February 10, 2023

By the grace of God and the power of an appointment secretary, our appointment for the bone marrow biopsy was moved from Friday afternoon to Thursday morning. That meant that we could head home Thursday noonish instead of late Friday afternoon.

After some snow for about 250 miles, we hit some just wet roads. Teresa was a trooper driving and the closer we got to home, the more both of us were resolved to make it without stopping for the night. We got in about 1:00 a.m. Oreo was more than pleased.

The bone marrow biopsy was about as I expected. The nurse was a personable lady who helped ease the anxiety. Looks like I might as well get used to them. If the biopsy confirms what is suspected, after the treatment has been administered for 100 days, I would have another one and then consistently throughout the treatment.

The anesthetist was a fisherman and we talked fishing, including his three and five year old sons. That, too, helped. I will take that same team when/if another biopsy is in the future.

When the biopsy was over and they were ready to release me, Teresa and the nurse talked about where Teresa should pick me up. I told them I thought that I could walk to the car, which was a considerable distance away. I will leave it to you to decide what you think happened.

I have had a couple of “moments”in the last couple of days.

One was when I was walking the corridors  of Mayo before the biopsy. I had to walk on the subway level past the three main buildings.

It was a long way and I left Teresa near the elevators upon which we would ride to get to the biopsy. I was walking rather briskly, appearing to most anyone to be a picture of health. I passed numerous people in wheelchairs and folks barely able to make it.

Today, I drove to Cynthiana to try to catch up on some things after being gone nine days. I walked in and one of my guys confirmed my appearance. He said, “You look great.” I am not sure what he thought I’d look like after seeing three doctors, having some blood work, and the biopsy.

What came to me was this: If you compared me to other patients yesterday at Mayo, I looked far better off than 75% of them.  But if I have what the doctors suspect, then I may be worse off than 75% of them.

Lots and lots of Christians I have known over the years are like that. They look really good on the outside, a picture of spiritual health, but something that can’t be seen may very well be destroying them from within.

And the second moment came when I got a text from a dear brother who said in essence, “I haven’t texted or called because I know that you have had an abundance of both.”

I have a feeling that many of you who may be reading this have been in that same camp, wanting to text or call, but knowing if everyone texted, I might not get anything else done. I have found in this challenge already, that short, to the point words of encouragement help.

That wasn’t the end of his text. My dear brother went on to say, “But be assured that I am thinking of you and praying often. Just remember I will always be standing in the back of the room.”

Sometimes God comes when you least expect it. None of us has any clue what God looks like. Sometimes its hard to visualize God’s presence; we may have a sense that He is there but how do we visualize Him?

There’s no one I know who is any more like Jesus than this brother. Going forward, each time I am in one of those dreaded moments of medical care, I will visual this brother’s face and believe that I will realize that God, indeed, is standing in the back of the room. Kind of like that fourth person in the fiery furnace.

I will write another blog when we either get some news, head back to Mayo, or God speaks in a way you might want to hear.

Thanks for all your prayers.