corneal surgeon next week and will hopefully come away with a reasonable plan that can be carried out soon.

Happy celebration of independence, liberty, and freedom! While our country has lots of problems, I've been to enough other countries to know that this is home to me.

More Adventure and Some Wonderful News

I started thinking about composing an update a couple of days before Mother's Day pointing out how smoothly things were going. The day before Mother's Day I was more tired than usual and even worse the following day. So much for celebrating my wonderful wife
and the loving mother of our children.

My temp crept up throughout the day to the point that I had go to the ER late that evening, I ended up being admitted for five days while being treated for a blood infection. My existing  line in my right shoulder was removed and a new one placed on the left.

In the meantime, the oral medication was not helping with my cancer, so I was switched to another. Unfortunately, that one is not working either, so I'll be starting a six round cycle of IV chemo in a week and a half.

All of this has left me weak and easily fatigued, and a bit discouraged at times. Nancy takes good care of me and reminds me how far I've come. I couldn't do this without her.

There has been some very good news recently. Luke and Audrey are engaged and planning to wed in October. We're so delighted for them. He's asked me to be his best man, so I need to get my strength and stamina up for the trip to Dallas and all the festivities.

Two Weeks Later and One Year Ago

The last couple of weeks have been far smoother than the previous few. No high temps, no illnesses, no trips to the ER, no side effects (or bill) so far from the new med. Still investigating anomalies with my kidney, but my lab results continue to be good.

In many ways this time of isolation is not far removed from how we have been living cautiously since my transplant, just more comprehensive. We do miss being together with family and friends, but we do what we can with them to compensate.

Easter has long been a special time for me; its reality, its humanity, its ultimate victory. This year it had even more meaning as we reflected on this time last year. On Good Friday last, after having a liter of fluid removed from around each of my lungs, I asked the pulmonologist about my prognosis. He said that they were treating me with the most powerful antibiotics they had, and I had two more days for them to kick in, or I would either have to go on a ventilator or let the pneumonia take me.

My family was there, and we talked about it as we had all along. As ever, we were reconciled to wherever our Father chose to take us next. Earlier in the day I had asked if some friends could come visit, although I didn't have a particular reason. That evening i told them what was going on, and in many ways it was a provisional parting.

The next morning Dr. Agamah said that I needed IV immunoglobulin, which was administered, along with all my other medications, antibiotics and treatments. We spent a normal day as a family in the hospital, while wondering what would come next and when.

On Easter Sunday, I woke up feeling like a new man. I didn't have my strength back nor was the pain gone, but I felt bright and alive. It was an incredible feeling, and one I was thrilled to share with my family.and eventually friends. It was wondrous, as was my going home less than two weeks later. The adventure has continued from there.

We live because He lives. Here and now, now and forever. What a beautiful, glorious gift!

Detours and Anniversaries

One month since that last post, and a few things have happened along the way. The night after I posted it I began to develop a low-grade fever, resulting in my going to the ER to get checked out. I was admitted, and blood cultures eventually revealed that I had a staph infection in my blood, probably from my IJ PICC line, which was eventually replaced by a new line on the other side. In the meantime, Nancy came down with the flu and had to stay home. I then came down with it and developed some pneumonia on the side. By the time my 13-day stint was over, we hadn't seen each other for 10 days.

I had been home for 10 days recovering and on an IV antibiotic for the staph when I again developed a low-grade fever overnight. We were reluctant to go to the hospital because by that time COVID-19 was showing up here, but it was that or die at home of sepsis. We were very impressed by the precautions and procedures at the hospital. I was admitted once again, but this time Nancy couldn't be with me because of the no visitor policy. The blood cultures came up negative, and nothing else definitive was discovered. There have been some changes in my kidney function, and tests are ongoing to see if I might be having a rejection episode. I ended up staying 6 days in the hospital and have now been home for three, feeling pretty well.

The scans from a month ago showed no new cancer and improvements in some previously identified areas. The doctor decided to end chemo at this point because of the toll it was taking on me. He has prescribed a hormone suppressant oral medication to further diminish the cancer. We're waiting to see how it works out with insurance, as it could be as much as $15,000/month without coverage.

In the midst of all this, there were three medical anniversaries this month. Friday was the fourth anniversary of the removal of my diseased kidneys. Thursday was the first anniversary of my cancer diagnosis and the beginning of my long hospitalization last year. And Tuesday was the fifth anniversary of my transplant - happy anniversary, D'Artagnan!

We're very thankful to have made it through this so far, and also that our children and their loved ones have been healthy and remain employed. These are strange times, yet we are safe in Dad's care, and pray that you are as well.

Mid Round Six

Just a quick update on things. This round of chemo has really hit me hard. Not in terms of side effects, but in knocking the stuffing out of me. I've been really weak and tired, even with extra steroids, for a week and a half following the treatment. It seems to be getting slowly better now, but I'm on alert for what the next two rounds might bring.

In the meantime, I had a CT scan and a full body bone scan today. Hoping those will show good progress in this fight.

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