Directions:

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From North

Take Highway 6 south from Richmond 4 kms, Turn right into Ranzau Rd, 1km on left is Hope Community Church.

From South

Take Highway 6 north toward Richmond. Turn left into Ranzau Rd, 1km on left is Hope Community Church.

From West

Take Highway 60 towards Richmond. Turn right into either Bartlett Rd or Pughs Rd. Turn left into Ranzau Rd. Hope Community Church is on your right

Mother and Rebekah were with him for his graduation, though Simeon, Philippa and I thank God that we were able to say our goodbyes to him in meaningful ways, even though at the time we didn’t know they were goodbyes.

In the last week he spent precious time with our Wellington family, and kept his promise to Abe and Phoebe to take them on the ferry. This weekend Alex, Rosemary, Shona and Bruce filled his love tank with their friendship and fellowship. And on Sunday he baptized and dedicated Abe and Phoebe.

Today he sits down for the marriage supper of the Lamb with a full appetite and an empty stomach.

For Dad, it was a week that could not have been better.

Hercules battle against the many-headed Hydra reminds me of Mum and Dad’s battle against cancer. No sooner does he seem to have gained a victory in one part of their fight than two more heads spring up to attack them.

Recent news from Mum and Dad about his health celebrated the reduction in fluid build-up around his ankles and legs allowing for greater mobility for Dad. A minor victory.

Last night however, Hyrda seems to have struck back in the battle. Dad had a lot of pain and was attended to at home by nurses from the Hospice. In the morning, despite additional doses of morphine, Dad’s discomfort hadn’t subsided. He was taken by ambulance to receive additional care and attention at Hospice.

Initial reports from the staff do not appear to be hopeful.

A special note on Mum

Her care for Dad during his long battle with cancer (first diagnosed in September 2008) has been nothing short of Herculean. Together with Dad, she has been constantly cutting the heads off the Hyrda, never failing or giving up in the task. Although it seems to be a losing battle, with the help of our Saviour and ever-loving heavenly Father, she has been writing ‘victory’ over this battle on Dad’s life.

How firm a foundation by John Rippon

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word!
What more can He say than to you He hath said,
You, who unto Jesus for refuge have fled?

In every condition, in sickness, in health;
In poverty’s vale, or abounding in wealth;
At home and abroad, on the land, on the sea,
As thy days may demand, shall thy strength ever be.

Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid;
I’ll strengthen and help thee, and cause thee to stand
Upheld by My righteous, omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of woe shall not thee overflow;
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathways shall lie,
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply;
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.

Even down to old age all My people shall prove
My sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love;
And when hoary hairs shall their temples adorn,
Like lambs they shall still in My bosom be borne.

The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose,
I will not, I will not desert to its foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.

The kidneys seems to be clear and the lower vena cava (the major vein that runs behind the liver) was also flowing well. They could not see the hepatic vein so when I reported to the hospice with a view to having the fluid in my abdomen drained I had some more tests and these seemed to indicate that perhaps one of the metastases in the liver is applying pressure to that hepatic vein and causing a partial blockage.

They did not drain the abdomen because it is still reasonably soft and some of the swelling is caused by gas. It is a bit risky at this stage so I agreed with their suggestion that as it is not causing major problems, I should wait until it is absolutely necessary before I go down that track. Instead they have increased the diuretic medication and referred me to the physiotherapist at the hospital who specializes in lymphatic drainage. This should at least bring some relief to the swelling to the legs and ankles.

The Medical consultant saw it while I was in hospital and I’ve also been to the GP about it. Both referred to me as a conundrum of a patient. Both suggested the oedema is generally associated with the heart but in my case, the heart is perhaps my strongest organ. I am on some pill to try and drain the fluid and am also scheduled to have an ultra-sound within the next 10 days so they can determine the cause of the fluid retention.

We’re not running an ordinary marathon – it’s more like a steeple-chase. Clear one hurdle and there’s another just ahead. Through it all the Lord gives peace and strength. Those two seem to be semi-automatic. I have to ask him for extra measures of grace because the incessant achey-type pain around the stoma, the difficulty walking associated with the fluid retention and my frustration at not being able to take advantage of the beautiful weather to potter around on some of the home projects don’t always make me the calmest of people to live with. Bronwen seems to be the one who gets the automatic extra resources of grace.

She has had no more serious turns. In fact the one she did have was a ‘normal’ as far as we were concerned. If the ambulance hadn’t turned up I would have just packed her off to bed which is what usually happens and after 8 – 12 hours rest she would come right. That’s what the hospital sent her home to do anyway. But why not have a free ride when the ambulance was already here. We’d paid our annual subscription!

Apart from the pain of gas, etc passing over the cauterised and stitched areas inside my stoma, I am gradually improving too. When I was discharged on the Saturday night my Haemoglobin was 89. When I had my routine blood test the following Monday it had risen of its own accord to 96. Hopefully that is an indication that the problem has indeed been identified and dealt with. (Mind you, there’s always a doctor to bring you back to earth – he told me that in the taking of bloods there can often be a 5 – 10 point variance. In other words, my Haemoglobin on Monday could have been exactly the same as it was on Saturday night with no change!)

I’ll stick with a natural rise occurring with my haemoglobin levels.

There has been no more sign of bleeding since that Saturday 27 August,

There’s more drama in Mum and Dad’s life than that in a marathon of amateur Shakespeare recitals!

The last blog post had doctors diagnosing the cause of all the bleeding he’d been having. Much blood has dripped down the drain since then.

He underwent a procedure on Wednesday afternoon to cauterize the wounds in his bowel and to stitch up a leaking

Sharing the drama!

mesenteric artery. Following a dose of fresh blood, Dad’s color and character returned, slowly, but he did improve.

Dad was discharged around midday on Thursday from hospital. I went and picked him up and on his way home he (or the morphine) wondered out loud where we should go for lunch. When Dad is told that he can “go home” what he hears is: “you’re good to go”.

In spite of Mum’s and my strong suggestions that given he’d lost around 3.5 liters of blood since the weekend, he really should just put his feet up and rest – he didn’t. Well he tried, but resting isn’t in his nature. If he’s still ‘above ground’ and there’s work to be done, he sets about to get it done.

This morning over breakfast he told me he’d lost some more blood during the night. To say that was disappointing news to hear is an understatement. We were all so hopeful that Wednesday’s procedure would be ‘it’ for a while. While I was finishing my morning coffee and he was having his potions and elixirs, the plaintive call of “Doug” came from the bathroom. Mum had had one of her turns and this time she was the patient and Dad was the nurse.

Shortly after lunch, Dad checked his colostomy bag to find that there was more blood and that there was a constant drip into the bag. Mum and I decided that we wouldn’t muck around and we’d just get him to the hospital to get him looked at (actually ‘treated’ is a different matter). While I was helping Dad get his stuff together, Mum called St Johns Ambulance for advice. They told us to wait there, they were sending some Ambos round.

While the St John’s boys were prepping Dad for the trip to hospital, Mum had another of her turns and they looked at her and decided that they should take her as well. Sweet, I thought, a quiet afternoon for me. Being the father of three young kids, I realize that an ambulance house call is not a crisis moment – it’s a Kodak moment! I got my camera out and snapped away. If only I’d had the foresight to grab the video camera I might have been able to engineer an entry to Funniest Home Videos. ‘Always be prepared’ and all that. Alas, I’m no boy scout.

With the afternoon with the parents out of the house, I set about trying to organize some of Dad’s files. No sooner had I written my siblings out of the Will than I got a phone call from Dad to say that I could come and pick them up. To say that was disappointing news to hear is an understatement – I hadn’t chucked a ‘save’ the corrected document yet!

There’s possibly a more accurate version of events, but I can only call them as I see them. Perhaps Dad will give you his perspective when he’s feeling a little better.

‘Till next time… Sim.

Off on their excellent adventure

There’s more drama in Mum and Dad’s life than that in a marathon of amateur Shakespeare recitals!

The last blog post had doctors diagnosing the cause of all the bleeding he’d been having. Much blood has dripped down the drain since then.

He underwent a procedure on Wednesday afternoon to cauterize the wounds in his bowel and to stitch up a leaking hepatic mesenteric artery. Following a dose of fresh blood, Dad’s color and character returned, slowly, but he did improve.

Dad was discharged around midday on Thursday from hospital. I went and picked him up and on his way home he (or the morphine) wondered out loud where we should go for lunch. When Dad is told that he can “go home” what he hears is: “you’re good to go”.

In spite of Mum’s and my strong suggestions that given he’d lost around 3.5 liters of blood since the weekend, he really should just put his feet up and rest – he didn’t. Well he tried, but resting isn’t in his nature. If he’s still ‘above ground’ and there’s work to be done, he sets about to get it done.

This morning over breakfast he told me he’d lost some more blood during the night. To say that was disappointing news to hear is an understatement. We were all so hopeful that Wednesday’s procedure would be ‘it’ for a while. While I was finishing my morning coffee and he was having his potions and elixirs, the plaintive call of “Doug” came from the bathroom. Mum had had one of her turns and this time she was the patient and Dad was the nurse.

Shortly after lunch, Dad checked his colostomy bag to find that there was more blood and that there was a constant drip into the bag. Mum and I decided that we wouldn’t muck around and we’d just get him to the hospital to get him looked at (actually ‘treated’ is a different matter). While I was helping Dad get his stuff together, Mum called St Johns Ambulance for advice. They told us to wait there, they were sending some Ambos round.

While the St John’s boys were prepping Dad for the trip to hospital, Mum had another of her turns and they looked at her and decided that they should take her as well. Sweet, I thought, a quiet afternoon for me. Being the father of three young kids, I realize that an ambulance house call is not a crisis moment – it’s a Kodak moment! I got my camera out and snapped away. If only I’d had the foresight to grab the video camera I might have been able to engineer an entry to Funniest Home Videos. ‘Always be prepared’ and all that. Alas, I’m no boy scout.

With the afternoon with the parents out of the house, I set about trying to organize some of Dad’s files. No sooner had I written my siblings out of the Will than I got a phone call from Dad to say that I could come and pick them up. To say that was disappointing news to hear is an understatement – I hadn’t chucked a ‘save’ the corrected document yet!

There’s possibly a more accurate version of events, but I can only call them as I see them. Perhaps Dad will give you his perspective when he’s feeling a little better.

‘Till next time… Sim.