Impulse Control…

My son and I are amidst the same struggle. We both have legitimate excuses: he’s five and I’ve on ‘roids. Neither of us want to let those excuses excuse us from responsibility for being a jerk. Again, he’s five and I’m twenty-eight.

Jones was listening to his favorite book on tape A Wrinkle In Time and was therefore in his fog that comes with his complete absorption into the story.  It was during this time that exuberant young full of life three year old India came and tried to look (or take) what Jones was holding (in this case maybe a blanket? It honestly doesn’t matter). Without hesitation or little provocation Jones began to pummel his sister repeatedly and without abandon. She responded as a little three year old girl does and should: life as she knew it was over. My response was to immediately put Jones in time out on the stairs…kind of. Right now I’m really having a hard time regulating my emotions–they swing more than they ever have and its been challenging for me to say the least to learn to regulate these new found extreme emotions. I’ve always been a steady, even, and controlled person so I even scared myself when I forcefully ripped Jones’ headphones off his head and ripped a pacifier out of his mouth (another story for another place). Even further when Jones started screaming and then shrieking (I cannot explain how loud this “shriek” part was) I yelled loud at him (STOP!) grabbed his shoulders and told him to go upstairs. I know I grabbed his shoulders too hard because it was clear but also because as he’s crying and going upstairs he’s saying “you don’t have to be so rough with me…” It was not good parenting…and Jess took over…upstairs. I stayed downstairs, cooled off, and tried to reheat dinner. Thanks to grandma (who’s eyes were quite wide at this moment) dinner actually got made.

I say all that confessionally but also to get to the conversation that my son first had with Jess and then had with me. I’ll try to recount it as best I can (and I might kind of blend the two conversations a bit into one).

Jones: (tearfully) I don’t want to do things like hitting India. Its like my brain can’t stop it. I try and I try but I can’t seem to control myself. I don’t know what to do I just can’t stop!

Jess: It’s hard huh. That’s called impulse control. That must be really scary to feel out of control.

Jones: It is scary and I don’t know how to stop (crying increases). How can I control myself when I just do it and don’t know what I’m doing? I don’t want to be like this! And I don’t know why daddy is acting like this either. He never acts like this. Why is he so harsh? He just grabbed my shoulders hard and he doesn’t do that!

Jess: Daddy is having a hard time with impulse control too huh.

Jones: Yeah and I don’t like it!

(later, laying in bed with me and after rehashing the same content above)

Me: It sounds like we’re really experiencing the same things right now huh Jones?

Jones: Yeah, I don’t like it.

Me: Me neither. Did you know that daddy is on some drugs right now called steroids that make it hard for me to control my emotions?

Jones: Really? Why do they do that?

Me: Well the steroids are helping my body, but they come with things called side affects. One of those side affects is all this extra emotion that I’m having to learn how to deal with. We’ve got to work pretty hard to make good choices even when we’re feeling out of control huh?

Jones: Yeah. I can’t wait ’till you’re off steroids.

Me: Me too. But I don’t think its just the steroids I think daddy is also just learning how to cope with all the changes in his body. Do you think we can both work on trying to make good choices even when we’re feeling out of control?

Jones: Yeah I think so…Dad, is your tumor benign?

Me: What? (I was completely caught off guard here) Actually they thought it was but now they’re actually still studying it trying to figure out what it is.

Jones: What’s benign again?

Me: Benign means that the tumors not doin’ much, it’s just sitting there in my back chillin’. But guess what, they sent my tumor to a place called the Mayo Clinic and it’s one of the best hospitals in the entire world!

Jones: WHAT! (laughing) The best hospital in the entire world! Do they let little boys go there?

Me: I bet they do.

Jones: I want to go there. What are they doing with your tumor?

Me: They’re studying it and watching it. It’s acting weird and they’re trying to figure out what it’s doing.

Jones: Well I’m glad that its at such a good hospital. I hope I can go there. But it’s not cancer right?

Me: (I chickened out) I hope not, but we’re still waiting to find out. Hopefully we’ll find out soon.

Jones: Well I’m glad it’s at the Mayo Clinic.

Me: Me too.

*end scene*

 

Such a Trip…Seriously

I can’t think of any other phrase except to say “what a trip”!

Even just a few weeks ago I had never pictured myself as a rehab patient (I probably should have…but I didn’t). I know my story is nothing at all like the movie Regarding Henry but it is exactly what I felt like yesterday as I spent my first day in the rehab unit here at the hospital. You know those two bars that rehab patients hold onto as they learn to walk for the first time again…that’s me! What the what? You know those teams of encouraging PT’s and OT’s who are saying nice things, giving them pointers, saying “come on Ryan, one more step…” that’s me! I’m Harrison Ford from the movie! (except that I wasn’t a jerk before hand…and I can talk and read…and…yeah…you get it). It’s just such a trip to realize that I am actually, genuinely, completely learning how to walk again.

I know this post has not been an epic one of powerful words, well written thoughts, or even a cohesive news update…but if you haven’t picked up on it yet, I’m just now coming to grips with the fact that my new (as of right now) reality in life is that I’m a baby learning to walk. Who’d a thought? A few weeks ago I was in pain…but I was walking down Main Street in Disneyland! Shoot, a few days ago I was anticipating surgery and in bad pain, but in 48 hours of time I managed to get down to the pub and even plant some spinach in my garden. Now? Now, I’m giddy to have a strap on pee bag so that I don’t get tangled when I try to use my walker. What. A. Trip.

And yet…my body is doing well. I’m moving more than I should. My pain is less than it should be. I’m full of confidence and energy. I’m in what appears to be an amazing facility. I’m still crying constantly about the support of my friends and family (…yep…just cried again while typing this…), and I can gladly call this home for at least the next 7-10 days.

Here we go!

 

(Just as an FYI that need some more of the details…we’re waiting for positive pathology reports to show up between June 7-10. Once we get those reports we’ll be able to have a more firm understanding of what to do concerning the left over tumor ‘fingers’ intertwined in my spinal cord. Right now the spinal damage being shown includes lack of bowl/bladder function and pretty strong paralysis down my right side from my belly button to my shin…more or less. There are other spots of numbness, tingling, etc. as well but these are the major concerns)

Final Thoughts?

Some final thoughts prior to bedtime, night before the surgery…

  • There we were, the four of us sitting together on India’s bed this morning trying to discuss the reality of the day or two head of us. Daddy: “Today’s a big day kiddos! Today’s my last day with this tumor and then tomorrow the surgeon is going to take it out!” India: “Yay! Then we can eat it!” Jones: “India, it probably will feel like brain” Daddy: “I think it would taste and feel like a salty olive” Jones: “Dad, all olives are salty” Daddy: “right.”
  • A couple of minutes ago I was laying in bed with Jones trying to be a good dad and “encourage him” concerning tomorrows potential stress. Daddy: “Hey man, you got any questions about the big day tomorrow?” Jones: “Nope. What’s so special about tomorrow?” Daddy: “Well I’m going to get that tumor out of course!” Jones: “What’s so special about that? People have tumors all over the world right now.” Daddy: “That’s so true man. I guess it’s something new for our family, but its pretty normal across the whole world huh?” Jones: “Yeah, people are dying in some parts of the world right now with tumors” Daddy: “Dying? I think lots of people are having their tumors taken out and are being saved right now!” Jones: “What about people with tumors in Africa where there might not be good doctors or adequate medical facilities?” Daddy: “Wow, you’re right man. I guess we should feel really lucky to have such good doctors huh.” Jones: “yeah…” Daddy: “Umm…ok, well…I love you. Any other thoughts or questions?” Jones: “Nope. Can I have another pillow?”
  • I won’t take too much time to report on the overwhelming, amazing, beautiful night that was the prayer time hosted for our family at Compass church this evening. I cried too much. There were too many people. It was beautiful in its depth and simplicity. It felt right, it felt like community, it felt like God, it felt…uhh….I just don’t have words right now. Thank you all so so much. I can’t think of any better way  to enter into tomorrows surgery than with what happened tonight. Maybe I can write more cohesively about this another time. Thank you.
  • Finally…no better way to follow up a night of prayer and a fast starting at midnight with pizza and Cold Stone ice cream.
  • Surgery is scheduled for noon.
  • Oh, and last thing, I’ve been told to repost this one more time…If you’d like to help my fam while I’m locked up in the hospital, here’s what’s been setup:
    • If you would like to provide meals or gift cards please contact Erika Albright on Facebook, email (ealbright2k3@gmail.com), or phone 360-521-4143
    • If you would like to help with jobs that need to be done. From laundry to yard work. Please contact Patty Jacobs-Kunkle on Facebook, email pattykunkle@msn.com, or call her at 360-798-7139
    • If you would like to contribute money to Ryan’s medical bills you can do that at any Columbia Credit Union in Ryan Woods’s name. account # 444289 or through online giving here:http://ow.ly/3yjhL or by sending a check to PO Box 873575 Vancouver, WA 98687 written to “Renovatus” and marked for Ryan Woods

peace.

Our Story As Best I Can Tell It Now

I don’t know why I didn’t do this first thing, but let me lay out for you as best I can the story of what’s been going on the last few months with regard to all this filthy disease stuff.

  • Over 4 months ago my right leg randomly stopped working. There was no pain, no numbness, nothing particularly alarming. It just flopped. I actually noticed it while walking down main street, I was annoyed at the sound of my foot slapping the ground. I didn’t think much of it and just tried to walk “better” to the extent that I didn’t even think to tell my wife. It was probably a strained muscle (I work out so often right?!). Jess noticed about three weeks later as she claimed I was “lumbering as if i had gained weight”
  • My parents bugged me, my wife lovingly requested me, and finally I saw a doctor. The doc checked me out, had me stand on one foot (poorly), and a battery of other tests that showed that…surprise…I couldn’t stand up well. She began to order an MRI of my lower back because of my single symptom but instead decided to check with a neurologist colleague at OHSU who changed the order to a neck and upper back scan. This change changed everything. Had it not been for that change the tumor would have been completely missed by the scan!
  • And then my clinic did what they seem to do well…they never followed up on the MRI order. In a way it worked well because it allowed us to continue our family trip to Disneyland without any larger impending cloud raining on our adventure. The only negative here was that the week before our trip south I started getting more symptoms. Numbness in my feet, sharp unbearable pains in my back, tingling in my ‘good’ leg, and shooting abdominal pain. In one last effort I tried to see my doctor before we drove to the DL but was informed that she was only seeing women that day…so I laughed, wrote it off, popped lots of Advil, and waited ’till we got back from our trip.
  • Disneyland was awesome and I won’t tell you about it here. The stroller served as my cain and I hobbled around just fine. I had to be somewhat cautious about what rides I went on and only made a bad choice once…or twice. Otherwise, a slow pace, a stroller, lots of pauses, and Advil kept me moving just fine.
  • On the first Monday back from an amazing time in Disneyland I was finally able to sit for an MRI (it only took me calling the MRI office and my clinic to personally make the referral happen). From morning ’till afternoon I laid still for differing MRI machines as they sought a powerful enough one to see through my massive muscles (I think that was the reason). They told me it’d be 4-5 days to get a report but it was that very night that we had a missed call from my doctor…For me this was the first legitimate sign that I actually had something wrong: super rushed results.
  • Tuesday morning we went into our clinic for a follow up appointment to Jones’ swollen lymph nodes and I came along to hear from the doctor instead of over the phone the rushed results of my MRI. I and India in one room with my doctor, Jess and Jones in another room with his doctor, we came out to share the news with each other that I had a spinal tumor and Jones could possibly have lymphoma. Not a great start to the morning. From the lobby Jess left to get Jones’ chest x-rayed and I left for a meeting…and our day was off (though this time with some new knowledge!) My doctor assured me that she had rushed the surgeon referral and that I’d hear from a surgeon within 24 hours to answer any of my questions (because she had very few if any answers) so without any information really (size, type, placement, etc.) I waited to hear from a surgeon.
  • By Wednesday afternoon I had still not heard from a surgeon, so I called and got my surgeons number and rang his office…they’d never heard of me nor received a referral. So I called my clinic and they let me know that it’d be a two week process to get the referral through. I asked to see my doctor (still wanting some basic info and some pain meds) and they said that she wasn’t in but that I could schedule an appointment for June 13th. I asked when she’d next be standing in the office and they said tomorrow…I said that I’d be there in the morning. Instead, actually, we ended up going to the ER so we could talk to a real live doctor and medical staff who might be able to tell us what kind of tumor I had, what the time frame was, and whether or not I could get some real pain killers. Best. Move. Ever. Within a couple of minutes of entering the ER I was rushed to the back and sitting with a great doctor who used to work in neurology. I left about an hour later with some basic (though not detailed) understanding of the type of tumor I had, the types that it could be, and (most importantly) with an appointment to see a real live surgeon the following day.
  • On Thursday the hammer dropped and I was finally able to sit down with my surgeon and find out what’s going on. Quickly I discovered that the chances of cancer were small (10%), that the tumor was actually inside my spinal cord splitting it into two, that I was looking at a 5-6 hour surgery where they’d be shaving off unneeded parts of my spine and filleting my cord open in order to remove the two inch tumor sitting inside. I learned that it’s most likely a nice encapsulated tumor that shouldn’t have fingers or tentacles reaching into my nerves (very very good news!), and I learned that I could be in the hospital anywhere from 1-6 weeks depending on nerve damage. I nearly passed out as he shared the information, but it was truly a relief to finally know what lay before me.
  • The surgery wasn’t scheduled until Tuesday, May 31st in order to give my body time to soak up some delicious steroids that will reduce inflammation and also to allow for a team of technicians to be assembled that will put pins and needles in me during surgery and monitor my nerves so as to keep the surgeon from damaging anything more than what’s already been damaged. Essentially the surgeon will poke around in my spine until he finds the least obtrusive way in to get rid of my little tag-a-long in hopes that he will not do any greater damage to my glorious nerves making my bottom half function.
  • Since then it’s been a process of figuring out what functioning looks like until the surgery. The ‘roids are doing a number on my body and the tumor continues to tweak its way that it bugs me. At any given moment my whole abdomen edging up into my lungs goes numb and swells, my face and jaw ache constantly and swell and go numb as well. My ‘roid rage is coming out through tearing up constantly (read that blog post here) and I’m also kind of angry all the time (which is completely abnormal for me). The sharp pains in my back are pretty much gone thanks to the steroids and vicadin but I’ve found that the more I’m off my back the less of my body and face I can feel, the more my heart races, the more tired I get, and the harder it gets to walk. It’s been a tightrope trying to figure out if I should lay flat and be bored out of my mind and useless or up and moving and make my body function worse…but who cares right ’cause I’m getting this thing cut out in just a couple more days!!!
  • All through this I have felt incredibly blessed. Seriously. What if I had found this stuff out right before Disneyland? I’m glad I didn’t. This could have happened a month or two sooner and messed with me finishing grad school. I’ve got an amazing surgeon who has come recommended by three different medical professionals from three different hospitals! I am constantly (constantly!) being reminded of how loved and cared for I am by my neighborhood community, by my former (and present) church communities, by my family, and friends. I have heard overwhelming reports of people (and whole churches) praying from the Philippines, to Korea, Italy, Uganda, Canada, and all over the US.
  • The story is so much more nebulous with Jones right now. Until yesterday he was chilling with a 105 fever for a week and we’re still waiting to get his lymph nodes biopsied. Yesterday, however, he woke up with one of his larger lymphs extra swollen and harder so now, while I begin my surgery on Tuesday Jess will be scheduling his biopsy. The life of a mom eh!? We’re continuing to pray against lymphoma being a part of his story.

Thank you for the notes, emails, thoughts, and prayers. We don’t really know what’s ahead of us in many ways but we are moving forward with confidence in what God has and is doing in and around our lives. God’s story (as I understand it in the Bible and in my own experiences) is always this mysterious blend of messy life and surprising hope. I feel like we’re living in that tension along with a giant cloud of witnesses that include many of you standing beside us who have walked in messier places, who have experienced hope more fully, and who are inviting us into a way of living that is both beautiful, difficult, and ripe with significance.

peace.

The Mean Lady

It was early and wet but we were all excited as about eighty of us waited at the Max (public transit) station to head into downtown Portland for the Shamrock Run. Many people were wearing gaudy green costumes, green body paint, and goofy hats and jewelry. Most of us were from Vancouver and had to purchase a ticket to ride the train, the problem though was that the ticket machine is known for taking an extremely long time to purchase and print tickets! So of the 80-100 of us that were waiting for the Max most of us were in a long line that wasn’t moving.

Maybe it was the costumes or maybe it was the anticipation of a fun day with my wife and kids but I figured that the best way to get everyone on board the train would be for those at the ticket machine to just buy tickets for those behind them. Obviously it would be strange for me to approach a stranger and suggest that they buy another person’s ticket so instead I figured I’d walk up to the front of the line and ask if I could just purchase 30 tickets and we could hand them down the line. I thought it was a good idea, I felt kind of good about myself, and practically it was quite a useful thing…but here’s how the conversation went:

Me: Hi, this might be weird but if you let me buy your ticket I’d love to get us all out of line and just buy 20 or 30 tickets to pass down the line.

Her: Excuse me? You’re going to have to wait in line with the rest of us buddy!

Me: Oh, no I’m not trying to cut in line. I’ll stay in my place in the back and won’t even take one of the 20 tickets. It’ll just get us all through the line faster and we can then jump on the train when it gets here.

Her: You are not buying my ticket and you should get back in line where you were.

The Guy in line behind her: Hey man don’t worry about it. On a day like today when the Max gets here we’ll just all jump on.

I’m not quite sure what the moral of the story is. I’ve got a couple of ideas.

  1. We American’s generally fall into two categories. We either live off of and crave charity or we refuse to receive any gifts because we’re not a “person in need” It’s either pride or poverty.
  2. We also tend to find greater joy in the act of giving than in a person receiving. The fun and joy and blessing for the giver is often still centered in his/her own selfish feelings rather than in the blessing that the recipient gets.