Images from Surgery Day

Don't look now! I'm patting myself on the back for figuring out how to upload a picture to this blog. I added a couple of shots to last week's post where I told about the former youth group members who came to see us. And now for a few images from the hospital on the day of surgery.

We saw so many different people in the preop area -- I wish I could remember their names! Without exception, their kind manner and easy way of making us comfortable demonstrated how much they enjoy their jobs and love people. This nice lady was getting all the lines in place to receive the you-will-not-remember-this-conversation drugs as well as bag after bag of Ringer's lactate and other fluids Charlie was to receive over the next two days in the hospital.

Who would ever know this guy was about to receive his "blue cap" and move on to surgery. Look at that smile! It's apparent Patrick's presence had a calming influence as we waited for the OR to be ready. One of the nurses came in and reported to us that they were almost finished -- still putting on the table extensions so his feet wouldn't hang off and possibly receive nerve damage during the three-hour surgery. The red cap meant not every person who needed to see him before the operation had made their visit yet. Once the final i's were dotted and t's crossed on his electronic medical record, the red was swapped out for blue, and he was whisked away.

Patrick Shealy, Kathy Lewis, and Steve and Judy Davenport made up Charlie's fantastic waiting room posse. Shortly after he was moved to the Operating Room and we knew there would be no updates for at least two hours, the five of us ventured to the hospital cateferia where more detailed introductions were made and we enjoyed a bite of lunch. This was yet another picture of the Body of Christ; I was the only one who personally knew every of these five, yet we all talked, and prayed, and shared a camaraderie of the Spirit together as if we were all long-lost family.


I suppose there is irony in the fact that the skies outside of Duke Hospital were stormy and threatening all afternoon. All the while indoors, God was providing an incredible peace and assurance to each of us as we waited.


We are still in some ways waiting. We will have a follow-up visit with the surgeon on September 9 to remove the staples from his wound and pull the Foley catheter. This will also be when we will find out the pathology results. The entire prostate, pelvic lymph nodes, and that pesky piece of tissue from the bladder are all being analyzed to determine whether there was any spread of cancer beyond the prostate. While we wait for those answers, we will continue to handle the various tasks involved in getting Charlie strong again, providing nourishing meals, dosing the handful of meds several times a day, and encouraging his gradual return to light physical activity. All in good time, and all the while trusting God.

Many of you have asked about giving us a hand while Charlie is on the mend, and our dear friend, Annette, has come up with an idea I will share with you. She has set up a profile for us on a meal-scheduling web site so anyone who wants to help out by providing a meal can see when and what might be needed. If sharing a meal is your "thing", you can follow the link below to pick a day and then just type in what you would like to bring. The opening page will prompt you to log in or create an ID for using the site. They will not share your information, except to notify us by email when someone signs up.

Click here to access the meal calendar.

Thank you, Annette, for putting your good idea into action!

Before this weekend, I would have said we don't need any help and would have mustered up every ounce of super-mom strength I could find to keep all the balls in the air. But I'm beginning to see the light that by recognizing my own weakness and letting others step in to fill the gaps, I am enabling the Body to function in the way it is intended. I hope I never forget these simple lessons and will in the future be able to emulate the kindness, love, and generosity we are being shown each day.

Laughter is Good Medicine

Friday was a long day, exhausting, but a really good ending to the hospital/surgery part of things. We fueled up for the trip with a yummy breakfast, got Charlie settled in the car, making sure everything he might need was within reach, and set the GPS for Greenville. We obeyed doctor's orders to stop every 45 minutes so he could walk around, thus doing our part to avoid any blood clot formation in his legs. We were able to find some quiet, more-or-less abandoned parking lots for our short strolls, and the trip went without a hitch. We were definitely grateful for a smooth ride and good drugs.

I think we're starting to figure out our routine as far as dosing and keeping track of medications, catheter and wound care, and easy-to-digest meals. I ended up writing everything down; I don't want to entrust giving meds to a memory with the holding power of a sieve. So far, so good.

You might get a chuckle out of a few of the comments I've overheard Charlie say this week. He was so frustrated by his drugged state when Patrick came by the hospital room on Wednesday morning. He walked into the room, and Charlie knew he knew him, but that's as far as his mind would go at the moment. He said, "I know who you are, but I have no idea what your name is." Another remark was made this afternoon on the phone to a friend who has also recently had a lifesaving medical procedure. "How many staples did you get? I have 30."

Sweet Reunions

Does everyone have lingering connections from living in many various places and building relationships along the way, or are we just odd that way? Whatever, that is the situation we are blessed with, and there is almost nothing sweeter than face-to-face renewals of those friendships from years past.

This week, two incredibly special people managed to create breaks in their busy lives and visit Charlie. The first dropped in after we arrived in the Triangle area on Monday evening. Her name is Holly, and she was truly one of the most bubbly and eager middle schoolers that ever walked the planet when we first met her, circa 1988. Now she is a genuine grown-up, a beautiful young lady, inside and out, walking day by day in a growing relationship with her heavenly Father. We had such a fun time recalling old youth group memories and simply catching up on more recent life happenings. However, her almost-three-year-old daughter, Riley, stole the show! We were entertained by every imaginable antic during the course of their visit. (sorry I didn't have access to a photo editor with red-eye correction when uploading this pic)

This afternoon, Holly delivered a handmade Riley creation to cheer Mr. Charlie.

The second visitor arrived unexpectedly in the waiting area shortly after surgery while Charlie was being readied for transport up to his room. While Kathy waited for me to finish my visit in the Recovery Room, a man she didn't know approached her and asked if she was with Charlie Anderson's family. When she answered in the affirmative, he introduced himself and the conversation was off and running. When I came out to find Kathy, I was completely caught off guard and struggled to put the right name with his face, after nearly twenty years since last seeing him when we moved away from this area. After a quick refresh of my memory, Jay and I spent nearly the next hour standing next to Charlie's bedside talking about his current life, family, and of course our shared past. Charlie was still very much feeling the after-effects of the anesthesia during our conversation, but apparently he was somewhat coherent because at one point he brightened suddenly and did his best to clear up the details we were apparently skipping over. I told Jay that Charlie still tells "Jay stories" at times in our Community Group, and he replied that he sometimes uses recalled incidents of Charlie and the White Plains youth group as sermon illustrations. He related how a "failed" Bible study one summer (Jay was the only teen to show up) was the first step toward him gaining a true understanding of the Word. Tuesday night in that hospital room, he thanked Charlie for taking the time to study Philippians with him verse by verse and show him that it really is possible to "get it" and to apply those truths of scripture to real life.


No one in their right mind would want to experience major surgery and all its associated ups and downs, but if it comes with as rich a reward as these two special people brought us this week, it would all be worth it.

Moving in the Right Direction

Oh, the difference a few hours make! Charlie has really seemed to turn a corner for the better this afternoon and evening. When we arrived here at Steve and Judy's house about 30 minutes from the hospital a little after noon today, I was just a tad concerned he might have some trouble getting up the four or five steps to get into the house. After all, climbing stairs uses a whole different set of muscles than the short snail's-pace strolls we were able to take around the hospital corriders on Wednesday. But I was so pleased to watch him arrive on the porch landing without missing a beat!

The other significant change is that his appetite is starting to return. After we got here and he was settled into a comfy chair on the first floor, I headed to the pharmacy to fill his prescriptions and pick up some special-request grocery items from the store. We had talked in the car on the way home from the hospital about what he might be craving; I was digging deep to come up with something creative that might appeal to him and spark his desire to eat. He seemed to click with the idea of a milkshake, so on the way home, meds in hand, I stopped for a Chick Fil-A milkshake. (Yes, I was still having a hard time coming off of the hospital habit of watching him pick lightly at something and then proceed to demolish it for myself, so I ordered the large shake, knowing full well he wouldn't eat it all, and then I would get to enjoy some, too!) I was right about predicting how much he would eat, and he and I both finished the afternoon with satisfied bellies.

After a restful nap, he perked up pretty well and ate a well-rounded supper, although the portions were still much smaller than what would normally appear on Charlie's plate. At the moment, Judy is tempting him with a nightcap of homemade apple crisp. I'm sure she won't have to twist my arm!

The plan for Friday is to sleep in without an alarm and then hit I-40 after morning traffic subsides, probably between 9 and 9:30. Our special treat tomorrow morning will be to meet Steve and Judy's two beautiful grandchildren. Could there be a better way to put smiles on our faces to start off the trip?

One Milkshake, Two Straws, Please

What a day it's been at Duke University Health System. The term "roller coaster" quickly comes to mind. It started with a morning drive to the hospital on the traffic-clogged Durham Freeway, included a very unsuccessful walk in the hallway (interrupted due to the severe pain of a spasmodic bladder), several phone call attempts from friends and family that he simply wasn't coherent enough to answer, all interspersed with random moments of a very alert and talkative patient starting to seem like his old self, and ending with both Charlie and me pretty much tuckered out from one really long day.

Even though there were a few rough spots today, it was mostly a very good day. Patrick was headed back to Greenville early this morning, and he got to stop in and check on things before Kathy and I arrived. Nice that there was someone familiar there to start the day with. Kathy got me set up with her recently retired laptop PC (for you Mac fans out there, she's now one of you) in order to stay semi-connected to the outside world. I could probably have filmed one of those "Can you hear me now?" commercials featuring the contortionists, considering the the crazy repositioning I was trying so the hospital wireless signal would at least remain at "low" strength instead of "very low".

Charlie and the nursing staff made good progress on pain control, and we got to see our surgeon late this afternoon. That reminds me of an enjoyable moment with the doctor where one casual question about his involvement in an event at the hospital this weekend led to his sort of letting down his guard and venting a little about some frustrations of the day he had today. His comments started with, "Want to know what I've been doing today?" Don't get me wrong, it wasn't in a complaining spirit, just felt like he wanted someone else to understand what things are like from his side of the operating table. We felt a little privileged that he had felt comfortable enough with us to candidly speak "person to person" about things which had nothing to do with Charlie's particular case. Have we mentioned he's a really nice guy, and we really like him? :)

Another sweet moment occurred while we were taking one of the three very successful laps around the triangular-shaped hallway lined with patient's rooms. (Yes, there was that one pain-shortened stroll, but the other three attempts through the day were all good!) As we were in the homestretch of the final leg of the triangle, a man lying on the bed in his own room raised a "victory fist" as he saw Charlie shuffle past his door, and called out, "Keep going!" He looked like he was in the same age range as Charlie, which is a contrast to the mostly elderly patients on the sixth floor, and I stopped briefly to engage him. I asked how long he had been here, and he said they had removed a kidney this morning for cancer. I told him Charlie had his prostate taken out yesterday, also for cancer. I think seeing another "younger" guy on a similar road made him want to make some kind of contact. I think I'll see if Charlie feels up to a quick chat with him on one of his hallway circuits tomorrow. Who knows if we'll encourage him, or maybe the other way around?

And I had to fess up to the nurse (Ray, a really nice guy who I was glad to have helping Charlie in and out of the bed those first few times... how could one of those little bitty female nurses have ever managed to give him the supportive lift he needed?!) when he came around after lunch and again after dinner to record how much his patient had consumed that I had eaten more of the meal than had Charlie. He's done well with taking in lots of liquids, but he just hasn't had much of an appetite for solid food yet. Oh well, we're paying for it and it's going to be thrown away if someone doesn't eat it, right? As far as a review, the oven-baked chicken and seasoned potatoes were much preferred to the meatloaf, sort-of-dry mashed potatoes, and limp broccoli. I can't wait to see what "we're" having for lunch tomorrow!

Whew!

From Tuesday evening, 6 pm:
I just met with Dr. Polascik after he finished Charlie's surgery. The words of one of the surgical assistants pretty much agree with the doctor's summary, "The patient did well." Kathy Lewis was with me in the postop consultation room, and after Dr. Polascik left she said, "He's a man of few words." But I was very encouraged with the few words he did speak.

To cut to the chase, he feels he was able to fully remove all the cancer. He liked what he saw in dissecting the pelvic lymph nodes, and to his very experienced eye they looked clear. The one concernwas a part of the bladder that "didn't feel right". To handle that concern, he took off that small section of bladder, and then it felt normal. This is exactly the kind of potential scenario that made us opt for an open surgical technique rather than robotic surgery. A robot could not have "felt" that abnormal tissue and taken care of it. One more example of how God has divinely led us every step of the way on this unwelcome journey.

As of morning time on Wednesday:
Kathy spent the night with me at our sweet friends' home last night, and we sniggled our way through moderate traffic to get back to the hospital this morning. Patrick Shealy had been with us in the Surgery Waiting Area yesterday, and he too spent the night nearby. He was here to greet Charlie this morning and had gone before we arrived, but we are so appreciative of him taking the time away from family and other duties in Greenville to come and be a loving support for all of us here.

The nurses have already had Charlie up on his feet to make the few steps from bed to recliner, and he is peacefully snoozing there as I type. Those were a tough couple of steps. But so far, pain seems pretty much under control. Dr. Polascik will be coming to make his rounds sometime later this morning, so I will be glad to hear any more details about what he found at surgery and his opinion of the expectations for recovery going forward.

I apologize for the lapses in communication yesterday. I tried to post last night from the waiting room, but apparently something failed in transmission and the entry did not actually arrive at its intended destination.

For community group members, if you did not get any updates via text message yesterday, I apologize. I sent to everyone I had mobile numbers for in my phone. If you did not hear from me and would like to if I text any updates today, please send a text or email with your number.

Thank you EVERYONE for the beautiful messages you sent yesterday. It was a long day of waiting, but there was never a moment of feeling alone or that any need was going unmet. You are each one a special blessing to our family.

In God's Hands

Here's the brief update for anyone checking during the day before the email updates do their daily "digest". Surgery finally got underway at about 2:15. We are told to expect about a three-hour procedure, but hopefully someone will update us at some point along the way. Dr. Polascik came in during the preop wait, and we were glad to see him looking fresh and ready to go. :)

I am happy to be surrounded by several compassionate and caring friends in the surgical waiting area. God has provided again and again as we've been walking on this journey we never would have chosen for ourselves.

Thanks for the many of you who are praying. We know God hears and answers.

Resting Up

As I type this, Charlie is snoozing on the sofa at the home of our sweet friends, Steve & Judy, who live not far from Durham and have graciously offered to serve as "base camp" for our visit here at Duke. This home away from home is only one of the many ways God has used a brother or sister to display His love and generosity to us.

All went well this afternoon at the pre-op screening appointment. We went through about a half dozen stations on the clinic circuit to learn that all his vital signs are good, the EKG readout didn't set off any alarms, and we've been given the green light for surgery tomorrow afternoon at 1 . We'll arrive at the hospital at around 11 for the staff to get him prepped and ready for surgery. It's hard to believe what we've been waiting for so long is finally here.

As far as what will happen tomorrow, we are told to expect about a three-hour procedure, followed by Recovery Room time for however long it takes him to come out of anesthesia and be declared ready to go to his room. I'm so thankful to have a good friend coming to mark time with me in the surgical waiting area.

The patient is banned from eating anything solid until after surgery, so we stopped and bought him a box of popsicles as suggested by one of the nurses this afternoon. For now, I'll enjoy Judy's home-cooked hospitality on Charlie's behalf, and both of us will try to get a good night's rest.

The Night Before

This is a very quick post just to let you all know we think things are in order to leave for Duke tomorrow morning (Monday) after the kids get off to a day at school, practice, etc. My parents arrived on Saturday afternoon and worshiped with us this morning. We have given them a list of times & places, as well as lots of "just-in-case" phone numbers.

As far as Tuesday's surgery goes, we are booked for a this-is-still-subject-to-change-call-again-on-Monday-afternoon-to-verify time slot of 1 pm. We'll definitely let you know if the schedule changes.

We cannot tell you how deeply we appreciate your many kind gestures and tangible acts to help us plan and get through these initial steps of taking care of this cancer. My parents will be here holding down the fort with the twins while we are in Durham, and if you think of something you would like to do to assist while they're here, I'm sure they would accept your offer. I know I have a long way to go in learning to ask for and receive tangible help.

Expect the Unexpected

The little things we weren't planning on have begun to occur in these last few days leading up to surgery. When we had our June consultation with the surgeon, the scheduler was so considerate of us being from out of town and arranged for the preop screening/interview to just be done over the phone. Ta-da, what could be simpler? Well, as it turns out, simple isn't exactly the way things work when major surgery is involved.

Because Charlie's blood loss during surgery is anticipated to be significant (we're told it's pretty much an unavoidable part of this particular procedure), the requirement of three units of blood means they have to do the whole blood typing and cross-matching routine, as well as a complete battery of lab work. We had originally planned for Charlie to donate some of his own blood in the months before surgery, but then nurses and doctors in our various appointments discouraged it. The phone conversations today revealed that they thought he was banking his own blood, even though these were the same people who told us don't worry about going to that trouble.

All that to say, it seems part of what God is teaching us right now is to trust Him with every detail, even though some of those details seem to be moving targets. Thanks again for continuing to pray for us.

Thank You!!

We want you know that we had several offers of vehicles after posting yesterday about needing a more appropriate mode of transportation for the return trip from Duke! As it turns out, the car we will be using is an extra vehicle (because the husband drives a company car), and our using it won't leave this family short on cars while we take it out of town. God is amazing, and the way He uses the body of Christ is living itself out in vividly full color in our lives these days.

A Few Thoughts from the Patient

I've asked Terri to show me how to post to this blog. Maybe I'll figure it out after surgery while I have lots of down time. For now, she is excerpting from a couple of messages I sent to various friends over the course of the summer while processing the news of cancer and waiting for the surgery date. I hope you can appreciate how God has been directing my thoughts and giving an indescribable peace.

Here is what I shared with my Friday morning Harper group:

The one “God” thing that impressed upon me on our visit to Duke back in June was that no one there said they “were sorry that we had cancer.” Yes, they deal with cancer on a daily basis, yet their attitude was one of welcome, we will take care of you, and we are here to serve you. The staff told us what they are going to do and told us what we need to do. As I was walking into the clinic that day, I was praying that God would help me be the best that I could be in what I was to hear and what I needed to do. I was going to make it easy on the staff to do their jobs. I knew this was for His glory, His purpose, and a reflection of His love for me.

God the Father, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit never says that they are sorry. They knew what was happening before I did. They are not surprised, and they don't need a “silent moment” to gather their thoughts. They are there with open arms ready to welcome me and take care of me. God is not apologizing to me that I have cancer and the obstacles that it creates for me, my family, and my friends. He has made no mistake and is fully involved with all the details. I have been reading in Romans a lot over the last couple of months, also a couple of books, and I seem to be drawn to that God of peace Who is and the truth that He has set me free from worry if I only would live like He promises. To trust Him to know that tribulations lead to hope and peace.

And here's part of an email I sent to my community group:

Today I got to speak with a dear brother. Life has caused us to drift apart from each other, but now we share the common thread of prostate cancer. The phone call was quite powerful, and I showed more emotion and passion than ever before on the life impact of knowing I have cancer.

There have been some amazing “God” moments where He shows himself so very clearly, so powerful, so reassuring, and so full of grace and love, yet this 30-minute phone conversation may be the top lesson and blessing that God had planned for me through this experience. As this brother has struggled in his recovery, he has shared that struggle with others, and they in turn have shared theirs. This keeps him focused on God and not himself. Through our conversation, we kept going back to how God is in the midst of it all.

You've Asked How You Can Help

The waiting is almost over. If we were launching a space flight, we would be in "T-minus" countdown status. Or as Charlie always said when our pregnancies were getting close to term, we're now in "Red Alert" mode.

As we are finalizing lists and getting everything ready to be in Durham for a few days, we have realized something we could use your help with. We believe we could use a vehicle with a larger back seat so we can minimize post-op discomfort on the drive home. Would anyone be willing to swap vehicles with us for a few days next week? The car we could swap with you is Terri's Ford Taurus, which seats five, but not with enough room to spare for 6' 5" Charlie to sprawl out and get comfortable.

We will be leaving for Duke sometime on Monday morning, and we anticipate driving home either Thursday or Friday. If your driving situation would accommodate trading vehicles (larger car or even a mini-van) for a few days, please let us know.

Keeping it All in Perspective

Since recently emailing a large number of people who did not yet know about Charlie's prostate cancer and upcoming surgery, we have been blessedly flooded by notes of encouragement and truth from the Word. Your words have spoken their own kind of healing, and one message in particular shed a new light on the perspective we believe God wants us to have in these kinds of situations. After all, His kingdom is about a far more precious commodity than our physical health or happiness. Maybe reading this friend's comment will encourage you as well, according to your current circumstances.

"All mission fields are not in Africa, South America or even another state. Some of them come with call buttons, IV bags, and tile floors that click with the wheels of hospital beds. Look for those moments as your family travels this road. Someone is going to need to hear the gospel. There may be more than one.

We are praying for an easy surgery, complete recovery, and for the ones you are to touch to be open to your words and may they see lives full of expectations of what the Lord is going to do."

I couldn't have said it better. Something tells me we are going to be blessed even beyond our expectations in ways we could never have anticipated.