Sunny With a Few Scattered Showers

The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, And give you peace.
 

My last post about Dad sort of says it all concerning the state of things the last time I wrote...grim. They had removed the tubes from Dad in order to see if the fluid would stabilize somehow. If I have learned anything "non-eternal" over the past few wks, it's that the doctors are sometimes more confused than the patients and their families. So when I used the word "somehow" above, that pretty much sums up the "science" of the doctor's "plans". Indeed, by Weds (day before Thanksgiving) the doctors said that the fluid had slowed.  That evening my brother Jim, my sister-in-law Jill, and family came up from OH to see Dad. Jimmy stayed the night at the hospital giving Mom a much needed break. By the time Mom showed up at my house at 8:30 AM Thanksgiving Day, she was in tears.  Jim reported another painful and restless evening with Dad. The fluid had begun building up again.  Reluctantly my Mom followed Dad and Jim's "orders" to continue with the Thanksgiving dinner. Mom just wanted to be at the hospital... none of us wanted to stuff our faces while Dad was ... "There". 


It was as if the Lord turned on a "blessing faucet" just as the Turkey was served. In the first place, I was nervous about the turkey. Before Thursday, I had attempted roasting a turkey...once. I cut into it and it was dust. Seriously, had a gentle breeze graced our table, it could have easily carried my turkey into the abyss. Right. So the turkey (with Mom's supervision and dressings), came out perfcetly... as did all of the side dishes Mary Had made, and it goes without saying that Adam's pies and cake were a taste of something heavenly in and of themselves. Mary did 99% of the dishes and Adam cleaned everything.  The babies were content. The boys were having a ball...


We packed up some food for Dad and Jim, and made our way to the hospital. Just before I left the house, however, Jim had called and asked if I would bring my shears to cut Dad's hair. I brought them with me wondering how on earth I was going to be able to cut Dad's hair when he hadn't been able to move out of bed for two wks... he hadn't been able to change positions for two wks... I could hardly believe my eyes when I entered Dad's room. He looked great! Besides the bloating from the fluid, his color was the best I've seen it in months... maybe even in years. I asked him if he wanted me to cut his hair and he contemplated the best way to do it... "I guess I could jut sit in that chair over there so we're out of the way?"  "You...you can sit in a chair?" "Sit in a chair?!?!? I could run up and down these halls if I didn't have this attached to me!", as he motioned to the oxygen tubes and tank.  He SpRunG out of bed and sat in the chair!!  He was a bit shaky, but there was new life in him... he felt GOOD! As I was cutting Dad's hair two of my uncles, my aunt, and two of my cousins came in.  Now Dad was on a roll and feeling GREAT! He was whipping out the jokes, arguing playfully with the "Breathing Treatment Guy", and it felt like old times again.  When I was through with the haircut, he shaved. Mom said that Dad slept sound that night... ALL night. Can't remember the last time that happened. 

Dad has been doing well since then, just a bit tired and fighting some pain. Still, he's able to talk... he's able to laugh and joke... He gets a lot of nasty ...stuff? (lack of a better and less gross term) caught in his lungs every day.  It usually takes him the better part of the day to "work it out".  Last night he was coughing and just having a hard time with what was caught inside of him. After he was done gagging and coughing, he looked up at "us kids" and said "George." He paused to get some air, "I name 'em... like hurricanes.  This one's George."  Yes, disgusting, but beautiful all at the same time.  Dad says and does some gross stuff when he's trying to be funny and he's feeling well.

The doctors come in tomorrow to talk about inserting a permanent tube.  Please pray that they do not need to do this.  This is "a last resort" when all else has failed.  These things cause infection, and they are permanent....with the idea that "permanent" isn't going to be that long.

I am so thankful to the Lord for the Sunny Days we've had. For His shining face. For lifting up His countenance upon us. I thank Him for His peace... But mostly I can't thank Him enough for giving all of this to Dad...

Sights of Thanksgiving...Phillips Style

What would I do without those D'Auria sisters??? Well, for one, I might have to actually use my own camera.  Maryann is an amateur photographer, with an incredible and professional eye for great shots.  She took these on Thanksgiving day... I took a couple of adorable pictures of Maryann and Santino (using Maryann's camera of course), but unfortunately she and I love pictures of ourselves the same... not at all. I promised I wouldn't post any of those... so today, just some pics of the kiddos.

Sam and Pie Man

A very serious Johnny

A very sleepy Santino and Teodata

Nephew Joey Reading to Santino. How precious is that?

*Silly*

Fever Dreams

But a shout of joy comes in the morning

I live in the house I grew up in... yes, one could argue that there's been some difficulty cutting the cord, but that's another post... We live on "That Back Street" that runs parallel to one of the busiest roads in our city. When I hear the screeching of tires desperately trying to stop, I tend to cringe until the sound ends... hopefully without a crash. Most of the time you'll hear the screech, and no "Bang!". There were however, a few times where I've been unfortunate enough to have heard the bang at the end of the screech...

Tonight I heard an ambulance (another familiar sound here in Pucciland) which reminded me of the time I heard the most horrible screeching of tires...sounded like several cars... then the most sickening crash, thud, BANG!... next the sirens. I usually begin praying while I hear the screeching and my prayers adjust accordingly.  This day I was praying for ALL of those involved in the crash. I can't describe the feeling I had when not five minutes after the crash, our phone rang.  It was the local police, an officer who knew me and my family:  "Your father has been in a terrible car accident."  As it turned out, dad was completely unharmed in this accident...  He had lots of fun recounting the story. How he "saw the guy coming" in his rear-view mirror, and how he knew that he should let his foot off of the brake.  How when the man rear-ended him, traveling at an estimated speed of 65 mph, "He looked like Starsky and Hutch" as he hit Dad and became airborne and crashed right into the Burger King sign.  

Miraculously, no one was hurt that day. What I thought about this evening was how I felt in that moment when I realized that I had been praying for my Father in that accident.  I thought that there was no possible way anyone could have survived what I had heard. It was "fatal sounding".  Had we lost my Father that day... suddenly in a car accident, would I feel like I do now? 

Everyone in our family has stated, and on separate occasions, that this feels like a bad dream.  All of the ups and downs. It's been so that some days (most days) it's literally, every hour, that Dad's status changes from hopeful, to hopeless. It's only been the last few days that the doctors have made it clear that "hopeful" at this point, really isn't saying much... but that's "their hope", isn't it? 

I've decided that this is more like fever dreams instead of just one bad dream.  When you wake up perspiring and panicked... looking around for anything familiar among your surroundings to reassure you that you've woken up... slight disoriented relief.... then you fall quickly back into another nigtmare... This is it. This is what I feel we're living in... poor Dad is living this... and in so much pain. 

I'm praying for healing... even if it's just healing from the wounds left from those chains he was talking about the other night.  Something just isn't settled with Dad. 

As I mused over this tonight, I thought about "The Fever Dream" we're all experiencing, and the Lord brought to my heart, "Weeping may last for a night But a shout of joy comes in the morning." I don't know about you, but when I have fever dreams, the night is so long... it's almost as if I can see the spaces between the minute lines expanding before my eyes... but equally as overwhelming, is the joy when I see the familiar glow of the sun in the morning sky...

Our Son, will light up the morning sky... I don't know when, but I know He will.

Thank you again for your prayers... and Love.

Faith

"Now Faith is the reality of things hoped for, the proof of what is not seen." 

I hope that the fluid will stop draining from the two 3/4 in. tubes coming from Dad's chest and leading out of his side. I hope that when they take these tubes out, they will x-ray his lungs again and see that, not only did the surgery they did yesterday, work, but there's evidence of healing.  That the cancer eating away at his heart... and just about everywhere they looked yesterday, will miraculously have shrunk.  I hope that when they come to my family and proclaim "We don't understand... he's healing...", I can tell them that last night, as my sister sat by my Father's side, watching him labor in pain to take each breath, she prayed for a sign that the Lord was with dad. I hope that I can tell them that immediately following that prayer, my Father said out loud "Please take these chains."...several times. My hope is that when my sister told Dad "He will", that is the moment the Lord decided to show Dad his love by beginning to heal him... taking both his spiritual, and physical chains of bondage, and setting him free.

I hope that my daily scripture readings have been direct word's from God as to what He is going to do with my father.  That when just today I read in Psalm 118 "the LORD answered me [and put me] in a spacious place. The LORD is for me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me? ...It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in man.... I will not die, but I will live and proclaim what the LORD has done. The LORD disciplined me severely but did not give me over to death. Open the gates of righteousness for me; I will enter through them and give thanks to the LORD... I will give thanks to You because You have answered me and have become my salvation ...This came from the LORD; it is wonderful in our eyes ."

I hope that I will be able to tell the young intern who's been watching Dad like a hawk, caring for ALL of us, that "One of the reasons the Lord healed my dad was to show you that He is real, and He wants to heal you as well."  I hope that when the Lord heals my dad, He will continue to use this unbelievable man, but now for His glory... and that in this, Dad will know the love, the peace, the JOY, in THIS life, that only comes from Jesus.

Am I being too much of a child? Naive? Delusional? I hope not. 

STINKIN' THINKIN' (about Dad)

It's been bad here for several days now. Dad was admitted to the hospital early Friday morning... the short of it is that the oncologist was less than forthright with Dad and Mom.  The cancer is pretty much everywhere...in his bones, in organs, his adrenal glands... When he arrived at the hospital his kidneys were malfunctioning, his blood pressure was 70/55 (Seventy over fifty five!), he was dehydrated b/c he was so nauseous, he couldn't even look at food without dry-heaving.... since then it has been a real roller-coaster. We think he's getting better, then we find out something else is wrong.  They can't give him chemo until he can tolerate it... he can't seem to tolerate merely staying stable for more than a couple of hours.

We all agree that 50% of Dad's "Feeling Better" is due to how well the pain is controlled, and the other 50% seems to hinge on what the doctors tell him. Today, when they began radiating his bronchial tube (tumor there keeping him from breathing properly and causing his lungs to fill with fluid), the tech said something about the cancer (that my dad was unaware of until then) in his shoulder/arm, this brought him low. He doesn't even know that it's in his bone there. He just knows it's been hurting.  Yet, he had a liter of fluid drained from his lung, they radiated inside his bronchial tube and he was up walking around saying how good he felt.  One of his doctors walked in just as Dad was beginning to feel weak. The doctor was there to inform dad that the procedures done today had caused his lung to collapse. The doctor was astounded. "How was this man up and walking around?" The man was here not two months ago, painting my house!! If he hadn't always been this seemingly super-human being... this may not be quite as devastating to watch... none-the-less, it is devastating.  I don't know where my Dad stands in his relationship with God. He doesn't know... none of us seem to be able to show him... to give him that blessed assurance that Jesus is his.  I keep hearing, reading...seeing, Proverbs 3:5- "Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding; think about Him in all your ways, and He will guide you on the right paths." I know this applies to me in every area of my life (hence "in all your ways"), but how does it apply to my dad...now?  What is the lord teaching me? What am I to do?  All I do is think think think about it... about him... The answer is more praying, and less Stinkin' Thinkin'

As of this evening, it looks like Dad may be in the hospital for a few weeks while they wait for the bronchial tumor to shrink with the radiation, then they can inflate his lung.... we thought he was coming home last night...then this afternoon. Please pray.

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME BUT....

Dorothy:  Oh - oh - what's happening? What is it? I can't run any more. I'm so sleepy.


Scarecrow:  Here, give us your hands and we'll pull you along.


Dorothy:  Oh no, please. I have to rest for just a minute. Toto...where's Toto?


Scarecrow:  Oh, you can't rest now. We're nearly there...

When we "moved" into my sister Mary's home 12 days ago, I was nervous about being able to maintain my sanity with all five kiddos, Gracie (their Golden retriever that Paolo was absolutely petrified of), and trying not to make my sister and Aaron regret ever opening their home to us. EveRyONe else was nervous that Mary and I would scratch one another's eyeballs out before the end of the stay... What??? I mean two southern Italian, germophobic sisters, with jacked up hormones staying in the same house for a week?  What could possibly go wrong? 

In all seriousness, Mary and Aaron, and let's not forget Jackie and Joey, have obtained saintly pateince... they're an amazing family that the Lord uses to bless us almost daily. Come day 7, after the second day that the "floor guy" didn't show, and after the nasty cold had spread to everyone... I knew we were looking at at least another 2 days...  Aaron promptly took over the floor job and worked so hard.  The floors turned out beautiful!! We all got along so well (even Paolo and Gracie) that we actually entertained the thought of us living in the same quarters as a permanent situation (of course this thought was just "etertained"...).

Yesterday, EleVEN days later, Aaron helped Adam move all the furniture back in. "Yes, let's run!" back HOME!  BUT true to Andrea form, I entered the "Field of Poppies" this morning... as I meandered about my beautiful new 1st floor... aimlessly... "so, so, so, sleepy" ... a million things to do, and not an ounce of energy. "I have to rest for just one minute...."

Feelin' Like Santino

I should be packing clothes and getting a shower, but I'm updating my blog... hmmm priorities... We've been staying at Mary and Aaron's home since Saturday when they began the floors here at the house.  Tonight is the last time we'll be able to access the house until at least Friday.  Thought I should post an update before then.
As the title says, I'm feelin' like Santino looks in this photo.  Sometimes I wonder if I'm not actually drooling and no one has the heart to tell me...??? At any rate, I feel absolutely nuts at the moment, and I just can't wait until we're back in here. I'm certain that my sister and Aaron feel the same, but they've been gracious enough to smile and act as if we're not royal pains... however, they may be smiling because they feel like Santino as well...

Dad began radiation treatment on his hip last Thursday. He's not been feeling well at all.... yesterday seemed to be the worst day he's had since his diagnoses.  He's in a great deal of pain everywhere, as well as feeling as though he has a never ending stomach bug.  Apparently the cancer can do this. We did find out that his stomach is cancer free, so it's definitely lung cancer.  This nausea is either from whatever is happening with his gallbladder, or it's the cancer itself. Whatever the case may be, please pray for him. 

Peace and blessings until next time.
~ Andrea