Wednesday, Oct 22- Night Moves

I went to bed at 10:30, but was up and reading a book at 11:45 because of back pain.  The charge nurse came in and informed me they had several transplant patients being admitted tomorrow and I would need to be transferred to the third floor.  Would I like to go now or at 5:30 am?  So, at midnight I was rolled down to my new room, where I found an air mattress only half inflated and air conditioner that didn't work right.  It took 45 minutes to find a pump, which only partially worked.  In the end, I switched sides.  My pillow is at the foot and my feet are at the head; hard to explain, but it just works better.  An hour later, the pain woke me again, but luckily just in time for a morphine shot.  So, I'll write my blog and go back to bed, for the third time, at 3:30.

All that ruckus sounds ridiculous, but nothing could darken my mood tonight, I mean this morning. Seriously, two oncologists, the lead neurologist, and a physician's assistant all told me it seriously looked like the cancer had returned.  Even my old nursing buddies came in to say how sorry they were about the leukemia relapse.  They admit me into St Paul and rushed me through all those tests.  Just as I'm beginning to get used to the idea that my path to a cure would actually lead to a cure, I have to process a really bad prognosis:  I've got about a year to live. I know I've said that I will accept any outcome with joy, but I really wanted to live.  Then, suddenly, Dr Anderson and his team march in and announce they don't know what's wrong with me.  The only thing they know is the cancer did not come back.  Maybe I have a viral infection.  Maybe my symptoms will go away.  Maybe.  Under normal conditions, a viral infection in someone with a compromised immune system is bad news; not now.  This is great news.  It means I'm still on a the path.  There's just another hurdle to jump.

Look at the story in Matthew 9:27 about Jesus healing two blind guys:

"As Jesus went from there, two blind men followed him, calling out, 'Have mercy on us, son of David!'  When he had gone indoors, the blind men came to him, and he asked them, 'Do you believe I am able to do this?'  'Yes, Lord,' they replied.  Then he touched their eyes and said, 'According to
your faith let it be done to you,' and their sight was restored."

This sounds like such a nice story, but it may have a deeper side.  Another way to understand what happened is to fill in some blanks:  Jesus walked by.  The men began yelling at him.  He heard them, but didn't stop.  They followed him, but it doesn't say how far.  Maybe they fell behind the crowd and stumbled a mile down the road, all the while yelling and asking where he went, which house did He go into? When they finally catch up with Jesus, he asks them, if they think he can heal them.  Excuse me, but wasn't that their point in the first place?  I certainly don't think Jesus was being rude or mean. He just wanted to see some effort.  He wanted to see some commitment.  Well, I'm willing to show some endurance for a healing and I believe Jesus can keep me on a path to a cure.  I believe.

Back to sleep at 3:30.

I get awaken at 4:45 to get weighed (177.2 pounds) and have blood drawn for labs.  Back to bed at 5:05.

Wake up at 7:30.