John Stumbo's blog

NOTE:  We’ll come back to more wrestling with Jacob next week, but for today I wanted to throw in a little change of pace to reflect on a different part of my journey … and hopefully yours.

For the past 25 years I went to church because I “had” too – after all, I was the pastor. For the past two months I’ve gone to church because I’ve needed to.

I confess that I sometimes don’t feel like attending. It is work to get out of my chair, haul my sore body and walker out to the van and get into church. It doesn’t feel convenient. I couldn’t get there without my wife. But it is good and essential.  Looking back over the last few months, I realize that by attending church …

…I think thoughts I would not otherwise think

…I hear truths I would not otherwise hear

…I sing songs I would not otherwise sing

…I meet people I would not otherwise meet

…I give offerings I may not otherwise give

….I rejoice in mission’s efforts and in new followers of Jesus that I would not otherwise know about

…I receive encouragement and challenge I would not otherwise receive

…I shed tears I would not have otherwise shed

…I receive a blessing I would not otherwise have received

…I pray prayers I would not have thought to pray

…I meet God in a way I would not have met Him had I stayed home in my chair.

…And, perhaps, my attendance is an encouragement or testimony to someone else.

When I’m there, I may not like every song or agree with every word spoken. But that’s not the point. I may have wrestled with Him all week; but come the weekend I publically present myself again to acknowledge my allegiance to Him.      

I now understand how easy it is for people to slip out of the habit of church attendance. And I now understand even more fully the significance of the words in Hebrews admonishing us,

Let us consider how we may spur one another on

toward love and good deeds.

Let us not give up meeting together,

as some are in the habit of doing,

but let us encourage one another—

and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

Hebrews 10:24-25

    Stay with me on this. The implications are profound. The word “Islam” means “surrender” or “submit.” In contrast, the word “Israel” comes from the word “struggle.”[1] 

    You remember the story, right? After two decades of separation from his brother Esau, Jacob is returning with his family and livestock (Gen. 32). On the final leg of the journey, he gets into a mysterious midnight wrestling match. By daybreak, Jacob is walking with a limp but believing that he has just wrestled with God Himself. Most importantly, Jacob (whose name meant “one who grasps” or “deceiver”) receives a new name—Israel—“one who struggles with God”. It obviously stuck, as 4,000 years later his nation still carries the name.

    Question: What kind of God is willing to be wrestled? What kind of God is willing to get on the mat with us and have it out? What kind of God would be so willing to be grappled with that He would name His people accordingly?

    Let me add more:  A Muslim is “one who submits.”  A Christian is one who resembles Christ. The name “Christian” was probably a slur when the people of Antioch first dubbed us so. The early disciples were being labeled as “belonging to Christ” or “little Christs.”[2]

    Like the Jews, our spiritual lineage as Christians winds its way back to that mystical match and the name that resulted—“one who struggles with God.” We are a people who have been given the privilege—dare I say it, even the identity, as people who grapple with the Almighty. Our faith is not a blind submission to some distant sovereign power. Our faith arises out of the freedom—even the necessity—of asking hard questions, wrestling with real issues, facing life honestly and openly. This kind of faith arises in the context of relationship.

    One of the powerful realities of the Christian faith is that we are invited to have a significant and genuine relationship with the living God. He wants to be known. He invites us to know Him. Again, our goal is not merely impersonal submission to a distant power. Our faith leads to genuine relationship. Consider just a sampling of Scripture revealing God’s heart on this matter:

Now this is eternal life: that they may know you,

the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.

(John 17:3)

I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection

and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.

(Phil. 3:10)

    This isn’t just a New Testament concept. God makes it very clear to Jeremiah,

Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom

or the strong man boast in his strength

 or the rich man boast in his riches,

but let him who boasts boast about this:

 that he understands and knows me,

that I am the Lord,

who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth,

for in these I delight.

(Jeremiah 9:23-24)

    And the prophet Hosea appeals to us,

Oh, that we might know the Lord! Let us press on to know Him!

 (Hosea 6:3 NLT)

    This is a core difference between Islam and Christianity. One does not need a relationship to merely submit to the authority of another…just accept what comes and do what they say. However, to have the freedom to question, challenge, cry, appeal, wonder and grapple implies and assumes that there is something significant happening relationally.

    So, to answer the earlier question—what kind of God is willing to be wrestled—a God of relationship, a God who knows us intimately and wants us to know Him intimately as well. What a privilege!

    Permission granted: It is okay to ask God the hard questions and to question the answers.

    And, invitation extended:

So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God.

There we will receive His mercy,

and we will find grace to help us when we need it.

 (Hebrews 4:16 NLT)

Four times a day Joanna assists me with my tube feeding. This is a very unglamorous 20 minutes of pouring liquefied medicines and cans of soy bean, corn and oat mixture through a tube directly into my stomach. Once a day, you’ll find us doing so by our laptop computer reading your latest blog comments—which we are very grateful for. They’ve caused us to laugh, cry, reminisce, reflect and appreciate.

One encouraging comment came from a woman we have never met; “God is using your words in a profound way,” she claims. “You are speaking in the middle of the storm and we need to hear what you have to say.” (From Blog Clog comment #13) Well, I’m not convinced my words are “needed,” but I appreciate the insight that I’m writing from the “middle.”  I currently have no way of knowing where this journey leads or how long it lasts. Some praying people have said to me that they are believing for my full recovery. I hope they are right. I, personally, haven’t heard from the Lord on this matter. What I do see are confused doctors, physical limitations and mental/emotional/spiritual battles. (How does one separate the body, psyche and spirit?)

Yes, my new friend, I am definitely writing from the “middle.” She refers to it as the middle of a storm. Joanna has used the metaphor of a tunnel. We know how long we’ve been in it, but we see no light yet at the end or have anyway of knowing if we’re 10% or 90% through it. We hope we’re somewhere in the middle. Meanwhile, we hold each other’s hand and together take one step at a time.

I tend to think of myself as being in the middle of a wrestling match. Like Jacob of old, I’m going round after round with a mysterious partner who won’t tell me his name. (I’ll be saying more about Jacob this week, but for today you can check out the story in Genesis 32.) Am I wrestling with Satan—this is all an attack from the enemy? There was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me (II Corinthians 12:7). Or perhaps this is all just part of living in a fallen world that is marked by disease and hardship? In this world you will have tribulation (John 14:33). Man is born for adversity as surely as sparks fly upward (Job 5:7). Or is my wrestling partner God himself? Is it not from the mouth of the Most High that both calamities and good things come? (Lamentations 3:38) Or, is it possible, that it is some cosmic interplay between all three? The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.” So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores” (Job 2:6-7).

Tonight I have no answer for my own questions. But, like Jacob, I wrestle on­—believing there is value and reason for the fight itself. We aren’t guaranteed answers for all our questions. We are guaranteed His presence.

So, to all of you who wrestle in the dark: Jacob, Joanna, I and many others join you. You may be as confused as I am, but you are not alone.

More to come on Jacob’s wrestling match on Wednesday.

Your Fellow Grappler,

John

Like a sink with a hairball in the drain, not much is passing through my brain these days…at least not much worthy of recording. I haven’t felt very good and my thinking has been sludgy.

I share this with you for two reasons. One, I want to let you know that I am in a recovery stage where I have some days that are far better than others. And, two, to let you know to not bother checking in on this blog until Monday. Hopefully by then the inspiration, energy and clarity will return.  I love doing this blog – it has been a great encouragement to me in my journey – to have reason to gather together my own meandering thoughts and to have you interact with them. So, I’ll be back – happily – but until then, like the old country song goes, “If the Phone Don’t Ring, Baby, You’ll Know It’s Me.”

With love and perseverance,

John

PS Don’t worry about me. The very fact that I am posting this little piece is evidence that the hairball is dissolving.

I will pour out my Spirit on all people.

Your sons and daughters will prophesy,

Your old men will dream dreams,

Your young men will see visions.

Even on your servants, both men and women,

I will pour out my Spirit in those days.

Joel 2:28-29

The Lord your God is with you,

He is mighty to save.

He will take great delight in you,

He will quiet you with his love,

He will rejoice over you with singing.

Zeph. 3:17

Today my mother celebrates her 90^th birthday. It pains me greatly that I could not travel to Minnesota this weekend and celebrate with her. The good news is that all of her other children, many grand and great grandchildren and dozens of friends have travelled to join the party. As I type this, she’s surrounded by love, and I’m adding my applause from afar.

Okay, so I’m biased, but I think my mother is an incredible woman. Raising six kids, being a pastor’s wife for over 45 years, selling more Tupperware than anyone knew possible, recovering from personal tragedies, travelling the globe, leading Bible studies, hosting a radio show, cooking countless meals, mastering the art of having garage sales, leading people to Christ, writing books and articles, making an impact wherever she went and living a life of faith and prayer during it all just begin a list of her accomplishments. Add to this the fact that she is a godly woman of integrity…my mom is quite a lady. At 90 she can still out-work, out-smile and out-think many people half her age.

When mom was in her late 60’s, some teenagers crossed the center line on a lonely Montana road, struck my parent’s vehicle head on, killed my father instantly and threw my mother under the dashboard. She was airlifted to the hospital in critical condition, endured numerous surgeries and made a tremendous recovery. My own recent illness has caused me to admire her all the more. Recently I wrote the following to her:

Today I want to celebrate your persevering strength. As I have been going through my recovery, I've thought of you countless times. Your accident and subsequent surgeries were huge—to state the obvious. The fact that you moved from hospitalization to rehab to living independently all these years is remarkable. People with less persevering strength than you would have spent most of these last years (if not all of them) in some care facility; but your resolve, hard work, faith in God and downright stubbornness have served you very well.
I admire your determination to do as much as you can on your own (not quickly depending on others or demanding they serve you).
I admire that you continued to travel so extensively for so many years.
I admire your ability to live with pain and discomfort without complaint.
More than these, I admire the fact that I've never sensed any bitterness in you about the tragedy that changed your life in a moment. Grief and pain were evident and appropriate, but somehow you've been able to keep these from poisoning your soul. This is a beautiful thing. This is a rare thing. Thank you for modeling forgiveness and an untainted heart for me.
I admire you in many ways, Mom; but in this time of my trial your model of persevering strength means a lot.

For those of you who know my mom, you know there is much more I could say. But for now, while family and friends gather in chilly Perham, Minnesota, I celebrate your life, Mom. And, I thank God for the genuine privilege it is to be your son.

With love,

John

PS. Speaking of moms—recently there has been some miscommunication that has gone out implying that Joanna’s mom has passed away. This is not accurate. She is in a weak condition but is still living independently. Joanna had a good visit with her last month and talks to her regularly on the phone. Thank you to those who have expressed concern.

For those who live in Salem, the church has put together a video of our story that they will be sharing in all six services this weekend. I hope to be able to make a few comments as well.

I’ve promised you an honest look at my journey. Today’s blog is an effort to keep that promise.

What I feared the most wasn’t death. In fact, death seemed more like a friend than an enemy. What I feared most wasn’t my physical disability; although for a while I was very afraid that I would permanently be a quadriplegic.

During the worst days of my long stay in the Intensive Care Unit, what I feared most was that I was losing my mind. I truly thought, and deeply feared, that I was going insane. Looking back, I now understand that very high doses of medications were causing hallucinations and delusional thinking. However, I didn’t know this at the time. All I knew was that it felt like I was going crazy. This condition lasted with intensity for about five days with remnants lingering for a few more weeks.

The power and reoccurrence of some of the hallucinations were almost overwhelming.  A month later I was still able to list over a dozen significant hallucinations I had experienced. Just last night I woke up at 3:00AM remembering yet another one…dark and disturbing. The same emotions from ten weeks ago tried to sweep over me. (Perhaps in the future I will share a few of the experiences I lived through in my head, but not today.) Some of the delusions were humorous; more were horrific. All of them so very real. They were detailed, colorful, recurring, long, emotionally intense, vivid and again, oh so real.

In my confused state, I developed a method of fighting back mentally. I devised a little logic pattern of sorts. Looking back it wasn’t all that logical; but at the time it made sense, and I returned to it often. I would rehearse in my head “If ____ happens, then ____ will happen. If that happens then _____ will happen.” This progression went on for some length, the blanks being filled in by different scenarios depending on what I believed I was dealing with at the time—real or, more likely, delusional. The one part of the pattern that did not change was the final line. “And if ___ happens and I die, I know I’m going to see Jesus.” This one thought of seeing Jesus would pull me out of my panic, and a sense of stability and safety would guard my heart again.

I guess I found great solace in knowing that no matter how cruddy the journey might be, it had an incredible finality. The road may be rugged but the final destination was assured and unbelievably good. Knowing that this state I was in would not go on forever kept hope alive.

I share this with you today not to garner more sympathy. Please no. I’m getting an ample supply of that. Thank you. I share it with you to celebrate that “we have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure” (Hebrews 6:19). Affixed to Christ, I am secure. Never in my life did this mean as much to me as when I was at my lowest.

I am so grateful for the assurance of salvation. As with all, I am so undeserving; yet I know that grace has been extended to me, my sins have been forgiven by the kindness and provision of Christ and a place is being prepared for me in heaven.

I am assuming that most people reading this blog share the same grateful assurance. But if you do not have a relationship with Christ, do not let another sun set before you have a serious conversation with God. Include a Christian friend if you have one. Or, contact an evangelical pastor and explain your desire for a relationship with Christ. Begin a journey that leads all the way to heaven.

Without life-giving faith, you lack an anchor for your soul. Adrift, you are grasping for some stability. Christ is God’s solution for the floundering soul. Christ is our hope. Christ is our anchor. Turn to Him.

                 God has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son.

                                    He who has the Son has life;

                he who does not have the Son of God does not have life.

     I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God

                    so that you may know that you have eternal life.

                                             I John 5:11-13

   Prior to this illness, I never knew how much of my personal identity was tied to my voice…as in literal vocal cords and sound. The way I spoke, preached, sang, laughed, whispered…even coughed, burped and sneezed all were part of this thing called “me.” For a lifetime I heard myself a certain way and was quite comfortable with it.

   Then they slit my throat…well, put a trach in anyway and I couldn’t speak for weeks. Meanwhile, the muscle attacking disease that had hammered other parts of my body evidently found its way to my vocal cords and soft palate. The result is that I have a very weak and airy voice with not enough vocal cord power and too much air coming out my nose rather than my mouth. “B’s” and “p’s” and “s’s” are especially tough. I slur a lot of my words. I don’t know what I sound like to you, but to me I sound like an old man with a bad sinus infection, who has smoked 3 packs a day for a lifetime and has been tipping the bottle all afternoon. I’m embarrassed by it. I used to love to sing…now I have a raspy six note range. I’m not impressed.

   The ever-encouraging wife of mine assures me that she likes my voice just as it is. I don’t believe her until she pulls out her next line, “For a while, I didn’t think I’d ever hear you speak again. So, I’m happy with your voice however it sounds.” What a great wife.

   For the last month, this encouraging wife and I have been attending Saturday night service at Salem Alliance. I cry every time I’m there. Our leader, Logan, closed last week’s service with a very worshipful rendition of I Love You Lord. As you know, the song goes on to say, “I lift my voice to worship you…take joy my King in what you hear. May it be a sweet, sweet sound in your ear.”

   I was drawn into worship and was attempting to sing the few notes that were in my range, but I was also thinking, “Take joy? Sweet, sweet sound? Hardly! Not from these vocal cords.” But, at that moment I received a simple, quiet and gentle reassurance from Father that it was indeed a sweet sound to Him. He doesn’t evaluate music on the quality of the voice but the condition of the heart. I may sound like a half-drunk emphysema victim, but my heart can be right—my worship sincere.

   One day God gave Jeremiah a message to give to King Jehoiakim—an ungodly king who was building a marvelous palace but was using unjust labor practices in the process. Jeremiah warned him, “A beautiful palace does not make a great king!” (22:15) May I paraphrase and say, “A beautiful voice does not make a great worshiper.” God has a gazillion angels that can sing better than any voice on earth. He doesn’t need more sound, but He’s looking for more hearts.

   Two applications: First, go to church this next weekend and offer what you’ve got. Quit holding back. Move from spectator to participant. Quit watching a show and join a celebration. Enter in. So you sound like Donald Duck and clap off-beat. You’re not trying out for American Idol; you are giving back to God an offering of what He has given to you. He’s the one who gave you that voice anyway. And be assured, He likes it—because it is yours, uniquely yours.

   All that being said about voice and singing aside; I’m really trying to make a larger point. The greater application to my little singing experience is clearly this: What point of weakness in your life causes you to pull back from God? We all have some part of our life, experience, body, personality, etc. that we don’t like. It is at this point that many of us cower from the Father. We feel more comfortable offering Him our strengths—I can do this for you, Lord—but to offer Him our places of embarrassment is more difficult. That place feels so broken, so unusable, so inappropriate to give—like re-gifting a $25 gift card after you’ve used $18.36 of it. But I assure you that He is the God of cracked voices and cracked pots. He wants all of us. Quit holding out on Him. Offer Him what you have—weaknesses and all.

   Okay, sermon ended. Care to join me in a song? I’ll sing as I type if you’ll sing along.

I don’t want to use this blog to focus on my physical condition, but I know that some of you pray for me specifically; so here’s the latest.

Positive Notes: The swelling that I reported last time has subsided. The trach opening in my neck is closing well. My head congestion is somewhat better and the skin breakdown/sores have greatly improved. On the small stuff, I’m on the mend!

Of Concern: My muscle enzyme count (one of the symptoms that got me in trouble in the first place and an indication that whatever it is I’m battling hasn’t totally left my body) is back up to three times normal. This is nothing compared to the 250 times normal that I maxed out with at one point, but it has the doctor concerned enough to raise the strong medication I was starting to be weaned off of. This feels like a pretty big setback. Two side effects of this strong dosage are that it slows the healing process for wounds and causes muscle weakness/weariness. Both of these are obviously frustrating in that I have a significant wound on my thigh and want to make progress in my physical rehabilitation.

In addition, they did determine at the nerve conductive study that I do have nerve damage in my left leg. I am to go in for an MRI for more analysis. No improvement, to my knowledge, on gland function. Finally, my speech and swallow—if improving—are doing so very slowly.

Meanwhile, I continue to be blessed by incredible care giving from my wife, an exceptional home health care nurse who takes care of many of my needs including changing the wound vacuum dressing three times a week, and the encouragement from literally hundreds (thousands?) of supportive friends. Some of you even got together and bought us a Wii, complete with the Fitness feature—very cool. My physical therapy has suddenly been taken to new levels. What a fun surprise it was. It will get good use. Thank you!

Some of you are aware that last weekend Joanna went to visit her mom who is ill in Ohio. I missed her greatly, but she had a good trip and was grateful to spend—what humanly speaking could be—her last visit with her mom. Mike and Nece, my sister and brother-in-law from Montana were kind enough to give me the care I needed in her absence.

Through all these things God keeps carrying us along and we are very aware of your prayers/support. What a bummer it would be to not have faith and friends.

With gratitude,

John

I’ll confess. I’ve spent a fair amount of time this month counting my losses. A list was growing. But today on the way home from the clinic Joanna and I talked about our three children. They each are making good decisions, following Christ and are just down-right great people. Do I sound like a proud dad?

Then my son, Drew, came home with a new CD. He is my last remaining link to current culture. (When he goes off to college, I’ll be lost back in Bill Gaitherville…just kidding.) Drew introduced me to Kanye West, a rap artist. In his song, Welcome to Heartbreak, West admits,

I don’t have some things others have. I don’t have some things I used to have. But I wouldn’t trade what I do have: the ever-present Spirit within me, the certainty of eternity with Christ, the faithful love of my dear wife, the pleasure of being the dad of fine young adults, the support of our church, my extended family and a thousand friends from the past…to name some of the most important riches I enjoy. I can’t deny that I have a mental list of things I’ve lost, but the list of what I have is far greater.

Kanye has reason to envy.

Oxymorons—you remember what they are, right? Two words that appear contradictory such as known secret. Or, how about these: Reality TV, sad smile, humane killer, jumbo shrimp, deeply shallow, buffalo wings, climb down, civil war, same difference or dead livestock. I find it interesting that the word oxymoron comes from two Greek words: oxy (meaning “sharp” or “pointed”) and moros (meaning “dull”). So you can see that the word oxymoron is itself an oxymoron.

One oxymoron that has arisen in my world lately is bed exercises. Many of the good folks in physical therapy are accustomed to working with people who spend most of their days in bed, and thus they have devised exercises especially suited for being flat on your back. These are all helpful and good, I’m sure. I just have one problem with the scenario: when I go to bed I’m thinking about going to sleep, not doing sets of ten leg lifts!

I’ve enjoyed reading through Jeremiah for my morning devotions this month. Jeremiah has a difficult life-assignment, as one author summarizes, “Jeremiah was called by God to the unhappy task of telling an unheeding nation it was going to be judged and destroyed.”

As he faithfully fulfills this calling, one of the gifts Jeremiah gives us is that he is more autobiographical than any of the other prophets. He provides an inside look into his life and emotions. He’s very open about his passion, “Your words are what sustain me. They bring me great joy and are my heart’s delight” (15:16); his frustration, “O Hope of Israel, our Savior in times of trouble! Why are you like a stranger to us? Why are you like someone passing through the land, stopping only for the night?” (14:8); his grief, “Oh, that my eyes were a fountain of tears; I would weep forever!” (9:1); and his faith, “O Sovereign Lord! You have made the heavens and earth by your great power. Nothing is too hard for you!” (32:17). Meanwhile, he fills us in on numerous fascinating details of his life such as being thrown into a cistern and preaching with a yoke around his neck.

One of the most intriguing passages in Jeremiah feels like an oxymoron to me—two statements Jeremiah makes right next to each other that seem contradictory.

He writes with confidence, “The Lord stands beside me like a great warrior. Before him they will stumble. They cannot defeat me…I have committed my cause to you. Now I will sing out my thanks to the Lord!” Then, immediately, he shifts to this, “Yet I curse the day I was born! May the day of my birth not be blessed. I curse the messenger who told my father, ‘Good news—you have a son!’…Oh, that I had died in my mother’s womb, that her body had been my grave! Why was I ever born?” (20:11-18).

What is up with that? “I’m singing praise to the Lord, my great warrior; but I really wish I were dead.” First of all it is honest. Next, it reveals to us how safe Jeremiah felt as he talked with God.  Third, I think we may have come to believe that “transparency” is a recent discovery from the world of psychology promoting better soul health, but Jeremiah models it from 600 BC. It’s nothing new, it’s just too rare. Fourth, it suggests that two contradictory emotions are possible simultaneously in the human heart. Some of us know what this is like. Two contradictory streams merge. Both real. Both powerful. Finally, notice that Jeremiah doesn’t resolve the tension—he doesn’t undo the contradiction—he doesn’t feel a need to wrap it all in a bow. He lets the oxymoron of his present condition hang there unsettled. Today he gives me permission to do so as well.

Stacked high on our kitchen counter are seven cases of formula for my feeding tube. Each case carries 24 cans—enough for three days. Thanks to Providence Home Health Care, another shipment will arrive in a couple of weeks. The soybean and oat based “calorically dense liquid medical food” has kept me alive these last three months. I’ve even gained back of few of the 40 pounds I’ve lost. And, I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that my burps taste like I’ve been grazing in the open field.

The stack is a steady reminder that no one in the medical profession expects my condition to improve rapidly.  I’ve heard words like long, slow, process, wait, patience and eventually more times than I can count. Of course I’m not discounting the fact that God could do a healing work in a moment’s time, but up to this point He seems to be choosing the path of healing that requires a lot of participation on my part. Four times a day I am to do a whole list of exercises (including gargling Club Soda) in attempts to strengthen the mouth, tongue, face, neck and throat muscles. Long and slow are definitely appropriate words.

Recently one of my sisters sent me a warm letter which included verses by which she had put my name in her Bible, “Yet I am confident that I will see the Lord’s goodness while I am here in the land of the living. Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.” (Psalm 27:13-14)  I never noticed before how courage and bravery are linked with patience in this passage. David seems to be talking to himself saying, “Pull it together, man. Be brave and hang in there. God will come through in His own time.”

In this passage of life in which I find myself, I find courage necessary for patience to thrive. Fear rises up and tells me that I’ll never improve. Discouragement tags along claiming the exercises aren’t helping. It takes a unique type of courage to persevere when no signs of progress emerge. The stack on my counter testifies that if I ever want to eat a burger again, I don’t have much choice.

I’m a little weary of talking about my ailments, but I know that some of you appreciate having the full scoop—you like details, you want to know what’s really going on. So, I won’t do this very often, but here’s a part-by-part account of what I’m dealing with physically.

Feet and Legs

• I carry a wound vacuum attached to my right thigh where the surgeon had to reopen a biopsy that never healed—leaving a 4 inch by 3 inch opening in my leg, all the way down to the muscle. The vac seems to be working effectively and the wound is healing well. I’m guessing I’ll have the vac for another month.


• My bigger concern is my left thigh. The quad muscles aren’t all operating and I am limited in movement and strength. As a result, the knee buckles easily.  I have very little feeling in the leg as well. I go to a neurologist February 17 for a nerve conductive study to see if there is permanent damage.


• I continue to use a walker for short distances and wheelchair for long.

Upper Body

• After losing the 80 pounds of water weight, for the next weeks my skin seemed to molt like a snake. The result is that my skin seems fragile and I’ve developed sores on my elbows, shoulders, etc. This isn’t a big deal but makes sleep a little more difficult. Joanna made me some nifty fleece elbow pads for protection.


• The trach opening is healing slowly but well.


• I have weakness and limited movement in my hands and shoulders. (Who knew taking a lid off of Chap Stick could be so challenging?!) When I have the strength I continue to do range of motion and weight lifting exercises. Progress has been very slow.

Head

• I’m so grateful that I can now read at length (an hour at a time). As of the last two weeks or so, my stamina for mental activity has greatly increased.


• My speech is still very forced, stilted and nasal. I’m embarrassed by it actually. Many of my words slur. I’m disappointed that I’ve not progressed in recent weeks in this area.


• My head is still congested leaving my ears clogged…another minor nuisance.


• Swallowing: no progress here either. Joanna still feeds me four times a day via feeding tube. 

Overall

• The doctor says my glands aren’t operating yet. I take supplemental medication as a result.


• It feels like after a month of rapid progress, I’ve hit a plateau the last two weeks. Strength doesn’t seem to be building. Swelling has returned to my hands and ankles. I still need to sleep over half the day. There are many possible reasons for this plateau, including medication adjustments. Yet, I’m hoping for a much better second-half of February.


• Emotionally, Joanna and I are holding together pretty well. We have our moments of gloom and/or tears, but most of our days are marked by peace or at least acceptance. We are convinced that God has us in this sequestered place at this time, so we’ll attempt to keep trusting Him. I’ll be sharing some of my “wrestlings”, questions and lessons in later blogs.

I hope this didn’t come across as a big complaint/pity session. I just know that many are curious and want to pray specifically. Thanks so much for your ongoing prayers and concern. It means so much to Joanna and I to have your support.

Talk to you again soon,

John