Say Hi to Jesus For Me, childhood cancer, tests, diagnosis

"Say Hi to Jesus For Me": Chapter 11

The Lord had once again been sending me the Lord’s Prayer. I tried to prepare myself, knowing from experience what would come. I had come to think that the blessed words of the Lord’s prayer were prophecies of doom to me. Then, with unending love and patience, the Holy Spirit showed me that if he warned me with the Lord’s Prayer, that meant He already knew what was going to happen. Whatever the future held was part of God’s plan. He was in control, and He would see us through.

Todd asked me once, "Mom, why am I sick? Why might I have to die?"

(Oh, dear God, please give me words to say.)

One of Todd’s favorite TV shows involved a maze. There were two players, usually a husband-and wife team. He would stand on a platform, overlooking a seven-foot-maze. She would race against time to get through the maze to a designated point. If she did not obey his commands immediately, she would lose her direction and precious time.

With this example I explained to Todd (and myself) that God is on a platform, overlooking our lives. He knows what is best for us and how best to fulfill his plan for us. Only as we follow his direction do we arrive at the right point. We trust God to know what is best for us.

Todd never questioned God’s will again. But there were many questions in my heart. Todd had weathered so many storms, he was prepared for anything. But if he was going to die, what was the preparation for?

Should we continue to ask for healing for Todd, or were we just being selfish? Maybe he had suffered enough. Maybe his mission here had come to an end. Even if the Lord healed him of cancer, he would probably suffer some other kind of illness or injury during his lifetime. I couldn’t bear to see him hurt any more. Everybody had to die sometime. Even Lazarus died again eventually. Perhaps now was as good a time as any for Todd.

One late evening I desperately needed to pour out my heart to someone---to pray, to talk, and to find a fresh insight. I called my friend Dona and she invited me to her house to talk. This is how she remembers that night:

Todd was low again and it was constant care for him, as he always felt the need of you close by. Niqua, too, was pulling on you, and I know you were at your wit’s end. You were tired and the doctor had said the tumors were growing, so you felt sad.

We talked about Todd’s life and how through his illness you had grown to depend on Jesus. You asked if you should pray for an extended life for Todd, and I shared with you the story of Hezekiah (2 Kings 20 and 2 Chronicles 32:20-33). Hezekiah prayed to be healed. God answered and gave him an additional 15 years. He had been a good king, but he became proud and showed those who came from Babylon his riches. It was all taken from him and carried to Babylon. Even his sons became a part of wicked Babylon. His son Manasseh, born during the 15 years, was the worst king of Judah.

The Lord knew our hearts. If taking Todd would glorify him more and reveal a deep love for him in you and Dutch, then I knew that was his perfect will. We talked of his faithfulness and how his strength is made perfect in weakness and how he wants wholeness either way, for life here or in heaven. Todd would be whole. He could extend Todd’s life, but would that be best? Would the miracle glorify him more, or would your walk during these days of suffering glorify him more?

Finally, when I didn’t know how to pray or what to pray anymore, God showed me Romans 8:26-27:

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words. And he who searches the hearts of men knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

And Philippians 4:6-7

Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I usually looked forward to the evening hours when the children would be in bed and I’d have a chance to relax and gather my thoughts in prayer. But late in Todd’s illness my mother made me aware of my selfishness: "All day long Todd is busy, playing and talking, but at night, at those moments before going to sleep, he is left alone to dwell on his illness and entertain thoughts about death. You ought to stay with him and read to him."

Todd did have frequent nightmares. I told him to call on Jesus for help, even in his dreams. I wanted him to lean on Jesus for all his needs. Several days later he told me with beaming face, "Mom! It worked! I had a bad dream and asked Jesus to help, and he did!"

When Todd and I had special times together, when he knew how much I loved him, I told him that Jesus loved him much more than I. How was he to understand the Lord’s love except as an infinite multiplication of the love we showed him?

Todd’s early fears that shots were meant to kill him taught us that there were many opportunities for misunderstandings, many opportunities for fear to creep in. Countless times I would ask him, "Son, are you wondering about anything?" to give him an opportunity to talk things over.

At times, just seeing the expression on people’s faces when they learned that he had cancer caused him to wonder anew if we were hiding anything from him. He saw their pity and concern and it triggered self-pity in him. We had to talk about that also.

"Todd, don’t let it bother you when people roll their eyes and get that funny look on their face when they hear that you have cancer. They just know that means surgery and lots of x-rays and shots and IVs, and that you have a lot of pain. But you’ve already had all of that, and you know what it’s like, so it doesn’t have to scare you anymore. The worst that can happen to you now is that you die and go to heaven. But that would be OK. Then you would be with Jesus."

On one of Todd’s last days in school I was left without a car to pick him up. No problem- he had walked many times. But at the last moment it started to rain. What could I do? Sometimes in the past one of the other mothers had given him a ride home, so I hoped she would see him walking today and offer him a lift. I prayed while he was on his way home.

He arrived dripping wet. "How come you didn’t get me?"

"I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a car. I’ve been praying for Jesus to get you home safely."

"Well, OK, At least you tried."

Honesty and openness were of major importance. Todd needed to be able to trust us. We were a buffer between him and the things causing pain. We would be informed by the staff of upcoming tests and try to prepare him. If we didn’t know what was to be done, we told him that. When we had to take sides against him and help hold him down, he knew we had no other choice.

Once Todd’s emotions boiled over. He thought I had lied to him. I had promised that the IV now in his vein would not have to be restarted. When the medicine was all in his bloodstream and the bottle of IV fluid was empty, there would be no more Iv this time around. I failed to caution though, that this only held true if the IV didn’t infiltrate. When a vein becomes brittle it may leak, or the needle may touch the wall of the vein and penetrate it. Then fluid leaks into the tissue rather than into the bloodstream, causing swelling.

On her rounds that day, the head nurse checked Todd’s hand. It was swollen. The IV was infiltrated. With swift moves, she removed the tape holding the needle in place and pulled the IV out.

Todd was furious. I had promised no more IV. Now it would have to be restarted. He went into a tantrum. He picked up and threw everything in the room- his toys, the medication tray, the blood pressure gauge, a lamp, books, the radio. He was wild. It was as if he had blown a fuse and all of his frustration was coming to the surface.

I couldn’t stop him. Tears came to my eyes, and I knew I had to get out. I called Dutch. "You’ve got to come right now. Todd’s gone crazy. He won’t listen to me. I can’t handle it. I’m not going back there until you come."

The head nurse walked out of the room shortly after me. She thought Todd would calm down best when left alone. Some time later I could hear Todd in the hall. I didn’t join him. I was hurt, humiliated and angry. How could he create a scene like that! I determined that Todd would pick up every last thing he’d thrown by himself, but Dutch had better insight than I. When he arrived I expected him to scold Todd severely. Instead, he calmly started picking up some things in Todd’s room. "Come, son, let me help you pick this up." His quiet support broke the ice of resistance, and soon we were discussing what had happened.

We explained that, while we could not condone his action, we did understand the frustration and disappointment that led up to it. Todd felt that I betrayed him. Just a simple misunderstanding, but of what consequence!

Many marriages suffer under the test of the stress of a major illness in the family. When people are hurting, reason is clouded and tempers flare. They disagree over actions to be taken, treatments to be sought or omitted. To others they are polite and courteous- one must save face, create the illusion of being on top of the situation. But in front of the mate all barriers drop. The easiest one to lash out at, to hurl all of your anger at, is the one closest to you.

But for the most part God spared us. As we leaned on the Lord, we could lean on each other for help, encouragement and support. Whenever I had all I could take and thought all hope was lost, Dutch took over. When he couldn’t stand to be at the hospital, I was there. We could laugh and cry together. Rather than driving us apart, this seeming tragedy in our lives bonded us closer together.

I was more concerned about the effect on Niqua. She was often pushed around and left behind. Todd clung to me and demanded more and more of my time, so Niqua had to play second fiddle. My mother cared for her as well if not better than I, but Niqua had to cope with a lot of stress and tension.

Then the Lord began to show Niqua to me in a new light. Eventually I came to see the quiet strength of my four-year-old. The Lord would strengthen her in her own time, and he would guide her through the life he had planned for her.