THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES
The first day of my husband's chemo ended up being a perfect day. I wish you could have seen us before we left to go to the doctor's office for the appointment which was set for 8:00. Even though I had made a chart, a list, and set all the meds out in order on the cabinet, we were like two ants scurrying around wondering exactly what came next. But he got the right meds taken at the right time.
His appointment with the oncologist involved the doctor's wife, a pediatric oncology doctor, putting the first two meds into the port and inserting the line into the port which was eventually connected to the 72 hour infusion. The doctor's wife told my husband that she had to quit as a pediatric oncology doctor, couldn't handle the emotional hurts from losing patients.
An infusion pump kit and med pack were supposed to be delivered within an hour after we got home from the doctor's office where he had received the first two chemo injections. Then we were supposed to call the oncology home health nurse who was supposed to hook the med pack and the pump up to the line in the port. That all worked out, the calls to the right person.
Everything looked like it was going smoothly until the home health nurse noticed that there was no fanny pack sent to carry the infusion pump and med pack around my husband's waist so that he could be mobile during the 72 hour chemo infusion process. She called the oncology pharmacy supply in Tulsa and told them, and they said one would be sent out immediately.
After signing all the papers, volumes of them, Michelle, the nurse, started working to hook up the pump and meds to the port. She couldn't get the pump to work properly. She and my husband both worked on it, locking and unlocking both locks over and over again, taking the batteries out over and over again, trying multiple ways to get the pump to work. The same error message kept coming up on the contraption. Michelle called the pharmacy supply in Tulsa again about the pump and the person on the phone coached her on how to get it started, which she already knew.
They went over and over it as she did what the person told her, with my husband helping as an observer/patient. No luck. So the pharmacy supply in Tulsa said they were locating another pump and bringing it here in 45 minutes. At this point I was glad that I obeyed that inner voice that told me to have lunch for us early. Michelle had already been here approaching an hour.
While waiting for the pump to be delivered, I mowed the front lawn and left my husband and Michelle to get better acquainted, talking about Weight Watchers and kids, etc. The 45 minutes turned into an hour and a half, but finally two ladies from the pharmacy supply came, apologized over and over again for what we all perceived was a faulty pump. One of the ladies began experimenting with it and found that it had the same error message. She took the batteries out, reprogrammed it, locked and unlocked it and, voila, success. The problem was not the pump. It was very hard, taking a lot of muscle, to turn the lock button all the way around to lock it.
The ladies apologized over and over for the problem. I kept reiterating that the pump needed some alert written on it saying that it is hard to lock completely and the nurse must really use strength to lock it so she could get it started pumping. They agreed to put a note on the pump for nurses and patients in the future.
My husband was getting a little tired by this time, but the ladies wanted to ask him about the cancer, his operation, etc. Ah, ha, now I was beginning to perceive the reason for the delay. My husband told them highlights, then he told about the surgeon saving his life. I jumped in the conversation (smelly as I was and still in my lawn mowing clothes) and told them about the miracle of the surgeon ordering the CT scan which showed the areas of cancer, about the surgeries, etc., thus saving my husband's life. We told them all about the surgeon telling me about the remembrance of his professor in med school who was athletic like my husband but found out in a CT scan he had liver cancer. So we told them how that memory crossed the surgeon's mind when he palpated my husband's hernia and the nodule in the groin area, and that that was what led him to order the CT scan.
One lady quickly said, "I know who gave him that thought." I told her that I do, too. They both were thrilled by the story, saying it was a true miracle over and over again.
I followed the two pharmacy ladies to their car while Michelle successfully hooked Steve up.
Both ladies raved about the miracle, so I filled them in about the surgeon sending the path report back for a second testing after the path doctor said no malignancy was found. They gasped when I told them that the surgeon instructed the lab on the second testing to test for the most rare cancers because the tumors looked too funky to be benign. I told them the path report came back saying that the cancer, in fact, is a rare kind that only 200 people a year have. I then told them that MD Anderson confirmed it in their path report.
The ladies were thrilled again. Both women asked if we minded if they tell that testimony. They needed our permission because of the nurse/patient confidentiality. I gave my permission, telling them that my husband had told a Tulsa lawyer the same story the day before when the lawyer called to see how my husband was doing. The lawyer had also asked my husband if he could tell the miracle story, to which my husband gave his wholehearted permission.
One of the ladies said it sounds like they are all going to cover Tulsa with the miracle story. They left blabbering and jabbering about the miracle.
So, all things work together for good.
After telling some of the miracle story, my husband was rejuvenated when the pharmacy ladies and Michelle left.
It seems to me that the pump problem was an act of God so that the women could hear the story of the miracles. The two pharmacy ladies left walking on a cloud after hearing about God's miracles in this adventure.
The wait was worth it! The patient certainly was not injured by it, although he told me that first day of chemo seemed like it was a week long with so many things going on.
God doesn't toot His own horn, but we can certainly toot our horns for Him. It's called praise. When we tell others about God's miracles, it's like tooting a horn. It's kind of like having a parade for Him because He is so good.
I'll join a parade for him every time.
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