Where there is life there is hope.
I was a young girl when I first heard this comment, offered to my mom, as solace for my mother’s grief over my grandmother’s impending death.
Never have those words meant so much. With each garment I have unpacked –intended to be worn at a funeral—I have given thanks. I am cautiously optimistic about Don’s physical condition. Prematurely, you might warn, and you would be right, because the life of a patient with recurrent leukemia is precarious.
Leukemia patients, the doctor warned me when I said that we were planning to come home, die in one of two ways: infection or bleeding. Don’s infection (other than what he acquired in the hospital due in part to the high powered antibiotics that he receives and in part to an insufficient immune system) is under control. And his risk of spontaneous internal bleeding is being control by a transfusion of platelets almost every other day. So at this moment his health remains perilously contingent on blood transfusions and antibiotics. But he is stable.
Many of you know Don and/ or one of his children who has inherited his quick wit. So to watch his humor and lucidity dissipate for a period of several hours was grievous to me, but Lisa (David sister) kept things humorous with quips that made me laugh when I felt like crying. I was feeding Don on Monday morning as the daylight began to filter through the hospital curtains. The fog of confusion began to lift and he raised his head and said in a conspiratorial tone, “What are we going to do for Mom’s birthday?” And in the moments that followed he explained to Lisa and me just what he had planned for her birthday and Christmas. Neither Lisa nor myself could hold the tears from flowing.
There were certainly times of tears but balanced by laughter. Zachary read to his grandpa from Patrick McManus, The Grasshopper Trap, a favorite of all the Baltys, I think. Grandpa laughed until he cried.
Our days were bittersweet – each moment, painfully precious.
We returned exhausted, but safely, to Georgia. We are not sure for how long but, for right now, in this moment, “where there is life there is hope,” and I am hoping. Prayerfully hoping for a renewal of physical health for a man we love so much. But I am reminded that as believers in Christ our hope extends beyond the grave, and in this I am certain…
With hope,
Amy
I was a young girl when I first heard this comment, offered to my mom, as solace for my mother’s grief over my grandmother’s impending death.
Never have those words meant so much. With each garment I have unpacked –intended to be worn at a funeral—I have given thanks. I am cautiously optimistic about Don’s physical condition. Prematurely, you might warn, and you would be right, because the life of a patient with recurrent leukemia is precarious.
Leukemia patients, the doctor warned me when I said that we were planning to come home, die in one of two ways: infection or bleeding. Don’s infection (other than what he acquired in the hospital due in part to the high powered antibiotics that he receives and in part to an insufficient immune system) is under control. And his risk of spontaneous internal bleeding is being control by a transfusion of platelets almost every other day. So at this moment his health remains perilously contingent on blood transfusions and antibiotics. But he is stable.
Many of you know Don and/ or one of his children who has inherited his quick wit. So to watch his humor and lucidity dissipate for a period of several hours was grievous to me, but Lisa (David sister) kept things humorous with quips that made me laugh when I felt like crying. I was feeding Don on Monday morning as the daylight began to filter through the hospital curtains. The fog of confusion began to lift and he raised his head and said in a conspiratorial tone, “What are we going to do for Mom’s birthday?” And in the moments that followed he explained to Lisa and me just what he had planned for her birthday and Christmas. Neither Lisa nor myself could hold the tears from flowing.
There were certainly times of tears but balanced by laughter. Zachary read to his grandpa from Patrick McManus, The Grasshopper Trap, a favorite of all the Baltys, I think. Grandpa laughed until he cried.
Our days were bittersweet – each moment, painfully precious.
We returned exhausted, but safely, to Georgia. We are not sure for how long but, for right now, in this moment, “where there is life there is hope,” and I am hoping. Prayerfully hoping for a renewal of physical health for a man we love so much. But I am reminded that as believers in Christ our hope extends beyond the grave, and in this I am certain…
“… We do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal”
(2 Corinthians 4:16-18).
With hope,
Amy
Comments
Thank you so much for the update on Don. The Balty's are very special to us. In fact, Dave and I got to visit with them for a few minutes at the Bullock/Beckham reunion concert in St. Louis. Imagine our surprise at seeing them so far from home with all the physical issues they have been through. At that point, Don was still in remission and so full of hope. They have been a blessing to so many people across the years. We will continue to hold up your entire family in prayer.
Love,
Heidi
Thank you so much for the update on Don. The Balty's are very special to us. In fact, Dave and I got to visit with them for a few minutes at the Bullock/Beckham reunion concert in St. Louis. Imagine our surprise at seeing them so far from home with all the physical issues they have been through. At that point, Don was still in remission and so full of hope. They have been a blessing to so many people across the years. We will continue to hold up your entire family in prayer.
Love,
Heidi
Heidi, it was delightful after a long night at the hospital to see Steve waiting for the elevator too. He stopped by the family room later where I was teaching the boys and Samuel, was especially curious as to what surgery he had done that morning. After Steve explained that he had cut a bone and straightened with plates and screws, Samuel said, "that must have left a mark." Indeed it did, Steve said. We love Steve and LuAnn and they mean so much to my in-laws.