Now, unless you belong to some support group or you just have an uncomfortable way of introducing yourself, you would normally begin with a preamble of sorts - especially considering that I haven't written since my anniversary last November. So, I will preambalize - briefly - but just so you don't feel like your missing Season 2 of "Lost".
When this adventure into the Land of Oncology began, I had faith and hope and optimism - and some energy. In our last episode, I was about to finish my first round of radiation and I was excited to make our trip to Southern California for Christmas. I felt great, with little to no side effects. I was soooo excited!! Then my legs decided to do their Redwood tree impression - not in height, but certainly in girth. When one gets kind of a horrified look from a doctor, this is not good. Anyway, this guy gave me some stuff so the legs shrank some. I had been over-the-top ridiculously excited about the clothes I would be wearing - cute jeans and snazzy shoes, instead of our usually (but fun!) shorts and slippers (flip-flops to you mainlanders). Not to be. We had been jacked up to do all kinds of fun Christmasy activities - with me wearing every adorable pair of shoes and boots and jeans and stuff that I don't waer here. Well....not so much. Even though my legs were not sequoia -sized, they still had the circumfrence of an old ponderosa pine. And texture. I was stuck in uggs and old lady black fuzzy pants for the duration. To reeeeeally make the experience special, radiation sickness hit me about the second day there and I was relegated to one activity a day. Do I sound self-pitying!?!? Good. Hate to think I was the only one with this little gem of info. BUT!!! I was still with my favorite human beings that God ever dreamt up - and it was good!
We returned after nearly two weeks to begin the courses of chemo that would last until early May. Sorry to elude to "Lost" twice in the same blog, but I plan to bounce back and forth quite a bit as I get caught up, so I will leave all the chemo news to the side for a bit...
So....it IS a God thing. Maybe you might not think so - especially given the current state of affairs. But God has been all over this. if you don't see how, just understand that His ways are always better than ours. Always. Even when life - and God - seem the most cruel and callous. There He is. God.
My lessons in this began a whole stinkin' long time ago. The youngest of four, I was raised going to church, and I knew about Jesus. Kinda. But only inasmuch as He had something to do with Christmas and Easter. Okay, I knew He was born on Christmas, but I have to admit, to a little girl the idea of Jesus being alive after being dead sounded a lot more like a really creepy, scary thing than the best thing to ever hit humanity. I also knew that Sunday meant church - except for my father who sat home, watched hockey and ate milk toast. But we went to church.
I was a crazy tomboy growing up, and not very popular. My hair was fine and kind of stringy. Try as my mom might, she couldn't keep it looking neat. No sooner would she have the flat hair in a couple of pigtails or a pony, I'd be off running to school, turning up there, hair askew, my dress a mess (no pants, those days), and my shoes usually untied. I actually had a third grade teacher stand me in front of a mirror to point out what a mess I was. By the time I was in fifth grade, I had glasses. Those were not the days of stylish frames. Nope. These were the good old "four-eyes" days. I also was born with a too-small nose, which meant that my glasses were perpetually at half-mast - especially if I had been running. And I was still running. By the sixth grade, the dye was cast. Even though I was quite athletic, I was neither cute nor charming nor one bit popular.
I had a life rope, though. A girl named Laurie. She lived in the house behind/above (it was on a hill and we kept up this happy argument for decades) and I loved her with all my heart. It wasn't always easy. Her birthday was two days after mine and one of the few times I had a party, everyone else went to hers. No malicious intent. It's just the timing. But we became best friends after I stuck with her when her other best friend had left her high and dry over some tiny incident. We were thick as thieves after that.
Laurie also struggled mightily with self-worth. Raised in a strict Irish Catholic home, she was a middle kid with an older sister she worshipped and a younger brother she adored. Both of them were popular in their own right - but I knew that Laurie was the gem. She made me laugh like no other and she made me feel special. We stayed side-by-side through the ravages of Junior High and early high school. By that time, Laurie had begun to struggle with her weight just as everything started to fall Physically into place for me. It didn't change much of anything for either of us, though. I was still unpopular at school. In fact, I wasn't that popular at home, either. My brother was the next closest to me in age, but that was nearly four years. By the time I was fourteen or so, he was out of the house. My sisters had long since left, so I was alone in a house with contentious parents who were never really sure how they felt about each other - or me, so I felt.
In the late 60's, early 70's, a little something called the "Jesus Freak" movement began in Southern California. I remember a "Life" magazine cover depicting head-bands-over-long-hair hippies with one arm around another with the other holding a pointer finger straight in the air, meaning "one way". It eventually birthed what we know today as Calvary Chapel. I was still attending my Episcopal church - doing all the right things because it was time to do them - but Laurie had started attending a Bible Study that changed her life. It was Laurie who introduced me to Jesus. She not only told me about the amazing people she had met at this bible study, but she also gave me my first New Testament - The Good News Bible. It had the physical conformation of any paperback novel, with it's cover depicting a newspaper - but inside was pure gold. In fact, it is still my favorite go-to translation when grappling with a passage or introducing the gospel to another.
As a brief side note, as happens so often in our lives and busy society, Laurie's paths and mine diverged and we lost touch. But I can never stop thanking her or loving her. She changed my life. She introduced me to Jesus.
The lonely kid who was never invited to the cool kids' table was now invited to be a permanent fixture near the head of the ultimate cool kid banquet table. The sad girl who felt out of place in her own family was now a child of God, and equal heir to His Kingdom. What had been not much more than tradition, ritual, and nice stories from the Bible was now apparent as truth, and as Love. God.
I would love to say that my walk with the Lord only progressed and I followed Him without wavering...but I have a healthy fear of lightning bolts or huge fissures opening in the dirt beneath me. Like so many, I wandered off the path set before me. I was rebellious and undisciplined when it came to my own personal walk with the Lord. I stopped reading my bible every day and I was still attending my family's church without truly connecting the dots. My wandering feet led to some rather stunning life-changing. More details on that another time....but suffice to say, God once again plucked me from the snares I had jumped into myself. He turned the ashes I gave Him into beauty. God.
Soon, I met the man I was to marry. In fact, I knew I would marry him even before I loved him. God seemed to get (duh!!) that i was now so determined to escape my living situation at home by marrying the first guy who would have me. But God is also ENDLESSLY merciful, so he brought me the best. Problem was....Don was not saved. Shoot. He wasn't even biblically housebroken. Though I knew that God was telling me to be patient, and I knew we were wildly unequally yoked. Don and I were married six short months after our first date. But again, the Lord knowing the entire span of my chaotic life protected us during early difficult years - difficult only because I pushed things too fast in my desperation to get out from where I was living. But a few years later, Don DID accept Christ, but we had hurt each other a lot on the way to the blessed marriage God had designed for me all along. Thirty-six years, three sons, one daughter-in-law, two grandchildren later, I am more head-over-heels than I ever thought, and I look at my family, blown away by my abundance. God.
About four years ago, our kids grown and gone with successful lives of their own, Don and I began this, our Big Adventure! Having visited Maui many times, and my husband realized that me and Maui were as much made for each other as he and I. Oh, Don loved Maui, all right. We both love the laid-back life, and he was hoping for new adventures. I wanted to snorkel and paint and go to the beach and snorkel and write and suntan and snorkel and run my business and snorkel and...well, you get the drift. So, in May of 2008 we put our beloved Alejo Lane house on the market. I knew that God was going to show HIS power by overcoming a crashed Real Estate market by selling our house at top dollar in about two weeks. Instead of fourteen days, it took fourteen MONTHS!! But God made His blessing clear, as two separate offers came within forty-five minutes of each other and at the the same price. July 31, 2009, we closed escrow...and Denise and Don's Big Adventure began. God.
We set our feet on this island as residents on September 1 of that same year. We arrived with only Don's Lexus waiting, and plans to try to find me a Toyota Solara convertible. We also had no place permanent to live, but stayed in a vacation condo for three weeks until we found more permanent digs. On the second day, we found an ad for my dream car - three floors directly below our place and parked next to our rental car! Deal made and I was a happy chick cruising the island in my silver solara! We found our home a few days after that - a beautiful condo in Ka'anapali, with small ocean views , a pool and jacuzzi in the complex, and right on the Ka'anapali Kai (South) golf course! We could not have planned it better. But we hadn't. God.
Life as we had dreamed it began to unfold before us if by magic. Except for a couple of loneliness hiccups, our world was close to a dream - Don ran his real estate business during the day, working open houses and expired listings looking for new clients. Our new church family at Calvary Chapel Westside became a blessing beyond our wildest expectations. Nearly every morning, FloJo and I would walk down, first to our local coffee hangout, Island Press, then on to the beach, where I would sit and read the Word - the Pacific laid out before me with Lana'i and Moloka'i as backdrops. I might spend the rest of the day writing or painting or trying to find a new angle for my wedding business. By the time Don got home, we were ready to watch the sunset for our own lanai, or better yet, from the tee box on Hole #8. Living on a golf course had unexpected perks, namely, that our dog was allowed to run free after all golfers were gone. FloJo definitely lived up to her sprinter name when she was flying along the fairway! A few nights a month the moon would be so bright that one could play a little moonlight golf. Living just up the hill from the Ka'anapali Resort meant frequent spontaneous visits to Whaler's Village for a little Hula Pie. The apex moment was realized when our entire family came over for Don/Dad/Grampy's 60th birthday that May. Sheer magic. God.
After several months, things began to unravel as quickly as they had come together. Human promises made were revealed to be made from dust. Don's business not only was failing, but his brokers left him high and dry on a couple of major deals. His loyalty was not returned in kind. Instead, he faced a hostile work environment where integrity was more of an abstract concept that one studied for instead of actually practiced. Don stayed on until finally pushed out of one last deal. He struggled on with a newer, smaller broker with good people, and gained one high-end listing and one very high end buyer! By that time, our landlord chose to not renew our lease, so we found ourselves in need of a place to live with our dog. Our sweet life of sunset-watching on the #8 tee box and moonlight golf were over.
The listing client offered an oceanfront bungalow for a couple of months at what he said was a greatly reduced rent - but that dream also quickly dissolved into a nightmare. From there, we went to a little one-bedroom listing of the brokerage at one of the nicest resorts on the westside. It meant we had to board FloJo, but the space was clean and safe and on the ocean during whale season! Don's buying clients had opened escrow on a home on the Big Island - and then closed. They opened on a second one, and it looked like things were turning around. I began the search for another long-term rental. And then it all imploded. Don's buyers' funds were inaccessible due to family and litigation and trusts. Don's listing client turned out to be...shady, at best, wanting Don to fudge with numbers and prices and essentially cheat the legal system. At the same time, the little unit we were in went into foreclosure. I thought that we as tenants would be covered for a least 90 days, but it turns out that the Homeowners Association can collect rent that they deem fair from the existing tenant. Because the unit itself, while shabby and a view of the loading dock, would demand close to triple what we had been paying, and could afford to pay. The dye was most certainly cast. Don told his shattered wife that they would be returning to the mainland to regroup. But somewhere inside my husband knew. God.
When we flew out 9 days later, I was still shell-shocked. In fact, I remained pretty much that way for weeks. We lived in our motorhome, first in a nice RV park in a depressing little desert town, then in various spots near our youngest and his family - including parking lots or the street, at times. It was a nightmare for me. But my husband kept me from flying completely apart, reading scriptures to me nightly, holding me while I screamed and cried out in self-pity, grief, and rage - and praying, praying, praying. Almost everyone thought we were "home" - with the notable exception of my mother. She understood what "home" meant to us now, and where "home" truly was. As much as we are in love with our kids and grands, Maui was now a part of us. Mother got that. Due to her own circumstances, she had to leave the Arizona community that she had grown to love with all her heart. She supported our return from the start...and our deep emotional rift began to close and heal. In the meantime, the young family who had been dog and jeep sitting were moving out of their condo in Napili - would we be interested in taking over?? Perfect size, perfect rent...and the dog and jeep waited for us there. For the nearly five months we were on the mainland, Don and I got to hang out with grandbabies, have grand mini-adventures, I finished my first novel, and my mother and I found each other again. On September 13 we returned home to Maui. On September 29, Mother went Home to her Lord. God.
While we were thrilled and blessed beyond words to be home, many of the issues that sent us to the mainland were still a problem. Don's Real Estate business had taken a few more hits and extricating himself from his shady client proved to be...a challenge. Don had been talking about the Time SHare business for a while, but I was adamantly opposed. He and I had been to three in our lifetime, and I never left one of these experiences NOT livid! My husband was not going to become one of those sketchy, sleazy salesmen. Besides, I still loved home being in Real Estate and I thought if I just nagged- um...encouraged him enough, he would succeed. Unfortunately, this meant I wasn't listening. Not to my husband. Not to God. There are times when closing my mouth and getting me to listen stands right up there with parting the Red Sea and making time go backwards as far as God's miracles go. This most certainly was one of them. But I did finally listen as God was telling me to be quiet and submit to my husband. In that moment, I knew that I had to trust my husband - and the Lord, most of all. Within a few weeks, he got a job at Diamond Resorts International selling vacation points. A few weeks after that, we were eligible for health insurance and I had my first doctor visit, discussing the severe pain in my left hip. Within a few weeks, we knew the enemy that existed - but we also knew who had the entire thing covered by His Mercy and Power. God.
While this was happening to me, Greg's life hit a road not just with speedbumps, but one completely torn to shreds. God ripped him from what Greg thought were good plans and a future in Southern California and set him out blind and homeless for this same season that saw his mom being diagnosed and fighting StageIV cancer. It seemed cruel for a loving Father to do. Not once, but twice, God made flights here for Greg cheap, and on just a couple of days notice. Having Greg here helped beyond any measure, allowing for his father to continue work while he drove me to tests and radiation. It was also the richest time we had ever spent with our middle child. That season for Greg had pretty much passed. He is back in Portland, with an even better job at the same facility he worked at before, and another big, Godly house full of crazy Godly people. Greg sounds more content than I have ever heard him. God.
Over the next several months, it was a Mr. Toad ride through scans and blood work and biopsies and more scans. I was sure I must be glowing in the dark with all the radioactive contrast solution being pumped through me. In it all, God not only protected my heart from fear, He allowed the twisted way I have of looking at things to really come through. Never had I been so grateful for my rather warped brain. God also blessed us ABUNDANTLY with loving people with scary smart brains. Maui had just recently opened the Pacific Cancer Center - and I do mean recently. I am among the first to use the "Diva", their radiation device that quietly and painlessly beats the cheese out of tumors. The oncology department, to a person, was nothing but joy, smiles, and Aloha. They knew our names after Day One. We were greeted with enthusiasm that was heartfelt. There were goodies and musicians (although the harp player did seem a little hilarious and maudlin to Greg and I). They give Don and I so much praise for having great attitudes. We explain that it isn't us, but our Lord, because He has CHOSEN us for this time and has CHOSEN them as His weaponry for fighting this monster. No one shuts us off. No one dismisses what we say (at least in front of us!!). They listen. They smile. Most nod in agreement. God.
This time was also a revealer among friends and family. When a cancer, or any life-threatening or catastrophic event is discovered and named, people with either flock or flee - no one remains unaffected. I knew it going in, and while I was sad at some who chose to flee out of fear, I was more than blessed by those who flocked around me. One friendship came out of seemingly nowhere and I found myself trusting another woman in a way I hadn't for nearly twenty years. I can - and have - shared anything with her and I know I am safe. Other friendships deepened. It didn't mean I wasn't sad about the ones for whom it was too much for them - I still love them and I understand - but God redirected me and reminds me daily that He is the one who is always faithful and not to look to humans for flawless companionship. I have failed many people in my life, too. I was never alone. Even when there wasn't a sister sitting by my bedside, maybe reading to me, or talking quietly, or maybe just praying, I was never alone. God.
One of the most special and profound relationships to be blessed in this is that of my oldest sister, Vicki, and I. Recall a few paragraphs above. In my home, we were not taught to love one another. I'm not saying we weren't loved. No, our parents were good people who had come from craziness themselves. They made sure that we were safe and clothed and educated. We camped and went to the zoo. We had fun Christmases...mostly. But as far as being told anything positive, the response was always "well, that goes without saying". Really? To a kid?? Sarcasm and criticism were our family's primary languages. A year or so before my father died in 1990, I knew I wanted to tell him I loved him whenever the heck I felt like it. I wanted to do that with my mom, but I still didn't feel safe enough. But I began slowly with my father, giving him spontaneous hugs whether he wanted it our not! And telling him I loved him. It changed our relationship so much so that when he died of a massive heart attack at 68, I had no guilt. And God allowed my that same Grace with my mom in the months before her unexpected death. This time, I was the one with the sword over my head - the difference being is that we could all see it. As bold and mouthy as I was before, I knew God was reminding me how short all of our days are. Now was the time to say the things that should be heard - repeatedly and often. Vicki and her husband essentially dropped everything last September to be here to help, if need, but mostly just be together. I was quiet for a while, but God pushed me to the point where I had to speak. What started as a disagreement evolved into a wonderful, honest, painful, revealing talk. I made it clear that there would be no conversation that would end without an "I love you" - and there hasn't been. Vicki has been my chief cheerleader, showering me with goofy cards (she sent me a mooshy serious one once and I told her to NEVER do that again!!). It's especially hard on her because she is the oldest and feels she should be able to fix things. She cannot fix anything about this - but she has learned to handle it with grace...at least around me! Vicki and Dave made it back out for another visit in March and while we didn't get to go out together, I enjoyed vicariously their adventures in our beautiful waters and all around this magical island. my sister and I are diametrically opposed on so many things politically - but it doesn't matter. We found each other because of my cancer and what only the Lord can do. My other sister and brother? I think they are still trying to wrap their minds around a little sister with this dreadful disease. But I still love them so much, and when God gives me that opportunity, I will tell them. Why? God.
So now... After months of radiation and chemo. After months of being helpless to do anything but lie immobile on my bed. After months of eating only a bite or two a day, ultimately losing almost 50 pounds. After countless hours of prayers and endless tears. After finding myself in a more intimate relationship with my Savior than I have ever known in my life....the day came when we heard the news we all wanted: total remission. Others celebrated while I was still sick from the "freight train" Dr. Labradoodle admittedly gave me - and for which I was grateful. Tears of joy. Smiles of celebration. Words like "miracle" and "walking testimony" were surrounding me, describing me. A very few, short weeks later, I thought I had a cyst that was growing rapidly out of one of the scars from my femur stabilization last September. I have a history of cysts, and this started small and directly from under the scar. The same surgeon who removed my primary tumor in October, and had been part of the miracle of that mass removing cleanly away when it was supposed to have wound around arteries and nerve bundles did the biopsy in his office. I wanted to hear "fluid-filled". No fluid. When it came back as a sarcoma again, I wanted to hear "encapsulated - no spreading". It had spread a bit to spine and lungs. No one was following the script. Not my surgeon. Not my oncologist. Least of all, God.
On the way home from the biopsy, I screamed out my pain and anger and broken trust to God. I could not understand why He would do this to my family. Why raise our hopes only to crush them in His powerful fist, like some kind of cruel, sick joke? My faith was still there, but my trust in God had been blown to pieces. I called my pastor. I got his voice mail - fortunately for Steve - and started calm, but then worked myself into the grief-riddled frenzy. I did apologize, but also pointed out that he was God's representative, so...deal with it. I was stuck dealing with it. As was my husband. And my kids. And my siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews and anyone who loved me. The cancer was back. Dr. Altaha (Labradoodle) saw me a few days later, after yet another contrast CT. As he was discussing the new regimen, I asked him point blank if he was just trying to buy me time. He looked me straight in the eye and said yes. He then mitigated it by pointing out the small difference between 60 and 80 and 70. The new math. I now know what he was trying to say, but I didn't care at the time. I realized at the moment that I had put more faith in medicine than I had in God - or at least more than I wanted to admit. On the way home, either that day or another similar to it, I was still wagging my fist at God. He finally broke into my tirade and asked me "Do you WANT to die?" I gave and emphatic "NO!" "Then", He said, "don't. Live. Stay alive. Be alive." And so I am.
There are many of you reading this who may think this self-indulgent. I imagine you might all think it's exhausting and your eyeballs are burning, but that's what happens when I don't write for a while. But this is from my heart. It's my love letter to God that I am letting you peek at. His Love letter to me is found in the pages between Genesis 1:1 and Revelation 22:21. I fell in love with Psalm 30, feeling as though David spoke it for me, and then I hear it preached on twice within a week - once by Pastor Chuck Smith, who is fighting his own battle with Stage IV cancer, and the late, great J.Vernon McGee, hailing it as the "Cancer Chorus" for those with this disease that God has allowed to live despite it.
I am blown away by the abundant life He has given Don and I here. Four years ago this morning we woke up as residents of Maui, and not merely visitors. Four years ago we began our big adventure that we were sure we knew all the choreography for. Little did we know that cancer would be our dance partner. But that's okay. In fact...it's great when you know your choreographer. God.
