Questions and Answers

It still hasn't kicked in that I probably saved my husband's life on Sunday. 

That bringing him to the ER because of his sporadic breathing, confusion, and bulging non-dilating eyes would find a few more serious problems on top of or maybe because of the cancer.

My fear increased as the day went on in the ER.  Watching him sweat profusely.  Talking gibberish.  Not really present in the conversation.  Falling in and out of consciousness.  Gray skin.  Swollen ankles.  X rays taken followed by CT scan to get a better look.  Blood tests, urine samples, more blood tests.  Watching his O2 monitor drop to the 50s not being sure if that was due to sleep apnea or not as it would jump back up to the 90s when awake.  Watching the nursing staff and expert IV givers try and fail to run a line due to his veins rolling and being squishy.  Needles jamming into his wrist to get a more blood.

The bruises that followed quickly.  So many bruises.

Finding the blood clot in his right lung stuck in a secondary artery.  Unable to be removed and hoping to be dissolved or at the least, getting a hole in it to allow more blood flow.

Learning that he had an extensive amount of C02 in his blood.  That the only way to fix it would be to wear a bipap machine with a mask that he hated.  Hearing the doctors ask if they could put a tube down his throat if it got bad enough.

Being admitted to an ICU room.  Having visitors show up to pray for my life partner.  Seeing the fear in their eyes.  The love in their hearts.  The compassion in their souls.  Knowing that they would stop and do anything for me if I asked them to.

Restless nights in the hospital.  Talking to doctors, nurses, residents, aids, students, family and friends.  Trying to keep everyone updated.  Trying to remember to eat.  Trying to stay in contact with my kids.  Trying to be strong for my man.

Finding out the CT scan results of several (too many too count) spinal compression fractures.  Things that will never heal.  My strong husband will forever be in pain this side of Heaven.  He will always be on medication.  He will no longer be able to pick me up.  Perhaps he won't be able to shoot a large gun or sit in a tree stand.  He may never be able to fly again.  Or work on trucks with his bare hands. 

He will always need a walker or cane.  The body brace.  The medication.  He may one day need a wheelchair.  Am I strong enough to push him everywhere?

Will I ever lay in bed next to him again?

Will we be able to go on that family vacation we have always wanted to go on?

Changes need to be made.  Are we, am I, capable of making those decisions?  Do I call on the help offered by so many?  Do I continue to trust God?  Am I capable of trusting Him through this all?  Will He continue to be there for us through this entire journey like he has been for the beginning of it?  Will I burn out my friends on needing their help?  Will I burn out?  My kids?

How will we afford to live?  What needs to be sold?  How can we make those decisions?  I don't know what to eat most days, how will I be able to know if I should pay one bill and not the other?  What I should say yes or no to?

So many questions.  Fears.  So many answers, so many ways.  Too many answers, too many ways.

Tonight, I sleep with questions.  Maybe tomorrow I wake up with answers.

The Beginning is NOT the End

Crazy situations call for another blog post.  Perhaps for me, I will keep this going a bit more frequently as I am able to share my thoughts better and if nothing else have a release of them.

For a few moments, I thought about changing the name of my blog to something like "Ted's Terrific Trek" or "Ted's Tumor Terror" but then I could't be the author of it as his story is going to be completely different than mine.

Let me go back about 8 weeks for those of you who don't know what is going on...

Now, this is a story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down.
I'd like to take a minute if your not scare and tell you how I became the ....

I'm stuck... 😆

Truly, about eight weeks ago, Ted had some serious rib pain and he was pretty sure he broke them.  He is slightly on the stubborn side, and didn't go to the doctor until the pain was getting out of hand.  After two or three trips back to the doctor, x-rays were finally taken of his ribs and they showed one broken and one fractured rib.  It was surmised that he broke them while pushing on heavy equipment at work.

A couple weeks later and things are just not healing and he is in a lot of pain asking for refills on his medication.

During this time, I am not thrilled at all with his complaining.  Truly, I was getting so frustrated as I was healing myself from an awful ankle sprain in February and possible meniscus or ITB problems in my knee.  I remember thinking that he just needs to suck it up buttercup.  To say I feel guilty about those feelings now is a huge understatement.

Moving on... Ted goes back to the doctor and has more x rays... about 8 of them of his back/ spine.  This was on a Friday.  From what the primary care doctor could tell, it appeared he had an old injury in the neck where his vertebrae didn't heal, instead they disappeared. Strange that this wasn't seen a few years ago when he was having his lower spine fused together.

Monday or Tuesday of last week, Ted received a call that he needed full blood work done and a CT scan that got changed to a MRI. Blood work came back normal, MRI did not.

Thursday afternoon, I am at work and Ted calls me.

All I could understand was "doctor called", "tumor" he couldn't talk.

I went to him as fast as I could go not at all legally.

When I get to his work, I hug him and ask what they found.  He still can't tell me.  I tell Rich, his boss what I know, and we go home.

Through tears, he tells me that there is tumor on his spine at C6 that pushing against his spinal cord and appears to have engulfed an artery.  He says that they think it is a metastasized tumor from another location.  More scans are needed to find the source.

We hug each other.  It's okay.  Cancer hasn't been said.  Biopsies will need to be done to verify what this is.  Medicine has come a long way.  At least we have answers to why you have been feeling this way. We need to tell the kids.

Ted says he can't.   I do.

I tell them everything I know.  We have always been very open and honest with them.  They are teenagers.  They will be mad if I don't let them know.

Christian is quiet.  His cheeks turn more red.
Alyssa is tearing up.
They are both calm.

I have to be strong for them.   I have to be strong for Ted.

Christian goes up to his bedroom.   Alyssa heads out to the horses.  I settle Ted in his recliner so he can take his medication and a nap.  He is exhausted and in pain.

Would you like me to call your family?  How about your dad?  Okay, I will give them a call and let them know what is going on. It's okay.  You rest.  I know you can't talk about it right now.

I'm still in shock.

I go outside to get some fresh air and call his mom, his dad, his niece, his sister, my uncle (our pastor for a long time).

Then I make dinner.  Hamburgers on the George Foreman and tater tots.  No brain power required for either.

I bring Ted a plate of food.  He asks for more ketchup... which reminds me, I need to buy more.  He really likes ketchup.  We eat dinner like your typical American family in-front of the television attempting to forget all that is reality.  It doesn't work.

Kids go to bed.

Ted apologizes.  Over and over again.  Tears running down his cheeks.

Baby, it's not your fault.  You didn't wake up one morning and put a tumor in your neck.  I don't understand it, either.  You didn't do anything wrong to deserve this.  You are an amazing man and we ARE going to fight this because I will grow old with you and we will sit in our rocking chairs sipping coffee with heads of gray hair.

He looks at the chairs we are sitting in... both rocking recliners.

Nope, we are not old yet.  We are young.  We have a lot of years left.  Stop apologizing.  In sickness and in health.  I promised you that.  We will get through this together.  God knows what is going on.  He knew before the doctors did.  Keep your heart and your mind on Him.  You can't control what goes on in your body but you can control how you react to it.  We have to stay positive.  We have to fight this and we will.  You will survive.

I go to sleep up in our bed.  He sleeps on the recliner.  Friday continues on as normal as it can.  Must stay busy. Must keep mind off of things.

Off and on all day I cry.  My mind is my enemy right now.  It needs to turn off so I can live in today and not in a tomorrow I know nothing about.

We both call central scheduling at the same time for his CT scan.  He schedules it for Tuesday, I change it to Sunday.  Answers are needed yesterday.

Today, plans are made.  Family pictures will be taken.  Brakes on the car replaced.  Horse trailer caulked, cleaned out and measured.

The world around us will not stop.  We can't stop.  I won't stop: Fighting, pushing, living, and believing that this new beginning is the end.  It is just a chapter in our lives we never wanted to read.