Many have asked what happened in the final days of my beloved husband's life...

I can't remember the exact night, but he was feeling pretty awful and he told me it's ok, he was going into the arms of Our Savior. I cried and held him and begged him to stay in my arms a little longer. My heart was, and still is so heavy. As much as I loved my husband, God the Father loves him so so so much more, and He has the best plan, and has saved the best spot for him, for Tim, my love.

Tuesday morning we went in for his lab draw in order to prepare for the thoracentesis procedure, which we were hoping would drain some fluid from his lungs to make space to breathe, eat and alleviate some pain due to the pressure of his irritated and inflamed liver. At this point, he was mostly in bed, got up only really to go to the bathroom and wasn't eating much if anything. He finally consented to use the transport wheelchair because he was so weak.

That afternoon, we received the results. I remember sitting across from him at the dining table, asking if he wanted to hear the results. He said sure. So I started reading them off, telling him the normal ranges and a little of what it may mean. After the first two, I stopped and closed my laptop, suggesting we wait for the doctor to call. The doctor called. Lab results were not favorable, with too much potassium for the heart and kidney failure posing the most danger to his life. The doctor sent us some medications to try to bring down the potassium, and gave us two choices:

1. Take the meds, bring down potassium; go on hospice
2. Take the meds, bring down potassium; go to ER-tomorrow/Wednesday at the latest to try to reverse some of the kidney failure-no guarantee medically able to, but will try

The thoracentesis was pointless if his heart went into an irregular rhythm or his kidneys completely failed. Tim decided he wanted to go to ER. I asked again, making sure this is what he wanted. He would be poked and prodded all hours of the day and night, with medical staff trying to save his life. He confirmed, he wanted to go to the ER. My heart cried and screamed inside, as I knew the chances of him coming home alive were very slim.

We arrived at the ER, and found out his blood pressure was dropping so they worked him up as possible sepsis. He got set up and we found out one of the nurses working on him had been praying for him, following his journey through another family member. Thank you Jesus, for reminding us that even in the most difficult of times, You are still with us. The staff gave him meds, a palliative doctor switched up some meds to be kinder to his kidney, the ER doctor tried to reverse some of the organ damage. Friends came to visit and support us. How beautifully comforting it is to be loved on by God and His people.

The staff were giving him lots of meds to bring down the potassium, and little by little, it went down, albeit quite slowly. The kidney function was more difficult to reverse, and in the end, not much could be done. His body was done, it was not able to fight much longer. He was stable enough on the meds to transfer to the ICU. There, they kept working at keeping his potassium levels low, and continuing to try to reverse the kidney damage. Tim had blood draws every 6 hours around the clock to make sure his lab tests were trending the right way. He was alert and oriented when he was awake, but he was so tired, he slept (or tried to sleep) most of the time. He would perk up with visitors, but with every photo I took of him and his visitors, his tiredness just grew and grew. What stories people told of my beloved husband, stories of adventure, mischief, and so much ministry! God had used him to impact so many lives, I felt like I only had a small glimpse of who this man really was in our 8.5 years of marriage. What a privilege to be his wife, to be the mother of his children. What a privilege to hear how God had used him in so many different ways to impact so many different people. Friends came by, family came by. I stayed overnight in the ICU to be with him as much as I could.

Friday morning came, and I was told his blood pressure was dropping, we didn't have very much time. Tim was still alert and oriented when he was awake, but his awake times were more and more infrequent. We had missed the window of going home on hospice. He was going to spend his last hours at the hospital. He confirmed this is what he wanted, he was just tired. Tim wanted only his family by his side, so we stopped scheduling the friend visitors. The kids came by to say good night and good bye, see you later. It was hard, but I was thankful for friends bringing our kids to see him one last time. We waited for a few more family members to come by to see him. And when they came, I had to make the toughest decision of my life. I had to decide when to let my beloved husband go, into the arms of our Savior. The staff put him on an antianxiety drip, and a pain medication drip, and when I was ready, I had to tell them when to stop the medication that was keeping his blood pressure at a level compatible with life. Once that was stopped, he went quickly. His body was so tired, he kept telling me he wanted to sleep. And I told him he could rest, his body was just so tired, it was time to rest. The meds started working, and he relaxed and spoke no more. They say hearing is the last to go, so we sang, we played music, we played videos friends had sent in, we played the kids singing their Easter service songs. I held him and wept. He was in a deep sleep and slipped quietly away to glory surrounded by his parents, cousins, brother and myself. The toughest day of my life.

I somehow made it home with Tim's belongings, just in time to say good night to the kids. They asked, where's daddy? Daddy is in Heaven. Daddy is dancing and singing with a glorified body with no more pain, no more suffering, no more cancer. He has the big muscles he always wanted. Maybe he also has the full beard he's always wanted to grow too. We will see him again, he will be waiting for us to celebrate with him, with Jesus, with God the Father. He'll throw us a big party and we'll continue celebrating with all the saints, forever and ever. It will be so amazing, our brains can't even figure it out. We'll see you soon, my love. We miss you dearly, I hope you were comfortable, that you know how loved and how missed you are on this side of Heaven. Until we see each other again.

Celebration of life details to come soon...

Hello Dear Friends,

As always we are grateful for your love, prayers, and support. I know many of you have been walking with us from the very beginning of this difficult journey. It is with heavy hearts that we must share that the results from the PET scan were not good.

In short, the scan showed that my treatment has been ineffective, and that my cancer has continued to spread throughout my body. The tumors in my liver have grown aggressively, and are now putting pressure on my lungs, which has made eating, talking, breathing, and moving difficult.

From a medical perspective, we are running out of options for further treatment. They would either have a lot of dangerous side effects, or have such a low chance of success that the risk would not be worth the reward.

Complicating the issue is the fact that I have not really been able to eat for about a week, since my cancer has reduced the "real estate" in my body to process, digest, and pass food. The weight loss and weakening from lack of nutrition makes everything else more difficult as well.

Ok, I know that's a lot of doom and gloom, but my cancer has truly revealed to us how incredibly blessed we have been. Throughout this journey, Christina has often turned to me and said in amazement: "You have really good friends!" Whether it is "simple" tasks like getting groceries, rides to/from the hospital, or picking up the kiddos from school, to monumental tasks like taking the kids for an entire week during chemo or rearranging my office so we can fit in a hospital bed, we have been gifted far beyond our expectations by the sacrificial love of all of you. If I were to list out every way we have been loved on and cared for, this post would be hours long.

Even little blessings are worth listing. The entire week, we were wondering if I would have the strength and energy to make it to our Easter Service. Not only did God enable us to see Olivia sing her little heart out with the children's choir, I was also given the chance to share with our beloved church family.

This takes us to the heart of this post: Medically and humanly speaking, we are approaching the end of the line. There is really only hospice, mourning, and making final plans left. However, through the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross, I will not be facing the judgment and wrath of God when I pass. I will, through no effort or merit of my own, be welcomed into the arms of my Savior, where He will "wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." (Revelation 21:4). This is my joy and hope, and I pray that it can be yours as well.

Finally, we do have some Prayer requests:

• I will be having a procedure (thoracentesis) on Wednesday which should drain some fluids in my lung. This should reduce swelling and pain, and allow me to eat and process food better.
• Overall, please pray that I can eat, eat enough, and eat correctly. Being able to take in nutrition is crucial to maximize the time I have left.
• Having energy and being able to plan and enjoy my time

In Christ,

T & C

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 "[16] So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. [17] For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, [18] as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."