Now...I have always been a very realistic person. I look at each situation that comes my way, even the horrible ones, as clearly as I can and then I deal with it. That is what I did when Ken got sick. After the initial panic, I researched Linitis Plastica to see just what kind of a monster we would be fighting. The information I found was absolutely grim. Said that even with total stomach resection (removal), the chance of long term survival was less than 4 percent. At that point, Ken’s doctors were not even considering resection because they truly believed that he would only survive a couple of months.
So, after getting a clear picture of what we were facing, I begged God to heal Ken if it was in His Will to do so. Then, I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and vowed to help Ken fight this thing as hard as he could for as long as he could, no matter what it took.
All during Ken’s illness and treatments, certain of his family members just didn’t seem to “get” how gravely ill he was. When he outlived the doctors’ original predictions for survival, it was as if life for the rest of the Lunsfords went back to normal. Word started spreading that “God was going to heal Kenny”, or that God had, in fact, already healed him. In the mean time, we were still battling this monstrous disease on a daily basis. It didn’t seem to occur to Ken’s family that he was a bit different than he had been before he got sick. One family member called and asked him to climb up on her roof and fix something. Another called and asked if Ken would come and help him shovel a load of chicken manure. Ken was missing major body parts, was sick and weak from surgeries, chemo and radiation treatments, and had to be sustained artificially through a tube into his intestines, and they thought it was perfectly reasonable to ask him to climb up ladders and wade around in chicken poop!!
Their denial also kept most of Ken’s family from being as helpful as I needed them to be during that time. ( I say “most” because one of our nieces was EXTREMELY helpful and supportive.) Remember, in addition to managing Ken’s care and treatment, I was also trying to care for our two young sons. Ken’s illness effected Jesse and Benjamin profoundly and unfortunately, sometimes it manifested itself physically. Jesse began having breathing problems and severe headaches. Benjamin complained of more tummy-aches and even began having “sinking spells” where he would go pale and pass out in the floor. Ken had so many doctor appointments, tests and treatments, we were usually at Erlanger Hospital at least two to three days a week. So when Jesse or Benjamin would call, needing to come home, I couldn’t leave their Dad. I would have to call family members and ask them to go get the boys from school and stay with them until Ken and I could get back home.
I can understand already having plans, but the “reasons” I was being given as to why Ken’s family members couldn’t take care of the boys for me included such important things as “I have to get a haircut”, and “I’m going out to eat with some other family members”. And it didn’t just happen once or twice, but it seemed to be the same, every time I called. It was as if they didn’t realize how sick Ken still was so it didn’t occur to them that WE NEEDED HELP! It absolutely made me want to SCREAM!!! I wanted to say to them, “I’m really sorry that Ken’s terminal illness is such a burden for you that you would have to consider changing your plans to take care of HIS CHILDREN!!!!!” Instead, I would tell them “never mind” and call either friends from our church or Benjamin’s school and ask if they could help until my Mama could get up there. (I never had to ask “if” Mama could come. She rearranged her life for us on many occasions during those two years. God Bless my Mama!)
Sadly, it wasn’t until the last couple of weeks of Ken’s life that I think they finally realized how seriously ill he had been for the past two years. I am still amazed that it took so long. Maybe if it had been one of my children, I would have lived in denial too...I doubt it, though.
Lots of company for Ken yesterday. Too much, really. I think Ken’s mom is FINALLY beginning to realize how sick Ken is. I caught her holding Ken’s hand and crying. Then she cried again when she hugged me good bye. Even Ken’s dad, in his own strange way, sort of hugged me when he left. I guess its hitting home with all of them. About time... (Melinda’s Journal, October 31, 2004)
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