Originally written in 2018 with additions later on
My husband, Steven Eldredge, was first diagnosed with diabetes when he was nine. He’s now 54. The ravages of 45 years of this unrelenting disease are, in a very small part, chronicled here.
(Some of the original writing has been changed to clarify the situation.)
Email: Written June 21, 2018 to my family
In December 2017, my husband’s swollen foot rubbed against his dress shoes and scraped some skin from his big left toe. It was such a minimal scratch (no bleeding) that we didn’t think much of it, but now—six to seven months later—it is a gaping, seeping nickel-sized wound that Steve has to soak with vinegar water and dress twice a day. The vinegar soak came after his doctor thought she felt the bone during his last appointment. (An infected bone is “non-negotiable,” she said.) He also has to wear a boot to protect the toe and use an Art Assist (artery assistance/small machine) that compresses his calf and helps circulation. He does this three times a day for an hour each time. It is an overwhelming, 4-hour-a-day-undertaking that Steve does without complaint. The wound care doctors are wonderful and we are hopeful for healing, but it is an incredibly slow process. Prayers are much needed.
Text Message: Written Aug 15, 2018 to my family
The miracle we were hoping for is still waiting to make its appearance. Steve’s angiogram revealed that the three avenues of circulation into his foot are all abnormal. One avenue stops at his ankle, one stops mid-calf and one stops below his knee. That means no blood is getting to his foot and therefore, no healing is taking place. To create more capillaries, the doctor said Steve needs to walk more but walking causes pain. So… the plan is to get the pain under control and then walk and then heal? This patience thing is trying my patience.
My brother John Gustavson wrote this in reply: Patient’s patience, not an enviable place. Our most tender thoughts are with you.
Text Message: Written Aug 19, 2018 to my family
In an effort to get some blood flow into his foot, Steve decided to walk to church this morning. Mid-way, his boot caught the sidewalk and he took a header into the concrete. He hobbled back home with a scraped-up face, torn finger, bloodied toe, ripped white shirt, and busted glasses. He cleaned himself up and still got to church on time, but the Lord, who is ever mindful of us, showed his sense of humor–the first talk: “Come what may and love it.” 😂😂😂
Text Message: Written Aug 25, 2018 to my family
Steve is 2 in 10,000! The non-negotiable bone infection that he was so diligently trying to ward off is here. His toe bone now has an infection that only 2 out of every 10,000 get. No dittos in HIS journal tonight. Of course, if he weren’t diabetic, his chances of healing would be vastly improved. Of course, if he weren’t diabetic, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
Sept 2, 2018: Journal
Steve got a blessing today. In it, Brother Bauer said that Steve has had many trials in his life. He also blessed his toe to heal so that he could do all that was required of him. It was a beautiful, hopeful blessing and the Spirit was incredibly strong.
Text Message: Written Sept 3, 2018 to my family
Prayers needed. Steve’s in the ER with an infected toe. (This was the fourth ER visit with an infected toe.)
John, my brother: We are mindful. Draw on our faith and support.
Paul, my brother: We in California have Steve in our prayers.
Mark, my brother: All in for Steve.
Text Message: Written Sept 14, 2018 to our son, Sam
Dad’s toe turned black.
Journal:
In October, Steve will consult with the vascular surgeon to see what’s next. It could be amputation.
Here is my spiritual step-by-step journey in dealing with this issue:
Prayers
More frequent prayers
More frequent AND more sincere, longer prayers
Asking others to pray
Putting Steve’s name on the prayer roll
Priesthood Blessings
Fasting
Putting Steve’s name on the prayer roll in several temples
Here are the raw questions that come to mind as I (not we—Steve sweetly assured me that he does not have the same wonderings that I do) grapple with this situation:
1) Why?
2) We are faithful church goers who attend the temple regularly and who hold callings in the ward and stake that sometimes require significant amounts of time. Why haven’t our fervent prayers and this simple request—please heal his toe—been answered?
3) Before December, Steve was serving in the temple twice a month. This brought such joy to him and caused us to feel a significant increase of the Spirit in our home. Doesn’t God want him to continue as a temple worker?
4) Also, the desires that we have for his foot to be healed are RIGHTEOUS—to be able to do his callings, his temple work, and his vocation. Shouldn’t we be blessed with our righteous desires?
Even as I type these questions, I feel that God is near. To the outsider, these may seem like questions of the faithless, but I know that our Heavenly Father doesn’t view them as such. I know that he loves us and is ever-mindful of our situation—no matter how impatient we are or how much resentment we might feel. I feel his love when Steve and I pray together. I feel that love when I’m alone, praying for my husband. And I felt it in the blessing that was given to him in early September.
One of my favorite scripture passages comes to mind: “Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” I am so grateful for this beautiful promise: we simply do not walk alone.
Text: Sept, 2018:
I just wanted to update you on Steve’s situation. Steve has had 11 months of watching and waiting for his toe to heal. We’ve tried everything we can think of, including Steve’s regimen of 4 hours a day trying to take care of the wound. The wound won’t heal and Steve is increasingly in pain—so much that he rarely sleeps at night. I honestly don’t know how he functions and I have nothing but admiration for his fortitude.
He meets next week with whom we now call Dr. Snips. (We have an irreverent sense of humor.) If the doctor recommends amputation, it will be scheduled very fast—probably within the next week. The wound care doctor said that Dr. Snips (Dr. Shives) is a rock star at his game—that Steve couldn’t have a better surgeon. She also said that most people who have amputations are sorry that they didn’t do it sooner. I think Steve is at the point where living with this pain is no longer an option. Not sure that I am.
(The amputation won’t just be his toe or his foot. The infection has traveled up his leg and they will take part of it.)
While it will be a new normal for us, I think that Steve’s attitude is remarkable. Unlike me, he doesn’t question why–why God hasn’t healed him—and he says that he will continue to endure what he needs to. Despite my questions, I can feel that we are not alone. I feel your prayers and I feel God’s love for us.
Journal: Sunday, Sept 30, 2018
As Steve and I were reading the scriptures and anticipating his appointment with the amputation doctor, I read this from 3 Nephi 18:20: “And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold it shall be given unto to you.”
I wept bitterly.
I had asked and asked and asked and asked. And then I asked others to pray for him. And I fasted. And I put Steve’s name on the prayer roll of at least three different temples. And this scripture was like a slap in the face of my faith.
Steve, in his loving wisdom, counseled me: “The Lord will do nothing to hinder our growth. He could have snapped his fingers and healed me after the first prayer, but he didn’t. By going through this, maybe our understanding will be deepened, our faith will be strengthened, our ability to reach out to others going through the same thing will be enlarged: ‘we survived and so can you.’
“Everything will be all right in the end—we’ve been promised that. And maybe right now we just need to adjust our definition of ‘all right.’”
Text: Wednesday, Oct 3, 2018
[We met with Dr. Shives at the Mayo Clinic that afternoon.] Surgery is tomorrow. [After an examination, Dr. Shives said, “How about tomorrow? I’m leaving on vacation after that and I’d like to get this done.”] They will cut 6-7 inches below the knee. From surgery to permanent prosthesis is about two months but Steve should be up on crutches soon after the surgery.
Kris Anne, my sister-in-law: Oh gosh! I thought maybe a toe or two. Prayers your way.
Mark, my brother: Just finished a prayer on behalf of you and Steve.
Thank you for all your love and support. I take great comfort in knowing what a wonderful family I have.
It’s time. The Spirit confirmed that this was the right thing to do.
[When Dr. Shives suggested that we amputate tomorrow, I was washed over by the Spirit. That spiritual gift helped me to know that this was absolutely the right time, place, and action.]
Text: Oct 4, 2018
Steve’s in pre-op now. Don Ainge, Danny Ainge’s father (of basketball fame), who lives in my brother’s ward, called me yesterday. [He was one of the first people I talked to after Steve’s surgery was scheduled. Honestly, his phone call was a gift and gave me great hope and comfort.] He had knee surgery that went bad and had to have his whole leg amputated. He was in the hospital for six months. I asked him what his grieving process was like. His words were dew drops to my soul: “I didn’t go through a grieving process. I got up every day, repeated a scripture in my mind, looked for things I was grateful for, and prayed that I could be of service to someone that day. The nurses would then come in and tell me their problems and because I had been a bishop, I had some experience with counseling them.” What a beautiful outlook on life—and such great advice to Steve and I.
Kris Anne, my sister-in-law: So glad Don could encourage you. He is an amazing man.
John, my brother: Always on our minds.
Paul, my brother: Words of inspiration from a saint.
Mark, my brother: We are all in for you and Steve!
Text: Oct 4, 2018
Just got a call from the doc. All went well.
Oct 9, 2018
Steve came home from the hospital.
Oct 12, 2018
Steve returned to work. (1/2 a day and he worked from home.) The following week, he returned to work AT work full time. He is amazing.
Journal: Oct 27, 2018
On telling me why he’s been so positive throughout this trial, Steve said this, “The only choice I have in this situation is how I’m going to react to it. Because of the blessings I’ve received from God, I’ve been able to accept it and get busy with living.”
Sunday, Jan 27, 2019:
My new favorite scripture is from Paul Day’s talk (it’s also Paul Day’s favorite): Isaiah 40:31: “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” What an absolutely amazing promise to Steve and all of us. While in this life, Steve may not be able to walk on his own two legs, but this promise will be made sure—not only will he walk, not only will he run, but he will soar as the eagles.
Sunday, Feb 3, 2019:
Elder Wong bore his testimony today. He related how frustrated he was that God wasn’t answering his prayers to find people ready to receive the gospel. In his frustration, the Spirit whispered to him: “Do you think it’s easy or hard for Heavenly Father not to answer your prayers?” Wow—of course a loving Heavenly Father wants to grant us our righteous desires—but sometimes, by not answering our prayers, he is preparing an even better way.
In 2020, as I was studying the Book of Mormon, I reviewed the scripture that brought so much pain to me four days before Steve’s amputation: 3 Nephi 18:20: “And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold it shall be given unto to you.” The Spirit unfolded my understanding and spoke to my soul. My sense of what was right–here’s what I need this miracle to look like–wasn’t what the Lord had in mind: “It wasn’t wrong that Steve’s leg should be amputated. It just was.” I can see that now and I feel so blessed. I needed to submit my will to God: “Thy will, not mine.”
In going through this life-changing event, I have been acutely aware that God loves us and that Christ knows what we are going through. We have been given a multiplicity of tender mercies—from wonderful medical care to increased insight and knowledge to spiritual growth and awakening to healing to kind words and deeds from our ward family. For these many, many gifts, we are grateful.