Greg Hewlett passed away on January 17th after nearly eight years of battling colon cancer. While we grieve his loss, we are comforted to know that he is with his Lord.
If you would like to leave your thoughts on Greg, please see this thread.
If you would like to make a charitable donation in Greg's honor, please see this thread.
The Struggle Has Ended
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
System working
Hi everyone. I feel as if I've emerged from the pit. Late last night my digestive system showed that it has figured out its new route. Thanks for your prayers for this. The last major hurdle this week has thus been cleared. Now things are geared towards getting out of here. Yesterday they disconnected the morphine and toradal and replaced them with a less potent pain killer. They also took me off the supplemental oxygen. Today I had my first shower and first meal - some apple sauce. Tonight I had some eggs and a piece of bacon - my first real food for over a week. I'm still in pain and feeling lousy, but I am in a great mood. I'm now going to be weaned off the pain med and continue to see if my body can handle solid foods. They think I may be out of here by week's end. I hope all continues to go well so that I can leave. Christine is moving into the Rotary House for the next two nights so that she can get some much needed rest. Thanks everyone for your prayers this week. I am deeply thankful to the Lord tonight.
Saturday, September 20, 2003
Better Than Expected
Dr. Rodriguez visited Greg today and said the surgery was successful. Everyone is happy that there were no signs of cancer beyond what the CT scans showed. The surgery ran smoothly enough that Greg did not need to go to ICU, but went straight to a standard bed. After a tough evening last night Greg was doing surprisingly well today. The pain got under control and he enjoyed hanging out with Christine, Susan, Mom, and Dad. He was alert today with generally tolerable pain. The doctors and nurses were very pleased with his condition. Greg is very thankful that things are going so well.
Friday, September 19, 2003
Post-Op
Greg's surgery went as expected today. There were no surprises and it proceeded according to plan. Greg is now in recovery and Christine will be able to see him around 6pm tonight. Watch this space.
Thursday, September 18, 2003
The night before surgery
It is an odd night. Dark, quiet, surreal. I sit in bed at the Rotary House across from the hospital. It would be too crazy (even for us) to try to make it to downtown from Conroe early tomorrow morning. Christine is sleeping - a long day today and a longer one tomorrow. I feel so, well, healthy and pain-free. Can't it continue? Oh yes, I remember... this pain is necessary to remove the silent threat.
I'm familiar with being put under for operations. I counted today - this will be the 22nd time I have been given general anesthesia. This one will be the most serious yet. Seventeen were for an intra-arterial chemo treatment I had with my previous cancer. The other five were miscellaneous cancer-related operations. Seems there ought to be a prize or something.
My anesthesiologist told me that my surgeon, Dr. Rodriguez-Bigas, is one of the tops in the whole institution. "He could probably be chief, except that he is a family man." I am thankful once again to be able to be treated here.
Do I fear? Well, I do fear the pain. Although the anesthesiologist told me today that this surgery is much better than the liver surgery will be. That was comforting... in a short term way. Also strong on my mind is what they might find. I am praying and hoping that they will not discover any cancer they do not already know about from radiology tests.
Strangely enough, I'm also feeling something akin to excitement. This surgery is the next step on the road to recovery. I made it through the first step - diagnosis and getting started at MDACC. I made it through the second - almost three rounds of chemo that worked great. Now, I thankfully made it through these last two weeks with no further obstruction. The waiting is over. Now its time to take the field and play. I'm determined to take step three.
I have been thinking much about the Resurrection the past few days. The past few months, actually. In it, I find the only hope in this tough world. No place else. When things were getting tough for Jesus and the Twelve, he asked them if they wanted to abandon him. Peter answered, "Lord, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God." It is in this dark night that I especially realize there is no place to be but in the arms of our Creator. In these arms I feel a deep joy, albeit a joy sometimes clouded by immediate circumstances.
For those joining me in prayer, my requests for tomorrow are
- That Christine and I would have the peace that Jesus gives (John 14:27) in our souls in the coming days.
- For the hands of Dr. Rodriguez. That the surgery would be successful with no leakage, infection, or other complications.
- That his search for more cancer would come up empty and that this operation would be a step towards full recovery.
- That I would quickly gain strength, recovering fully, and soon be able to get back on chemo.
I'm signing off for a few days. I'll be loopy on morphine. (Aah, the sweet sound of that word. A melodius sound, really... mor-pheeene... a common grace gift from God that mercifully oozes through the body erasing pain).
Mark will keep you up to date in the meantime.
I'm familiar with being put under for operations. I counted today - this will be the 22nd time I have been given general anesthesia. This one will be the most serious yet. Seventeen were for an intra-arterial chemo treatment I had with my previous cancer. The other five were miscellaneous cancer-related operations. Seems there ought to be a prize or something.
My anesthesiologist told me that my surgeon, Dr. Rodriguez-Bigas, is one of the tops in the whole institution. "He could probably be chief, except that he is a family man." I am thankful once again to be able to be treated here.
Do I fear? Well, I do fear the pain. Although the anesthesiologist told me today that this surgery is much better than the liver surgery will be. That was comforting... in a short term way. Also strong on my mind is what they might find. I am praying and hoping that they will not discover any cancer they do not already know about from radiology tests.
Strangely enough, I'm also feeling something akin to excitement. This surgery is the next step on the road to recovery. I made it through the first step - diagnosis and getting started at MDACC. I made it through the second - almost three rounds of chemo that worked great. Now, I thankfully made it through these last two weeks with no further obstruction. The waiting is over. Now its time to take the field and play. I'm determined to take step three.
I have been thinking much about the Resurrection the past few days. The past few months, actually. In it, I find the only hope in this tough world. No place else. When things were getting tough for Jesus and the Twelve, he asked them if they wanted to abandon him. Peter answered, "Lord, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God." It is in this dark night that I especially realize there is no place to be but in the arms of our Creator. In these arms I feel a deep joy, albeit a joy sometimes clouded by immediate circumstances.
For those joining me in prayer, my requests for tomorrow are
- That Christine and I would have the peace that Jesus gives (John 14:27) in our souls in the coming days.
- For the hands of Dr. Rodriguez. That the surgery would be successful with no leakage, infection, or other complications.
- That his search for more cancer would come up empty and that this operation would be a step towards full recovery.
- That I would quickly gain strength, recovering fully, and soon be able to get back on chemo.
I'm signing off for a few days. I'll be loopy on morphine. (Aah, the sweet sound of that word. A melodius sound, really... mor-pheeene... a common grace gift from God that mercifully oozes through the body erasing pain).
Mark will keep you up to date in the meantime.
Surgery Schedule
Greg will go to the hospital at 6:30 AM tomorrow for colon surgery. The surgery is expected to last from 8:00 AM untill 11:00 AM.
C-Leg
This guy uses the C-Leg, which is the prosthesis I use... C-Leg in the news
The knee resistance is controlled by a microcomputer. My niece, Avery, calls it my "blue leg".
The knee resistance is controlled by a microcomputer. My niece, Avery, calls it my "blue leg".
Monday, September 15, 2003
Relaxing in Brenham
This weekend I was without internet access. Christine's sister, Anne, flew down from Newark Friday and the three of us stayed at a vacation farm house out near Brenham, TX, for the weekend. The house belongs to the Jobes, a family friend of a friend of ours from Houston. They generously allowed us to stay at their house. We had a wonderful time with Anne for our little get-away.
Anne, Christine, and Greg at the Rasmussens before our trip to Brenham
Those of you who know me well, know that I am really a city boy at heart. Of the many places I've lived, my favorite was surrounded by human activity in Boston. So I must admit that I was a bit panicked in my little Volvo as I drove down a muddy road and through a cow pasture (with cows; no road) to get to the farm house Friday night. I had no business being out in the middle of nowhere, I thought to myself. But by the next morning, as the sun rose above the pond out back, my soul quieted. It is indeed refreshing to be in a place where the only sounds are chirping and an occasional moo.
We slept in, read books, and just sat on the rocking chairs out on the porch. Christine tried to pet the cows, but they ran away from her. We enjoyed a couple of great restaurants: Volare Italian Resaurant in a downtown Brenham restored saloon, and the Brazos Belle restaurant in a restored general store in downtown Burton. Christine and her sister stayed up late into the wee hours of the night talking. It was a relaxing time for all of us.
This was a good weekend for me during a time when an hour does not go by when I do not look forward to Friday wishing the clock would go a bit slower. When I met with the surgeon Tuesday, I tried to get him to assure me that the many complications he detailed were rare, but he would give me no such false assurance. It's serious business opening up one's gut, and I'm not excited about it, even though it is clearly better than the alternative.
I had a scare Thursday as the abdominal pains began increasing as they did last time. I called MDACC and they told me to go to liquid diet and come in if the pain becomes "unbearable". Fortunately, the cramps faded away! The next day I was back on solid foods.
One morning this weekend, I read Psalm 13. It allowed me to accurately express my thoughts in a prayer to the Lord:
Psalm 13
How long, O LORD?
Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer,
O LORD, my God.
Give light to my eyes,
or I will sleep in death;
My enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
But I trust in your unfailing love;
My heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.
Anne, Christine, and Greg at the Rasmussens before our trip to Brenham
Those of you who know me well, know that I am really a city boy at heart. Of the many places I've lived, my favorite was surrounded by human activity in Boston. So I must admit that I was a bit panicked in my little Volvo as I drove down a muddy road and through a cow pasture (with cows; no road) to get to the farm house Friday night. I had no business being out in the middle of nowhere, I thought to myself. But by the next morning, as the sun rose above the pond out back, my soul quieted. It is indeed refreshing to be in a place where the only sounds are chirping and an occasional moo.
We slept in, read books, and just sat on the rocking chairs out on the porch. Christine tried to pet the cows, but they ran away from her. We enjoyed a couple of great restaurants: Volare Italian Resaurant in a downtown Brenham restored saloon, and the Brazos Belle restaurant in a restored general store in downtown Burton. Christine and her sister stayed up late into the wee hours of the night talking. It was a relaxing time for all of us.
This was a good weekend for me during a time when an hour does not go by when I do not look forward to Friday wishing the clock would go a bit slower. When I met with the surgeon Tuesday, I tried to get him to assure me that the many complications he detailed were rare, but he would give me no such false assurance. It's serious business opening up one's gut, and I'm not excited about it, even though it is clearly better than the alternative.
I had a scare Thursday as the abdominal pains began increasing as they did last time. I called MDACC and they told me to go to liquid diet and come in if the pain becomes "unbearable". Fortunately, the cramps faded away! The next day I was back on solid foods.
One morning this weekend, I read Psalm 13. It allowed me to accurately express my thoughts in a prayer to the Lord:
Psalm 13
How long, O LORD?
Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer,
O LORD, my God.
Give light to my eyes,
or I will sleep in death;
My enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
But I trust in your unfailing love;
My heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.
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