Tuesday 29 November 2016

The 24+ Hours Post Surgery

I'm not sure what any of us were expecting my Dad to be like immediately after his surgery - but we sure weren't expecting what we got! In many ways, it barely seems that my Dad had major brain surgery a little over 24 hours ago.

Here are some of the ways that my Dad has exceeded our expectations so far:

1. He was awake and coherent less than 45 minutes after he entered the ICU.
2. As soon as we showed up at his bed, he started cracking jokes and doing other things to put us at ease.
3. Less than 20 hours after getting out of surgery, he had some ideas related to his work and wrote himself a note to make sure that he wouldn't forget them.
4. He has had a healthy appetite since about an hour out of surgery.  
5. He looks this bada**:
Taken at about 8:30 this morning.
Taken at about 7:00 this evening. 
My family spent yesterday afternoon and evening waiting to talk to Dr. O'Kelly, the head neurosurgeon.

We were told at approximately 6:00 in the evening that Dr. O'Kelly had just gone into the operating room for an emergency surgery that would last at least three hours. At my Dad's suggestion, my Mom, Tara, Leanne, Ben and I decided that we would head out for a quick dinner.  While we were gone, the intensivist doctor stopped by my Dad's bed for a visit. While we were sad to miss this visit, we were happy to hear from my Dad that the intensivist doctor stated to him that the surgery notes looked good and that my Dad appeared to be recovering very well.

When we returned from dinner, we intended to stick around until approximately 9:30 to hopefully catch Dr. O'Kelly. However, we were told that, after 15 hours of surgery, it was highly unlikely that Dr. O'Kelly would come by later that evening. As such, we decided to say goodnight to my Dad at about 8:30 and we all headed home. As soon as we got home, my Dad texted my Mom saying that Dr. O'Kelly had just left.  Once again, we were sad to miss the visit, but were happy to hear from my Dad that Dr. O'Kelly was very happy with the harvesting and thought that my Dad was healing well.

Dr. O'Kelly also popped by my Dad's bed early this morning before my Mom, Tara, Leanne and I arrived. At this time, he stated that he would come by later when my Mom was back to chat with her.  

Dr. O'Kelly came about 4:00 this afternoon and talked to my Mom, Grandma Rita, and Tara. Once again he said that he was very happy with how the surgery went. We have heard from numerous doctors and nurses that my Dad is doing well and recovering as expected. The swelling and bruising are normal and will decrease as my Dad becomes more active. Dr. O'Kelly says that my Dad will be able to come home within a couple days. 

After the visit from the doctor we went for a walk (my Dad in a wheelchair) around the healing gardens inside the hospital. After that, we visited the chapel where we got to see the stained glass window made by former students of my Dad's from Edmonton Christian High School. 
Looking upon the stained glass window in the chapel. 
And to end the night: another adventure to...watch a few minutes of the hockey game. He even got out of the wheelchair and walked back to his room on his own! 
Thanks again for travelling along with us and please continue to pray for a speedy recovery. 

- Erin 

Monday 28 November 2016

UPDATED Surgery Update

My Dad is out of surgery and in the high intensity ICU. We haven't been able to talk to a doctor yet. My Dad is already talking and joking around! Hallelujah! We will update again once we have more information. 

Thank you again for your prayers - we have felt so at peace today.  Please continue to pray while we await results and for the recovery ahead.


UPDATE

My Dad spoke with the Intensive Care doctor this evening and based on the surgery notes, the neurosurgeons were pleased with how the surgery went. He also indicated that we won't have pathology results for a couple of weeks (not the speedy results we were hoping for - but we will work on our patience). This is actually a total blessing: it gives us time to concentrate on recovery without thinking every day if today will be the day that the results come.

We still have not had a chance to talk to the neurosurgeon but hope to do so tomorrow between his surgeries. Apparently he is awesome with checking in on his patients so we await that conversation and will update you if there is any other news (he just had four surgeries today so that's why we didn't hear from him). 


Tonight we leave you with a bouquet of flowers and zero weeds because, to be honest, we can't complain today. From my Dad: 

Flower: A visit from Kase - who is always SO happy and such a hope for all of us! 
Flower: Hearing that a daughter's close friend had a baby. 
Flower: Out of all the people here in the ICU, he is the most blessed one. 
Flower: When the surgeons were doing brain surgery, they actually found a brain (Thanks to his sister Gayle for that idea)! 


- Erin

Surgery

We arrived at the hospital this morning around 5:15am. After hanging out in admitting for awhile, my Dad was taken to the operating room. My Dad and Mom had a chance to talk to Dr. O'Kelly quickly before the surgery. He said the surgery should last about 4-5 hours. Afterwards, my Dad will be taken to recovery before he is transferred to the ICU. What a huge answer to prayer that my Dad was taken into surgery first thing this morning. It is so wonderful that my Dad's weed from yesterday was addressed first thing this morning with a 7:20am surgery time and quick admittance into the operating room.

One of the hugest blessings today has been the prayers and support of our First Christian Reformed Church family.  Members of the congregation have signed up to pray continually for our Dad in half hour increments from 5:00am to midnight. I know this is bringing so much comfort to my Mom; she'll check the list and let us know who's praying for the next half hour.

Thank you for your prayers, text messages, and emails. The time is passing fairly quickly and we look forward to seeing our Dad after the physical beast is conquered. We are normally a fairly anxious group of people (us girls are, at least), but we can't believe the peace we feel today. Your prayers are quieting the beasts in our mind.  
- Tara

Sunday 27 November 2016

Slay the Beast

Tomorrow, my Dad goes in for surgery. He must start fasting at 11:00 this evening and then he must arrive at the hospital at 5:30 tomorrow morning. Once we arrive at the hospital, there are still quite a few unknowns: We are unsure of what time the surgery will take place; we are unsure of whether or not the surgery will actually happen tomorrow (he could be bumped by another emergency); and we are unsure of how long the surgery will last. 

If you're wondering how you can pray for my Dad and our family over the next 24 hours, my Dad asks that you pray that God "slay the beast". My Uncle Mike talked about this on Friday as he prayed over my Dad. The beast comes in two parts. The beast is not only the tumour inside my Dad's head but also the negative thoughts that have the potential to occupy our minds at all hours of the day and night. We request that you ask God to first slay the beast of a tumour that has invaded my Dad's head and second, that the beast that has the potential to occupy all our minds would also be put to rest. 

Over the last few days, my Dad has also talked about "two flowers and a weed". At the end of each day, one of my Dad's friends (Tim Van Soelen) will ask for two flowers and a weed - two things that were beautiful and flourishing and one thing that was hard and harmful. My Dad suggested that coming up with two flowers and a weed for each day would be a great way for my family to slay the beast of negative thoughts. We need to remind ourselves of the daily flowers or our thoughts will be consumed by the weeds that seem to be towering over us. My Dad also thought it would be neat if some of you would be willing to comment with two flowers and a weed from your day.


So here are my Dad's two flowers and a weed for today:

Flower: A few nephews and nieces came over with a card and some hugs. 
Flower: A nice long chat with friend Darryl De Boer. 
Weed: A feeling of uncertainty about tomorrow's schedule. 

And an honourable mention to a flower from Saturday: Kraft Dinner for lunch. It's pretty easy to make my Dad happy.


- Erin 


Saturday 26 November 2016

An Unlikely Scene

Yesterday I saw something unlike anything I have ever seen before. Something so rare, so special, and so moving that it made me think "Why don't I see this more often?". This is what I saw...
Derk, Rob, Ed, Greg, Randy, Rick
Mike, Loretta, Doug, Peter
As I saw some of my Dad's close and long-time friends lay their hands on my parents and pray for this page I thought how beautiful, yet sad, this moment was. Beautiful - because my Dad has so many people who love him. Sad - because it takes something so terrible to happen for me to witness this outpouring of love.

As many of you know, my Dad is an amazing man. As we shared in the first post, all of us girls have agreed that our Dad is one of the best people we know (if not the best). What I didn't think we knew (to its full extent) is how many people also think so highly of our Dad. Sure, we know that he is exceptional at his job and a joy to be around, but we didn't know about the deep connections he has with so many people. Colleagues of my Dad have told us that of course we may post their messages on the blog because "I love your Dad publicly." I think it takes a special man, a man like my Dad, to garner a response like that.

If you're in the Christian Education world, you may have heard my Dad talking about the "Competing Story" (a part of Teaching for Transformation). The competing stories are any stories that hide His story - God's story. Over the last several days, I've heard people say "Why did this have to happen to such an inspirational man?" or "I wish this could be happening to me instead of you!". We often focus on the negatives in life - out of this trial we find even more negatives to dwell on. I'm left believing that these thoughts are the competing story. Humankind brought sin and strife into our world - God is the one that shows us His Light even in these dark times.

What we've been shown this last week (and we've said it before) is that our community is astounding. People have often admonished our communities for being too close, where information spreads like wild-fire. God has shown me, in this page, that this wild-fire is productive. How could we get through this time without countless visitors, freezer-meals, notes of encouragement, thoughts, and prayers? The news of my Dad's diagnosis has spread like wild-fire and for that I am grateful - we now have thousands of people boldly asking for healing. That is God's story, yet we are the ones competing with it so often in a time like this.

My Grandma Rita shared with us yesterday that my Dad's Grandpa Monsma used to say "It's better to be respected than to be loved." In my Dad's situation, I don't believe those two things are mutually exclusive. He is both of those to the Nth degree. Sometimes it just takes a life-altering event like this to really show you the truth about someone. And the truth about my Dad is: he is adored.

Today, I'd like to leave you with some words from Jesus Calling, sent to me by a dear friend this morning. "...how precious are my children who remember to thank me at all times. They can walk through the darkest days with joy in their hearts because they know that the Light of My Presence is still shining on them. Rejoice in this day I have made, for I am your steadfast Companion."

- Erin

Friday 25 November 2016

These Days

These days are strange.  Since my Dad came home on Monday evening, someone has been with him from morning until night.  One of us daughters arrive around 8:30 and the rest of us girls slowly trickle in throughout the morning.  We sit in the living room and read emails and texts, write blog posts, watch Kase try to get into things that he shouldn’t, and visit with friends and family stopping by.  

My Mom and sisters are the pharmacists, administering drugs to my Dad six times throughout the day. By the time a phone alarm sounds to remind us that it’s time for another dose, there is already a glass of cold water and a pill sitting next to my Dad.

Whoever is around stays for dinner,  which also usually includes at least two of our husbands.  And then us girls head home while my parents relax for a bit (finally in silence) before heading to sleep.  These days are strange.  

These days are sad.  It is much easier to be at my parents’ house than it is to be at our own homes.  The worries creep up when we are apart from our Dad.  But there is also sadness in the fact that we’re all home with my Dad during the day when we shouldn’t be.  There is sadness about the circumstances that have brought our family together.  We cry when my Dad gets a text or email about the prayers being offered up for him.  I get tears in my eyes when I hear that an out-of-province friend is flying in for a day before his out-of-country business trip to come visit my Dad.  My heart aches when I watch my Dad playing with and cuddling with Kase.  These days are sad.   


These days are scary.  There are so many unknowns leading up to Monday.  I want the days to fly by so that we can know the road we’ll be on, whether it will be a road of recovery from surgery or a road preparing for treatment.  But I also want the days to go slowly so we can be in this semi-naive place for a little longer, where my Dad is home with us and safe for the time being.  

One of the most beautiful things about my Dad is his brain.  His mind is wise, kind, and witty. His brain works in the most wonderful way and it terrifies me that this tumour is right there next to his amazing mind. These days are scary.

These days are special. It has been years since my Dad, Leanne, Erin and I have been together at home. What was once a regular day during summer holidays with all four of us at home hasn’t happened for at least six years. It is amazing that Leanne and Erin are both able to take time away from their jobs to be here with my Dad. It is amazing that my Mom’s work schedule allows her to be home for the majority of the day. It is so special that our family can be together as we await my Dad’s surgery. I treasure this time that we are spending together as a family. These days are special.    

These days are beautiful. As I was driving my Grandma Rita home after we received the news confirming my Dad’s tumour, Grandma mentioned that there is a beautiful vulnerability that arises from these situations. You have tough conversations that you otherwise wouldn’t necessarily have. You see a side of your family members that you never hope to see but is strong, resilient, tender, and exposed. I have also never felt God’s presence as much as I have in the past few days. I feel Him with us constantly: He is giving us the ability to smile, to laugh, to find goodness, and to enjoy this time together. He is so obviously holding my family in His hands and He is in control. He is providing us with peace and He is showering us with His love through all of you. These days are beautiful.


- Tara

Thursday 24 November 2016

Overwhelming Gratitude

Over the last four or so days, many of you have reached out to my Dad, other members of my family and me. Thank you so much.

I cannot adequately describe how much your messages, mementos and prayers mean to us. With respect to your messages in particular, we have read them numerous times and they have been a tremendous source of comfort, hope and refuge for us.

For example:

“...I, along with so many others, are lifting you up to the Great Physician who holds all things, situations, people, circumstances, surprises, disappointments, ...everything in His loving hands. I pray for His peace to transcend all things as you wait, His hopes to envelope your thoughts, words and actions, His joy to be your strength. This morning in my devotions, a quote of Mother Teresa was included: ‘Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier.’ - I always look forward to time spent with you along with the conversations, challenges, and laughter. You are a blessing to me and I am praying, praying, praying.” - Barbi Wall (Lethbridge, Alberta)

“Brother, just want you to know that I love you and that we are storming the gates of heaven in prayer for you.” - Matthew Beimers (Surrey, British Columbia)

“My friend - just got the note from Gayle that stopped me in my tracks. Will be in steadfast prayer for you and your family. Psalm 94:18-19.” - Tim Van Soelen (Sioux Centre, Iowa)

“Hey Doug, I heard your news from Brian and Gayle. Our Secondary Staff prayed for you at our devotions this morning and will continue to do so. You are a gift to CCS and and all the other PCCE schools.” - Layne Kilbreath (Calgary, Alberta)

“Oh Douglas, what are you doing big guy. This is crazy! You’ve been on my heart and mind daily since I heard you were in the hospital. Yesterday we prayed for you as a whole staff. Doug, I am praying for strength and peace for you as you await surgery and for good prognosis and healing (my “deep hope”). Love you brother! Deep peace, Dave.” - Dave Loewen (Surrey, British Columbia)

“Hi Doug! Just wanted to remind you how well loved you are! You are and have always been an all time Kuzyk family favorite! Know we are constantly keeping you and your family in our thoughts and prayers! We also know, most importantly, that you are a personal favorite of the Most High, our God in whom we place all our trust! No better place for you to be but in the care of the One who keeps count of the hairs, in your case, not on your head! We are here for you whatever you need! God Bless you and grant you peace! Lots of love.” - Arlene Kuzyk (Edmonton, Alberta)

Uncle Mike and Auntie Cath stopped by on Tuesday evening to visit my Dad. My Uncle Mike walked in the door and pulled this note out of his pocket.

While my Dad was in the hospital, a number of doctors, nurses and other patients commented that it seems like my Dad has a very strong support system in place. Your outpouring of support for us has demonstrated to us that none of them even knew the half of it.

The doctors, nurses and other patients saw the constant presence of our immediate family as well as visits from another eight family members and close friends. They did not see, and did not know, that there are also thousands of people supporting my Dad and our family from various communities.

We are so grateful for your support and our communities and we count these things as one of the truest examples of our family’s rich blessings. We continue to welcome your messages and mementos and ask for your prayers.

- Leanne

A Family Picture

December 25, 2015, Doug, Loretta, Ben, Leanne, Tara (with Kase in her belly), Derek (holding Bruce like a baby), Matthew and Erin

Wednesday 23 November 2016

This Page

In approximately the middle of October, our Mom and Dad both started to notice that our Dad seemed to be "dumber" than usual. For example, they began to notice that his ability to concentrate had decreased, he wasn't his “usual witty self” (his words), he wasn't keeping up with his household chores, and he was missing turns when driving.

As a result of these things, on Friday, November 18th, our Dad went to the doctor. At this time, the doctor suspected that our Dad was probably just experiencing brain fatigue and recommended that our Dad try to take it easy. The doctor also suggested that our Dad see a physiotherapist for neck pain and confirmed that our Dad should keep his appointment with his optometrist in case part of the problem was a change in his glasses prescription.

On Saturday, November 19th, after a full day of working at the cabin, our Mom and Dad were relaxing at home when our Dad suddenly felt like he might need to puke. After puking a few times, and then also appearing to pass out a couple of times, our Mom called an ambulance to take our Dad to the hospital.

The ambulance took our Mom and Dad to the Emergency Room at the Misericordia Hospital. After our Dad was admitted, a nurse took his vitals. While she was doing so, our Dad puked and appeared to pass out again.

As a result, he was then taken for a CT scan. The results of the CT scan showed swelling on his brain. Based on the results, our Dad was eventually transferred to the Emergency Room at the University of Alberta.

While in the Emergency Room at the University of Alberta, more tests were done on our Dad. Eventually, after 18 hours there, he was taken for an MRI. Another six hours later, he was finally moved out of the Emergency Room to the “transfer unit” where our family waited for the results of the MRI.

On Monday, November 21, at about 2:30 in the afternoon, two doctors on the Neurosurgery team came to see our Dad about the MRI results. The doctors explained to our Dad, Mom and Grandma Rita (our Dad’s Mom) that there is a tumour in the right frontal lobe of our Dad’s brain. The head doctor also commented that the tumour may be cancerous.

With respect to the treatment plan, the doctors explained that our Dad needs to have surgery to remove the tumour. This should happen at the University of Alberta Hospital on Monday, November 28th. Depending on how the surgery goes, it will be normal for our Dad to stay in the Hospital to recover for anywhere between three to five days. If the pathology results indicate that the tumour is cancerous, our Dad will start radiation and chemotherapy as soon as he has recovered enough from the surgery.

The doctors expressed their belief that, with respect to Saturday, our Dad was not actually passing out, but was having seizures.

The doctors also stated that our Dad would be free to stay at home until the surgery, just as long as he continued to take his medications and he had someone with him at all times.

Notwithstanding the nature of this news, our Mom and Grandma Rita both recounted that a sense of peace came over them during and after the conversation with the doctors. More specifically, our Mom and Grandma Rita were both grateful to have this information and to know what our next steps would be.

Our Mom phoned us daughters immediately after the doctors’ visit and all three of us, as well as each of our husbands, Derek, Ben and Matthew, and Kase (Tara’s and Derek’s son), arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter and waited together for our Dad to be discharged.

Our Dad was discharged at approximately 6:00 in the evening that same day (by this time, he had spent just a few hours shy of 48 hours in hospitals).

Later that same evening, our family went back to our parent’s house to have dinner together. After dinner, we spent some time talking about the journey now before us. Leanne stated that she quite literally thinks that our Dad is the best person that she knows. We all agreed that our Dad is a “tough old bird” and that he has the ability to get through anything.

Leanne also commented that our family has been so rich with blessings and, for the most part, has not had to weather significant amounts of adversity. She went on to state that all of this feels like a huge blow to that. However, she finished by stating that, in six months time or so, our Dad might have a completely clean bill of health and this will be yet another example of how rich with blessings our family is. Our Dad stated that he liked what Leanne said and that “this isn’t the end of the story”.

Our Dad's story is one of those stories that you just don't want to end. The story, like our Dad, is just too good. With that being said, the page that we are currently on is hard: it is sad, scary and so unknown. However, we are reminding ourselves that the story does not end on this page. Instead, there are many pages left for us to turn. We are so hopeful that in a few pages’ time, this adversity will lead to yet another example of our family’s richest blessings, which all come from God.

This blog is a dedication to that page - the page we are currently on in our Dad’s most beautiful story.

- Tara, Leanne, and Erin