I've posted some photos from yesterday's Youth Sunday banquet. Here's another opportunity for our online listeners to see if they can match the faces with the voices!
Click here to see the Youth Sunday Photos
Monday, December 20, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
The (mostly) Good Update
Yesterday went as well as could be hoped for. The x-rays showed that the once-massive stone was gone -- or at least gone-ish. There are still fragments hanging around my lower kidney that could not enter the ureter because of the stent. So the decision was made to remove the stent (yahoo! hooray! yippee!). I'm happy to be rid of that particular device. It was painful and a constant reminder that I had a large rubber tube running through my urinary tract. So, good riddance.
However, the doctor also felt that the remaining fragments could be passed, even as he wrote me a new prescription for pain pills. So, when you do the math, it means I'll be passing kidney stones and they might hurt. But, after everything I've been through, I'm ready to run this last lap. Pain? Been there, done that. And I lived to tell about it. So, I'll get through this last step in the process as well.
But here's the weird part. The doctor warned me of "phantom pain." He said that people who have a stent for any period of time often have bouts of pain that feel as though the stent were still in place. Odd. But last night I had an encounter with the phantom menace. It was surprisingly urgent and discomforting. And it lasted for about three hours. So, there I was, back on the couch, surrounded with pillows, sitting upright, cross-legged, trying to sleep in my own lap. I gave into the pain pills again and eventually it subsided. No fun. And certainly not something I'd like to endure again.
Anyway, all in all, it's good news. I'll be back to my old (emphasis: old) self soon. I need to eat some major calories. I've lost too much weight over the last two weeks. I'm weak. But, I'll rebound. And, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I will be able to stand for an hour without debilitating pain in my back. Who knows who long I'll be able to stand? I might be able to preach for hours, now.
The folk at GCA are in trouble.
Thank you all for your kindness, love, and support through all of this. Brighter days lay just over the horizon. And I'm grateful to God for His faithfulness and gift of endurance.
Did I mention that the folk at GCA are in trouble?
Grace, peace, and all good things,
Pastor Jim (no longer sporting a pet rock)
However, the doctor also felt that the remaining fragments could be passed, even as he wrote me a new prescription for pain pills. So, when you do the math, it means I'll be passing kidney stones and they might hurt. But, after everything I've been through, I'm ready to run this last lap. Pain? Been there, done that. And I lived to tell about it. So, I'll get through this last step in the process as well.
But here's the weird part. The doctor warned me of "phantom pain." He said that people who have a stent for any period of time often have bouts of pain that feel as though the stent were still in place. Odd. But last night I had an encounter with the phantom menace. It was surprisingly urgent and discomforting. And it lasted for about three hours. So, there I was, back on the couch, surrounded with pillows, sitting upright, cross-legged, trying to sleep in my own lap. I gave into the pain pills again and eventually it subsided. No fun. And certainly not something I'd like to endure again.
Anyway, all in all, it's good news. I'll be back to my old (emphasis: old) self soon. I need to eat some major calories. I've lost too much weight over the last two weeks. I'm weak. But, I'll rebound. And, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I will be able to stand for an hour without debilitating pain in my back. Who knows who long I'll be able to stand? I might be able to preach for hours, now.
The folk at GCA are in trouble.
Thank you all for your kindness, love, and support through all of this. Brighter days lay just over the horizon. And I'm grateful to God for His faithfulness and gift of endurance.
Did I mention that the folk at GCA are in trouble?
Grace, peace, and all good things,
Pastor Jim (no longer sporting a pet rock)
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Out of the Frying Pan ...
Where shall we begin? I've been writing this in bits and pieces. Tim warned me to be careful of the Internet while I was on pain meds -- I'd hate to write anything too embarrassing.
But here's the update -- on Monday I underwent the lithotripsy procedure. My brother Ed drove me and I went in with a positive attitude, looking forward to solving the painful stone dilemma that has been piercing my back for longer than I care to recount. Silly me. I gave no thought to how painful the actual process of getting rid of the rock might be. I just wanted it over.
The procedure was relatively successful. Before I succumbed to the anesthesia, one of the techs in the operating room looked at the x-ray and commented that the rock looked good -- it was the type that responded well to be sonically busted up. I made a couple jokes, told everyone I would see them on the other side, breathed deeply, and sunk into the void of general anesthesia. The procedure took just over an hour, apparently, and after blasting the stone the doctor inserted a stent between my right kidney and bladder.
When I came to in the recovery room, I was immediately overwhelmed with bursts of crippling pain shooting up my side and down into my bladder. The nurse gave me two intravenous shots of pain killers that did nothing to quell the agony. Then, in an example of hospital administration that can only be described as barbaric, they told me to get dressed because I was going home and they needed the bed. My brother helped me get dressed and minutes later I was on the highway, writhing and sweating.
They sent me home with a couple of prescription, which I began downing as quickly as I could. The next 48 hours are a blur. No sleep. Fits of searing pain. Delirium from the after-effects of anesthesia combined with pain meds. I could lay down, I couldn't stand up. There was no comfort to be had anywhere. Eventually I discovered that I could pile pillows in my favorite recliner, plop down, cross my legs, grip two more pillows to my stomach and fall forward into a semi-relaxed position. I drifted between consciousness and blessed unconsciousness, interrupted by startling bursts of cramps and spasms.
And then, almost like a miracle, it stopped. Wednesday morning, around daybreak, everything let up. And I collapsed on the bed, restful for the first time since Sunday. At some point I grabbed the laptop and posted a note on Facebook to let people know I was okay. The balance of Wednesday was tolerable and I ate some soup. No drugs that day. I was determined to clear my head and regain my appetite.
The nurse called and I told her what I'd been through. She apologized and said it wasn't always that way. There's just no way of knowing what to expect. I told her that, since I had never done this before, I just figured that whatever I encountered was a natural part of the process. She promised me that they could get me stronger drugs if it happened again. But, I'm not looking for more meds. At least, not right now.
Last night I went to bed hopeful. Perhaps I would finally have a normal night's sleep. But it was not to be. In the middle of the night I was shaken awake by another round of side-splitting spasms. And worse, I was enduring it without chemical assistance. But I decided to just gut it out. It lasted for about a half hour and then subsided enough that I could prop myself up with pillows and sleep a bit longer. This morning the game was again afoot. And then whatever was passing through my system appears to have made its way out. I'll spare you the details.
And that's where I'm at as of 2:00 pm on Thursday, December 9, 2010. I'm foggy-brained. I'm tired, tired, tired. But I'm not agonizing at the moment. So, I'm grateful. And God is still, as at all times, good.
What's next? Well, I return to the surgical unit on Tuesday. They'll do some x-rays and if the stone is gone, they'll remove the stent, and I have a new lease on life. If a significant portion of the stone remains, they'll blast again and we're essentially back at the beginning. Another week, another set of x-rays, and then the stent removal. So, if you're of a mind to pray for my well-being, pray that the stone is fully gone when they take the photos this Tuesday. That's the best possible outcome.
Thank you for the many, many emails and FB posts. Thank you for the prayers. I am looking forward to having this behind me and getting back to the work of promoting the gospel of grace.
My dear friend, Elder Barney Johnson, will be preaching at GCA this Sunday. I can always count on him and the folk at GCA love him. I'm grateful to Tom and Tim who have been tag-teaming the pulpit in my absence. It's good to know that I can leave the sheep in their hands, trusting that all is well. And I'm grateful to the folk at GCA who have loved me and cared for me through this trial. You are all in my thoughts and prayers and I know that He who began this good work in you will fully complete it, all the way to the day of Christ's return.
I will now resume my former reclining position.
But here's the update -- on Monday I underwent the lithotripsy procedure. My brother Ed drove me and I went in with a positive attitude, looking forward to solving the painful stone dilemma that has been piercing my back for longer than I care to recount. Silly me. I gave no thought to how painful the actual process of getting rid of the rock might be. I just wanted it over.
The procedure was relatively successful. Before I succumbed to the anesthesia, one of the techs in the operating room looked at the x-ray and commented that the rock looked good -- it was the type that responded well to be sonically busted up. I made a couple jokes, told everyone I would see them on the other side, breathed deeply, and sunk into the void of general anesthesia. The procedure took just over an hour, apparently, and after blasting the stone the doctor inserted a stent between my right kidney and bladder.
When I came to in the recovery room, I was immediately overwhelmed with bursts of crippling pain shooting up my side and down into my bladder. The nurse gave me two intravenous shots of pain killers that did nothing to quell the agony. Then, in an example of hospital administration that can only be described as barbaric, they told me to get dressed because I was going home and they needed the bed. My brother helped me get dressed and minutes later I was on the highway, writhing and sweating.
They sent me home with a couple of prescription, which I began downing as quickly as I could. The next 48 hours are a blur. No sleep. Fits of searing pain. Delirium from the after-effects of anesthesia combined with pain meds. I could lay down, I couldn't stand up. There was no comfort to be had anywhere. Eventually I discovered that I could pile pillows in my favorite recliner, plop down, cross my legs, grip two more pillows to my stomach and fall forward into a semi-relaxed position. I drifted between consciousness and blessed unconsciousness, interrupted by startling bursts of cramps and spasms.
And then, almost like a miracle, it stopped. Wednesday morning, around daybreak, everything let up. And I collapsed on the bed, restful for the first time since Sunday. At some point I grabbed the laptop and posted a note on Facebook to let people know I was okay. The balance of Wednesday was tolerable and I ate some soup. No drugs that day. I was determined to clear my head and regain my appetite.
The nurse called and I told her what I'd been through. She apologized and said it wasn't always that way. There's just no way of knowing what to expect. I told her that, since I had never done this before, I just figured that whatever I encountered was a natural part of the process. She promised me that they could get me stronger drugs if it happened again. But, I'm not looking for more meds. At least, not right now.
Last night I went to bed hopeful. Perhaps I would finally have a normal night's sleep. But it was not to be. In the middle of the night I was shaken awake by another round of side-splitting spasms. And worse, I was enduring it without chemical assistance. But I decided to just gut it out. It lasted for about a half hour and then subsided enough that I could prop myself up with pillows and sleep a bit longer. This morning the game was again afoot. And then whatever was passing through my system appears to have made its way out. I'll spare you the details.
And that's where I'm at as of 2:00 pm on Thursday, December 9, 2010. I'm foggy-brained. I'm tired, tired, tired. But I'm not agonizing at the moment. So, I'm grateful. And God is still, as at all times, good.
What's next? Well, I return to the surgical unit on Tuesday. They'll do some x-rays and if the stone is gone, they'll remove the stent, and I have a new lease on life. If a significant portion of the stone remains, they'll blast again and we're essentially back at the beginning. Another week, another set of x-rays, and then the stent removal. So, if you're of a mind to pray for my well-being, pray that the stone is fully gone when they take the photos this Tuesday. That's the best possible outcome.
Thank you for the many, many emails and FB posts. Thank you for the prayers. I am looking forward to having this behind me and getting back to the work of promoting the gospel of grace.
My dear friend, Elder Barney Johnson, will be preaching at GCA this Sunday. I can always count on him and the folk at GCA love him. I'm grateful to Tom and Tim who have been tag-teaming the pulpit in my absence. It's good to know that I can leave the sheep in their hands, trusting that all is well. And I'm grateful to the folk at GCA who have loved me and cared for me through this trial. You are all in my thoughts and prayers and I know that He who began this good work in you will fully complete it, all the way to the day of Christ's return.
I will now resume my former reclining position.
Friday, December 03, 2010
More photos from India
I've posted more photos from India on Picasa. Month by month, folk have generously sent gifts for the support of Life Giver's Home and we send every penny directly to them. And your gifts have resulted in food for flood ravaged villages, new shoes, new sweaters and knitted hats, new sewing machines, medicine, and rent. And the grace of God is demonstrated as we provide these necessities to the children in the name of Christ. Bobby continues to teach the Christian faith in the midst of a hostile environment and I am grateful for the ongoing opportunity to encourage and support his efforts.
You can view the photos here:
India photos
You can view the photos here:
India photos
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Roll Away the Stone
UPDATE:
As promised, here's the latest. The urologist said the rock is larger than 10mm. He estimated it 11x13. It's a monster. On Monday I'll undergo Extracorporeal Shock Wave Lithotripsy. In other words, they're going to blast it to pieces. However, the doctor also said that the stone was large enough that it would probably take two procedures a week apart to fully break it down. In the interim I'll also have a stint in my ureter. No fun, but better than a stone in the kidney.
To say I'm hurting would be an understatement. But, I look forward to how I'll feel a month from now when this confounded thing is out of my body.
We now return you to the previously written blog entry ...
_______________________________________________________
A little background:
It was July, or possibly a bit earlier, when I first became aware of the pain in my mid-back. I'd been struggling with low back trouble and then the pain seemed to migrate upwards. I mentioned it to my LMT and she said it was not uncommon. It was probably residual pain from the lower injury. Similarly, when I first saw the ortho, I told him that my back problems seemed to be in two distinct areas. There was the dull, stiff, throbbing low back problem and the more "hot," stinging mid-back pain. In fact, I told him, sometimes the upper pain dwarfed the lower. He said it was probably because I was standing differently in order to compensate for my lower spinal deficiencies. Made sense. The physical therapist said something similar.
So last Tuesday I finally had the injection procedure at the pain clinic. While it was successful in locating the area of my spine that was most responsive to the therapy, I was still having bouts of pain in my upper right quadrant. In fact, the pain localized. And it got worse. The muscle cramps and waves of contractions became quite unbearable. And then I realized what I was dealing with.
Twenty years ago I had kidney stones. Three, to be exact, over the course of two years. But I haven't had any since then (at least, not that I've been aware of). They're painful, painful, painful. I think it's the memory of how extreme the pain was that kept me from realizing what I was dealing with presently. Anyway, I went to the doctor yesterday and told him that I had a kidney stone. A quick urinalysis confirmed that I had blood in the urine and a CT scan was scheduled for early this morning.
The doctor called me just a short while ago to confirm that I have a ten millimeter stone lodged in my right kidney. It's too big to pass, said he. I have an appointment at 1:00 this afternoon with the urologist who helped me 20 years ago. From there, it's anybody's guess.
BUT, here's the good news (I'm a "glass half full" sort of guy):
Two weeks ago I reached the edge of my endurance. I heard myself say, "If this is what life is going to be like, I don't know what I'll do. I can't live like this." The pain was just too unbearable. Now I know why it hurt so bad. My doctor was sort of amazed that I'd been walking around all this time, managing my life with this stone. Now that I know what it is, there's an end in sight. There's light at the end of the tunnel. I won't have to live the rest of my life with this particular pain. And that, my friends, is very good news.
I suspect that the doctor will want to bust the stone up (probably via sound waves) and get it to pass. We'll see. And I'll finally give in to the medicine. Every doctor I've seen has thrown pain meds at me, but I've steadfastly refused take, except under the most dire circumstances. I may give in now, knowing that the pain is legitimate and that modern chemistry may make the next few days bearable.
GCA is in good hands. Tom is going to teach for me tonight and Tim is standing by for Sunday morning, should need be. Knowing me, as long as they can bind me up and prop me in front of the podium, I'll preach. But, if I'm still healing, the men of GCA are ready to care for the flock. I'm grateful for the knowledge that I can recover without that worry.
Thanks again to each and every person who has been praying for my well-being. Your prayers are being heard and answered. Even at my worst, I've found comfort in His grace and in the knowledge that this is all serving His ultimate purpose. I'm grateful for the notes of love and encouragement. And I'm eternally grateful for those folk who have continued lifting my arms when I was too weak to do it myself.
Updates will be forthcoming. Megan will be my contact person for the next few days. An end to this saga is right around the corner. And still, through it all, God is good.
Grace, peace, and all good things,
Pastor Jim
As promised, here's the latest. The urologist said the rock is larger than 10mm. He estimated it 11x13. It's a monster. On Monday I'll undergo Extracorporeal Shock Wave Lithotripsy. In other words, they're going to blast it to pieces. However, the doctor also said that the stone was large enough that it would probably take two procedures a week apart to fully break it down. In the interim I'll also have a stint in my ureter. No fun, but better than a stone in the kidney.
To say I'm hurting would be an understatement. But, I look forward to how I'll feel a month from now when this confounded thing is out of my body.
We now return you to the previously written blog entry ...
_______________________________________________________
A little background:
It was July, or possibly a bit earlier, when I first became aware of the pain in my mid-back. I'd been struggling with low back trouble and then the pain seemed to migrate upwards. I mentioned it to my LMT and she said it was not uncommon. It was probably residual pain from the lower injury. Similarly, when I first saw the ortho, I told him that my back problems seemed to be in two distinct areas. There was the dull, stiff, throbbing low back problem and the more "hot," stinging mid-back pain. In fact, I told him, sometimes the upper pain dwarfed the lower. He said it was probably because I was standing differently in order to compensate for my lower spinal deficiencies. Made sense. The physical therapist said something similar.
So last Tuesday I finally had the injection procedure at the pain clinic. While it was successful in locating the area of my spine that was most responsive to the therapy, I was still having bouts of pain in my upper right quadrant. In fact, the pain localized. And it got worse. The muscle cramps and waves of contractions became quite unbearable. And then I realized what I was dealing with.
Twenty years ago I had kidney stones. Three, to be exact, over the course of two years. But I haven't had any since then (at least, not that I've been aware of). They're painful, painful, painful. I think it's the memory of how extreme the pain was that kept me from realizing what I was dealing with presently. Anyway, I went to the doctor yesterday and told him that I had a kidney stone. A quick urinalysis confirmed that I had blood in the urine and a CT scan was scheduled for early this morning.
The doctor called me just a short while ago to confirm that I have a ten millimeter stone lodged in my right kidney. It's too big to pass, said he. I have an appointment at 1:00 this afternoon with the urologist who helped me 20 years ago. From there, it's anybody's guess.
BUT, here's the good news (I'm a "glass half full" sort of guy):
Two weeks ago I reached the edge of my endurance. I heard myself say, "If this is what life is going to be like, I don't know what I'll do. I can't live like this." The pain was just too unbearable. Now I know why it hurt so bad. My doctor was sort of amazed that I'd been walking around all this time, managing my life with this stone. Now that I know what it is, there's an end in sight. There's light at the end of the tunnel. I won't have to live the rest of my life with this particular pain. And that, my friends, is very good news.
I suspect that the doctor will want to bust the stone up (probably via sound waves) and get it to pass. We'll see. And I'll finally give in to the medicine. Every doctor I've seen has thrown pain meds at me, but I've steadfastly refused take, except under the most dire circumstances. I may give in now, knowing that the pain is legitimate and that modern chemistry may make the next few days bearable.
GCA is in good hands. Tom is going to teach for me tonight and Tim is standing by for Sunday morning, should need be. Knowing me, as long as they can bind me up and prop me in front of the podium, I'll preach. But, if I'm still healing, the men of GCA are ready to care for the flock. I'm grateful for the knowledge that I can recover without that worry.
Thanks again to each and every person who has been praying for my well-being. Your prayers are being heard and answered. Even at my worst, I've found comfort in His grace and in the knowledge that this is all serving His ultimate purpose. I'm grateful for the notes of love and encouragement. And I'm eternally grateful for those folk who have continued lifting my arms when I was too weak to do it myself.
Updates will be forthcoming. Megan will be my contact person for the next few days. An end to this saga is right around the corner. And still, through it all, God is good.
Grace, peace, and all good things,
Pastor Jim
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