I drove up to Chattanooga Tuesday to see my brother Henry in the hospital. Before I left I called his wife Terry to get the latest. She said the doctor told them that the cancer was growing so fast in Henry’s liver that there was nothing more they could do for him, and they were going to send him home with hospice care. He should go home Wednesday, the day of this post.
When I got to the hospital, there were four people in Henry’s room in addition to Terry. One of them was one of Henry’s fellow pastors. I talked to him a little in the hall. He was familiar with Henry’s hope to make a cherry chest of drawers for his younger son, who was recently married. He also happens to be at least a semi-skilled carpenter. He suggested that maybe he and someone with a little more skill could make the chest under Henry’s supervision. I said I hoped that could happen. It won’t be the same as a chest made by Henry’s own hands, but it will be his design and his wood, and it will be an indication of the regard that Henry’s friends have for him. That will mean something.
Henry’s older son was going to drive up to Chattanooga from Atlanta after rush hour. He plans to stay a few days. His younger son and hopefully his new daughter-in-law are supposed to come down from Washington this weekend. I hope it’s not too late.
I’m sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks. I don’t know your brother and yet his decline is so sad in my heart. I hope he knows that love comes to him from far away places. Thinking of you and your family, Mark. Sending you and Leah peace as you go through this journey with a dearly loved brother.
Robin — Thanks. It does help to know that others care.
My brother is at home now. When we were up there a few days ago, he was alternating dozing with squirming with pain. He’s taking a massive dose of morphine — 1000 mg a dose — to control the pain, but, of course, it also pretty much knocks him out. It’s very difficult to see him in this condition. We’re going back up Thursday. We haven’t found a pet sitter, so the last time Leah and I both went up we took all three dogs. The only good news from the whole thing is that Sam, who has never ridden in my truck without being carsick, managed the two-hour trip up and back in our car with no problem. We don’t know whether it was the smoother, quieter ride of the car, or the Benadryl we gave him, or both.
I’ve been thinking of you and your family, Mark. Thank you for this update here. We hope your trip north goes well and that everyone manages their journey in peace and calm. Take care take care.