Six on the 4th

Things have changed by degree for Susan over the past week – persistent sleeping, hazy alertness, less food and water, few words. She’s unable to move her left arm now, like the rest of her limbs. Water comes by way of a two-ounce syringe since she’s not able to use a straw anymore. During a brief waking moment the other day, I told her I can see how she’s doing physically and asked, “But how’s your spirit? Do you still have peace?” “Yeah.” I knew she did, but hoped she could say it. It just feels good that we can still communicate.

Six years ago yesterday, I watched as Susan’s condition worsened at home. We were biding time until her scheduled brain surgery after her tumor biopsy the prior week. But her headache grew more intense that day and brought lethargy and vomiting. I helped her into the SUV and rushed to Long Beach Memorial, watching her fade as we drove. I parked near the ER entrance and began helping her out of the passenger seat when she passed out and slumped over. Was she dying? I remember saying “Susan, stay with me” sharply and hollered for someone to grab a wheelchair.

They admitted her in a blur; then came all the hook-ups, a CT scan, a visit from Pastor Ken, and some groggy, painful hours for her in ER that led to getting a bed in the neuro unit upstairs. I went home to rest but got a midnight call that she was in ICU on a ventilator following a seizure. I met Susan’s brother Randy there. We watched as she writhed and pulled at her restraints to yank the tube from her throat. I remember how that didn’t seem like Susan to me.

Those July 3^rd events brought her to emergency brain surgery the evening of July 4^th. Her family rushed home from Clearlake or booked flights from Colorado while friends left their patriotic parties to join the hospital vigil. We had lots of prayers and tears, and then great relief when she came out of surgery with a good report. What followed were the waves of treatment, healing, recurrence and complications of brain tumor world that have dominated our lives for the past six years. Now Susan is home on hospice care.

I think we’re as prepared as a family can be for days like these. I’ve been blessed by our children’s bravery and how their recent comments reveal acceptance. Lexie said she’s glad we’ve had this time to be with Mom while she’s on hospice, that it’s better this way than if she’d passed away more quickly. Austin said he’ll be relieved when Mom is in Heaven, healed in the presence of God instead of lingering here in her weakness. Adam said he assured Mom that she doesn’t need to stay here for our sake, that we’ll be okay, that she’s not letting us down when it’s her time to go. I’m so thankful that God has given us all such strength.

I’m encouraging them to tell their Mom what’s on their hearts. She can’t respond much, but she hears us. I asked them to imagine her not being here – if they think there’s something they wish they would have said to her, they should say it now. 

The Psalms continue to resonate as I read and pray with Susan in mind.

“But may all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; may those who love your salvation always say, “Let God be exalted! Yet I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God. You are my help and my deliver; O Lord, do not delay.” Psalm 70:4-5