There seem to be few pivotal moments in ones life, markers to state a change, that life will look different after such moments. Some are planned with much excitement around, like a wedding or birth. Others seem to come out of nowhere and shut down life as you know it. The latter hit us in the face mid September of 2022. I was just getting over another combat with some nasty virus and we had some major house issues when Beach started to not feel well. His immune system seemed to be the strongest in our family, so I thought he may be fighting the same bug that I had but would soon get over it. A few days later, though, we realized that this was not the case.
Instead the bleeding and pain never stopped but seemed to get worse. He happened to have a colonoscopy scheduled, and that revealed that he had full blow ulcerative colitis. However, the only instructions that the doctor gave him after his procedure was to not eat ice cream, and that was it. There was no mention on his current issues or what we should be looking out for or doing.
After many more days of pain, blood and tears, we weren't sure what to do. A call in to the GI doctor and they said to go into the hospital. While in our hearts we questioned if this was indeed the right move, we didn't want to do anything that would make things worse, so away we went. At this point, Beach was still able to smile (even if it was forced). It seemed that over the next few days this would not be the case.
We were hoping that with some IVs. getting him over the hump and not being dehydrated, it would get him beyond this flare up and back on course. There were many meds given and little advice or wisdom.
When things get hard, I look for the good and attempt to count the blessings, like a beautiful sunset right outside the window.
Seeing the USC stadium in the background, reminded me that life out there continued, as the stadium was filled with screaming fans, while not many people knew of the extent of our struggles we quietly endured.
While I didn't stay the night, the next morning in the hospital parking lot I saw this bumper sticker in the car in front of me. While unconventional, this was the opening phrase to the sermon we heard the Sunday prior at church. This was an odd reminder of how God saw us, He knew all that was going on, and was with us.
There was a lot of just being, while at the hospital and later at home. Something that is not a part of our normal rhythms. So I read to Beach some out of the new book I was reading, WayMaker, a perfect read for this season. We need a way when it seems like there is no way out of this mess.
There were a few walks, to keep the blood flowing!
As well, as some facetime calls with the kids.
After a couple of nights Beach was beyond ready to get out of there and left as soon as he could. It was a depressing place and we rejoiced in leaving. However, as the weeks continued Beach continued to drop weight and his symptoms did not get better.
The GI doctor wanted him to go on an injection medication that he declared he would be on for the rest of his life. If he got off of it, at any point, he would not be able to get back on. His regular doctor explained that, while this drug could work, it often would stop working in 10 years, which would leave us with less options, and then there are the side effects and higher risk of cancer. With all the cancer in my family the past year, we desired to prevent as much as possible. So we we tried everything we could to stabilize Beach naturally, including getting IV drips to hydrate him, fasting, biofeedback, clearings, etc. It was such an emotionally challenging time!
Food was an immense challenge because we did not know what was hurting him for awhile. Since most of it went through Beach and caused him pain, it was a real hard subject. He continued to loose weight and had lost 40lbs over the past few weeks. Weakness and fatigue accompanied by all the emotional stress compounded in a heap of heartache and tears. A later GI doctor visit, and the doctor explained he could go back to the hospital whenever he wanted. If he didn't need a blood transfusion, though, we could continue to battle at home, which was Beach's desire. Luckily, his blood levels remained stable.
Battle we did, through prayer and more prayer. There were times it was really scary for me, wondering if we were doing the right thing, keeping an eye on things in the business (as Beach could not work), and struggling with my own ongoing health issues. I pressed into the Lord, our Waymaker, for a way out, all the while He was teaching me he was making a way through. Along the way, he provided meals through others at our church and community, our own manna. It was beyond a blessing to me to have one thing off my already to0 full plate, to emotionally know that I didn't have to carry that additional piece.
The darkness that envelopes life, when such medical struggles seem to appear, can be crippling at times. Yet, there were, also, such beautiful moments. We were thankful to have many guests for Beach. Since he couldn't really go anywhere, having others come to him was a great encouragement. They prayed over him and we saw the Lord move and encourage in mighty ways. The refining process means you have to be pressed to push out all the yuck. This pressing felt very unsustainable, at times, but more reason to look to the father for His help.
Eventually we got to the place where the natural route was not working yet, and Beach's weight loss and lack of energy or movement in a positive direction meant that he was ready to try the medication. He gave it such a hard fight, though, and we proceeded with the best information that we could gather for next steps. A kind in home nurse came to explain how to give himself injections and guided us through the first time. Beach's body responded relatively quickly to it, as opposed to the weeks we were told we could see results. Another praise, he only had side effects the first time (that we know of). Having the process swing in a positive direction was a huge relief.
Beach would slowly start walking a little bit more each day, building up the distance over time. The fall leaves were a beautiful backdrop for this. When I was able I would join him, and we would continue to process all that was happening.
The kids would come along on occasion, this was the picture Shiloh chose to take. Thankfully he was able to return back to work, slowly at first, and then more when he had to.
This journey, this journey that came out of nowhere it felt like, yet made sense once we pieced some of the pieces together. This journey was not one that we asked to go on, hardships never really are, but we made it out of the hardest of hards. Beach will continue to have to battle this fight, especially around food. I will fight along with him and we ask for prayer for our family as well. I hold on dearly, though, to the lessons that were gleaned along the way, our staff that held our business together, the hope that we do have that the Lord is always with us, and that one day our bodies will be made new.
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