A High-tech Hole in my Chest

Tomorrow (July 10) at 8:00 am I will make my way to Mercy Hospital where I shall be medically placed into the arms of Morpheus and undergo two procedures as part of my journey with cancer. After seven immunotherapy treatments, my tumor has shrunk considerably, and the time has come to remove it (Yay! Praise the Lord!). While we’re at it, I’ll be having a port installed to accommodate future infusions which will occur every two weeks (there are 19 of them anticipated).

I deferred on the idea of a port at first because I didn’t really understand how they worked. In my imagination was a vision of a hole in my chest with some sort of IV tube hanging out of it. I have been disabused of that notion in response to the fact that with my last IV I developed some swelling, bruising and discomfort in my hand; likely a result of some infiltration of the medicine into the tissue resulting in such a reaction. With another 19 treatments on the horizon, I’ve been advised to get the port, thus making it easier on everyone. It’s not just any port in a storm … nor is it a USB port … and it certainly is not a port hole. It’s an implanted venous access port! A fancy name for “a high-tech hole in my chest.”

I’m thankful that medical technology has advanced to the point that amazing things are possible in addressing illnesses. But as I am placed tomorrow into the “arms of Morpheus” tomorrow, I find comfort in knowing that I am first of all in the arms of Jesus! Please pray for Dr. Obbink, the surgeon and his team and ask God to guide them through the process.

In our devotional time the other morning, my girlfriend and I discovered that there are two verses in the hymn “It is Well With My Soul” that we had never sung, nor even seen! Did you know? They are placed between “My sin, O the bliss of this glorious thought…” and “And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight…” Here are the “lost verses”

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

Cool, huh?