Food for Thought

Today I was filled with an overwhelming gratitude for food as I filled a bag with liquid nutrition and attached it to Brendan's feeding tube.  At first I though it may have had something to do with the fact that I was fasting --(my brother-in-law was undergoing surgery to remove a fist-sized cancerous tumor from his colon and I was grateful for the privilege to add my faith and prayers in some small way for his benefit.)  But as I considered the feeling more deeply, I realized that food is such an incredible, integral part of our mortal existence.  (Not that I never realized it before, but it struck me hard today just how much.  With our blessed existence, we don't have to think about finding food -- we just take it for granted that we will have plenty to eat--and that we can eat it.)

I thought about how grateful I am that we have the medical advances that we do today.  Had we lived a hundred years ago (or even 20), things might have turned out very differently for Brendan.  His survival, had he survived, might have appeared much more miraculous.  Today's modern miracles seem a little less "magical" but are amazing nonetheless.

After Brendan's brain surgery he was flat on his back for 6 days.  He didn't eat for most of those days due to surgery recovery and a nasty meningitis infection.  As he lost weight and strength, the doctors ordered TPN, (an intravenous food consisting of sugars and carbohydrates, lipids (fats), electrolytes, trace minerals, and proteins) to be pumped into his veins.  It kept him alive and provided the calories he needed to recover from the many surgeries and the infection until he could eat again.  What an incredible miracle -- to be fed through your veins!

After Brendan's first round of chemo, he became so nauseous and vomited so much that he lost all of his strength and several more pounds off his already small frame.  A NG (nasogastric) tube was placed and Brendan began to be fed directly into his stomach.  With radiation and chemo treatments knocking out his saliva glands, his taste buds, and his appetite, the feeding tube became another life-saving miracle.

Today I sat Brendan down to a tiny lunch consisting of a few macaroni and cheese noodles and a glass of water.  I begged him to eat -- anything, something.   "Just chew and swallow," I pleaded.  He complied, but with only three bites and a swallow of water -- his nose wrinkled in disgust the whole time.  Upon finishing, he held up the end of his feeding tube -- his sign to me that he would rather be fed through his tube.  Then, I complied, thanking him for at least trying to eat.

Gratefully, I filled his bag.  Thankfully I wondered who had spent time, energy and money in "inventing," marketing, and selling liquid "food" with protein, calories, vitamins, and minerals -- just what someone needs to keep them alive and energetic.  I was grateful for the person who figured out a way to pump that liquid nutrition into a small tube through someones nose, down their throat, and into their stomach at variable rates and amounts.  I was tearfully happy as I watched Brendan run, play, complain about homework (it takes energy to complain), and do all the normal 11-year-old things kids do when they have enough food in their tummies to "feed" their brain and their muscles so they can do more than just lie in bed.

Brendan resting while working on his Scout merit badges with his incredible leader, Dawna.

 I've seen the gamut from strength to none in Brendan and say, "It's a miracle to be able to feed Brendan every day!"