Hospice

In the home where I grew up, my Dad continues to fight the cancer that is slowly claiming his body.

Last week, Mom took him to the ER for pain and dehydration.  Ex-rays show that his esophagus is now all but closed.  Doctors are evaluating whether an esophageal stint would give him  measurable (though temporary) relief. 

He is still able to take small amounts of liquid.  But his ability to get solid food down is lost this side of Heaven.  For a man who has always enjoyed Mom’s wonderful cooking, this is hard both mentally and physically.

Yesterday, he finally gave in and allowed nurses from hospice to come to the house.  From what I can gather, they worked through equipment needs, as well as a living will. 

For him, I know, this step means acknowledging that he is loosing the battle.  And it was a hard day to endure.  I’m glad my brother could be there with them for this meeting.

A hospital bed will be brought to the house today. 

Even though we know that Heaven and his Savior await, it’s still tough.  I cannot imagine how difficult it must be for those who don’t have that assurance.

To that end, pray that God wraps us each with His peace, and that we would be able to reach out to those around us with the only answer there is to life’s tragedies.

I talk to Mom and Dad on the phone often.  And sometimes, I am absolutely torn by a desire to be there.  However, we press on here in Indiana with soccer and school and canning and work.  These normal things force me to keep moving forward with caring for my own family.  Having two in high school means we can’t just pick up and travel for indefinite amounts of time.

I think that’s the hardest part for me—feeling as though I should be there for Mom and Dad.  Yet, knowing my own family needs me here.  Pray for wisdom as I navigate the future and juggle the needs of those I love.  Pray for strength, too.

Thanks, friends.