The nurses DID eventually get Lynette’s breathing (with oxygen assistance) back to a sustainable level. Sill, I knew we had crossed a line from which there was no return. Not long afterward, the doctor from Jackson Oncology came in. The scans showed significant disease progression. There was fluid on her right lung, as well as her left. We could put a drain on her right lung to ease the breathing difficulties that went with the fluid, but that was, at best, a “comfort measure,” not curative. That doctor quoted Lynette’s UMMC oncologist: “This is a very aggressive cancer.” Finally, my thick head understood what they had been saying for 16 months. “We can try to slow this down, but we can’t stop it.” All “slow down” efforts had now been exhausted.

Lynette came to enough awareness that we were able to discuss where things stood. She also understood that we needed to move toward comfort care, not cure. Now, we had the hardest part of all. We were going to have to tell our children.

Sarah had been fairly vigilant throughout the process, but had not knows as many details as I did, since I was the one present for all the conversations with the doctors. She knew the difficulties Lynette had had with her neurological issues earlier in the week. Now, I’m convinced that the neurological issues were a manifestation of the disease progression. Luke had chosen the path of “I don’t really want to know.” This was going to make the conversation VERY difficult.

Lynette’s sisters were also coming from north Mississippi that Friday afternoon. I asked Guyanne to go to our house in Harrisville to bring Luke to St. Dominic’s. Linda sat with us for a while that afternoon. I now know that she had been taken aback by how much it hurt Lynette to have her lungs drained when she saw the process during her earlier hospitalization at Baptist. She was “ahead” of me by a week or so in knowing we were near the end.

We asked the case manager at St. Dominic’s to contact Hospice Ministries for an admission consultation. Hospice Ministries has an inpatient facility. We considered it a possibility that we would eventually need inpatient care. I also had come to respect this particular organization during my work as a healthcare chaplain in the Jackson area.

At some point (I can’t remember if Linda or someone else was present) I asked Lynette if she was mad at me for “giving up.” She said “No! You silly man! You’ve done everything anyone could expect.” I knew that we are, at least, on the same page.

Luke and Sarah arrived for the hardest conversation I’ve ever had with them. I told them that the doctors had done as much for Mama as they could. I said we are going to bring her home on hospice.

Luke said “Do you mean Mama’s DYING?” This was a bolt from the blue for him. He sobbed and screamed. I knew what he meant. Sarah and the rest of us were crying as well, but Luke was the one who was acting like he’d been punched in the gut. It was the worst day of our lives (up to that point.”