Confession and a Scared Little Boy

Confession may be good for the soul, but for me, it was simply heartbreaking. Toward the end of October, I was sitting in the bedroom while Ken was in the hospital bed. He had gotten to where he didn’t want me to leave the room he was in anymore. He was afraid he would need something and I wouldn’t hear him. ( I always heard him...was never more than a few steps away.) Anyway, I think I was reading or something because when he called my name, I didn’t look up, but just answered, “Hmmmm?” Ken said, “I need you to look at me.” I put down whatever I had been looking at and looked at him. His poor face was a mixture of fear, exhaustion and sorrow. “What is it, Baby?” I asked. He then began “confessing” to me things he felt he had done or said during our marriage that were unfair and unfaithful to me. The things he confessed were very minor transgressions and most were done or said in response to something I did or said that upset him. At this point in our lives, none of what he told me even mattered anymore, but he was almost frantic to get it out of his mouth. I told him that I forgave him and I apologized for my part in it. He nodded his head and drifted off to sleep.

Ken is preparing himself to leave us. Last night he “confessed” to me... (I’m not going to list the things he told me. The conversation was private, between me and my husband, and that is where it will remain.) It seemed very important to him to confess to me. I asked if he was asking me to forgive him and he said “yes”. I told him I forgive him. He’s trying to set things right before he goes. (Melinda’s Journal, October 22, 2004)

It was around this time that Benjamin began acting out. I think I mentioned earlier that Benjamin dealt with the stress of his Dad’s illness with perpetual motion. Well, the sicker Ken got, the more Benjamin amped up the motion. He started cutting his clothes with scissors and wiggled, ran and rolled all over the house, to the point of distraction. Unfortunately, Ken felt so bad that he started snapping and yelling at Benjamin. My heart broke into tiny little pieces when I saw that Benjamin was beginning to avoid his Dad and seemed scared to be in the same room with him. Yes, Ken was terribly sick, and yes, Benjamin was noisy, but he was just a little boy! A little boy having to deal with a grown-up problem in the only way he knew how.

Benjamin has cut holes in his shirts for the past two days. Not sure what’s going on with him. I told him if he did it because he’s upset about his Daddy to ask his teacher to let him go and talk to the school counselor. Don’t know if he will. He sees the private counselor Sunday. Maybe it will help. (Melinda’s Journal, October 22, 2004)

Ken stayed in the hospital bed all day today. Keeps telling me stuff that needs to be taken care of before he goes. He’s been very snappish – yelled at the boys a couple of times. He’s got Benjamin scared to come in the bedroom. I know he’s scared – but so are we – and him hollering at us doesn’t help a bit. This is so hard. I’m afraid it’s going to tear us apart before it’s over. (Melinda’s Journal, October 24, 2004)

Second Bone Scan

Ken’s second bone scan was October 18, 2004. Its purpose was to see how the chemo had affected the cancer and to help us decide whether or not to continue the treatments. Ken was much weaker for this scan than he had been for the first one.

The scan lasted longer than last time. Don’t know why. Ken felt so bad – there was no way he was up to going for lunch while we waited for the dye to work its way through his bloodstream. Thankfully, they had a stretcher they let him lay on while we waited. About the time they finished up with him, Jesse called with a headache, wanting to come home. Then Benjamin came in from school all puny, complaining of all kinds of aches and pains too. Here we go...

Didn’t let anyone talk to Ken on the phone this afternoon – not even his Mama. He was just so exhausted and in so much pain.

When I got up this morning, Ken told me he doesn’t think he’s going to make it. I didn’t know what to say. It is so sad – my heart is breaking. I want to comfort him, but I’m not sure how. Words don’t work – they get stuck in my throat. (Melinda’s Journal, October 18, 2004)

Tomorrow we see Dr. Schlabach to see what’s next. I’m afraid to find out. Ken has been through so much – his poor body can’t take much more. Ken's dad is going to bring the hospital bed back over. Jan said we could use her wheelchair. Mama is bringing the shower seat and bedside commode. Things I never ever wanted to have in my house. It makes me so sad. (Melinda’s Journal, October 19, 2004)

The scan was unchanged. No better, no worse. But the pain is an indication that the cancer is progressing. Dr. S. gave Ken the choice of whether or not to continue chemo but said that the chemo could be doing as much harm as good at this point. Said there was fluid in Ken’s chest cavity – could be caused by the chemo or the cancer. We decided to stop the chemo for a month to see if that will clear up. The Dr. gave us a prescription for stronger pain meds and more Lortab. Ken won’t be getting better this time unless God sends another miracle. So discouraged... (Melinda’s Journal, October 21, 2004)

Happy Anniversary...Not So Much

Tomorrow is our 15th wedding anniversary. I wish Ken felt like celebrating. Blood work was okay -- WBC was a little high, but that's not unusual. He talked like he was going to church tonight, but the later it got, the worse he felt. He even asked for Lortab once today. The pain just gets worse and worse. NOT FAIR!!! :(
(Melinda's Journal, October 13, 2004)

The above entry actually ends with a HUGE frowning face drawn in lime green ink. Can't duplicate it here, but the little frown I put just didn't seem to convey the same depth of feeling as the actual one in my journal.

Happy Anniversary to us! The most exciting thing that happened was that I finished reading the Old Testament all the way through -- first time in my almost 46 years.

Ken had some errands to do, so I ran him around all morning. I had to stand pressed against his back to make sure he wouldn't fall. If I stepped one step away from him, he would start to sway. Ken was so tired when we got back home. I was hoping he could rest.

Ken's dad and uncle came over -- I thought to visit with Ken, so I made the mistake of leaving them all here while I went to the library for a while. Well, they took Ken and ran around ALL AFTERNOON. I think one of them must be buying a trailer and/or lot and they were running around trying to get that all taken care of. Put three Lunsfords in one room and they don't have a brain between them! I can't imagine why they thought keeping Ken out all afternoon was a good idea! And since they were gone all day, it looks like they could have taken him to the store to get me an anniversary card. But no -- only think about trailers and lots -- not your WIFE! (Melinda's Journal, October 14, 2004)

The last part of the above entry sounds so mean, doesn't it? I was just so frustrated with them keeping Ken out all afternoon when he was so terribly weak and sick. And, all through our marriage, even though I knew Ken loved me, he always put his business before me unless it was something major like having his children or surgery or something. He didn't do it to be mean to me...it's just the way he was. I finally came to accept it, but it still hurt my feelings.

Gritting My Teeth

This post quotes several of my journal entries. It makes my heart hurt to try and explain them or to give a frame of reference as to what was going on during those days...so, I will just let them speak for themselves.

Chemo went okay, but Ken’s back has been hurting worse today than usual. He won’t take anything – STUBBORN MAN! He should have stayed home, but he insisted on going to church. He’ll probably feel fairly rotten the next couple of days. They’ve scheduled his next bone scan for October 18. I’m afraid if the results aren’t any better than the last one, Ken will just give up. (Melinda’s Journal, September 29, 2004)

Ken is getting worse. Now, in addition to his back, his leg has begun hurting. He can barely walk on it. He felt so bad that he passed up one of his cousin's legendary cook-outs. Not sure if he’ll be able to go to church in the morning – too many stairs. (Melinda’s Journal, October 2, 2004)

Ken had a really rough night. Up and down all night. He finally asked for some Lortab around 5:00 a.m., but had to crawl to the bedroom because he could not walk on his leg. He finally slept for about 3 hours. Stayed home while the boys and I went to church. It broke my heart to go without him. David Carlock brought him a walker. It seems to help. Ken asked again tonight for some Lortab. He hurts – he’s discouraged – he’s scared – I’m scared. Things are moving too fast. I’m not ready. (Melinda’s Journal, October 3, 2004)

Ken is still not able to bear weight on his leg. And now he is coughing up phlegm with traces of blood. We went for blood work today and when I told them what was going on, Dr. Schlabach sent Ken for X-rays of his chest and leg and then an ultrasound of his leg veins. There is no blood clot now, but she said his blood is “sluggish”. We’ll have to watch carefully for any signs of swelling or red streaks. Haven’t heard the results of the X-rays, but Dr. S. went ahead and prescribed some antibiotics. More and more stuff to look after.

Both boys cried about their Daddy tonight. Think it’s just sinking in that Ken is getting worse. Poor kids – this is so hard for them. (Melinda’s Journal, October 6, 2004)

Ken had another horrible night last night. So much pain and despair. He’s trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s not getting better. Is wearing a kind of hopeless look these days. Took ‘til 3:00 a.m. to convince him to take some Lortab. I didn’t want to leave him alone, so we didn’t go to church. By this afternoon, he was feeling some better, so I left him long enough to take the boys to their counseling appointment. It seemed to help them both. Ken’s seems a little better now – maybe he’ll be able to rest. (Melinda’s Journal, October 10, 2004)

Sweet Sunshine in the Midst of the Storm

Several of the next journal entries mention a very important person in my life that I haven’t introduced yet, so this part of the story is dedicated to her.

Sometime during the time that Ken was sick and having treatments, my brother, David, and his wife became foster parents. Their very first foster child was a tiny little four-month-old girl with enormous brown eyes and the smile of an angel. Her name was Kaylie. Unfortunately, since Ken was so sick and we were so busy with his appointments/surgeries/treatments, we didn’t get to spend as much time getting to know Kaylie as I would have liked. Now, whenever I see pictures from when she was a little baby, I’m always surprised and saddened because I don’t remember much of it.

Kaylie came to David’s family as a “medically fragile” baby. She was on oxygen and would require at least one surgery on her heart. I think she was actually in the hospital the first time they met her. She took one look at David and smiled. The sitter from DHR said he was the first person since Kaylie had been taken into state custody she had ever smiled at. Of course, David was immediately and absolutely smitten.

Towards the end of Ken’s illness, Kaylie did have her heart surgery.

Kaylie has surgery tomorrow. I know David is a bundle of nerves. I’d go down and hold his hand, but Ken has blood work at 10:30. He’s also not been feeling well enough lately for me to leave him. I hope they understand. (Melinda’s Journal, September 21, 2004)

Kaylie’s surgery turned out to be more complicated than they had anticipated. One of the holes had closed by itself, but the big one was bigger than they thought. They repaired the other two, but during surgery, pressure built up in her little lungs. They decided not to close her chest – are leaving her under sedation tonight and will finish up in the morning. It sounds horrible – I’m trying not to worry. Praying lots. I’ll bet David is a big pile of mush. (Melinda’s Journal, September 22, 2004)

Kaylie is much improved. They’ve removed all but one of her chest tubes and her blood oxygenation is good. If she continues to improve, she could go home tomorrow or Tuesday. PRAISE GOD!! (Melinda’s Journal, September 26, 2004)

I am happy to say that the precious little angel baby we met as “Kaylie” is now my gorgeous, happy, healthy, snaggle-toothed six-year-old niece, “Kaileigh Elizabeth” (spelling changed at her adoption). I thank God every day for the joy she has brought our family. I love you, Kaileigh-Bug!!

That "Hair Thing" Again

Well, Honey, I don't care. I ain't in love with your hair. And if it all fell out, I'd love you anyway. (Randy Travis, Forever and Ever, Amen)

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I would always get upset when Ken’s hair fell out. I know it’s just hair. In most cases, it grows back. Heck, the first time Ken lost his hair, I even suggested that the boys and I could all get buzz cuts so we would all be bald together. And we would have too – if that’s what Ken had wanted. It’s just that when the hair disappears, it just screams out, “Hey! I am sick! I have CANCER! I am fighting for my life!!!”. And this time, coupled with the “hollow-eyed look” Ken was wearing, it seemed to also scream, “This time I am losing the battle!”

Ken’s hair has started coming out again. He’ll probably be as bald as an onion in a couple of weeks. It just depresses the heck out of me. It’s only hair, but when it’s gone, he looks so much sicker. (Melinda’s Journal, August 30, 2004)

I’d say in another couple of days Ken will be bald again. His hair is coming out in clumps. He’ll be bald for Christmas again. If I could only remember where I put all of his toboggans. I was hoping he’d never need them again. (Melinda’s Journal, September 1, 2004)

Ken is very tired and peaked-looking. I’m worried about him. His hair is getting thinner and thinner. He’s not washing it as often as usual because he knows it will make it come out faster. (Melinda’s Journal, September 2, 2004)

Ken’s blood counts were higher this time. He feels better. He asked me to go ahead and cut the rest of his hair off. It looks better, but it breaks my heart to see him bald again. (Melinda's Journal, September 22, 2004)

Ken finally lost so much of his hair that he asked me to go ahead and cut the rest of it off so it wouldn’t look so scraggly. It was sunny that day, so we sat out on the front porch as I gave him what would be his last haircut ever. I didn’t keep the hair this time...somehow it just didn’t seem like I should.

Sadly, Ken wasn’t bald for Christmas that year...he died the month before Christmas.

Lying by Omission

I guess that is what you would have to call it when I started sneaking doses of pain medication and/or anxiety medication into Ken’s feeding tube bag at night. It made me feel horribly guilty–I was not in the habit of lying to my husband. But Ken was in such pain and stayed so upset all the time, I felt I really had no choice. If only he hadn’t been so ornery about taking the meds he needed, it wouldn’t have to come to that point. I never told Ken before he died that I had been sneaking the meds into his system. I didn’t want to upset him. And sometimes, even to this day, it makes me feel sad and guilty when I think about it. But you know what? I know God has forgiven me for not being truthful, and I’m pretty sure Ken has too.

Ken is trying to tie things up so his properties will be taken care of after he’s gone. He’s got that “giving up” look. He barely speaks to anyone. Such despair. (Melinda’s Journal, August 23, 2004)

Life during this period was definitely surreal. The world was forging on around us. We were living as “normally” as we could...going places with the kids, dealing with school work, going to church...but it was like all of that stuff was swirling around us and we were stuck in the middle of a vortex, standing still. I have often wondered it that’s what it feels like in the eye of a hurricane.

Ken’s eyes look like someone has hit him hard. He just looks sicker and sicker. I’m so worried that things are moving faster than we think. I’m scared – SO scared. (Melinda’s Journal, August 26, 2004)