Off to Houston

Posted by wendy on January 2, 2011

Well, we’re off to Houston this morning for round 4 of this treatment. It should be a short trip with no news if all goes well. There are a couple new side effects that Emmett is concerned about, so we’ll be asking our doctors about those. Hopefully, if Emmett’s strength holds, we’ll get to have a game night with some friends in Houston tonight.

We would appreciate prayers for traveling mercies. Every trip has involved a delay of some sort, and travel delays make Emmett pretty miserable, especially on the way home after a long day at the hospital.

Emmett and I were talking last night about writing blog posts. He’s been trying to write one, but there doesn’t seem to be much to say right now. We’re just waiting, praying, and trying to be faithful in the small tasks. We’re thankful for less drama in our lives right now and more time to enjoy each other.

Home Again, Home Again

Posted by wendy on January 4, 2011

Well, we’re home and recovering from a quick trip to Houston. Emmett’s platelets were low again, so you can be in prayer that his counts will recover and we can start chemo quickly. We’ll keep going in for lab work until his counts are high enough to continue, and we’ll let you know when that happens, hopefully Thursday or Friday of this week. Sorry this is short. I’m preparing for work tomorrow and trying to get to bed early. Emmett is putting Quinn down and then headed to rest himself. We’ll write more soon!

Here we go again

Posted by wendy on January 6, 2011

So it’s another stamp for us on our Vanderbilt ER frequent gurney card. Emmett’s feeding tube started bleeding again early, early Thursday morning, and we couldn’t get it to stop. We cane into the Er to find that his platelets had dropped again instead of going up. We got the bleeding stopped for the moment, but we’re both more worried about how the platelets are continuing to drop. That’s not a good sign at all. We aren’t sure exactly what the means, but we’ll keep you posted. Thanks for your prayers!

Well that was quick

Posted by wendy on January 6, 2011

So I think 5 hours was the shortest ER visit on record! We arrived to a completely empty ER at Vanderbilt shortly before 4 am this morning and were seen immediately, thankfully.

Emmett has always had some minor bleeding off and on around his feeding where irritated skin is rubbed raw by the tube. Early this morning though it got much worse. Emmett had gone to comfort Quinn during the night, and when he got up from Quinn’s bed, he began bleeding profusely, soaking several hand towels and a number of bandages. We thought it best to go to the ER, and it was a good thing we did. His platelets had dropped again, and his blood was having trouble clotting. Although low, they were not low enough to necessitate a transfusion. The ER doctors were unable to stop the bleeding though, and they called in the GI team who noticed that a vein near Emmett’s feeding tube was essentially open and pouring blood. Lovely. What felt like gallons of blood and many hours later (although it was probably considerably much less blood and time than that), they had stitched up the vein. Emmett stopped bleeding, except for a little leftover ooze here and there. They watched him for a little bit and then sent us home. He’s currently sleeping and probably will do so for the next few days.

So the good news is that we’re home from the ER. Emmett is in some pain from the stitches, but otherwise okay and resting. Our biggest prayer is that the ER doctors fixed what was actually wrong and that we don’t end up back there anytime soon. Sadly, there is little chance that Emmett’s blood counts will be up by tomorrow, so we’ve postponed his blood work until Monday. That means Emmett will start chemo next Tuesday at the earliest. While he now has more time to recover, we are always anxious about postponing chemo. We’re also concerned about how long his platelets are taking to recover because if such a trend continues, an additional, and very painful, procedure may be necessary.

So pray for us to have an uneventful weekend, for Emmett’s platelet counts to bounce back, and for his spleen to shrink. Emmett is pretty much a basket case most of the time. He has all kinds of irrational fears in to addition to all his perfectly rational ones. Every time he goes to the ER now he wonders if he will come home (mostly irrational). At one point in the past few weeks he was afraid of eating meat (completely irrational). He’s worried about his low platelet counts (unfortunately very rational), and in constantly plagued by the thought that this chemo might not be working (also unfortunately quite rational). There are moments when he is like his old self, but those are far outnumbered by his anxious moments.

As you can tell, we still need your prayers. We appreciate them all and pray that you find as much strength and courage in the body of Christ as we have found. Love to all-

More Snow and More Waiting and Thoughts on Being Sick

Posted by wendy on January 13, 2011

So despite our rush to get Emt to the hospital in the snow, it turns out that all our effort was for naught. His blood counts are still too low to do chemo. They’re higher than before, but not high enough. So… we wait until Thursday or Friday to get his blood work done again. If he cannot start the chemo by January 15th, then he will be “out of protocol range.” I have little idea exactly what that means, but I have a feeling that it may mean he can’t continue this chemo. If that is the case, then we’d be out of good options. They expect he will be back in range, but my concern is for next round. If it takes him longer and longer to rebound, then what happens next round?

Sigh.

So that’s where we are, trapped between discouraging reports and an overwhelming sense of God’s hand on our lives. Being in this position is a very strange place to be. I keep coming back to the story of the healing of the blind man. The disciples asked a very powerful question: “Who sinned that this man was born blind?” And Jesus response was revolutionary then, and is still revolutionary now: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”

You see, there’s a strange spiritual dilemma to having a chronic illness. I find that people who do not suffer acute physical ailments are all too quick to make philosophical decisions about illness. Because people are so open to sharing their own sickness and struggles with us, we have been confronted lately with a lot of these absurd philosophies, mostly encountered by others, so I’m going to throw them out there for contemplation.

On the one hand, there is the idea that something we have done has caused our illness. There is the spiritual argument that some sin has caused our physical ailments. While this may be true in very specific, individual cases, God clearly communicates through this healing in John and elsewhere that physical ailments are often given to us for our good and the glory of God, not because of a specific sin. You can never judge another person’s spiritual state by their physical well being (that was the mistake of Job’s friends), and this is easily shown in scripture. You see a more subtle and dangerous secular version of this philosophy in all those encouraging stories about people who have beaten the odds because of determination or positive attitude. While it is nice to know that some people out there have beaten the cancer odds, every time Emmett and I receive one of those stories it also implies that we are not trying hard enough or we do not want it badly enough. While you can clearly answer the spiritual argument with scripture, I think we don’t even realize how the secular way of thinking creeps into our head. Believe me, we understand the importance of attitude and fighting, but a positive attitude is not our savior.

On the other hand, there is a strong movement that God, as the author of healing, is the direct agent of healing and we shouldn’t pursue medicine. Lately I have heard this argument a lot in the context of other people we know who suffer from chronic disorders, and very rarely in reference to us. This argument makes me sad, very sad, because the people who use this argument blame someone’s lack of faith for their suffering, as if we were fit to make such a judgment about another human. The Bible is also clear in a number of circumstances, like the healing of the blind man mentioned above, that often doing something accompanies healing. Yet I am also surprised at the number of people who chase every remedy as if finding the right set of magic things to do will set us free from physical suffering.

I’m no preacher, but all of these approaches to illness completely ignore the fact that sin entered the physical world as well as our spiritual lives, if such an absurd distinction exists. Good people and bad people will both suffer, and you don’t have to read much of the Bible to figure that out.

We have come to cherish our dear, sweet friends who are simply willing to walk with us through this journey. Fortunately we have been sheltered from much of the false philosophies that cause people to say silly things without thinking. I thought people would flee our suffering. Yet every day I am more struck by how the body of Christ, properly functioning, enters into our suffering without judgment or complaining. They carry us when we are in need, rejoice with us when we get good news, and continue embracing us as part of their normal lives the rest of the time. I know that suffering leads to perseverance, and perseverance to maturity, and I rejoice that God is redeeming all things for our good. Yet, from hearing so many people’s stories, I am also made more acutely aware that people who suffer physically are in need of a great mercy, to be loved instead of judged according to their ailments. May we be spurred on to love one another, humbly accepting the mystery of suffering and working to alleviate it where possible. I know I have been.

Stupid Spleens

Posted by wendy on January 14, 2011

So bad news for us.

Emmett’s platelet count was down again. The repeated up and down cycle in these numbers over the last couple weeks indicates that his spleen is destroying platelets as fast as his body can make them. So Emmett’s counts were too low to take the chemo again. That means two things. First, it means that Emmett is now “out of protocol range” for the chemo, and it means that if he wants to continue chemotherapy, then he will need a spleen embolization. Apparently when something is wrong with your liver, your spleen gets bigger. As the spleen enlarges, it eats more platelets. To keep the spleen from eating platelets, it must either be removed (a splenectomy) or killed (an embolization). An embolization is less invasive and has a quicker recovery, which is why it is preferred in Emmett’s case.

So what does this mean for us?

Well the Houston doctors have to talk to the Vanderbilt doctors to find the right person to perform the spleen embolization. Being a holiday weekend, we’ll be fortunate to have an any more information before the end of next week. Best case scenario, we will have a preliminary appointment at the end of next week. Realistically the procedure won’t be until the following week at the earliest. The 1-2 weeks of recovery puts chemo off for at least another month. Until we talk to more doctors we cannot get more concrete than that.

yikes.

So… what to pray for?

Well, first, rumor has it that spleen embolizations are painful (you are killing off an organ, after all), requiring some hospitalization. Emmett is not fond of procedures, as his past experiences have gone wrong on numerous occasions. Pray for peace as we wait, joy to live in the moment without too much dread for the future, and hope since we have to postpone chemo for so long. Second, our Houston doctors are fairly confident that the company sponsoring the trial will grant Emmett a waiver. Because his low platelet counts are the only thing preventing him from taking chemo and the chemo seems to be working, they will most likely grant him a waiver and allow him to continue with the trial. It is the “most likely” part that worries us. Procedures, especially when coordinated between hospitals, always take longer than you expect to schedule, so there is some anxiety that the longer this situation drags out, the less likely the company is to grant Emmett a waiver. So finally, pray for communication to happen quickly, for the procedure to go smoothly, and for Emmett’s recovery to be quick.

Lots of people like to ask how we are, so I suppose I’ll end by answering that question. We’re a little bit stunned. Emmett has felt so well that we were caught off guard by the news. It’s another blow, another worst case scenario, another “unusually rare” category that we fall into. We feel like it is impossible to get any sort of real traction before we get bad news again. Emmett doesn’t really want to talk to anyone about this news right now, which is why I’m writing the blog post. Since we have so little concrete information, we’re just trying not to let our brains lead us into unnecessary anxiety. Right now the worst part is not having a concrete plan, not knowing if or when we’ll start chemo again, and not really knowing what we’re getting ourselves into. We are very much discouraged, almost wishing we hadn’t received this news right before a long weekend. We need a lot of prayer for our hearts to find rest in God this weekend. We’ve had a lot of hard conversations recently and may have some more soon.

Thanks for your prayers, your fellowship, your love, your encouragement. We are blessed to have you in the journey with us. Love to all.

Races and Steroids

Posted by wendy on January 20, 2011

So lace up your running shoes, people. April 2nd is the Team Emmett 5K in Nashville. I’ve even started my steroids. Actually the steroids are to help the antibiotic for my ear infection, but I’m really excited to go to the gym today none the less.

Don’t ask me for details, though. I have no idea what is going to happen other than people will be running together in Nashville on April 2nd for Team Emmett. More brilliant minds than I know the details, but we will share them as soon as we have them. I think we’re waiting for the last of the permits and paperwork stuff to fall into place, but we will let you know as soon as we know more. I promise.

For Emmett and I, the decision to give the green light on the 5k was much more than just another fundraiser. For us the decision was a turning point. Emmett has struggled with cancer for almost a year now. We were talking in the car yesterday, and one of us said how it feels like we’ve stood still for a year. People around us have had children, moved, changed jobs, gotten married, played gigs, and for all of that change and growth we have rejoiced to see God at work in the lives of our friends. Yet we have remained in limbo, wondering if we will even get to see tomorrow together as a family. While a renewed sense of mortality has given us the precious ability to accept each moment as a gift, we are weary of this burden. So our discussion to give the green light on the 5K was more than a desire to raise money. Our choice to move ahead with the plans for the 5k is a choice to actively (though painfully slowly) pursue transforming Team Emmett into a formal NPO, or non-profit organization.

Wow. That’s scary. It would be difficult two find 2 people more unlikely to start an NPO than Emmett and myself. Don’t get me wrong, we’re hard working, goal setting kind of people. But we’re not the type of people that generally inspire large numbers of people to jump into battle, and we are certainly not the cool kids that have trails of minions hanging on our every word because we’re just that awesome. We’re definitely more of the “sit-in-a-corner-under-our-homemade-fort-and-read-a-book” kind of people. But we are sad that so many people, and especially so many young men, have to suffer this kind of cancer with so few options available for treatment. By the grace of God, we also have many friends who are leaders and planners and vision casters who, strangely enough, want to help us.

So with this 5K begins the painfully slow process of vision casting, goal-setting, information-gathering, and fervent praying. We know that our primary mission in life is to preach the gospel. Though we have every intention for Team Emmett not to be a religious NPO, we do hope to spread the mercy of Christ as we address the suffering of the world. There are so many details that we do not know, but we are praying that those will fall into place in God’s timing. So you can pray for us to have wisdom and peace as we enter this time of planning and preparation.

In other news, regarding Emmett’s upcoming treatments. There is no news, which is very frustrating for us. The upside to Emmet being off chemo is that the side effects are wearing off and Emmett is having more good days for now. The down side of course is that we are still not able to actively treat the cancer. The hospital machinery moves almost painfully slowly, and despite hours of phone calls yesterday, we’re still at the mercy of other people’s convenience. So our prayer is for God to work both swiftly and in his time, granting us favor in the eyes of people who can do something about Emmett’s case. We, or more specifically I, need a greater measure of God’s grace as I try to push things through a medical system that is tediously bureaucratic. Just yesterday I had to open up my own FedEx shipping account just to have a document overnighted to my house. Seriously? I might as well be running a side business. Sheesh. So pray for us to have peace, even as we pray for God to move.

I’ll close with a piece of the passage in Matthew 9:2 I read yesterday:

Some men brought to him [Jesus] a paralytic, lying on a mat. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven.”

Jesus goes on to heal this man after a dispute with the pharisees, and I have always been struck because, even in other accounts, such as Luke 5, Jesus responds to their faith, not just his faith. We are thankful every moment for the people who walk with us through this time, but I was reminded to be especially thankful for your prayers and your faith. If the Lord chooses to heal Emmett, it will not be because of our faith, but because of the faithful love and prayers of our friends. We hear specifically each day about how someone has carried us in prayer to the Lord, and my heart rejoices each time at your great faith. The way in which we carry each other’s burdens to the Lord in prayer directly affects the outcome of each of our lives. Does that encourage you to pray for other people? I am certainly encouraged to pray specifically, fervently, and boldly, and not just for us, for all the people I know who have burdens. I suppose that is pretty much everyone, huh?

Decisions Decisions

Posted by wendy on January 24, 2011

So we met with our Vanderbilt doctor this morning. She hasn’t had a chance to look at the CT scans, but she’s going to meet with the interventional radiologist tomorrow and get back to us. She is hesitant to order the splenic embolization for a couple reasons. First, though Emmett’s platelets are low and not rebounding to the levels required by the drug study, they aren’t necessarily low enough to prevent us from doing traditional chemos, just experimental chemotherapy treatments. Protocols for study drugs are much stricter than protocols for drugs already approved. However the approved chemo drugs don’t show results that are very exciting, which is why we chose a clinical trial in the first place. Leaving the clinical trial for traditional lines of chemo would close some doors that we don’t necessarily want to close. Second, our doctor hesitates because if something were to go wrong, and Emmett still can’t continue chemo for some reason, then she is the responsible doctor. Since she’s not technically Emmett’s doctor, she doesn’t like the idea of ordering a procedure that she considers unusual and being responsible if something were to go wrong. Understandable, but that choice presents unpleasant consequences.

If she refuses to order the procedure at Vanderbilt, then we have two options. Either we can get the procedure done in Texas or we can discontinue the chemotherapy. Having the procedure done in Texas terrifies Emmett. It isn’t so much the extra expense and inconvenience that bothers Emmett, but that we would be disconnected from our amazing support network in Nashville and away from Quinn for a considerable length of time. We have connected with a church in texas and have some amazing new friends, but nothing like we have here n Nashville. Emmett’s mind immediately jumps to worse case, and he is worried about something going drastically wrong and being trapped in Texas unable to come back to Nashville at all.

To top it off, we received a call from our Houston doctors literally on the way out of Vanderbilt. They were asking about getting another CT scan in Nashville as soon as possible. The drug company sponsoring the clinical trial called our doctor yesterday and specifically requested that Emmett get the 6 week scan that he’s scheduled for even though he was unable to take the last round of chemotherapy. Apparently, even though Emmett’s platelets are low and he has not been able to increase his dosage like other patients, the company is watching Emmett’s progress in particular because his tumor has responded the best to this chemotherapy drug.

So we feel pulled strongly in both directions right now. On the one hand we want to do whatever it takes to move forward on this chemotherapy, but having this procedure done in Houston is going to be a big discouragement, to the point of preventing us from moving forward. We should hear back from our Vanderbilt doctor tomorrow afternoon. The easiest decision will be if she agrees with our doctors in Houston. Then we will feel confident about moving forward with the splenic embolization. If she does not want to order the procedure, then we have a lot of hard decisions to make, none of which we are comfortable with. So right now there is just more waiting and more prayer and more trusting. Thank you for joining us here while we wait and pray.

State of the Stallings

Posted by wendy on January 25, 2011

And we’re off. Thursday, that is. To Houston. Yep.

We put all the information together, and that’s what we decided. Let me explain how we got there and what that means.

I think it comes down to the difference between a hospital and a cancer hospital. We like and respect our doctors at Vanderbilt. They are willing to go forward, but they’re not comfortable with their level of expertise for this procedure. So they left it up to us to decide if and where we want the procedure.

So then followed the 57,000 phone calls, questions, returned calls, answers, and more questions.

And it comes down to this. To continue with experimental chemos, we need to go ahead with this procedure. We are not comfortable discontinuing the experimental chemos yet, as that would feel too much like giving up. Since we’re going ahead with the procedure, we feel more comfortable doing so in Houston, where the procedure is routine and the doctors are invested in our case.

So now all the details need to fall into place. quickly. Currently the details are cooperating, but we’d appreciate prayers that they keep doing so.

In limbo. again.

Posted by wendy on January 27, 2011

You know it’s going to be a good day when your plane is scheduled to land in Houston at 1:40 and your first appointment is scheduled for 1:45 across town. By some mercy our plane landed early, so we were able to check in at our hotel (which is attached to the hospital) and still only be about 30 minutes late to our appointment. Throw in an airpot pat down (oh yeah!), an insurance snafu, a skybridge several city blocks in length, a lot of doctors, and a few back and forth treks from one side of the hospital to the other, and you basically have our day.

And what did all that exercise accomplish? Well a lot. and nothing.

The first visit was with the physician’s assistant for the interventional radiologist doing Emmett’s procedure tomorrow (maybe). We were under the impression that Emmett was going to be out for the procedure, but it turns out that the anesthesia is local, not general. Emmett almost passed out right then. He got that crazy look in his eyes like someone had walked in the room with a needle meant for him, and I knew we were in trouble. He started to panic and turned white as a sheet. Even the physician’s assistant remarked at how pale he was. People always underestimate Emmett’s fear of needles and procedures, but she caught enough of his panic to speak with the doctor. We found out later by phone that he was refusing to perform the procedure unless Emmett could get general anesthesia, the kind that knocks you out. That doesn’t sound like a big deal, but his assistant had spent twenty minutes in the office earlier explaining that the anesthesia doctors do not accept patients without an appointment, and the next appointment they had was for next Friday. Yeah, that’s what I said, next Friday. Now it does not really make sense to me that the anesthesia department works that way, but apparently that is how it works. The assistant knew of one case where they made an exception for a cute little one-year old. I think Emmett’s really cute, so let’s hope the anesthesia doctors do too. If Emmett has to wait until next Friday, he will be a basket case.

So we talked to our cancer doctor who talked to the interventional radiologist, who both plan to talk to the anesthesiologists tomorrow morning, and maybe, hopefully have an answer by 8 am tomorrow. So Emmett will spend this evening half worried that he will not have the procedure and half worried that he will. In some ways, that might be better for him since his anxiety will not have a concrete anchor, but in some ways it is worse because he won’t have time to mentally prepare for whatever happens. I suppose we’re praying that Emmett can have the procedure with general anesthesia, but I’m not really sure.

I’m reminded of the plane flight here today. I read for a bit and then watched Emmett sleep for a bit. I thought some about how much Emmett’s illness had changed him and I felt that same old desire to have my sweet, funny, carefree husband back. And then it occurred to me that I wasn’t praying the right prayer. I don’t want the old Emmett back. I want a new Emmett back, one who has faced some of his worst fears (which, incidentally, really do involve needles and hospital procedures), trusted in the providence of God, and found grace to live simply and beautifully in the moment. I want an Emmett refined by the hand of God and made ever more like Christ. So I prayed that God would bring whatever we need to make us more like him, no matter how difficult, and bring us through it victoriously. You cannot imagine how much grace there is in suffering until you are walking through it with Christ, so pray that we allow him to richly dwell in us on this journey.

And I’m content in that prayer, trusting that it is the right one for today. So whatever comes, I pray we have faith to face it graciously. The doctors here really are in a class by themselves, working above and beyond for us, and we are humbled to have such an amazing team here. We are confident that we made the right choice in coming, so I’m praying that God will move the hearts of people where needed and that we would have eyes to see his hand on us, no matter what news we get tomorrow. Thank you for joining us in these prayers. May you know the abundant tenderness of Christ in your own trials today.

Procedure Update

Posted by wendy on January 28, 2011

So we woke up this morning to find out that anesthesia was going to accept us for the procedure today. That meant we had to hurry to get Emmett to anesthesia to… guess what? wait! I have to chuckle at hospital time because everyone kept telling us that we were going to be expressed or we were next or we were priority and then an hour or two later something would happen. So Emmett started the procedure about three hours late. He came out of the procedure a little over an hour later, which is considered quick for a splenic embolization. The doctor said it went perfectly and the anesthesiologist said Emmett was a champ. He’s now sleeping off weeks worth of anxiety thanks to the magic anesthesia drugs. I’m out in the waiting room while he is in the recovery ward where they keep patients in a big room separated by curtains until they get their room. Apparently there’s a run on rooms, so I might be here a while. I get to see him for 20 minutes every 2 hours.

So now we’re just waiting for Emmett to recover. Every person we spoke with has a different time estimate from 1 day to 5 days. So basically we’re here until his pain is under control. Of course we’d like his pain to disappear quickly, but we also want to be sure he’s better before we leave here. Then we wait for cell counts to rise and start chemo. Woohoo! We’re praying for things to go smoothly, but I’m sure we’ll encounter a few monkey wrenches in the process, so please pray that we walk through the next few days full of grace.

Thank you so much for your prayers, notes, messages, etc. They are much appreciated.

Saturday Morning Update from Houston

Posted by wendy on January 29, 2011

Emt is resting again after a slew of nurses coming through. It started out as a rough night, but once I jumped into bulldog mode and harassed (in as nice a way as possible) the nurse to work out Emmett’s medications, we got settled. One thing I’ve discovered with doctors and hospitals is that they don’t do transitions well. No one is quite sure how to handle moving from procedure to recovery, for example. For someone like Emmett who throws up when he misses his nausea medication, the transitions are the worst part because getting someone to order the medicine he needs can be a long ordeal.

But the first transition is over. And now let me tell you about why I love the MD Anderson hospital. They have room service. Instead of those ridiculously unappetizing hospital trays that are never delivered when you want to eat, you call the service and place your order from a menu that looks like a restaurant menu. Guests can also order, though we have to pay (although compared to my other options, it is quite reasonable). It is a genius idea because the last thing I feel like doing is going to look for food. So we’re having fresh fruit, yogurt, and kashi cereal this morning. And Emmett got the cutest little loaf of banana bread. Hmm… makes me miss lumpy grits and green jello. Wait, no it doesn’t.

So we’re well taken care of, and, much to Emmett’s relief, I won’t starve and won’t have to leave much, if at all. So now comes the waiting and healing. I forgot how long a day in the hospital feels. We’re not TV watchers and we like to be productive, so the lying around waiting is going to be hard. Pray that we would balance pushing Emmett to move and allowing him to rest, that we would have wisdom about when to leave, and that once we leave, we would not come back. Thanks so much for joining us on this journey.

Sunday Morning Update from Houton

Posted by wendy on January 30, 2011

Church just started at Grace in Nashville, and we’re sad to be missing this week’s service, but we were encouraged by a sweet visit from some friends yesterday and very excited about the thought of going home sooner than planned. I’m sitting here beside Emmett’s bed as he naps. He woke up this morning with extreme pain in his left shoulder, which concerned us. Turns out, though, that the spleen can radiate its pain up to the left shoulder, so Emmett’s pain is very normal. Apparently the gall bladder has dibs on the right shoulder, fyi. What I am about to say may sound a bit odd, but we were very relieved that Emmett finally had some significant pain. First, a couple doctors had told us that no pain would be a bad sign, indicating that they hadn’t taken out enough of the spleen or that the procedure had not worked. Second, we knew the pain would be somewhat delayed, so we worried about Emmett experiencing a lot of pain after we left the hospital. They almost discharged us last night, but we weren’t quite ready, so they kept us another night. Fortunately we should be able to control the pain at a tolerable level as it gradually diminishes over the next week. So the current plan is to be discharged today, stay in Houston one more night, and fly to Nashville Monday if all goes well.

My one big concern for Emmett is that he will not eat. He can eat. He won’t listen to me or even the doctor, who has said over and over that his body will not heal if he continues not to eat. Yet Emmett persists in not eating. He says he’s afraid to eat, though he’s not really sure why. I’ve been giving him liquid food through his feeding tube, but he needs to start eating significant amounts of food again to recover full from the procedure. So pray for him to regain his appetite and overcome his fear of eating. That sounds like a funny prayer request, but it really is one of our biggest concerns right now. Thank you again for your faithfulness in prayer.

Home!

Posted by wendy on January 31, 2011

Yay!

No on to continued healing and normal life and hopefully restarting chemotherapy soon.

That’s all. We love you.