Surgeon: “We Are Going To Treat It Aggressively”

Intuition and intelligence can sometimes be a curse. Sometimes, not knowing is just better.

Yesterday was my first visit to the Wound Management Center at St. Luke’s. Everyone was friendly and smiling. The women at the front desk were very courteous. I didn’t have to roll myself to the exam area; they offered to push. I enjoyed my ride knowing that this was not going to be much fun.

I transferred from my wheelchair to a comfortable electric lounge chair. The leg rest slowly raised my legs up. The entire chair was elevated. When they unwrapped my bandages and saw the damage that the cellulitis was causing, their smiles could not conceal the look in their eyes nor the occasional grimace. They apologized every time that the bandages tugged on my wounds. I kept telling them to do whatever they needed to do and that I’d be OK.

I wasn’t OK. The Vicodin was barely helping. All I could do was pray. “In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help.”  –Psalm 18:6

The pads that they placed under my legs were soaked with the fluids that were draining out of my wounds. They carefully lifted my legs to change the pads. They would do that a number of times. They photographed my wounds to create a reference point to track my condition. Then the surgeon came in.

When he saw my legs he stopped smiling. He was very courteous, but all business. I like that. He told me everything that he sensed was wrong and exactly how bad my situation is. I told him that I appreciate his honesty. He then explained how they were going to aggressively treat my condition and what I needed to do to help them heal me – that is, if the course of treatment actually works. There is no guarantee.

The vascular condition in my lower legs is incurable. There is no surgery or medication that can fix it. As a result, it causes other conditions to develop. When you lump all of these together, I’m in trouble. So, St. Luke’s is coordinating a team to aggressively treat me in order to keep me alive. The plan seems to contain a lot of “what ifs” and maybes. I’m told that a number of new treatments have been developed.

The staff then had the fun job of removing dead skin from my legs so they could apply new dressings. Once new bandages were in place, they applied three layers of compression to each lower leg. I usually get a sense of relief right after a new bandage change, but not with these. Every time I move a leg the dressing tugs at one or more of the wounds. It hurts. If this is what it takes to save me, then so be it.

All I can do is watch and wait. God is my rock. I give this up to him.

New Cellulitis Infection In My Lower Legs

I had an emergency visit on Tuesday and I’m about to go on an emergency appointment to the wound care center at the hospital today. Last night was truly a slice of hell. I took the maximum dose of pain meds twice (as prescribed — I did not od.) I have not been this sick in a long time.

Throughout my life, I have always had a positive outlook toward my disAbility. Since accepting Christ as my Lord and Savior, it’s been easier to deal with all of my physical issues. However, I have a really bad feeling in my gut this time. I’m hoping it’s just anxiety. But realistically, my legs are a real mess.

I don’t know if I’ll be admitted or set up with visiting nurse care. If anything should happen to me, please know that it has been a privilege and a pleasure to serve the needs of the hurting and the lost. It has also been an honor to be your friend. If I recover from this, blame this on a huge anxiety attack.

Please pray for me.
In Christ,
Pastor George

Goodbye My Dear Friend (Sing That Song For Me)

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.
–Thessalonians 5:11

Let me tell you about my best friend. Her name is Patty. We met in an online disAbility support group. The group was horrible except for one thing: that’s where we met. It didn’t take us long to realize all of the things that we have in common.

• We are Christians.
• Our family doesn’t understand our faith and devotion to Christ.
• We listen to Todd Rundgren, Foo Fighters, Fields of the Nephilim, Blues, Punk…
• We love photography.
• Two words: Doctor Who
• We share an almost identical set of multiple disAbilities.
• Our spouses left us because they couldn’t handle the “chair thing”.
• We each own a guitar, yet rarely play it for anyone but ourselves.
• She prefers the ovals to the road courses in IndyCar. (She’s a keeper.)
• And way too many things to put on one simple list.

After a couple of weeks of mutual complaining, we decided to leave the group and continue to talk to each other on Skype. This was a scary decision. It meant that we would actually get to see each other. We shared our apprehensions. They were outweighed by our desire to actually talk to each other. I told her she was beautiful. She told me I was handsome. We accused each other of lying. Undoubtedly, she is the most beautiful 48 year old woman on the planet.

She told me how blessed I was to have so much independence. She had to move back to her parents’ home. They hired a fulltime live-in nurse to care for her named Maria. Her family treated her like a piece of furniture or a house plant that just needed to be watered and placed in the sun periodically. They hated God, blamed Him for her disAbilities, and called her a fool for loving Jesus. Patty’s Bible would mysteriously go missing and show up in odd places. On those days, she would Skype and ask me to read the Bible to her. Unless she had something specific in mind, I’d pick something related to being renewed in Christ. I did my best to make sure she would never lose hope. Eventually, Maria bought an extra Bible for her to use.

Her parents’ attitudes were driving her friends away. Thank God Maria was as much of a friend as a nurse. They bought her a power chair because they were embarrassed by her struggles in her favorite chair. I told her about the steep hill next to my house and my various adventures of zipping down that and others, often while avoiding unexpected traffic. I always laughed when well meaning new friends would panic thinking I had a brake failure. There is a steep shopping center parking lot that I want to zip down, but nobody will let me. I hate to admit they are smart.

Unbeknownst to me, those stories gave Patty a desire to plan her own adventure. She just needed the courage. She picked out a hill in a local park. She distracted Maria and gave her wheels a hard two handed shove. Maria screamed and chased after her. After a brief argument, Maria agreed to let her do it again. I told you she was awesome, didn’t I?

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that we live over 1000 miles away from each other. In our current conditions, neither of us is allowed to fly. We share a similar sense of humor and on most days one of us would say: “I’m dying to meet you.” Her worst hip was her left and mine was my right. She told me that we each had one bad wing and when we finally get to meet, we’ll be able to fly together. We made a promise: the one whose cellulitis cleared up first would fly to the other so we could have a big squishy bear hug. One of the bad things that we share is chronic cellulitis. My recent outbreak has been slowly waning. Patty’s has been like a rollercoaster ride.

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. We felt like we had known each other for years. We shared stories both happy and sad. We shared secrets. We laughed together and on some days we cried.

Patty got another high fever. They increased the dosage of her antibiotics. Her wounds were coming back and her lower legs were weeping. They brought in a wound care nurse to give her fresh dressings every day. We have each had many similar experiences before, so we knew that it was just another setback.

I got an unexpected Skype call from Patty. Her doctor was going to admit her to the hospital. He was making arrangements for an ambulance to transport her. Then she shocked me. She told me that she wrote a letter for Maria to read to me in case she died. She insisted that she read it to me. She said she needed to say goodbye. She had a gut feeling that she had to read it. I argued against it. She said it was an argument that I couldn’t win. I decided to listen. She opened her Bible and pulled out some neatly folded papers. After a few paragraphs I had a huge lump in my throat. Before she was done, my eyes were too wet to see my screen. Maria’s crying in the background was making me worse.

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say or do. I told her exactly how I felt about her. I told her how I had fallen in love with her. I told her how I wanted to hold her hand during her ambulance ride and sleep next to her hospital bed until she could come home. I told her that there was no way that I could say goodbye. So she asked me if I could say goodnight. In my awkward silence she asked me the question that practically floored me: “Can you sing the song to me?”

About two months ago, I told her about a friend who would wake up almost every night at three a.m. with screaming nightmares and flashbacks. That went on for about a year, and then would periodically reoccur. I’d have to rush to her side to calm her down. Then I’d sit next to her and try to help her to go back to sleep. Each time when she was almost sleeping, I’d sing a song to her. Most times it would put her right to sleep before I was done. Sometimes, I’d see her smile before she would doze off.

Now here I am, a teary mess, and Patty wants me to sing. I asked her to give me a minute. I begged God to give me the strength to pull myself together and sing. There was only one song I sang before. I told her what it was. There was no getting out of it. I sang:

I have a place where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
It’s not on any chart,
You must find it with your heart.
Never Never Land.

It might be miles beyond the moon,
Or right there where you stand.
Just keep an open mind,
And then suddenly you’ll find
Never Never Land.

You’ll have a treasure if you stay there,
More precious far than gold.
For once you have found your way there,
You can never, never grow old.

And that’s my home where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
Just think of lovely things.
And your heart will fly on wings,
Forever in Never Never Land.

You’ll have a treasure if you stay there,
More precious far than gold.
For once you have found your way there,
You can never, never grow old.

And that’s my home where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
Just think of lovely things.
And your heart will fly on wings,
Forever in Never Never Land

I did it. I didn’t falter. I didn’t miss a note.

Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.
–Ephesians 4:2

Then that huge lump was back in my throat. She had a huge smile on her face. I told her that we will sing together when she comes home. That’s when the ambulance arrived. We stayed on Skype together until they had to transfer her to the gurney.  We texted for a day and a half. Then she stopped replying.

Maria sent a text to tell me that her body was having trouble fighting the infection and they were afraid that she was going into organ failure. She was unconscious.

My phone rang early in the morning. It was Maria. Patty’s heart stopped twice, but they revived her. After consulting with the doctors, her family signed an order to DNR: do not resuscitate. Shortly after the DNR was signed, Patty’s heart stopped.

Record my lament; list my tears on your scroll…
–Psalm 56:8

Who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.
–Philippians 3:21