“There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever.” Revelation 22:5 NIV
Everyone remembers the moment they were told they had cancer.
It was Saturday, December 19, 2020, at OBICI hospital inside the emergency room where my Daddy first heard those shocking words, “Mr. Bragg, you don’t have covid pneumonia, you have cancer.”
“After reviewing the ct scan, what we initially thought was fluid… are in reality, masses. You have 2 masses in the lobes of your lungs. It’s cancer”, the doctor said with calm assurance.
Sitting across the sterile room in a corner chair, I felt as if the room went dark.
My Daddy lay barely 5 feet from me in the hospital bed, covered with blankets and mask still on his face, but he didn’t flinch when the physician made the startling admission.
“How do you know that? You didn’t do a biopsy already, did you? How can you tell my Daddy that he has cancer without proof?”, unfiltered, I blurted back at him.
“Ma’am, I would never share this sort of serious information if I wasn’t certain. The radiologist reads these kinds of reports dozens of times a day. It is cancer, Mr. Bragg. I’m sorry to have to tell you that. Now, do you have any questions for me?”, he responded without hesitation.
Daddy still lay motionless. I walked over to his side, put my hand on his precious forehead, gently rubbed his hair and said back to the doctor, “He is in shock, we both are, but I’ll speak for him.”
Honestly, I can’t recall what else was said while the doctor was in the room… but after he left, I exhaled, fought back the tears and lump in my throat, held Daddy’s hand and told him, “Daddy, we’re going to get through this.”
Then I simply cried out to God, “Oh God, we need you now more than ever. You are right here with us and we are trusting You to get us through this!”
While waiting for the paper work to be released from the ER, I excused myself to the restroom knowing that I was about to break down and didn’t want to do it in front of Daddy. I quietly called my sister Chandra, who was waiting to hear back from me about his visit.
The moment she answered, my voice began to quiver and cry, “Chandra, the doctor did a ct scan of Daddy’s abdomen and lungs… its not covid pneumonia. He has masses in his lungs and lesions on his liver. It is cancer. Daddy has cancer.”
In shock, Chandra said, “What? What? Liz, is Daddy ok?”
Then she began to cry, “What did Daddy say? Is he ok… Liz, is Daddy ok?”
I told her that Daddy hadn’t spoken a word, that I thought he was in shock, and that we were coming back home. I hung up the phone, opened the restroom door, and told Daddy we were going home.
Upon being dismissed, I helped my Daddy carefully move from the hospital bed into a wheelchair and pushed his weary body down the hallway; masks covering both our faces, his head drooping to his chest, I walked with the resolve of a daughter fighting for her Daddy’s life… “They may not care about you, but I do; and we’re gonna get through this together.”
I need to rewind a bit on the story to give you better understanding of why I felt like the medical community didn’t care…
The Monday before, on December 14th, I had taken him to the same ER because of the critical effects Covid had caused in his body. He was lethargic, unable to eat, and severely dehydrated. After the initial triage procedures, an X-ray was taken of his lungs and Daddy was diagnosed with covid pneumonia. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised at all… I knew he was really sick. Crazy thing is, the ER physician didn’t think he needed to be hospitalized. Instead, he was prescribed another antibiotic, told to go home and rest, and call his primary doctor if he wasn’t feeling better in a matter of days. I say ‘another antibiotic’ because Daddy had been on a regimen of strong antibiotics since August due to 5 separate surgeries for skin cancer of his ear. (Just add another antibiotic to the list… no big deal!… is what I sarcastically thought to myself.) Truth is I was livid! I couldn’t believe how they could see the sordid shape my 84 year old Father was in and yet turn a blind eye to truly treating him.
And now, 5 days later, we found out it wasn’t just covid, it was cancer!
Over the next several days, both my sister Chandra and I were in the thick crisis of covid and cancer, which threatened to take the lives of both our Momma and Daddy. Tuesday the 15th of December we had to rush my Momma to the ER. Running a fever of 103, short of breath and lethargic, she was diagnosed with Covid Pneumonia and also sent home with cough medicine and antibiotic. Shaking our heads in disgust, it seemed that these healthcare facilities weren’t stepping up or equipped to deal with the life threatening pandemic problems affecting the elderly. It felt like the proverbial, “washing their hands of them, and sending them home for slaughter” routine.
By December 22nd, my Momma had to be rushed via ambulance to Maryview Hospital with wheezing, shortness of breath, high fever, and Oxygen saturation levels at 66. She was hypoxic and admitted to the hospital for 25 days, and placed on a ventilator for 9 days. Because of covid, no family visitation was permitted. All advocating for her life had to be done by phone and online. It was a horrific nightmare trying to communicate with nurses daily, much less doctors.
The tension and stress which we were under was so intense, it caused conflict, panic attacks and extreme anxiety. Plus my sister Lisa and I caught covid while we were caring for my parents, so our health was also at an all-time low.
By January 24th, we had spent 42 challenging nights. Endless nights pronounced by pain and insomnia that Daddy endured, intolerable nights marked by inhumane loneliness that Momma withstood, and sleepless nights strained by continual caregiving that we sisters sustained.
Somewhere along the journey, Daddy told me, “Nights are the hardest.”
“My stomach starts hurting me really bad at night, so I sit up on the couch trying to see if it will feel any better.
Nothing I do seems to help it.
The hours seem like endless nights, and sometimes I hear the enemy telling me awful things.
Like there’s no hope.
I stare up at the ceiling and pray to God.
I pray for Momma cause I know she’s all alone and scared.
That God will bring her home safe and healthy again.
I pray for all my kids and grandkids.
I pray that God will heal me, but the pain and sickness haunts me at night.
It’s like the enemy is laughing in my face.
Nights are the hardest.”
One of us sisters was always downstairs with him, sleeping on a pallet in the same room with him, so that we could help him through the long, difficult nights. He would wrestle through and try not to wake us, because that’s just who Daddy was. He appreciated our care for him, but he hated ‘putting us out’ to aid him.
I have never been a sound sleeper, but knowing the nights were the hardest on Daddy, you better believe I heard any rustling of movement or moan Daddy made. Immediately I was up off the pallet, right at his bedside saying,
“Daddy, I’m right here, what do you need?”
He would gently respond, “I need some ice”… or
“I gotta go to the bathroom”… or
“I need a drink”… or
“I need another blanket”… or
“I need to get in the recliner”… or
“I’m alright Liz, I am just awake and can’t sleep.”
Every night before turning out the light by his bedside, we’d gather around Daddy to pray. One of us held his hand, the other rubbed his feet, and the other played with his hair. Soothing him to sleep, we lifted our hearts cry up to Jehovah Rapha, our Healer and asked Him to keep Daddy in perfect peace through the long, dark night. We prayed for healing. We prayed for Momma. We praised God for His immeasurable love and grace in our lives. We thanked Him for the opportunity to serve and care for our parents. We placed our trust in Him to see Daddy through another night until the glorious day where there would be no more night at all.
Daddy loved the song, “No More Night” by David Phelps. Over the last 5 months of his life as he battled the ravages of cancer, we played the music over and over again for him. The lyrics are a promise to the suffering, to those who know what ‘night’ truly represents… that when life’s final breath is taken here on earth, there will be no more night for those who trust Jesus Christ as their Savior… for they will live in eternal light with the KING.
“The timeless theme, Earth and Heaven will pass away
It’s not a dream, God will make all things new that day
Gone is the curse from which I stumbled and fell
Evil is banished to eternal hell
No more night, no more pain
No more tears, never crying again
And praises to the Great I Am
We will live in the Light of the Risen Lamb
See all around how the nations bow down to sing
The only sound is the praises to Christ, our King
Slowly the names from the book are read
I know the King, so there’s no need to dread
No more night, no more pain
No more tears, never crying again
And praises to the Great I Am
We will live in the Light of the Risen Lamb
See over there, there’s a mansion
Oh, that’s prepared just for me
Where I will live with my Savior eternally
And there will be no more night, no more pain
No more tears, never crying again
And praises to the Great I Am
We will live in the Light of the Risen Lamb
All praises to the Great I Am
We’re gonna live in the Light of the Risen Lamb”
There is no more night for you, Daddy.
You are living in the Light of the Risen Lamb!
grace.rescued.me 
Liz…I am so very sorry for the pain you and your family have had to endure. I know where your…