On the second day at Kaweah Delta Hospital, Jill had a stress test (not the kind where you have to run or walk, but the chemical in your veins variety), as well as a CT scan of her chest. They concluded, gratefully, that her heart is in great shape and even bigger news: the embolisms in her lungs were… wait for it… ALL GONE!  We couldn’t believe it! Even though this is about the time when our doctors at Mayo hoped Jill’s lungs would be clear, it still came as an incredible surprise.  It turns out the chest pain was likely caused by a compacted section of Jill’s bowel. Lovely. After two nights and three days in the hospital and several cocktails of various “moving” tonics, we were grateful to be coming home again, “free and clear”!

So here’s a question I’ve never thought to ask before. In the case of an emergency, what is road etiquette for having to get to a hospital in a sort of “as the crow flies” fashion? And, well, is it appropriate to drive on the shoulder, or on sidewalks, or medians? Turn emergency flashers on and just go “flat out” through amber or red lights? How many pedestrians must you avoid? All of them?

Well, we started last week feeling quite optimistic, and as though we were making great progress. Jill was feeling better and we were making great strides in PT (Physical Therapy). By Wednesday, she felt strong enough to accompany the girls to their weekly piano lesson. I dropped them off and ran errands while they had their one hour lesson. When I returned and while loading Jill into the suburban, I saw that familiar look in Jill’s eye that something wasn’t quite right. As we started to pull out of the driveway and head down the road, I asked her if she was ok. She answered “No, I have this pain in my tooth.” “In your tooth?” I asked. “Yes, but now it’s in my jaw… and now my ear and my neck.” If you could have seen my face I probably looked like a very concerned Marty Feldman: one eye on the road and one eye on Jill! At about that moment, Jill pulled both hands to her chest and started to breathe through perced lips. She said, “I feel really weird.” She looked concerned, very concerned. I asked her if she wanted me to bring her to the hospital, to which she answered, “I don’t know.” I really don’t know why I even asked, because I was already heading towards the hospital.

The next several moments play back in my mind in what seems to be slow motion. The hospital was about a 20 minute drive from piano lessons and I was driving flat out. I passed CHP cars on the side of the road and wondered why none of them chased me down. Aubrey and Allison were in the back seat whispering, “Is Mom okay?”  Jill was taking very measured breaths and saying the pain in her chest was sharp. I turned on our flashers and blew the horn, as I wove in and out of traffic. Finally arriving at the Emergency Room entrance, we got Jill in her wheelchair and flew through the door and up to the desk. I told the first person I saw, “She has chest pain and is on Warfarin.  Jill just sat in the chair with head in her hands.

They ushered us back to a room, got Jill on a table and immediately they did an EKG. Then they moved her to a different room for the next four hours of various tests. (Thankfully, Jill’s chest pain subsided soon after arriving at the ER.) After communicating with her regular doctor, the decision was made by the ER doctor to admit her to the hospital for more tests.  Over the next two days, they did several X-rays, a CT scan, blood tests and a heart stress test.

It was determined that her Hemoglobin numbers were ok but her INR numbers were lower than the target range and her white blood cell count was elevated, suggesting an infection somewhere in her body. We needed to find more answers though, which meant more tests, and more waiting.

And so, another roller coaster adrenaline rush takes place. Unlike, our time at Mayo, Jill felt well enough at night that I could go home to take care of the kids. That made it feel like it wasn’t as hard for us all.

This week’s doctors appointments and Physical Therapy sessions went pretty well. We are trying to find the perfect combination of Warfarin and pain meds to keep Jill’s hemoglobin count, INR and pain in check. Her hemoglobin count has been low possibly suggesting either a bleed somewhere or a reaction to some of the drugs she is taking. Her INR count was also low this week so we need to adjust the dosage of her Warfarin intake again. It’s such a balancing act. So many factors can throw off her numbers so we try to keep her diet and the timing of her meds consistent.

Physical Therapy was tough this week. Tuesday’s session went well as Jill’s Therapists Kevin Bartel and Tisha Cotta really got good movement from her knee and kept pushing up through her pain barrier. Thursday’s session was harder in part because on Wednesday she felt so good she thought she could reduce her pain med dose. Two words: Big mistake! That evening Jill could hardly move her leg and even the touch of the fabric of her PJ’s on her knee made her burst into tears. It’s these times that are probably the most difficult for us all. It’s hard. I think the realization is also sinking in that recovery might just take longer than we originally had hoped. But chins are up and are all trying to focus on being optimistic. This is helped greatly by the small gifts given with loving notes from friends, or the emails, voice mails and texts of encouragement.

You know who you are. Thank you.

Growing up in Newfoundland gave me not only a rich heritage full of great childhood experiences, but also a very colourful cultural backdrop which I have come to appreciate even more as I have aged and been living “up along”. Winters in Newfoundland are unpredictable. Several times as a child I remember not having snow for Christmas but being mad at the flurries on the last day of school in June. The crazy weather and rugged geography belie the fact that to live on “The Rock” (as locals call it), generations have produced a people who are resilient, hard working and tough.  They are more commonly known as tight nit family types whose love for their homeland is only outdone by their compassion for others and 24 hour open door policy for friend and stranger alike. They are storytelling jokesters who never miss an opportunity for a good laugh, even, and most peculiarly, at their own expense. Extremely proud to be a “Newf”, I am.

If you’ve ever heard a parent or an older person talk about how, when they were growing up, they had to walk to school uphill both ways. Well, that actually can happen in Newfoundland and was my experience in my grade school years. Throw in some days of sleet or blizzard-like conditions and we kids learned how to get around with low visibility through mountains of snow. When you could walk in groups or behind an adult it afforded the opportunity to walk in the tracks made in the snow by the person in front of you. An adult’s footprints were best because they were bigger and went deep enough to provide a secure footing for you to follow. I especially liked my Dad’s tracks because he was sure footed in snow, and when stepping into his footsteps, even though I’d nearly have to jump to make to span of each of his wide stride steps, it made me feel bigger and more grown up than I actually was. Like I was able to handle even the big drifts. I could, sort of. But only because I knew where to step.

We had been looking forward to last weekend for weeks. Erin had a four-day weekend and was able to come home from Azusa Pacific University with one of her very cool new friends from school, Anna. We had a blast with all hands at home and we did things, normal things, like run errands around town or go get ice cream at Foster’s Freeze or take the 30 minute drive for some of the best chocolate covered stuff at Reimer’s in Three Rivers. We even explored the wheelchair ramp in the theater and all sat in a row by where Jill was “parked” to watch the movie TinTin.

Two real gifts arrived on Saturday when a group of friends from church delivered a new mattress for Trevor’s bed so that Jill could transfer from the couch to an actual bed. Since arriving from the hospital a month ago, Jill has been sleeping in the living room because she can’t make it upstairs on her own and she wants to be down where everyone is and able to hang out with the kids. Trevor’s bedroom is near the living room so we will kick him out of his bed for a while so mom can sleep more comfortably. The second gift was when they all stayed and did three hours of yard work. It was amazing how much six people got done so quickly. Thanks guys! You checked off something that was way down on my priorities list but I was really in need of. Thank you.

Sunday was the first time Jill was able to go to church since early December and it was great for her to get out and see so many friends. During the music part of the worship service on Sunday we had a couple of emotional moments. The first was when it occurred to us that we all were there, in a row, singing and worshipping together. After the events of the past several weeks, it was a moment of perspective. My heart was filled with the gratitude that we’d made it through and were still altogether. The second moment was for Jill. When she tried to sing she discovered that she didn’t have nearly the capacity she used to. It’s as though she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs and her voice was very weak. Apparently, the multiple pulmonary embolisms and partial infarct has affected her in ways that we didn’t before realize.  So another way to pray – that she regain her lung capacity and endurance in time.  Altogether, though she was exhausted at the end of the weekend, it was well worth it and we felt like we had made real progress.

I’ve heard the “Footprints” poem all my life. You know the one where the guy is walking along, with God it seems, down the beach which represents his life and at some point towards the end of his journey he turns around and is really ticked off when he notices that during the most difficult times in his life there were only one set of footprints left in the sand. As he complains to God about this, God explains that is was during those times that, not only was he not abandoned, but those were the times he was being carried.

As we look back over the past few months we can see how our Father has carried us or provided for us in some life-affirming or sustaining ways, and through the most difficult of times. And, it’s part of my belief system that someday in the future, during the “great review” of my life, my God will make clear what was unseen by me that those critical times in my life were indeed times when He carried, provided, and lovingly showed grace during the dark moments when I thought I might actually be alone. But truthfully, for me as a husband and father these days, though I gain perspective by considering the past, it’s the knowing where to place my next step that I think I need most. Life’s circumstantial blizzards can make white-out conditions in your life where clear direction is lost and new challenges, like snowdrifts, can make what was a well-worn path yesterday be completely unrecognizable today. I need to know where to put my foot. When I’m blinded by pain, or fatigue, or discouragement, I need that hole in the snow to focus on and plant my “logan” (Newf for boot).

Honestly, there are days, or at least parts of them, when I don’t know what to do and when there are far more questions than answers. Sometimes I beat my chest and yell at God. Sometimes I sit in self-pity and sulk. Sometimes in the dark of night, I cry out to Him, begging Him for help, “Not for my sake, but for those who depend on me most, please help me.” Sometimes I serve my wife and kids and marvel and ask, “Who was that person who actually said or did the right thing at the right moment?” Sometimes I embrace grace. Sometimes I give. Sometimes I forgive. Sometimes I suffer.

All times I’m being carried and looking for that familiar hole in the snow.

“And your ears will hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it’, when you turn to the right hand and when you turn to the left.”  Isaiah 30:21 (AMP)

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”   Psalm 119:105

On Tuesday Jill went in for her latest appointment for an iron infusion, blood work and consult with our doctor, the third in about a week. A couple of flags came up in her numbers. Her hemoglobin count was a whole point lower again, which is a bit of a mystery because from what we can tell the bleeding has decreased. Hmm. We thought that once the bleeding was controlled that the numbers would stabilize. He asked if Jill had been experiencing any heartburn because maybe there is another source of bleeding that is going undetected. She has had some heartburn so we think that could be a possibility. So we are taking meds for that now, just add it to the list. One theory is that the multiple medications themselves could be irritating her stomach and causing a little bleeding. We’re not sure so on goes the search!

Jill is feeling stronger this week and is slowly gaining more energy each day. The Physical Therapist really stretched her on Tuesday appointment which one, got a little more movement out of her leg, and two, caused the next couple of days to be more painful. We are encouraged though at the baby steps! Today is another PT day. Prayer is appreciated.

The kindness shown by local friends has been humbling.  We are so grateful for the meals prepared with love, and donations of much needed “things”. After reading our latest blog, some friends from a home group at church purchased a new mattress for Jill so that she can transition from the couch to a bed soon. And one very generous friend even donated a treadmill for her to use (eventually).  It is so heartwarming to see smiling faces of loving people walk through our door with such care and concern. It’s healing. It’s like God walks through the door with soup and cleaning supplies.

It’s no small thing.
I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. Ephesians 1:6

Last fall, Jill and I made several trips around the country for “Home Meetings”. These are meetings held in friends and / or sponsors homes to report on what we’ve been doing here recently at FSM and what future projects and outreaches are planned. The people attending these informal meetings are made up of folks who have supported us for many years as well as some who don’t know us at all but were invited by our friends who want to introduce us to people in their communities whom they think might have an interest in the kind of ministry ops we do. We have to say, we love these meetings. We love talking about what we’ve seen God do in people’s lives in Thailand or India or Albania or the US. When we take the time to reflect on what we have seen God doing and then invite people to be involved by either praying for the outreaches specifically, supporting FSM financially, or even volunteering themselves, it is very inspiring.

It was on one of these trips that it happened. The approach into DTW (Detroit) via plane that November day was one of those that you laugh about later but at the time had you mentally going through the list of details, including but not limited to, “Did I pay my life insurance premium?”, “Will the kids know where to find important docs?” or ”What jokes will my brother Rodge tell at my funeral?” (the latter giving me a sudden drive to survive!). For several minutes the wind seemed to throw our 737 around from side to side and up and down, quite suddenly at times. I’ve been on similar flights before, but you know it’s bad when women start screaming around you. At least I think they were women’s screams. I suppose they could have been those sounds men make when, because of a sudden jolt of fear, they involuntarily let out high-pitched scream-y noises and then act like it was the lady next to them. Even the inebriated guy across the isle looked like he was praying. We hit the runway hard and bounced back into the air a few times and then did that swerving thing when you have the sensation that the whole airliner could roll or flip. I could imagine the pilots’ white knuckles on the wheel, trying desperately to hold her straight. For what seemed an eternity, we were out of control, overwhelmed by the elements, and in serious trouble.

Then, in seconds, the jet’s nose came aright, we slowed to a calm speed and started taxiing toward our gate. Passengers applauded…and finally exhaled.

We’ve been looking for a way to describe what the past few weeks have been like to us as we made our final approach toward home, not just on the drive from Minnesota to California, but into what we have now called our “new norm”. Each day has had its challenges and we have found ourselves bobbing and weaving through the unpredictable circumstances each day brings. In reality, unlike the Detroit experience, this landing may take a while, maybe several months.

The drive through Colorado, Utah, Nevada, and California (January 10-12) was long but fairly uneventful. Only one close call on the road caused by a pick-up truck losing control and spinning three rotations about 500 feet directly in front of us. Other than that, we made the trip by breaking it up with stops every two to three hours to get Jill out to walk around. Though painful, these stops kept her leg flexible and lungs filled with fresh air. The last day was long, but well worth pushing through, as we knew the kids were waiting at the end of our journey.

The greeting we received when we pulled into the driveway is something we’ll likely remember for rest of our lives. As the van stopped, the house front door opened and out poured Aubrey, Allison and Trevor, along with Aunt Jamie and Grandma. The girls opened my driver’s door and both were practically in the front seat with me, their arms wrapped around me. We cried and laughed at the same time. The side door was thrown open revealing mom in the back of the van. The kids clamored to get to her but it was hard because of all of the well-placed pillows, blankets, ice coolers and sleeping bags. So they stepped back a bit as I helped Jill get  into a sitting position at the door of the van where they were finally able to hug her.

Then came the trip from the van to the sofa. I pulled out Jill’s walker and she slowing pulled herself up to a standing position. Then, turning towards the door, she started her “Tim Conway old man shuffle”, inching her way to the first of three landings leading up to the front door. As she paused at the first landing and turned to hoist herself up that first step, it was an emotional moment. This was the step we kept referring to in Physical Therapy sessions in the hospital. During the practice steps at Mayo, either the therapist or I would say, “Imagine this is your first step home. You’re walking up the stairs to your house”.  It was picturing doing normal things at home that would motivate Jill to press through the pain. Slowly she placed her “good” leg up on the step, braced her arms on her new blue Walmart Walker, took a deep breath and then, with an exhale, pulled herself up onto the first landing. Success! She repeated this process twice, inching her way to the door, but by the time she got to the last step to the house she was whimpering and shaking, trying not to cry. I have learned to let her do as much as possible by herself to build up her muscles and endurance. But she had hit her limit. So I put my arm around waist and lifted her over the threshold and through the front door. Once her walker was in place and pointing in the right direction, she started toward the living room where the final two steps down to the couch were waiting. I steadied her but she was able to do most of the work herself. Making it down, she got to the sofa (chesterfield) in the living room where the kids had made a nice bed for her (and thanks to the very rigorous work of Aunt Jamie and Grandma, the house was spotless).  She sat and pivoted her good leg up onto the couch and then I lifted her swollen and wrapped leg slowly into place and lowered it unto a pillow to keep it elevated.

Unlike our experience on the plane, no one applauded, but there was a collective sigh of relief.

I think the shock of seeing their mom so frail took the kids back a bit. No one knew what to do at first. On the one hand, they were thrilled to see her, but on the other, they mentally took in the obvious, that mom was not back to normal.  After taking a moment for her body and mind to relax into the fact that she was lying on her own sofa, in her own house, Jill began to weep. She sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes and everyone was very still in the room, kind of taking in the situation and not knowing what to do. Finally, someone asked, “Are you ok? Are you hurting? Do you need something?” Jill mumbled something no one could understand at first.  When asked again she said, as with an exhale, “I’M SO RELIEVED!”   Even though she was suffering so much, being in her own home surrounded by her family, was by far the best of all medicines.

The past few weeks are a little hard to describe briefly. There have been some beautiful highlights when we experienced great care from loved ones and friends, or when all the meds “lined up” perfectly to produce a day of reduced pain. Then there are low days when, for some reason, we got behind in the exact timing of the pain meds and played catch up all day.  Those are not great days. I watch Jill fight to keep a positive attitude because she knows we are all affected by it too. I try to reassure her that it’s ok to be weak during these times and that she needs to relax into the reality of the moment, rest when she can, and gain some strength to go at it again tomorrow. We are all facing this challenge together. We can take heart in knowing that we are not alone in this. Together we will find the strength to shrug off self-pity and seek to find the joy in each day. This isn’t some line from a self-help or positive thinking book. It’s the reality that we face as we go through the ebbs and flows of this life we are presented with each day. Not how we wish it were, or how it will be, or even how it may have been on a great or memorable day from the past, but today, as it is.

A Word of Thanks (and *)

There is really no way for us to adequately communicate how grateful we are to the dozens of people who have been there to help lend a hand, cook a meal, buy some groceries, do something nice for the kids, run an errand, show up and just start doing yard work, fill up the car with gas, or… well, you get the drift. Or, to the hundreds of people who have sent letters, texts, emails, or cards of encouragement or well wishes. Or, to the thousands of people who have prayed so fervently for healing, strength and supply for Jill and our family over the past couple of months. Thank you. With the coming months being uncertain as far as ministry operations as concerned, we greatly appreciate your patience and understanding.

Needs

Many people have asked us what our needs are during this time. To be honest it’s been hard to answer that question because much of what we’ve needed is personal in nature. Typically when asked this I can rattle off a laundry list of the most recent needs for an overseas outreach, or equipment for a C4W event, or finances needed for a team member raising support. But now the needs are more… basic? Our church has organized a meal program where people can sign up to bring a meal, which happens every other day. Seems like a small thing, but this has been a God-send.

Because so many have asked, I am including a list of “Needs” that will likely be adjusted as time progresses. In some areas, I’m guessing, trying to anticipate future stuff.

House Cleaning: 1-4 hours per week

Yard Work: 1 – 200 hours per week!

Meals: Sign up at http://www.takethemameal.com/meals.php?t=UBGB6662

Exercise Equipment: Eliptical, Tread Mill, or Stationary Cycle, etc…As Jill gains mobility, she’ll need to exercise regularly to build and maintain overall health, and keep clots from forming again. This is a significant life change for her. I am keeping my eye on used equipment on Craigslist. If you know of anyone getting rid of such items, please let us know.

Construction: We are planning to remodel the bathroom to make it more accessible for Jill to get in and out of the shower. Our plan at this moment is to accomplish this with two crews of able bodied volunteers while we are at Mayo for our follow up consult at the end of March. We guess it will be a 2-3 day project. We’ve done this for other missionaries and it is very organized and makes for a quick but thorough project getting finished. I will have a contractor in charge of the project and will supervise. I am making a list of interested volunteers. If you are interested, send me a personal email and I’ll add you to the list and keep you informed of the details. Email: geoff@fullsail.org.

Finances: Because we have had to postpone or cancel most ministry programs through May, FSM will no doubt feel the effects of lost ministry income and we’ll also be stretching on our personal finances. We are facing the coming challenges, though, with a deep trust in God to provide and supply all of our needs, and Who happens to have a very long track record of faithful care for His kids.

*  An Apology

Those of you who have been thinking of us and breathing prayers of health and help and good for us, I can’t help but feel a little sad that I haven’t communicated more regularly when so many have used this blog as a way to keep up to date with Jill’s progress. All I can say is that I will do my best to keep these updates coming, not only to inform you, but it is cathartic for me too.

The truth is, there have been some very overwhelmed moments for us as a couple, as parents, as a family, and as individuals over the past month or so. And by moments I may mean hours… and by hours I could mean days… and by days I might mean weeks… and by weeks I… just kidding. I think. Sort of.  The truth is, we’ve had some very difficult days with much pain. Balancing the needs of my patient with the needs of my family and providing, well, just providing.  But, the Truth also is, “I will never leave you, never forsake you. I am with you, even to the end. And I do not condemn, I forgive and give life, very full, abundant, satisfied life. So always come.”

(Hebrews 13:5, Matthew 28:20, John 3:16, John 10:10, John 6:35, 37 & 44, Hebrews 4:6)

Here is a favorite Roby Duke tune.

Cathedral Walk

this cathedral lane through which I walk
is far to grand for haste or talk
it calls for gazing, it calls for dreaming
seeing all the things that thrill my being
all the loved ones that bless my soul

I found my way
I know to make me a shelter under the tree of life
there my God everlasting
at the end of my rope He made a swing for me
and I swing without fear of falling

the older trees show the young ones how
with foot on foot and bow on bow
to earn the grandeur that heaven meant
as they reach for sun and firmament
a simple wildflower lifts its head
and I stop until a prayer is said

I feel the wonder
I know to make me a shelter under the tree of life
there my God almighty
at the end of my rope He made a swing for me
and I swing without fear of sorrow

the cathedral lane through which I walk
is far too grand for haste or talk
the varied songbirds, they dart and say
this is God’s wondrous world
tomorrow may not reach a dawn
with nightingale I sing alone

I know my way
I know to walk in the shade under the tree of life
there my God everlasting
at the end of my rope He made a swing for me
and I swing without fear of falling

without fear of sorrow

without fear of tomorrow

- Roby Duke

We packed, showered, said hasty goodbyes and sincere thank you’s to Aaron Lightner and headed the van toward home. As if on cue, Jill began sobbing. It was the best feeling in 3 weeks.

We decided to drive home instead of fly because we felt it was a little more of a controlled environment. On a plane, if her pain meds wore off or something unforeseen happened we’d be sort of stuck. But by driving, if something happened or she needed to pause and adjust her meds, we could just stop.  I made Jill promise me to exercises in bed/seat. Every two hours we will stop for meds, a bathroom break, and more exercise.  Jill had chili for lunch and chicken nuggets for supper, making me wonder if she was reverting back to her childhood. Hmm, were there “nuggets” back then?

We were a able to make a connection with Dr. Havard’s office in Visalia. He will read Jill’s INR’s on Friday and be able to adjust Jill’s dosage of Warfarin by then.

Jill had a great connection by phone with Erin, now back at APU. She is thrilled to be “home”. Jill also made plans with Aunt Jamie for celebrating Aub’s 14th b-day tomorrow. They’ll celebrate it tomorrow and we’ll just celebrate it again on the weekend I guess. We drove 714 miles today and then stopped for the night in Ogallala, NE, thanks to the help of Bonnie and David Dick who got our hotel booked and is following the weather reports and mileage. We were tired by anxious to keep moving. We’ve just gotta get home!

Up and out the door early today. We had a full day:

7:40AM – appt with Ob/Gyn at Mayo to make sure no complications from that angle. Dr. Johnson and his nurses where some of the most gentle people we’d met there so far (and that’s saying something).

8:40AM – blood work for INR to determine Warfarin level.

11:30AM – meeting with Dr. Tollofston she suggested maybe Jill has “CLOVE” instead of KT. Hmmm!

3:30PM met with team to receive INR level and prescription for Warfarin until home.  We took it to the pharmacy and I thought the pharmacist said the meds cost was $3800.  I swallowed hard.  Then at the payment/pick-up window the clerk said $38.00!  My feelings of stupidity were overcome by feelings of relief.

No appointments this Sunday! We tried to get Jill’ meds schedule written out and sorted. Jill was in pain for the first half of the day but by the time mid afternoon came around she was starting to feel better. Had an afternoon visit by Steve and Rosie Koebele, Facebook and ICVM friends. As we talked for a while I was struck by how “normal” this was. Man, it is great to be out of the hospital!

Since Jill’s INR numbers were good again today, Dr. Shah decided she could be released and work through the list of consultations from the rest of the physicians as an outpatient. We were going to leave the hospital! We spent most of our day there, going through the process of preparing to leave and setting up appointments for the coming days and writing the prescriptions for the meds we’d need to bring home. We said goodbye to Dr. Shah with whom, in addition to Dr. Jenad and the staff, we’d walked through some very difficult days. We were able to thank him for sharing his great knowledge as well as his skilled bedside manner with us. We told him that many people had been praying for him as he cared for Jill and that God has truly blessed him with a gift.  Jill hugged him tightly and told him she was indebted to him; she didn’t even know how to say thank you.  She cried.  I think he cried too.  As we walked out of the room where we’d lived for the past two and a half weeks, we were greeted with well wishes from several of the nurses who had cared for Jill so professionally and tenderly.  God bless them all.

At the pharmacy, we were quite overwhelmed by the number of medications and the detail of the instructions which came with them. Finally, around 6:30, we left for our friends’ home, the Lightners, where we’ll be spending the next couple of days. We picked up supper on the way home, but Jill just couldn’t eat. She was beyond exhausted.  So we just got her to bed and prayed for a really good night’s sleep.