Tag Archives: healing

Nov23

Big Prayers for Big Kevin-The Termination of Thurmo’s Tumor

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Big Prayers for Big Kevin-The Termination of Thurmo’s Tumor

It is the season for giving thanks and it is thanks that I will give.  First and foremost I am thankful for the Head and Neck ENT/Oncology Team at MD Anderson for skillfully

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It’s GO TIME

removing the tumor from Kevin’s skull base.  It was a tedious procedure that lasted over nine hours.  I am so thankful that the first step in his journey is behind him.  Although the tumor ended up being more virulent than we had anticipated, it is a huge victory that it had not invaded the brain!  This type of cancer is unpredictable and wily and that has my hackles up a little, but I am going to take one victory at a time.

Once the surgery team found a bed long enough to accommodate him, (insert, “we are going to need a bigger bed” here) the surgery went well.  When we were able to see him in Recovery, we were amazed at how good he looked.  He had some issues with his heart

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Sophi “watching our stuff”.  Great job Sophi.

rate being too rapid, but eventually he was moved to his room and that is when things got not so fun for him.  The pain and nausea hit him hard and because of the bones they removed and the grafting they did in his sinuses, the main focus of his hospital stay was for him to remain as still as possible to avoid a Cerebral Spinal Fluid leak. No standing, lying flat or higher than 30 degrees, no drinking through a straw, no standing, no bending, no straining at all and it was obvious he was going to be sick to his stomach.  Long story short, I showed my ass (just a little) about him not getting something for nausea and his pain, he got sick, he didn’t bust a leak and I didn’t hurt anyone.  He did have a horrible, terrible, painful, fitful, night.

With the new dawn, he seemed to feel a lot better. He rested off and on and was way more of a trooper than I would have been if I was tethered to the bed.  His main complaint was the nasty knots and open areas on his skull where they bolted his head in a vice to keep it from moving during surgery.  He had a pretty uneventful albeit uncomfortable day.  The night once again brought new adventures of pain and the new sensation of him experiencing  extreme vertigo when he tried to close his eyes to rest.  He

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If Cancer were as easy to wipe out as stains-Mom would be a miracle worker.

had another brutal and exhausting night.  I am not going to lie; being the pony companion to this steed on no sleep was wearing me down as well.  He met the new day today and was allowed to walk to the bathroom and sit up in the chair for a while.  He rested a little and Riley and Sophi worked a puzzle and ordered him lunch and supper. Mom, Ron, and Kim worked on logistics of travel plans.  I helped him ditch the hospital gown and got him into some comfy clothes.  It was a pretty good day.

This evening when they started to give him his antibiotic in his IV he told me it made him feel kind of sick.  A new night shift crew just came on and I may or may not have trumped up his nausea complaints and Phenergan was delivered IV and he is currently out like a light.  I think this is the most consecutive rest he has had and I might get a couple of winks in as well (win-win).  The doctor has postponed our departure from Houston from Friday to Sunday, but we are looking forward to coming home!

In my extended state of exhaustion I have managed to surf the entire spectrum of emotions these past few days.  There have been moments of joy, elation, relief which fluctuate with fear, anxiety, anger, frustration and immense heartbreak.  Trying not to crumble under the weight of bearing witness to his pain, fear and frustration has left my heart weary and my faith wobbly.  Watching my children struggle to tamp down their heartbreak and be brave for their daddy sometimes hits me like a swift kick to the gut.  But at the end of the day, we have so much hope for the future.  We know that there are literally thousands of people praying for his healing.  We have an entire community rallying behind this fight and paving the way for us to get him the very best care possible.  We have so very much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

As I sit here tonight and reflect on everything that has brought us to this moment, I sometimes feel like Peter after he called out into the storm to Jesus, “Let me come to you,” and Jesus says, “Come on, Peter, I’ve got this.”  I have faith to step out of the boat and trust Jesus to protect me in this storm, but then I look around at the wind, the waves, the clouds, the rain, and hail and I start to sink and it feels like I am drowning.  Me of little faith, sinking like the cinder block I am.  Without fail, I am reminded to focus on my faith and not the storm.  Those reminders have come in the form of instant messages, text messages, and hugs from my family, a song someone sends me and one very amazing email that I just happened to open in the darkest part of my night (thank you, Meg Reiner).  Thank you all for meeting our needs sometimes before we even realize what those needs are going to be.  Thank you all for carrying us on this journey, standing in the gap, having faith when ours falters, and most of all, for loving us.  We are truly and humbly thankful.

Cancer better find a bigger boat, because we are here for the long haul!

Nov15

The Journey Continues-Big Prayers for Big Kevin Update

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The Journey Continues-Big Prayers for Big Kevin Update

COULD SOMEONE KINDLY REMOVE THE TUMOR FROM MY HUSBAND’S HEAD???!!  Patience is not one of my strong points.  After countless scans, blood draws, biopsies and consults we finally have a plan!  Kevin and I will be heading to Houston tomorrow.  He will meet with a neurosurgeon on Friday, as well as have his pre-op tests completed.  Monday is the BIG day!  The plan is for him to undergo the operation laparoscopically and remove the tumor through his nose; sounds simple enough.  My sister is a nurse practitioner and she has retrieved rocks, beans and other small items that have been crammed into the nares of toddlers. Unfortunately, this is going to take a little more precise maneuvering.

This bastard tumor is big and it is growing. It has also cozied up right next to the bone that separates the sinus cavity from the lining of the brain. There are 206 bones in the human body and I think the asshat could have found a less critical place to make its home. Kevin has a huge big toe and a nice roomy armpit, but whatever. The good news is that the tumor hasn’t started growing in the brain, but they still have to drill into the bone and make sure that none of the cells have started trespassing in that direction. Evidentially, they can’t just reach in there with a clean set of needle nose pliers and yank and pull. Unlike the operation game, if they touch vital areas close to the tumor, Kevin’s nose will not light up red and an obnoxious buzzer will not alert of a failed attempt to retrieve the wishbone and the next guy gets a turn. It is smack dab in the middle of some pretty crucial parts. It’s complicated.

Following the surgery, he will have to stay in the hospital for three days, barring any complications, which I am not expecting any, so we are going with the three day plan. He will have to stay in Houston so they can monitor him for a few more days and then we get to COME HOME!! He will get to heal and chill for several weeks and then he will have to return to Houston for daily radiation for six weeks. I won’t get into the dirty details of that part of the journey; I am taking one day at a time. Sometimes I am taking one hour at a time. Sometimes one moment at a time…sometimes I get completely paralyzed with fear and worry that I have to kick myself into the next moment.

So now we have come to that point in the story that isn’t about Kevin, me, or even cancer. It is about all of you. Since this all started I have one priority and that is getting Kevin’s health restored. This man has a lot of living to do. He has daughters to give away (if we can get any suckers to take them) and grandbabies he hasn’t met yet and frankly, I am not done driving him crazy with my shenanigans (I have a lot of shenanigans left). I am usually the kind of person who doesn’t sweat the small stuff and when compared to Kevin’s life, worries about medical bills, housing during treatment, transportation, time off of work—that is small stuff.   When I let my mind go there, the small stuff started to add up to a virtual Tsunami and it was about to consume me. And then, like drops from an unexpected rain shower, blessings began to fall. Promises of prayers, hugs from people in Wal-Mart, folks selling T-Shirts and raffle tickets, generous donations of money and care packages and hospital survival packs—so much love and support pouring down. One dear friend even gave her airline miles to fly Sophi down to Houston to be with her daddy for the surgery. What I had perceived as a tsunami wasn’t a tsunami at all. It was blessing tossed into the shallows of our lives, each one making ripples upon ripples of love and we have been deeply touched by every single one.

It hasn’t been easy for us to be on the receiving end of such selfless giving of others. We felt bad, awkward, unworthy, ill-prepared and weak. I received a message one evening from a friend who found herself in a similar position. She reached out to me and said, “People want to help and you need to LET THEM.” She shared so much wisdom and perspective and I pray that she is aware of the beautiful gift she gave me in reaching out. We are humbled, we are blessed, and above all, we are eternally grateful.