On Wallin Pond

Psalm 116:15 ~ "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints."

May 12, 1951 - August 3, 2018

Several years ago, I memorized Psalm 116. The Psalmist talks about how death is so overwhelming, how he cries out to the Lord for relief and mercy. He encourages himself to rest in the Lord and remember how good God has been to him. Then right in the middle of the psalm, he tells us that it is precious to the Lord when his saints die.

Isn't this a great comfort? Yes, we are very sad in the here and now, but God is delighted to welcome his child "home" to himself. How precious we are to him. 2 Peter 1:11 says, we will receive a "rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." So I can imagine a big party going on as Andy is welcomed into the arms of Jesus.

I had no idea when I posted my update 2 weeks ago that Andy was in his final week of life on earth. I posted that he had his eyes closed the whole week. I spoke to the nurse about this, and she said she would check his record to see if his meds had been changed. I didn't hear from her, so I called her on Monday afternoon. As I was on the phone with her, she told me they had called the ambulance and would be transporting him to the hospital. I was questioning the advisability of that because there are setbacks every time someone with dementia spends time in the hospital. But she assured me that there was something wrong, and they didn't have the ability to diagnose and treat him there. He needed professional care. She said his abdomen was extended so that he looked 5-6 months pregnant. That was causing alarm at his facility because they didn't know what was going on.

I left work immediately and drove to Care One. His ambulance left soon after I arrived, and I drove up to the hospital to be with him. He was assigned to room #13 in the Emergency Room and was already in a bed when I arrived. His eyes were closed (they never opened through that whole week) and he was also pretty agitated. His Parkinson's tremors and twitches were pretty severe. I texted my friend, Pat, about the situation and she joined me in the ER as soon as she could. This was a wonderful gift from the Lord. She is a nurse and very knowledgeable with hospital terms and is also not afraid to be aggressive in seeking help when the situation requires it. She normally has a class she attends on Monday, but that day it had been canceled so she was free to be with me.

The doctor who was on duty was a God-send, so kind and compassionate. Pat asked him if he thought Andy qualified for hospice, and he immediately agreed and said he would send the hospice representative to speak to us and get us registered. A CT scan revealed that Andy's kidneys had failed which is the reason his abdomen was so extended. They immediately began to drain the urine, and his stomach went back to normal size. An unbelievable amount of urine was drained, 3 liters in 4 hours.

As long as this doctor was on duty, things progressed well. Unfortunately, he had to leave, but he was nice enough to give Pat his email address and tell her she could contact him if we needed him. This was a God-send, as well, because as soon as he left, it was like everything shut down. We sat there and sat there, waiting for the next step. I went to the nurse's station, Pat went another time, but each time we were told, they were working on it. Finally, at 9:30, Pat told me to go home since I was so exhausted, and she would stay to make sure Andy was taken care of. I left things in her care. She emailed the doctor and told him what was happening (nothing). He was kind enough to contact the nurses and then things moved. Andy was transferred to the hospice section of the hospital. By midnight he was situated with those kind, compassionate hospice nurses.

The rest of the week was spent in his room by his bed. All three girls came to be with me as often as they could. This was bittersweet because it gave us a lot of time together remembering stories of Andy, laughing and crying together.

Tuesday was pretty rough because Andy's body was twitching and his breathing was raspy. But as the week progressed and morphine and ativan were increased, his body became calmer. We had many visitors throughout the week which was such an encouragement to us. It indicated that people loved Andy and he meant a lot to them.

Throughout the week, the hospice nurses were trying to prepare us for Andy's passing. We were told that people can spend 24/7 at the patient's bedside, then get up to go to the bathroom. In that moment the person might quietly slip away. This can be an indication that the patient thinks this is a way to protect his loved ones. But in my heart, I had asked God to allow me to be present when he left his body. His family always meant so much to him, that I knew he would want us to be there with him at the end. And God granted that request.

On Thursday, after changing Andy's position, the nurse came to get us from the lounge where we had been having a little something to eat. When we went into his room, his color was very gray and it looked like he wasn't breathing. Dawn and I held his hands on either side of the bed, the nurse was there as well - all 3 of us just watching him. All of a sudden, he gave a huge gasp and started breathing again. Well, that gasp made all three of us jump. We weren't expecting that. We commented that he obviously didn't like to be repositioned.

The next day, Friday, the nurse came in the room to say they were going to reposition him again. Christy and Dawn and Andy's brother, Dan, were there with me. Dawn and I were apprehensive about the repositioning, and we watched him carefully. After the nurse was finished, Andy turned gray again and stopped breathing. We asked the nurse about this, she checked his heart, said there was a little bit of a flutter, then left the room. She knew! And he never took another breath. He slipped quietly and peacefully into eternity, into the arms of his beloved Savior. There was no last gasp or death rattle, which I found out later is usually the case with hospice patients because of the morphine.

So Andy's journey was over. All week people have been so kind, willing to do anything, whatever I need. Their comments, cards, flowers and love have been so comforting. I went to work most days and people seemed surprised, but as I explained: the house is quiet and empty, the days are long when I'm there all day by myself. I am much more energized to be with people.

So the question these days is: how am I doing? Well, on the one hand, I'm doing well. There is a certain sense of relief that Andy's suffering is over, my uncertainty over my finances is taken care of. On the other hand, there is a finality to death, even though we knew that's where this illness was heading. In preparing for the funeral, looking through pictures, remembering stories, there have been moments of laughter, as well as tears. Andy and I were a team. We did so much of life together. Yes, I have a lot of memories - all of them good - which is a blessing.

I don't know why God allowed us to go through this particular trial, but I can unreservedly say that He never left me or forsook me through it all. He showed me in many and varied ways that He was orchestrating the circumstances and taking care of me in amazing ways. He proved to me that His grace is indeed sufficient for our every need. I came to know in a more intimate way His unending and unfailing love for me, His child. My suffering helped me to empathize with Jesus' suffering for me. 

I am grateful that Andy isn't suffering any more. His death has been swallowed up by life. God is wiping away his tears, and he will never suffer or experience pain or mourn again.

1 Corinthians 15:54 ~ "Death has been swallowed up in victory."

My daughters have been wonderful, so supportive, in spite of their own suffering. They loved their dad, thought highly of him and will miss him terribly...as will I.

The memorial service will be Monday at 11:00 am. It will be live-streamed, then posted to facebook. I'm so glad this technology is available because we've been hearing from our friends all over the country that they want to be here, but for one reason or another cannot.

Psalm 23
The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. 
He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, You are with me. 
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. 
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. 
You anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life 
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

2 Corinthians 4:16
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building form God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life."