After our time with Kevin's family, we headed back to Georgia to celebrate Christmas at home. I had been under so much stress and pressure, a normal sinus infection had reduced me to a hollow eyed shell of a person. I was so sick that Kevin and I celebrated Christmas with our kids on Christmas Eve, something completely against our tradition.
Christmas Day fell on a Sunday, but I was so sick I was unable to attend church that day. I had huge plans to bake several cakes, several pies, and our usual Christmas Day finger foods. I didn't have the strength to get out of the bed. Kevin spent Sunday afternoon between services baking and cooking; he wanted to hold true to our tradition! Since we lived at the church, we had invited any and every one to stay after service Sunday night to have some desserts and finger foods.
But I was completely unable to get out of bed. The festivities I so loved couldn't even motivate me. I had been nursing a terrible sinus infection for several weeks, and with all the heath issues, stress, and traveling, I had succumbed to the infection like it was the plague.
I was also heartbroken. With the friends in our church just a few feet away, I laid in the bed-knowing that there were families that were missing that year. The people that had left in July and August weren't part of our Christmas...I didn't like it one bit. My heart yearned for things to be as they had always been, but that would never happen. One of the families that left had always, ALWAYS, purchased gifts for me, Kevin, and our children. It didn't matter how much money they did or didn't have. They ALWAYS gave us gifts. It was a gesture of gratitude that genuinely made me feel loved. It wasn't the gift or the price; it was the thought. As a Pastor's wife, it humbled me and made me happy to know that someone cared enough to go above and beyond. But that special element was missing. And I felt like any thoughts they had of us this year was hopelessly negative.
The New Year rolled around, and after a visit to the doctor, I slowly began to get over the sinus infection. We had talked to Sandra and Jackie a few days after the New Year to see how their Christmas get together with Sandra's family had gone. They all had a wonderful time! Aunt Linda had even said that Sandra seemed so happy that aside from seeing her in a wheelchair, it was as if she had never been sick. In fact, Linda told me that while Sandra was sitting at the dinner table, it wasn't noticeable that she was bound by a wheelchair. Sandra laughed and talked with her mother, brother, and sister-in-law around the table. No one would have ever known how sick she was, and for just one evening, the awful nightmare seemed to be the farthest thing from reality.
With the New Year came more appointments with the oncologist and the spine doctor. Since Sandra's oncologist could arrange local appointments at the county hospital, we didn't have to drive far for her routine appointments. We had arrived in Camden on our usual day-Tuesday. Kevin's employer was very good to him, but he had used all of his personal leave time. Any time taken off of work would be excused under the Family Medical Leave Act, but it would be without pay. Even though we didn't have a house payment at the time, it made things difficult for us. A cut in income was hard to sustain, but we wanted to be at as many appointments as possible.
We took Sandra to the hospital on Thursday to see Dr.
Babcock. He had prescribed several medications for Sandra, all of which had to be regulated and adjusted from time to time. Jackie and I helped Sandra get on the examination table. She had difficulty laying flat on her back, so she sat up until the doctor came in room.
As he began the examination, she gingerly laid back on the table. The primary concern was her inability to walk. The radiation treatments on her spine were completed, and the next step was more therapy, including hydrotherapy. Dr.
Babcock raised and lowered Sandra's legs one at a time. With her right leg in the air at a 45 degree angle, he moved her right foot toward her head. Her foot began to twitch uncontrollably. Dr.
Babcock referred to this as
clonus, an involuntary muscle contraction that could be caused from spinal cord damage or worse, a neurological problem.
Jackie and I stepped out of the examination area and spoke with Dr.
Babcock.
"That's not a good sign, sir," said the doctor. He explained that even though the cancer was gone from her spine, there could be damage that would keep her from walking. The only remedy, if that were the case, would be another surgery. Jackie cringed at the words...there was no way Sandra would consent to another surgery. And all of us knew how devastating it would be for Sandra to learn that without surgery, she would
never walk. Jackie decided almost immediately to keep this news from Sandra.
The doctor did adjust her pain medication. It seemed that Sandra was constantly nauseated and unable to eat. He determined that her pain medicine was too strong. But in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if the real source of the problem was the mass that had been found on her gal bladder that had not yet been addressed.
Sandra's nausea had become worse. She had no appetite, which worried us all. She would occasionally ask for potato soup. I would try to make it as quickly as possible, but she usually could not wait the 45 minutes it took to make it. She would moan and cry because of the pain in her stomach. I felt so guilty for not having her soup ready in a shorter amount of time. I felt so powerless to help her and meet her needs.
As the month of January passed by, Sandra's needs outgrew her help. Jackie decided to hire a nurse for the evening shift. The need for 24 hour care was evident. It signaled a steady decline in Sandra's condition. She was inevitable getting worse.
Even with 24 hour care, Sandra couldn't maintain a level of comfort. She had begun to throw up after every meal,even if she only ate a small amount. Not only was she vomiting
every time she ate, she had also stopped having bowel movements. After only a few days of being unable to digest her food, she was admitted to her local hospital to be evaluated.
Sandra spent several weeks in the hospital. There were constant x-rays, CT scans, and
bloodwork. Sometimes x-rays were taken twice a day. Sandra grew weary of all the testing; it seemed that none of her issues were being resolved by subjecting herself to all the needles and cold CT tables. She began to act very rude towards the nurses and orderlies. We tried our best to encourage her to behave, but she was tired of the endless testing.
One afternoon I was alone with Sandra at the hospital. Jackie had to work, and Kevin and the children had to go to his mother's house to get some much needed rest. Sandra was having a great deal of abdominal pain. We knew it was stemming from whatever was preventing her from holding down any food. While I was trying to give Sandra some water, she began to cry out in pain. It was obvious how much pain she was feeling, for her cry was one of terror. I frantically buzzed for the nurse. I'm not sure the nurses station could hear me talk; Sandra's sobbing cries surely drowned out the sound of my voice.
Her cry sounded like a person being tortured, and torture it was to hear it! I grabbed her hands and said, "Call on God, Sandra. Call on Jesus Christ!"
As I said those words, a
CNA came running into the room. I fell on my knees beside Sandra's hospital bed and began to pray fervently for God to help Sandra. She cried out, "Oh, Jesus, please....please help me.....I can't take this God.....please stop this pain....Oh, God....I need you!"
I felt the
CNA whizzing around me, trying to get pain
meds pumped into Sandra's IV. I tried to stay out of her way, but once I felt the nurse whiz by me again, I sprang to my feet. I leaned over Sandra, kissing her
forehead and praying aloud that God would touch her body. Sandra's body shuddered as she sobbed. I tried to embrace her, to calm her shaking body.
Soon there was a couple of nurses in there, regulating the pain medication. Her pain subsided, and her sobs morphed into a soft whimper. Less than 15 minutes later, Sandra was
pain free and resting.
With all the testing that had been done, it was determined that Sandra had a blockage that was causing the vomiting. We consulted with a surgeon, Dr. Gill. To correct the problem, surgery would be absolutely
necessary.Linda B. knew Dr. Gill very well. She assured the family that he was a competent surgeon. The surgery was performed within a day. The family anxiously awaited any news Dr. Gill would have for us.
Sandra came through the surgery fine, but the news was anything but good. Dr. Gill found the blockage: a large mass that was restricting her colon from doing it's work. Knowing the futility of removing the mass, Dr. Gill left the tumor. He simply "rearranged" her colon so that the mass wouldn't cause a blockage.
This troubled Kevin and me. Surely it would have been better to remove it. But Linda B. told us about her conversation with Dr. Gill. He said, "Everything I saw was bad. Nothing was good. Cancer was everywhere." We tried to absorb the shock of such tragic news. All of us knew her time was very limited, but Sandra didn't know that. Not yet.
