Lord, in Your Mercy, Hear our Prayers. A Note from Jan. Jud's Journal Entry Thirty-one

DAY +30 for Jud Friday, November 14, 2014

Thank you, dear NET, for all your warm welcomes home for Jud. It’s good to have him home. But it’s hard. Very hard. Impossible alone.

Through Martha, my editor-in-chief and caring friend, we connected to Aberdeen Home Care, Inc.  Good folks. They sent Moses. Now, if that’s not a good sign, I’m not sure I’d recognize one. Who better to help us move on to whatever God has for us than Moses. A tall, strong man from Uganda, Moses led and lifted Jud through his second night at home. Friday morning, he helped dress Jud and ready him for his trip back to MGH.

Heather and Chad walked their Dad to the car. Off to MGH. No directions needed. Blood work at 10.  Consult with Jud’s doctor at 11 at Yawkey 9E, then down to 8E for transfusions.

When Dr. Chen arrived, he sat across from Jud and asked,”How are you feeling, Jud?” “Not good.” Jud knew.

The battle’s intensifying. The host, Jud’s old cells, are rising up declaring war on the graft, the donor’s cells. The hope is that the host cells, which can carry leukemia with them, will get beaten back and lose to the graft. We’ll know more on Monday when we return for more blood work and consultation. Simple facts to write. But I’m numb. On auto-pilot.

We knew when one of Jud’s doctors said, ”Get out while the gettin’s good,” she was saying less than she suspected.   Home is where Jud wants to be. Home is where he rests his battle-weary body as I write.

After the meeting with the doctor, Chad wheeled his Dad to Yawkey 8E, the infusion wing. There’s a small banner outside the infusion wing, hand made by one of the cancer survivors. It hangs on a clothesline from which many survivors and their friends and families have suspended wishes and prayers. This one, an acrostic for HOPE. H how O ordinary P people E endure We knew it well from 3 1/2 years ago.

Word spread and soon our old nurse, Kathi, came to hug Jud. Then Eve, the nursing assistant, walked into the waiting room. She’s the one who stood near us that first frightful day of chemotherapy, when God showed up looking like a Haitian nursing assistant humming “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” 

Eve’s the one who—seeing Jud healthy and strong 2 1/2 years ago—gathered us in her arms, shouting,”Praise the Lord!  Thank you, Jesus!” We’d just stopped by to say THANK YOU, like the story in the Bible of the healed leper who came back  to say thanks to Jesus. Jud and I joined Eve in thanking and praising God (quietly) while Eve shouted and stunned the waiting room. Some folks just can’t be shushed.

Today, Eve came with tears and prayers. We introduced our children to her, then she sat by Jud and prayed. A whispered prayer. A quiet pleading with the Jesus she and we love and trust.

Later, Jud rested on a bed in one of the infusion rooms. As the blood dripped into his weak body, he looked at me and whispered, “God’s in control.” Simple words. Drilled into us as preacher’s kids. But this felt different. This from a man who is not resigned but at peace.

We don’t know what Monday will tell us. The stem cells of this 22 year old from Northern Europe may be losing to the 74 year old warrior. God knows but He’s not talking. He’s listening to the cries of His children …“all the children of the world.” So many tears. So many prayers. Theirs. Ours. Yours. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayers.

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