So here is a video of Scott as he came out of post-op and got settled into the ICU. You can see that no matter how many drugs they pump into him, they can’t shut him up š
Author: Scott Carnes
I wanted to say “hi,” and not just type it. So I coerced Carrie into holding my iPhone and making this video.
And I want to thank the many people who have supported us along the way:
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| Image found at: http://www.canadianlutheran.ca/a-well-spent-lent-2/ |
Today I invite my wife to be my guest blogger here on “virtues.” Rev. Carrie Carnes is the pastor at Chenoa United Methodist Church which is just 25 minutes North of Bloomington-Normal, IL. She will graduate from Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary next month, although she finished her classes last summer and has been serving at Chenoa as a full-time pastor since.
This isnāt what Easterās supposed to be like, is it?
Scripture: Mark 16:1-8
Throughout Lent, we sang āLord Who Throughout These Forty Daysā. Itās a great hymn about Jesusā time in the desert. The hymn reminds us that when we are in barren places- Christ is with us. When we find ourselves in those wilderness places we often feel alone and it can be difficult to see God walking with us. During Lent we inspect pain, suffering and sin with the assurance that God is with us- and with the knowledge that Lent ends with Easter.
Scott and I had a rough Lent; especially the first part. We were in the wilderness. Scott had brain surgery in February. As we returned from the hospital and subsequent stay at the Berry Family Convalescent Home and Pet Boarding Center (what we call may parentsā house). I was ready to go. I wanted to dive right back in to everything. But then Scott got the flu and I had to find someone to fill in for me at the last second that first Sunday. We had to make unplanned trips back to St. Louis. Scottās recovery plateaued. We were in the wilderness. I wanted so badly for things to be normal again but nothing seemed to be going right. Towards the end of Lent things looked up a little. I felt like I got my groove back. I felt refreshed and could feel the Spiritās presence with me more and more. Holy Week was wonderful, and Easter Sunday brought such joy. I felt like I had lived liturgical cycle and was filled with new life. Plants and plans were budding.
And then it happened. Scott started in with intense migraines again. We wound up back in the hospital Saturday. We were transferred back to St. Louis Sunday and informed that Scott needs yet another surgery. I feel like we went back to the beginning. Lentās over. Weāre not supposed to be in wilderness anymore! Lent is 40 days, so I found myself wondering: did we take a wrong turn? Have we gotten lost? Will we become like the Hebrews stuck in this wilderness 40 years?
After the news sunk in, and after a little sleep I began to feel a little more hope. Iāll admit however, that Iām not quiet ready to sing āAlleluias!ā just yet. Though in churches we rightfully celebrate the resurrection with great joy; if we take time to read Markās account of the resurrection noticeably absent is the joyous celebration. Mark instead describes the morning with great fear, showing us the darker side of the resurrection.The women have just witnessed their friend and leader crucified. All the other disciples have fled in fear and while the women have remained, it seems safe to assume that these women have remained not without fear- but despite their fear. The women nervously venture up the hill to the tomb. They discover the tomb is empty and are greeted by this young man in the white clothes of a martyr. He tells them āDonāt be alarmedā- now he wouldnāt have had to say this if they werenāt alarmed would he? He instructs the women where to go to find Jesus, ā…he is going ahead of you into Galileeā. In saying this he is sending the women back to the very place where the Gospel began- where he first called the disciples. I wonder if the women also thought, āSo its like weāll be starting back at square one.ā Then the Gospel ends with its final two chilling sentences, āOvercome with terror and dread, they fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.ā
When I read that Easter passage, itās hard for me to imagine lilies, Alleluias and the bright festivities. This passage is filled with challenge and dread. The women are not venturing out into the Lenten wilderness, but there is a terrifying journey that lays ahead of them.
During Easter we celebrate the resurrection. The past couple of days have reminded me that Easter is not just about the thrill of an empty tomb and new dresses. While God is creating new life all around us, that life isnāt easy. Itās still filled with pain and challenges, disappointments and starting over. And some days that sucks. But just as we are assured that Christ is with us in our Lenten wilderness moments so too does that angel at the tomb assure us that the risen Christ has gone ahead of us. When we are faced with frightening new starts and begin tedious new journeys we can hear again the angelās words, āYou will see him thereā.
Last night was not so easy. My roommate is in his 70’s or early 80’s and turned his tv on by evening. Oh my goodness it was blasting. I had already asked to move rooms because of a noisy roommate and was determined not to have to again. I asked for earplugs and arranged for my medicine to be well-timed. My roommate turned off the tv at bedtime and I….couldn’t sleep. I had earplugs. I had drugs. I had an adjustable bed with plenty of pillows and blankets, but I didn’t have sleep. Oh, I’ve slept for a few hours here and there, but it wasn’t deep restful sleep. Then this morning my roommate called for help as he had messed himself. They did the neurological tests where they ask his name, birthdate, where he is at, etc. it was a new person asking him and they didn’t seem concerned, but I’d been listening all day and his answers were a lot slower and he covered with humor, but he had to think for a long time on somethings. In fact, he got the year and days backwards on his birthdate before quickly correcting himself.
I don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but I went against doctors orders and got up and walked on my own to the nurses station so I could tell them. They came and spent time with him and I pray all is well, but I think they are going to keep a closer eye on him. I think that it is important to have an advocate with you in the hospital.
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| Scott hard-at-work blogging from his hospital room. (That’s some great hair, Scotty) -Carrie |
You are probably getting tired of my hot air, but I have advice. I’m writing this, so if you’re tired of reading it, stop. For the rest of you, press on because it only gets more monotonous! Are you excited?
Monday I was finally able to have some breakfast and it stayed down. Whoo-hoo! The doctors finally came around and explained surgery and my MRI results and by mid-morning I had this new roommate who is a really nice fellow.
If you’ll remember my meals kept getting pushed back because they didn’t yet know how soon the surgery needed to be. The real question at hand was whether there was an infection and the MRI came back clean. More good news. The down side to this, of course, was that after all the waiting I was in for more waiting. Well, that’s okay. I’m not in a hurry to be under the knife again. I had breakfast and, even tho it was cold, gross and greasy: It was one of the best meals I had ever had. Oh boy was I hungry!
When it came time for lunch, though, (yes this is about to take a sad, unfortunate turn) they said I couldn’t eat for awhile again. They were going to do a procedure to reduce the pressure and swelling by using syringes to pull some of the fluid (and blood) out of my head. It wasn’t so bad. At first Carrie told me it was a spinal tap and that sounded excruciating, but it wasn’t a spinal tap, they just had to get under the skin, muscle and scar-tissue to pull it out. Now, don’t get my wrong, it hurt. I think I nearly squeezed my wife’s hand off, but it was bearable and I finally had some relief once I recovered from the procedure. They did the procedure right in my room and numbed the skin with lanocaine (sp?)
The rest of the day was super-exciting. I laid in bed all day. I had fun little moments like when dinner came, but it was a very long day. On Sunday I slept nearly the whole time, but by monday I found myself not sleeping all that much. You may know something about that yourself, I don’t know. But isn’t it increasingly tough to really rest in a hospital once the newness wears off? Well, it is for me. I think my buttocks begins to get sore from sitting and my nerves get worn by the staff, my family, and other patients and I have a harder-and-harder time truly resting!
That’s really all that is fit to print for the moment. After my minor procedure I was pretty well out of it for the next hour or so. It really left me tired and sore, but once I began to sit up I realized that I felt tremendously better.
I forgot explain arrival at Barnes-Jewish. I’ve never been transferred from hospital to hospital, but I guess we assumed that we’d get admitted and wait for a room and paperwork, etc. No. It was amazing. They already had me assigned to a room before we left pontiac and when we arrived the paramedics took me directly to my room. Of course, it wasn’t, exactly, straight to my room. The paramedics were from streator and so neither they nor I knew how to get from the ambulance entry to 11579a. It took three staff members from BJC before we got proper directions. It is such a big hospital that the first couple staff members had to ask others before we had directions.
Of course, that is the exceptional thing about Barnes-Jewish, you expect to get lost in the big-ness of it, but staff are so friendly that they will walk you all the way to your destination just to make sure you get there. Boy, the staff here has been tremendously helpful.
After my last stay the public relations department contacted me thru my doctors to ask if they could use some of my videos. To do so I needed to fill out a consent form. When I got here I realized that they should bring the forms while I’m in the hospital or I’ll have to find them, fill them out and mail them back. I has just told a nurse that I wanted the PR department to know I was here. You know they didn’t have a chance to call? Nope, the PR department saw my tweets on twitter and stopped by just to see how I was doing. An administrator, Tracy, who is with quality assurance found out from the internet that I was here and stopped in to check on me.
This is a far-cry from ‘getting lost.’
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| image found at: http://www.epmonthly.com/whitecoat/2010/05/florida-verdict-threatens-ems-availability/ambulance-2/ |
Hmmm. So where did I leave off? Ah, I told you all about getting sick on Saturday and getting to the Pontiac Hospital. I was feeling a little stupid, you know, expecting the doctors to say, again: “This is all normal, take some tylenol and go home.” My wife later said it’s like going to the mechanic and having the rattle stop once the mechanic is there to listen. Well, as most of you now know, it wasn’t business as usual. The radiologist told us it looked like bleeding in my brain from the original surgery and they wanted to transfer us to St. Joseph’s in bloomington. Luckily my wife was not satisfied about the transfer. For me, I would have done anything I was told I was so goofy from the morphine, but my wife was on top of things. She was confused why they would transfer me to bloomington and not to the doctors I knew already and the facility where I’d already had brain surgery. Well, for those of you who have not yet met my wife, she is never afraid to speak her mind. She told the doctor that we would just wait until he had contacted the surgeon’s office in St. Louis. I’m sure my wife felt elation when he walked back into the room looking a little defeated and said, “the doctors want you transferred back to Barnes.”
At first we were told the transfer would be within the next hour or so…so Carried stayed by my bed from 2-4am. Finally they told us that they were out of ambulances and drivers and that it would be 7am, so Carrie went home and got some sleep…at least I thought she did.
She was so worried about Sunday morning going well, that she secretly went to Chenoa an
worked on Sunday morning stuff and prepared for worship for several more hours, since I had kept her from doing any work during most of this past week. She is a loyal and conscientious worker.
The ambulance got to the hospital around 7:45 and we were piled in and headed to St. Louis by 8am. It was really a pretty comfortable ride (morphine and anti-nausea meds help with that, though). Most importantly, the paramedic and driver were excellent and really went above-and-beyond to make us comfortable, give us internet access (yes, amazing, right?) and to provide excellent medical care.
Since we’ve been at Barnes-Jewish (we got here around 11am or so Sunday morning) it has basically been a waiting game. I mean, this situation was unscripted and this hospital visit was unplanned so they had to slip me in front of other people for the MRI and bounce me around rooms a bit before things were satisfactory.
We saw a neuro-surgeon resident who was on-call this weekend who was exceptionally helpful, very thorough, and really paid attention to my situation. Oh, and he really seemed very knowledgeable. He came by the room in the early-to-mid afternoon and talked to us about the CT scan that was taken in Pontiac. He wasn’t convinced there was any new bleeding, but certainly there was spinal fluid leaking and…the best way to describe it would be a ‘pressure problem.’ If spinal fluid is leaking out from the skull, there isn’t enough in the skull, so my headaches and my pain was from the pressure being ‘out of whack.’
He also helped me to understand my headaches. I explained my different head pain and headaches and I told them that sometimes it shot from the back of my head to the front. He told us that the C2 (not sure that’s right) nerves or nerve bundle (or something) arch up from where my surgery was done to the front of my head and that was causing some of the headaches I had been experiencing. Gosh, it was just great to know that they believed my pain and that I wasn’t crazy. Okay, so this isn’t definitive proof of my craziness. My brand of crazy comes from somewhere else, though š
The MRI wasn’t able to happen until 6:30 pm or so on Sunday night. They wouldn’t knock me out and it took about 45 minutes. I’ve never had trouble with MRIs before, but I thought about that bump on my head and the nausea I felt and I told them I didn’t think I could do it without being knocked out. They were moving me onto the MRI when I looked up with big sad eyes and said, “Oh, so I guess the doctor didn’t approve for me to get knocked out for this. The Radiologist’s only response was a slow, sad head shake.
Well, it was long and painful, but not intolerable. They didn’t even have to re-do any of it. I rocked out that MRI…yeah. And then we waited for results.
I hadn’t kept any food or water down since Friday evening at dinner and this was Sunday night, so I was hungry. No, I was famished. I’m a Carnes and we should come with a label, “Dangerous When Hungry.” Well, they didn’t want me to eat until they knew for sure that I wouldn’t need surgery until Monday. They said it was unlikely, but if there was an infection I might need immediate surgery and they didn’t want me to eat in that case.
I’m a reasonable guy (when I’m not hungry) and I understood that it would be a while before we got MRI results, but it took several hours and then the nurse came in at 10 pm (or so) and said that we probably wouldn’t hear any more until Monday morning. You should have seen the look of despair in my eyes. I explained how I had not eaten in days and how I’d been promised food before bed, so long as there was no emergency surgery. The nurse took pity on me and, despite orders, gave me a few ice chips.
Oh, that ice and water were exquisite! I mean, that water tasted better than the best wine. OooOOohhhhh, soooo good!
Well, that gets me to Sunday night and you nearing know as much as we do so far.
Gosh, it’s weird and confusing to be here all over again. Here I sit at Barnes Jewish waiting for surgery. I’ve been through this once so you’d think I’d know what’s happening, but i don’t. It’s been a strange whirlwind sort of weekend and we are just getting to see the full picture.
These last couple of weeks have been harder on me than the initial recovery and last week it got real bad by wednesday when I woke up with terrible pain and headaches which caused me to throw up and then I continued throwing up all morning from about 4 or 5 am until noon and then I finally found a comfortable position and fell off to sleep and slept the rest of the afternoon. The next couple of days were rough, but no more throwing up until Saturday. Saturday was nearly exactly like Wednesday. I woke up earlier than usual and then continually vomitted, but it never stopped. We called the neurosurgeon, just as we did on Wednesday and they weren’t terribly concerned (they didn’t think it was surgical or related to my surgery). But the neurosurgeons said that we should go to our local ER if the pain persisted.
Finally around 3 pm or so we realized that I was getting no relief. The problem, though, for me, was that I couldn’t imagine having to go by car to the hospital. The light and motion seemed like they would just make everything so much worse that I delayed a fair bit before agreeing to go. Well, reason kicked in and my wife helped me to the car and drove me over to St. James OSF Hospital in Pontiac. We go to the hospital around 4 or 4:30 pm.
They got me right into an ER room and I we asked them to make it dark and quiet. They took care of it immediately and got me on some anti-nausea meds and morphine. Gretchen stopped by cause she was already out and about and sat with me while Carrie went home to pick up my MRI scans and reports from February and March (which we had left at home). The Pontiac hospital did a CT Scan and we waited until 2 am or so to find out that they believed there was bleeding in my brain from the surgery.
It was a long day, but finding out what was going on and finding out that I was getting to transferred was a load off. Sometimes just having a plan makes everything a little better!
I will share more a little later and bring you all up-to-date. For right now, I’m going to relax a little and wait for Carrie to get back from the waiting room. A visitor just came and she took them away from the room so that I could rest.
Thank you, all, for your on-going prayers and concern. We do appreciate your caring support very much!
Live in Sunday!
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| empty tomb image found at: http://heavenlysprings.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/empty_tomb.jpg |
Today’s guest blogger is Rev. Dave Wilkinson. He is a deacon at First United Methodist Church in Green Bay, Wisconsin and is the founder and editor of an inspirational e-mail ministry and blog called āSOUND BITES: Something to Chew on That Is Good for the Soul.ā It was begun in memory of his son, Dustin, on the first anniversary of his death. You can follow SOUND BITES Ministryā¢at their blog:
www.SOUNDBITESministry.blogspot.com.
Trust In Christ: Live in Sunday!
On Good Friday in 1998 my wife and I buried our son, Dustin. He had died at the age of 16 as a result of a brain tumor. His cremains were placed in the ground and we began our grief journey. No parent should have to go through that experience. The death of a loved one or close friend is hard enough. The death of a child is a pain like no other. So I had some sense that day of what the followers of Jesus must have felt. On the first Good Friday they buried Jesus in a tomb, sealed it shut, and began their grief journey. I can imagine that Saturday for the Christ-followers was a day filled with grief, bewilderment, hopelessness, numbness, and quiet conversation.
Fast forward, then, to January, 2009. I found myself leading a worship service at the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem. We stood there in the beautiful surroundings with other Christ-followers from around the world. Our group pulled aside to spend some time in reflection prior to receiving communion. I shared with them some of the feelings the disciples must have felt on that Saturday. I explained that that particular day, January 21, was our son Dustinās birthday and I shared some of his story with them.
I also shared that as Christ-followers we do not need to spend our time in the grief of the āSaturdays.ā Instead, we 21st century pilgrims, just as the 1st century disciples, found the tomb empty. āHe is not here. He is risen,ā declared the sign at the empty tomb. He is risen indeed! And we can live in the grace and hope of Easter Sunday because Christ overcame the grave. He overcame the grave so that we might liveā¦ so that you and I might liveā¦ so that my son might live.
1 Corinthians 15:54b-57 reminds us: āāDeath has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?ā The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.ā
Where do you find that you dwell most of the time? In the sorrow of Friday, in the hopelessness of Saturday, or in the victory of Sunday. Because I trust in Christ, I choose to live in Sunday.
The greatest love that anyone could ever know
That overcame the cross and grave to find my soul
And ’til I see You face to face and grace amazing takes me home
I’ll trust in You
(from āTill I See Youā by Hillsong)
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| image found at: http://newvintageleadership.com/ |
I’m very worried about the United Methodist Church. It has been on a long and slow decline in membership and finances for years. We know that the course we are on is untenable and we know our bureaucracy is oversized and out-dated…and we know that it no longer reflects the needs of our current church.
I don’t know which of the upcoming proposals will be best, but I implore all of those heading to General Conference 2012 to take action this year. If we don’t accept the call-to-action or a similar piece of legislation, we won’t be around much longer.
I hate to say it so strongly. I hate to have to say it at all…but I am afraid for my church. We can’t afford to ignore our problems any longer and the local church can’t afford anything, not any more.
It is time for action. I know the arguments against the call-to-action report. I know that many groups fear a loss of voice. I agree, that is not what we want. Yet, I fear there will be no voices soon enough, if we don’t reduce the size of our church boards. Furthermore, I wonder how effectively we feel the voices “at the table” are heard in our current system. I wonder how effectively our boards are currently operating?
I have thought long and hard about it. I choose to give up my seat. I know that’s not saying much, but I didn’t throw my hat in the ring to be on a board or agency this time around. I’ve served my church the past 8 years and I think I now serve it best by sitting back and letting the church shrink, become more nimble, and allow other voices to be heard. Are others willing to give up their seat for the good of our church? Are we willing to say less in order that the church can do more? Are we willing to step out in faith even though this new reality is scary-different?
Let’s make a new future for this church.