The Substance of Things Hoped For...

...the evidence of things not seen...

The Apostle Paul gives this eloquent and succinct definition of Faith in his letter to the Hebrews (11:1), yet it is an idea and way of believing that most - if not all - Christians still grapple with. My friend, Vania, stated it clearly last week, after we had been praying for a quick clearing of the insurance red tape so the scheduled surgery could go as planned, and it cleared - much to our shock and amazement.

"We say," said Vania, "when we see the issue, 'oh, God's got this. No problem!', and then when He does take care of it, we say "Really?? You're kidding!!'" In other words, perhaps we don't believe quite so much as we say we do. We ask for the miraculous, proclaiming praise for our omnipotent God, then drop our teeth when we see miracles - minor or major.

As if we didn't have enough evidence of God's power all around us and in the Bible and throughout history and over insurance companies, we were about to be blown away by something that still boggles my already boggled mind.

To get to that part, we have to go through this part: my globectomy - the original lump that has apparently caused all this rucus. A few episodes back, if you recall, they did a biopsy on said globular mass, but found only icky dead stuff inside with no active cancer cells. It turns out that that this is the likely culprit after all - a muscle sarcoma. I know. I said that last time...or the time before.

At any rate, this was a bad guy, icky, globular - and tied up to a few things inside my leg, like arteries and nerves and stuff. What made this all so crazy is that this had been there for a number of years, but had been wearing its lipoma-muscle-knot-tendon disguise, so it got away with just sitting there. It also did nothing offensive or obvious like causing discomfort or being visible. Of course, the fact that I am not now, nor ever have been, a skinny minnie when it comes to ANY part of me - let alone legs that used to run sprints - might have helped with that last part. What was getting almost comical was how all the medical people were asking when it started to bother me. Well.... NOT UNTIL YOU PEOPLE STARTED POKING AT IT!!! But the decision was made to remove it - or as much as they could - before starting radiation.

As I told you in one of my leapfrogged posts, this is called a "de-bulking" procedure. Dr. Lyons, my surgeon-without-a-nicname, made it very clear that this was not a "cure" type surgery because it had already gotten out of the barn, so to speak. Had this beast been still contained, with no signs of spread, then they would be taking a more aggressive "cure" type action - which would have meant taking the ENTIRE quad muscle!!! YEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOW!!!! have you seen the television series House?!!? About the junkie, cranky, brilliant doctor who is forever hobbling because his quad muscle died and disintegrated!?!? Well, I wasn't ready to be Dr. House in any way, shape, or form, so I'm thinking that this ain't so bad. So, the plan was to get about 90% (at best), and have the rest nuked away.

Just before I went in, Dr. Lyons and his anesthesiologist (my next new bff) were ultrasounding the heck outa this bad boy. What I just saw as gray squiggles, just like almost ANY ultrasound (yes, I even mean those of your baby the size of a wasabi pea...even though it is the cutest wasabi pea ever!), they saw as a problematic wad of goo and cancerous calcifications. While the nurse anesthetist was doing her best to start iv's (yes, plural) with veins that are ready for "Intervention", thanks to all the zillions of tests and previous iv's, Dr.'s Cutter and Gas-Passer were looking at the gray squiggles and pointing at a pulsing squiggle that they identified as the femoral artery. I didn't disagree, even though I had been on Webmd only 24 hours previous. The point they were making to each other was that this thing was in a delicate place (you're telling me?!??), and actually crossed over into the groin area (again, you telling ME delicate!?!?). As they were deciding different ways of shaving and planing of this thing like a lump of aged cheddar, I just lay there chatting with the nurse as she kept drilling for oil. A few minutes later, I was in the O.R., headed for blissful oblivion. My work was done. It was now up to them. Well....up to them and whatever God had in store.

The night before, I had been with Don, and much of my church family, at our Wednesday night worship and Bible Study. At the end, our dear friend and Pastor, Steve, has folks lay hands on me and pray. His prayer was specifically that the doctors be shocked by what they find, and that this tumor be able to be lifted cleanly away from all nerves and arteries.

The Substance of things hoped for....

Don, Steve, and Kim (Steve's wife and my dear, funny friend), were waiting for the doctor. When Dr. Lyons came in, the dude was all excited and downright giddy - with a picture of a red, nasty glob in tow. The tumor had lifted clean away. It was encapsulated in a way that NO ONE saw. It was whole and intact. I had been marked to receive 3 units of blood, because they expected this highly vascularized (lotsa blood vessels) to bleed like crazy once they being the shaving process. I needed no blood. The surgery was to take a least 2 hours. It was less than 90 minutes. I was to have drains for a least a couple of days, and be in the hospital 3 or 4. I had no drains, and was out in 48 hours.

...the evidence of things not seen.

There are times when my stuff might almost need a disclaimer, warning all you who lovingly read, but do not Believe. But that's wrong. In fact, I think this one should come with a "Claimer", as in I claim the name of Jesus. Oh, not the 2:00 a.m. "I-claim-in-the-name-of-Jesus-to-stand-up-and-do-the-Hokey-Pokey-and-here's-your-million-dollars-once you-pay-me-a-few-thousand" type of false claiming, but the claim of our hearts to the One who claimed us.

And as I still revel in this amazing thing - and by the way, Dr. Lyons was still giddy the next day! - I am now being asked to believe yet again. Don and I met with Dr. Labradoodle (main onco) and Dr. Tswing Tskirt Tsai (Radiation onco) for the overall picture as we begin to engage the enemy in earnest.

To summarize: I get mapped and tattooed tomorrow. Hopefully, the tattoos are not of a real big map. These, from what I hear - and study on the internet, of course - are just little dots so they can nuke the same place each and every time. Of this, I am glad. I do not relish the idea of two techies playing Nuclear Battleship with my tumors. The therapy will be five days a week for five weeks. This will have me in fine fettle (what is a fettle and why do I want to be in a fine one?!!?) by the time we hit San Diego on December 20! I also get to be one of the first to use the brand spankin' new Nuke Tube. And, yes, it is state of the art, not something they picked up on E-bay from a "real" hospital on the mainland.

When we return home to Maui, chemo will start. Since it is now clear to them that it is not Thyroid Cancer, the sequel, and it is simply a sarcoma (muscle cancer), they will be using a broad spectrum, potent set of what Dr. Altaha (Labradoodle) calls the backbone of chemotherapy. In order to possibly narrow the scope, they actually sent some samples to the Mayo Clinic for a second opinion! Did I tell ya!?!?  I'm a stinkin' ROCK STAR!!

But rock star status notwithstanding, I still have some not-so-fun stuff ahead. As radiation begins, the dying tissue will cause pain to get worse before it gets better. That's okay. They have me on MORE narcotics!! wow...I really am a rock star..... ANYWAY, once things start settling down, then the pain will go away. Away away. Like it hasn't been away in over a year. Makes my head spin. no...wait....that's the morphine.... or the other stuff....

Once chemo starts....I will be sporting a very clean, smooth style on my noggin. Yup. Losin' m'hair. I wish I could sound all brave and strong and la-dee-da and stuff, but honestly, that's not how I feel. I know, it will grow back, but gee-mo-nee. I am a girl. I am a girl with LOTS of brushes and LOTS of hair product. Yes, I know that there are my girlfriends in Maui totally dying at that bit of trivia, because, quite honestly, the top-down jeep in my usual hair stylist. But I like having options. I'll be okay...I just need to process.

And I need to have F-A-I-T-H. I need to remember the miracles that God has already brought down our path. I need to remember His sovereignty and power and His MERCY!! It is going to be okay!

I'm closing this out, now. The pharmacy is taking over in my system. But I just wanted you all to know. I wanted you to know the amazing ways that God is working over here. I'll get silly about the goofiness that we've encountered (and it is considerable), when I do my next post.

And, Vania, I promise to try to not be shocked the next time the Lord answers a prayer so quickly and specifically.