We had no idea in May when Charles planted a small patch of okra that he wouldn’t be able to cut the pods as they matured. He planted twice because several plants never poked through the soil. Finally, 26 stalks were headed upward, some taller than others because of their earlier planting. We noticed yellow blooms on two or three stalks as we drove out one morning for a regular visit to Charles’s oncologist.

Dr. Esther Tan listened intently as Charles told her he had no energy and was again losing his appetite–and pounds. Then she looked down at the report on his bloodwork. “I’m afraid your cancer is back,” she said solemnly. “We’ll need to do a bone marrow biopsy.”

Charles checked on the okra every day. If it needed watering he sat down in a chair to spray it. After fertilizing the patch, I noticed, his steps were dragging. Our son Will came to take us to the hospital for the biopsy after which Charles became so sick he landed back in the hospital where he was given fluids and a blood transfusion.

We were in the hospital when Dr. Tan called to report results of the biopsy. “Acute Myeloid Leukemia,” she said.

Back at home, Charles was very weak. He no longer felt like checking on the okra himself but regularly asked our granddaughter Amanda, “How’s the okra today?” He was so pleased whenever she could show him even two or three pods.

A seven-day series of chemo shots was followed by oral chemo. Charles totally lost his appetite, could only swallow small amounts of applesauce or jello or thin soup. He had major difficulty swallowing the huge chemo pills and even more difficulty with side effects of those pills. He could no longer walk, dress himself, mostly slept all the time. His voice got quieter and quieter. I missed so much hearing his enthusiasm for life, his jokes and stories. But no matter how quiet he became, he’d hold up a finger when Amanda walked in and whisper “How’s the okra today?”

Dr. Tan, a native of Indonesia, a compassionate Christian, became much more than our doctor. She became our friend, even like a member of the family. She prayed for us on several occasions. It was hard for her the day she told us that unless the chemo began to make a difference, Charles might have only six months. He needed blood transfusions almost every week. Then came the day when she told us with the glint of tears in her eyes that the chemo was doing more harm than good. She said she needed to take him off those dreaded pills and put him in a Hospice program where the daily goal would be to make him comfortable and give him quality of life.

It has been a huge adjustment for us—round-the-clock nursing care, a complete change in food preparation, almost total confinement, not even doctor’s visits anymore. Yet there is a sweetness to this time that is unexplainable. I feel sometimes as if I’m floating just above the storm, aloft because of prayers of friends and family. We are blessed, not only by wonderful paid caregivers, but by loving family and friends from Birmingham, Cairo, Tallahassee, Thomasville, Cleveland, Athens, Clarkesville, and beyond.

And now Charles is feeling better, so much better! He is stronger, is walking with a walker instead of being wheeled. He has a growing appetite and is awake more and even able to enjoy talking with friends and family. We actually went to Sunday School and church Sunday with help of our caregiver Alex and were blessed by having the deacons come pray over us in our living room that afternoon.

We enjoy sitting on the porch watching the birds or, sometimes, like today, watching the rain soak the okra patch and run in rivulets down the driveway. I love to fry him an over-easy egg for breakfast. I think tomorrow, after this rain, there may be enough okra to pan fry a small batch.

We do not know what the Lord has in store for us, maybe a miraculous healing, maybe just a reprieve. Charles’s prayer is always that he be ready for whatever the Lord has in mind. Our hearts are full of gratitude for all the many prayers. My motto for these days is this: Treasure every day and look forward to heaven.

Photo by Alex Walden