I am a funny person. That statement may seem at best obvious boasting, and at worst inaccurate, self-promoting arrogance. I prefer to think of it as....simply humble and honest.... I'll give you a moment to compose yourself...
BUT! It seems that my humor of late has been misinterpreted as denial or idiocy. Not so. In fact, there is a lot of reality and smartness in me. To that end, let me clarify a few things...
Please don't mistake my humor as not taking this disease seriously. I have nearly constant reminders that there is a monster inside me whose end game is to take my life. It reminds me of its presence with pain and weakness in what once was a powerful runner's leg, and with a growing dull ache in my right bicep. I know that within a few months, I will be in a bit of a mess because of radiation and chemo. But I know that God gave me my weird way of looking at things as a weapon against this beast. I laugh when things are funny - and many, many things are funny. I laugh because it helps. Laughter releases endorphins which are the body's God-given pain killers. Humor is an important part of my arsenal.
Please don't mistake my goofy way of looking at things as ignorance of the actual physiology of cancer. I happen to be a lover of science and medicine and was researching all of this before we even talked about it with any others. I understood lesion, metastasis, necrotic, calcification, soft tissue mass - all before knowing that these existed inside me. I'm a very smart girl.
Please don't mistake my calm for complacency. Like any warrior, I need to be focussed and calm in the face of the enemy. To panic or freak gives him (it) a foothold. My mind is preparing for the battle ahead. Calm is from the Lord. Panic....not. But that doesn't mean I sit and wait for the Lord to make phone calls or take tests. I am a compliant, pro-active patient. I push gently when pushing is needed. I respectfully pursue - but never assuming that my case is more important than others like me. I am building what will surely be long relationships with nurses, techs, receptionists, assistants, and doctors. When they see me coming, I want them to see the face of Christ, not a demanding buzz saw. I am a good advocate for myself, but there is something to the "catch more flies with honey than vinegar" philosophy. Being spazzed while I'm in pursuit of records or CD's of scans or the next appointment will do nothing to speed the process, let alone help me in this war.
Please don't mistake my patience for passivity. I am also extremely eager to get this party started, but I appreciate the hard work, diligence, and careful study that these remarkable people are putting into properly treating my cancer. I want them to have the exactly right weaponry. I don't want the doctors to use a bazooka when a pea shooter would do. Or, vice versa. I have been in awe of the responsiveness when I have asked for help, or have needed records. This ain't television, folks, where there is a disease discovered on week, the treatment the next week, and the third week either the patient croaks or has a miraculous recovery (followed, of course, by a dream wedding overlooking some body of water. I digress....a little....). No, this is reality. These tests take time - and I'm not the only game in town. I have said often how I feel treated like a rock star. Well, that's still true. But think of this as the Grammy Awards, where it all full of Paul McCartney's, Mick Jagger's, and Lady Gaga's. We are all rock stars - but sometimes, rock stars have to wait their turn.
Please don't mistake my peace for surrender - at least not to cancer. I do surrender my life to Christ. What He does with it is His choice. But there's a fight, and I believe He will heal me. But it is His choice as to when and how, not mine. There is great peace in that. Philippians 4:7 describes the "peace that passes all understanding", because, frankly, peace in this particular situation seems nonsensical in the eyes of the world. And with the peace, comes joy. Joy!
Finally, let me share about my champion, my hero, my advocate...my husband. Please, never, ever mistake his quiet nature as not caring enough. Don operates with a quiet determination. He is by my side as I travel to every test. He keeps this home running. He still goes to work every day - even though he only wants to spend time with me. Remember the craziness at the Honolulu Airport? Read between the lines. This was a man doing everything possible to care for his bride. He can control nothing of the disease that has invaded his wife's body, but he will leap tall buildings to find the ones who can. And he trusts, trusts, trusts the Living God who holds all of this in His mighty and merciful hands. Don is holding up his end of the vow he took almost 35 years ago. I am not alone.
The meaning of Joy is not happiness. Happiness is dependent on external happenings, situations, moods - more extrinsic. Joy comes from within, separate from situations - more intrinsic. (see, I told ya I was smart). Joy is one of the fruits of the Spirit. It is intangible, but so obvious in one who has it. I am not happy about what is going on inside of me. I am not all a-twitter about a bone biopsy and leg surgery and all that this entails. But God has given me joy. It may not make sense, but I feel Him like never before. He uses others around me to tell me how much He loves me. Joy.
So, I covet your prayers. It's an unknown road ahead. But God knows the way. He has given me humor and intelligence and calm and peace and JOY!!
Now, don't make me go all serious on you again....makes my head hurt....
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
The De-Calibrated Life
CALIBRATE: to standardize (as a measuring instrument) by determining the deviation from a standard so as to ascertain the proper correction factors; to adjust precisely for a particular function; to measure precisely; especially: to measure against a standard
Let's face it. We are all attached to our routines. Even the most free-spirited, artsy-fartsy, fly-by-the-seat-of-one's-pants individual has consistent things in their lives upon which they balance the rest. It could be as broad as the seasons, or as minute (and maybe neurotic) as the precise schedule of the before-work morning ritual. having a certain amount of predictability in important aspects of our lives allows us the freedom of, well, sort of planned spontaneity. It's our individual calibration that we all live by - even those who deny so. And when life throws us curveballs and disasters or surprises, we flounder for a time until we re-calibrate, so we may begin ticking along in our new comfortable.
Don and I have had to recalibrate many times in our 35 years together. Sometimes for the good (marriage, children, moving, children, finances....and may I mention CHILDREN!!), and sometimes, for the not-so-good. But each times we adjusted our perspective and our internal clocks and moved on with life. Until now...for we have discovered......
The DE-calibrated Life.
When Don got this new job, we knew that it would bring many, many blessings - but there were also challenges. His days off, for instance. When he first started at Diamond, his days off were Tuesday and Wednesday making Monday his Friday and Wednesday his Sunday. The he got Saturday and Sundays off!! Praise God!! That not only meant that I got to go to church with my sweetie again, but every day was the actual day it was supposed to be!! Then, new sales team and new days off - Thursday and Friday - making Wednesday his Friday and Friday his Sunday. No sooner had we figured that one out than it changed again to Friday-Saturday days off. So now Thursday is Friday and Saturday is Sunday. Confused? Feel our pain....
In the midst of the last change was the diagnosis and the launch of the thrill ride through the land of oncology. We now had to try to organize our life around tests and visits and more tests and stuff and things and e-stinkin'-gad more tests!! talk about a loss of routine and comfortable. We have never, ever been more out of control of anything in our lives. And never have we felt such freedom.
Huh?? I know. You think it's the morphine speaking....ummm...writing. One might think, but one would be wrong. Since there is no "why" to be answered, since there is no cause to be discovered, since there is no blame to be laid - there is only moving on and doing what needs to be done. And being able to rest in the knowledge of God's ALL-ENCOMAPASSING POWER, brings me peace that can only be explained through Him.
So, now for the update and the what's up next: a week ago Wednesday, I got the awaited call from O'ahu to arrange for the P.E.T. scan. They wanted me there on Monday. Knowing that my M.E. (Medical Entourage) here was trying to get me in to see the O-cubed (Ortho Onco of O'ahu), which could mean we stay for a while so the surgery could be done, and that my sister was coming in on Tuesday, and we were supposed to have mani-pedi's (or as my beloved spells it, manny-petty) on Wednesday, and I wanted to have fun so could we not do it on Monday!?!?!?!? okay....so cooler, less silly heads prevailed, and plans were made for for us to fly out five days hence. The cool thing about this is that the insurance paid for my flight and cab, and we only had to pay for Don's flight. He could ride in the same cab with me. They also arranged for us to remain in Honolulu late so we could do something fun - not that having scans and stuff isn't just heap load o' chuckles! yee-haw. Anyway, more on that later....
Two days after we found out about the Honolulu trip was the biopsy for the soft tissue mass in my right thigh. This was to be yet another fasting test. Why do these people keep making me stop eating!?!?!?!? But we did have time to eat early in the morning, so Don took me to my favorite breakfast place on the island: Longhi's on Front Street, Lahaina. Grand Marnier French Toast....Coconut Syrup....blackberry preserves....side of the best bacon ANYWHERE.....and fresh, squeezed o.j...... Okay, so maybe this would hold me for six hours until my test. We managed to use up the time constructively for a while, then spent a couple hours at our Maui aquarium watching sharks and rays and jelly fish just move through the water which utter grace and ease. Yes, this IS how I relax!!
Finally, it was back to Maui Memorial and the crazy path from admissions to the refrigerated radiology department. Don got to freeze along side me this time. By this time, we also had noticed that our yummy morning meal - big and luscious as it was - was no longer keeping our tummies satisfied. We were hungry. In earnest. The tv in the waiting room had on the travel channel. About cruise ships. About all the FOOD on cruise ships. Cruel and unusual.... The biopsy itself was not as bad as I expected - thanks to the capable and kind hands of the doctor...whose name is a mystery to me. There was also the perfect air of goofiness, even though it was a bit chilling to her the nurse say matter-of-factly "She's mets", meaning metastatic. hmmmm... But it got back to funny when I said something smartmouthy, and then we got going. The actual instrument sounded like a very cheap staple gun, and before too long, all was done. Being the practical sort, I pointed out to this kind man that I lived in Napili, and since we were here on this side (meaning Central Maui, 45 minutes away from home), would it be okay if we went and did shopping at Costco and Walmart? He looked at me and said "No.". No discussion. No "if you feel up to it. No "as long your husband puts you in a papoose". He then pointed out that he had just poked a rather significant hole next to a rather significant artery. In fact, I was not even allowed to ride back home sitting up, but reclined in the jeep. Yikes. Anyhow, I was finally released, and because I was a good girl, didn't fuss too much, and promised to ride home in reclined comfort rather than taking care of some much needed shopping, I was rewarded with three stickers and a straw. I was very, very good.
Saturday and Sunday flew by too quickly, and then Monday was upon us. Once again, I had to fast before this next test. Oh, yes - my "last meal" at 6:00 a.m. could only be boiled or baked protein. No dairy. No carbs. No fruit. No flavor. My intent was to have a boiled egg, but Greg had used the last of the eggs and forgot to tell us. Good thing he's ridiculously cute and an unbelievable blessing, otherwise,, I would not have like his chances of surviving the night. So my breakfast? I had some cooked cocktail shrimp. Cold. With lemon. Nasty... But it got me by.
Since I have finally acknowledged that perhaps it might be in my best interest to behave as though my leg is not fully functional/reliable, I have gotten a cane (a cool wooden one, though not a magic Harry Potter one like my great-nephew thought I should get) and a handicapped parking placard - which makes me the first to get the invite to all girls' shopping trips and movie nights. This also meant wheelchair at the airport. In San Diego, getting a wheelchair means reserving one and having your own driver, as it were. In Maui, they point you to the stand of wheelchairs, you take one you like, and whomever your traveling companion is gets to be your chauffeur. Don't know what you do if you're alone. So, there we were, with only three carry-ons. Yes, I know that we were only supposed to be there one day, but this time my hubby insisted that we pack for the possibility of staying for the consult with O-cubed and the surgery to follow. That still meant my two chic olive stackables on wheels and his very butch small duffel. My spouse is extremely coordinated (making up for my lack thereof), and in no time he was pushing with one hand and pulling with the other while I had the duffel on my lap.
Everything went smooth as silk, quick as a bunny, no bumps - including the freakishly smooooooth flight - until we got to Honolulu. Honolulu. Home of Five-O. Land of Aloha. And also one of the largest cities in the U.S. and recent prize winner of the worst traffic in the nation. I think the last statistics have reeeeeally messed with the Aloha Spirit. The arrival was fine, and we were met by a friendly chap driving my wheels. Don had only to call the designated cab company and simply intone my name and ALA-KAZAM!! Our friendly chariot would appear. yeeeeeaaaahhhh,,,,not so much. Don called the magic number. Don invoked the name, Denise Dalton. The operator responded..."who!?!?" They had no record. So Don called the Imaging place which had expertly arranged all travel. They called the cab company. Again. Don called the cab company. Again. In five minutes, the cab company had lost my name. Again. My husband firmly but politely suggested that they write it down. They finally relented and sent a cab.
I have gotten used to Maui's little and efficient airport. I can't speak for other days, but on this day, Honolulu International was neither. Don followed the directions to the area outside Baggage Claim B, passing through Baggage Claim C. Keep in mind, he is still doing the push and pull and carry and stuff with his seemingly able-bodied wife. We make it out to the curb outside Baggage Claim B. Don called the cab company. again. They lost my name. AGAIN. But then they found it. Then began a series of actions that combine Three Stooges, I love Lucy, and the Amazing Race. The voice from the cab said we had to move to the cab stand. This meant pushing/pulling across a street in one of these lower level of an airport departure/arrival garages We went to the cab stand. The young lady there, with NO aloha, began yelling at us that we couldn't be there, that this was for paid fares only. We went back across the street, Don pushing and pulling - and now trying to get the cab company on the phone. Again. This time they had not lost my name, just their cabbie. So, now my husband is pushing/pulling/talking on the phone to a cabbie - for whom English is not a language yet mastered. We see him coming down the drive. Hallelujah! he slowed....said something through the open window about not being allowed to stop there...follow him..... So, Don begins his best to push/pull us to the cab - who keeps moving off anytime we get close! I also have to stop my harried hubby from running my off the sidewalk in his haste to get us to the fleeing cab. Finally, the cab pulls away entirely, leaving us in the proverbial dust and the literal exhaust. At this point, Don parks me, and slowly walks away while talking on the phone. My beloved is a very patient man in most circumstances. But...I noticed as he walked away, his voice got a little more loud with every step he took away from me. Keep in mind, this is in one of those echoey giant garage-y structures, so the acoustics are AWESOME!! I couldn't hear much except Don asking if this guy could not see the lady in the wheelchair (we were totally by ourselves, wheelchair or no) and other stuff, which my husband later confessed to me had a little something to do with the cabbie's training. After a bit, we saw this guy parked beyond Baggage Claim C - right where we had started!
Now, I know I look like a healthy girl, but I would think that the cane and the wheelchair might hint that something was not quite nimble with this particular fare, and given the destination as Hawaii Advanced Imaging, the dots should have been close enough for anyone to connect. Apparently not. The cabbie not only didn't help me in, but he proceeded to lecture Don on the high fines given to cabbies who stop at the spot where DON WAS TOLD TO WAIT!! We got in the car, and had a nice Mr. Toad ride to the imaging place. He still was muttering things about fines, but I just finally looked grumpy enough that he stayed quiet - until he pulled up to the address. We still had no idea where we were, and there was no sign on the outside indicating that this was the right place. Instead of giving us a moment, this guy unceremoniously unloaded us, STILL LECTURING MY HUSBAND, and took off.
After finding me a planter wall to sit on, Don wandered this beautiful and contemporary plaza - that was chalk full of restaurants and other eateries. Remember!?!? Fasting!?!? He found our destination and escorted me over, still pulling, although no longer having to push. When we landed in Honolulu, it was 10:00 a.m. I didn't have check-in until noon, and we had been wondering how we would kill the time. We arrived at 11:40....
In this process, I have had so many tests that I am now almost qualified to give them. But of all the tests, this is by far my favorite. Why, you ask?? Because there was a great deal of napping involved. The nurse handling my prep was awesome and hilarious. She had my bundle up in my sweats and fuzzy socks (I just looked like a Pink Disney Michelan man), then brought forth yet another vial encased in lead. I said I really am going to be my own Weapon of Mass Destruction. She assured me all would be fine as long as I didn't run through the airport yelling "Jihad!!". After injecting me, she said she had to see if it took, then turned off the lights to look for the glow. I LOVE this woman!! After I was properly infused with Radioactive Glucose, I then had one hour of dark and quiet and calm. Nap. When it was my turn for the test, I was bundled up some more, and put into a larger, semi-open tube, that whirred and purred, instead of the cacophonous din of the MRI. More nap. When that was done, she brought me "steak and lobster": two granola bars and OJ. Yes, by far my favorite test.
The rest of our time in Honolulu was to be spent watching the Chargers at Islands Restaurant in Ala Moana Center - which meant another cab ride. Oh, Lord.... But God was gracious, providing a lovely, solicitous gentleman named Woo (pronounced oo), who drove gently, dropped us off EXACTLY where we wanted, then picked us up for the ride back to the airport later that night. In the end, we got medical stuff done - although no Dr. O-cubed - had a fun time watching our Chargers beat the Raiders, and came home with an adventure to tell.
We had our next visit with Dr. Altaha (Dr. Labradoodle) early Tuesday. This one had us all a bit tight, be we knew God was in control. God also reminded us of HIS control and our need to trust Him by letting us get stuck in back up due to an accident on our one two-lane highway from the westside. We arrived late - as did many of the day's appointments - but were once again treated with warmth and compassion.
So, the scoop: the soft tissue mass was inconclusive, as all the material was simply necrotic. Look it up. The definition is roughly: eeeeeeeaaauuuuuwwwww grooooosss!! But this means that they will have to go into the bone for the next biopsy. Waiting for the time on that. The P.E.T. scan showed no new surprises (YAY!) but the ones that exist are enough. I have the one biggie in my left femur, one small in my right., one small in my lower spine, one bigger in my mid spine, and one in the right upper arm. This means I am a Stage Four. But that's okay. God's got this. I had one more MRI on my spine (the girl actually asked me if I had an MRI before, and I was tempted to ask: "You mean today??") that showed a clearer shot of the oogie on the spine. I should hear from Dr. O-cubed tomorrow or the next day - which means, be ready to go on very short notice. He will take out icky bone and replace it with a metal rod. Wonder if refrigerator magnets will work...???
So, back to our de-calibrated life. It's a good life. In fact, it's a very good life. We are blessed beyond anything either of us could have asked or imagined - but that's simply the way our Heavenly Father works. What I want from Him is full and perfect healing!! But then again...what I want is nothing less than what HE wants for me!!
Many years ago, as Don and I changed our diet for the healthier, I adopted my "Six-Months-to-Live Eating Plan" - meaning, if Dr. Wonderful said, "Denise, six months from now, your ticket is punched and you're goin' home!!", I would start gnoshing on jack-in-the Box tacos and stuffed jalapenos, a can of Pringles a day, and double stuff Oreos and pretty much any of the Mother's Cookies brand. After our visit with Dr. Altaha, we were finally able to make that much-needed trip to Costco. As we were cruising toward checkout, going down aisles of yumminess, I pointed out to Greg the stacks of Mother's Iced Oatmeal cookies next to the Oreo Double Stuff - and kept on moving. In our cart? Tomatoes, and fruit and beautiful mushrooms and bananas and spinach.
Yup....I plan to be here a long while....
Let's face it. We are all attached to our routines. Even the most free-spirited, artsy-fartsy, fly-by-the-seat-of-one's-pants individual has consistent things in their lives upon which they balance the rest. It could be as broad as the seasons, or as minute (and maybe neurotic) as the precise schedule of the before-work morning ritual. having a certain amount of predictability in important aspects of our lives allows us the freedom of, well, sort of planned spontaneity. It's our individual calibration that we all live by - even those who deny so. And when life throws us curveballs and disasters or surprises, we flounder for a time until we re-calibrate, so we may begin ticking along in our new comfortable.
Don and I have had to recalibrate many times in our 35 years together. Sometimes for the good (marriage, children, moving, children, finances....and may I mention CHILDREN!!), and sometimes, for the not-so-good. But each times we adjusted our perspective and our internal clocks and moved on with life. Until now...for we have discovered......
The DE-calibrated Life.
When Don got this new job, we knew that it would bring many, many blessings - but there were also challenges. His days off, for instance. When he first started at Diamond, his days off were Tuesday and Wednesday making Monday his Friday and Wednesday his Sunday. The he got Saturday and Sundays off!! Praise God!! That not only meant that I got to go to church with my sweetie again, but every day was the actual day it was supposed to be!! Then, new sales team and new days off - Thursday and Friday - making Wednesday his Friday and Friday his Sunday. No sooner had we figured that one out than it changed again to Friday-Saturday days off. So now Thursday is Friday and Saturday is Sunday. Confused? Feel our pain....
In the midst of the last change was the diagnosis and the launch of the thrill ride through the land of oncology. We now had to try to organize our life around tests and visits and more tests and stuff and things and e-stinkin'-gad more tests!! talk about a loss of routine and comfortable. We have never, ever been more out of control of anything in our lives. And never have we felt such freedom.
Huh?? I know. You think it's the morphine speaking....ummm...writing. One might think, but one would be wrong. Since there is no "why" to be answered, since there is no cause to be discovered, since there is no blame to be laid - there is only moving on and doing what needs to be done. And being able to rest in the knowledge of God's ALL-ENCOMAPASSING POWER, brings me peace that can only be explained through Him.
So, now for the update and the what's up next: a week ago Wednesday, I got the awaited call from O'ahu to arrange for the P.E.T. scan. They wanted me there on Monday. Knowing that my M.E. (Medical Entourage) here was trying to get me in to see the O-cubed (Ortho Onco of O'ahu), which could mean we stay for a while so the surgery could be done, and that my sister was coming in on Tuesday, and we were supposed to have mani-pedi's (or as my beloved spells it, manny-petty) on Wednesday, and I wanted to have fun so could we not do it on Monday!?!?!?!? okay....so cooler, less silly heads prevailed, and plans were made for for us to fly out five days hence. The cool thing about this is that the insurance paid for my flight and cab, and we only had to pay for Don's flight. He could ride in the same cab with me. They also arranged for us to remain in Honolulu late so we could do something fun - not that having scans and stuff isn't just heap load o' chuckles! yee-haw. Anyway, more on that later....
Two days after we found out about the Honolulu trip was the biopsy for the soft tissue mass in my right thigh. This was to be yet another fasting test. Why do these people keep making me stop eating!?!?!?!? But we did have time to eat early in the morning, so Don took me to my favorite breakfast place on the island: Longhi's on Front Street, Lahaina. Grand Marnier French Toast....Coconut Syrup....blackberry preserves....side of the best bacon ANYWHERE.....and fresh, squeezed o.j...... Okay, so maybe this would hold me for six hours until my test. We managed to use up the time constructively for a while, then spent a couple hours at our Maui aquarium watching sharks and rays and jelly fish just move through the water which utter grace and ease. Yes, this IS how I relax!!
Finally, it was back to Maui Memorial and the crazy path from admissions to the refrigerated radiology department. Don got to freeze along side me this time. By this time, we also had noticed that our yummy morning meal - big and luscious as it was - was no longer keeping our tummies satisfied. We were hungry. In earnest. The tv in the waiting room had on the travel channel. About cruise ships. About all the FOOD on cruise ships. Cruel and unusual.... The biopsy itself was not as bad as I expected - thanks to the capable and kind hands of the doctor...whose name is a mystery to me. There was also the perfect air of goofiness, even though it was a bit chilling to her the nurse say matter-of-factly "She's mets", meaning metastatic. hmmmm... But it got back to funny when I said something smartmouthy, and then we got going. The actual instrument sounded like a very cheap staple gun, and before too long, all was done. Being the practical sort, I pointed out to this kind man that I lived in Napili, and since we were here on this side (meaning Central Maui, 45 minutes away from home), would it be okay if we went and did shopping at Costco and Walmart? He looked at me and said "No.". No discussion. No "if you feel up to it. No "as long your husband puts you in a papoose". He then pointed out that he had just poked a rather significant hole next to a rather significant artery. In fact, I was not even allowed to ride back home sitting up, but reclined in the jeep. Yikes. Anyhow, I was finally released, and because I was a good girl, didn't fuss too much, and promised to ride home in reclined comfort rather than taking care of some much needed shopping, I was rewarded with three stickers and a straw. I was very, very good.
Saturday and Sunday flew by too quickly, and then Monday was upon us. Once again, I had to fast before this next test. Oh, yes - my "last meal" at 6:00 a.m. could only be boiled or baked protein. No dairy. No carbs. No fruit. No flavor. My intent was to have a boiled egg, but Greg had used the last of the eggs and forgot to tell us. Good thing he's ridiculously cute and an unbelievable blessing, otherwise,, I would not have like his chances of surviving the night. So my breakfast? I had some cooked cocktail shrimp. Cold. With lemon. Nasty... But it got me by.
Since I have finally acknowledged that perhaps it might be in my best interest to behave as though my leg is not fully functional/reliable, I have gotten a cane (a cool wooden one, though not a magic Harry Potter one like my great-nephew thought I should get) and a handicapped parking placard - which makes me the first to get the invite to all girls' shopping trips and movie nights. This also meant wheelchair at the airport. In San Diego, getting a wheelchair means reserving one and having your own driver, as it were. In Maui, they point you to the stand of wheelchairs, you take one you like, and whomever your traveling companion is gets to be your chauffeur. Don't know what you do if you're alone. So, there we were, with only three carry-ons. Yes, I know that we were only supposed to be there one day, but this time my hubby insisted that we pack for the possibility of staying for the consult with O-cubed and the surgery to follow. That still meant my two chic olive stackables on wheels and his very butch small duffel. My spouse is extremely coordinated (making up for my lack thereof), and in no time he was pushing with one hand and pulling with the other while I had the duffel on my lap.
Everything went smooth as silk, quick as a bunny, no bumps - including the freakishly smooooooth flight - until we got to Honolulu. Honolulu. Home of Five-O. Land of Aloha. And also one of the largest cities in the U.S. and recent prize winner of the worst traffic in the nation. I think the last statistics have reeeeeally messed with the Aloha Spirit. The arrival was fine, and we were met by a friendly chap driving my wheels. Don had only to call the designated cab company and simply intone my name and ALA-KAZAM!! Our friendly chariot would appear. yeeeeeaaaahhhh,,,,not so much. Don called the magic number. Don invoked the name, Denise Dalton. The operator responded..."who!?!?" They had no record. So Don called the Imaging place which had expertly arranged all travel. They called the cab company. Again. Don called the cab company. Again. In five minutes, the cab company had lost my name. Again. My husband firmly but politely suggested that they write it down. They finally relented and sent a cab.
I have gotten used to Maui's little and efficient airport. I can't speak for other days, but on this day, Honolulu International was neither. Don followed the directions to the area outside Baggage Claim B, passing through Baggage Claim C. Keep in mind, he is still doing the push and pull and carry and stuff with his seemingly able-bodied wife. We make it out to the curb outside Baggage Claim B. Don called the cab company. again. They lost my name. AGAIN. But then they found it. Then began a series of actions that combine Three Stooges, I love Lucy, and the Amazing Race. The voice from the cab said we had to move to the cab stand. This meant pushing/pulling across a street in one of these lower level of an airport departure/arrival garages We went to the cab stand. The young lady there, with NO aloha, began yelling at us that we couldn't be there, that this was for paid fares only. We went back across the street, Don pushing and pulling - and now trying to get the cab company on the phone. Again. This time they had not lost my name, just their cabbie. So, now my husband is pushing/pulling/talking on the phone to a cabbie - for whom English is not a language yet mastered. We see him coming down the drive. Hallelujah! he slowed....said something through the open window about not being allowed to stop there...follow him..... So, Don begins his best to push/pull us to the cab - who keeps moving off anytime we get close! I also have to stop my harried hubby from running my off the sidewalk in his haste to get us to the fleeing cab. Finally, the cab pulls away entirely, leaving us in the proverbial dust and the literal exhaust. At this point, Don parks me, and slowly walks away while talking on the phone. My beloved is a very patient man in most circumstances. But...I noticed as he walked away, his voice got a little more loud with every step he took away from me. Keep in mind, this is in one of those echoey giant garage-y structures, so the acoustics are AWESOME!! I couldn't hear much except Don asking if this guy could not see the lady in the wheelchair (we were totally by ourselves, wheelchair or no) and other stuff, which my husband later confessed to me had a little something to do with the cabbie's training. After a bit, we saw this guy parked beyond Baggage Claim C - right where we had started!
Now, I know I look like a healthy girl, but I would think that the cane and the wheelchair might hint that something was not quite nimble with this particular fare, and given the destination as Hawaii Advanced Imaging, the dots should have been close enough for anyone to connect. Apparently not. The cabbie not only didn't help me in, but he proceeded to lecture Don on the high fines given to cabbies who stop at the spot where DON WAS TOLD TO WAIT!! We got in the car, and had a nice Mr. Toad ride to the imaging place. He still was muttering things about fines, but I just finally looked grumpy enough that he stayed quiet - until he pulled up to the address. We still had no idea where we were, and there was no sign on the outside indicating that this was the right place. Instead of giving us a moment, this guy unceremoniously unloaded us, STILL LECTURING MY HUSBAND, and took off.
After finding me a planter wall to sit on, Don wandered this beautiful and contemporary plaza - that was chalk full of restaurants and other eateries. Remember!?!? Fasting!?!? He found our destination and escorted me over, still pulling, although no longer having to push. When we landed in Honolulu, it was 10:00 a.m. I didn't have check-in until noon, and we had been wondering how we would kill the time. We arrived at 11:40....
In this process, I have had so many tests that I am now almost qualified to give them. But of all the tests, this is by far my favorite. Why, you ask?? Because there was a great deal of napping involved. The nurse handling my prep was awesome and hilarious. She had my bundle up in my sweats and fuzzy socks (I just looked like a Pink Disney Michelan man), then brought forth yet another vial encased in lead. I said I really am going to be my own Weapon of Mass Destruction. She assured me all would be fine as long as I didn't run through the airport yelling "Jihad!!". After injecting me, she said she had to see if it took, then turned off the lights to look for the glow. I LOVE this woman!! After I was properly infused with Radioactive Glucose, I then had one hour of dark and quiet and calm. Nap. When it was my turn for the test, I was bundled up some more, and put into a larger, semi-open tube, that whirred and purred, instead of the cacophonous din of the MRI. More nap. When that was done, she brought me "steak and lobster": two granola bars and OJ. Yes, by far my favorite test.
The rest of our time in Honolulu was to be spent watching the Chargers at Islands Restaurant in Ala Moana Center - which meant another cab ride. Oh, Lord.... But God was gracious, providing a lovely, solicitous gentleman named Woo (pronounced oo), who drove gently, dropped us off EXACTLY where we wanted, then picked us up for the ride back to the airport later that night. In the end, we got medical stuff done - although no Dr. O-cubed - had a fun time watching our Chargers beat the Raiders, and came home with an adventure to tell.
We had our next visit with Dr. Altaha (Dr. Labradoodle) early Tuesday. This one had us all a bit tight, be we knew God was in control. God also reminded us of HIS control and our need to trust Him by letting us get stuck in back up due to an accident on our one two-lane highway from the westside. We arrived late - as did many of the day's appointments - but were once again treated with warmth and compassion.
So, the scoop: the soft tissue mass was inconclusive, as all the material was simply necrotic. Look it up. The definition is roughly: eeeeeeeaaauuuuuwwwww grooooosss!! But this means that they will have to go into the bone for the next biopsy. Waiting for the time on that. The P.E.T. scan showed no new surprises (YAY!) but the ones that exist are enough. I have the one biggie in my left femur, one small in my right., one small in my lower spine, one bigger in my mid spine, and one in the right upper arm. This means I am a Stage Four. But that's okay. God's got this. I had one more MRI on my spine (the girl actually asked me if I had an MRI before, and I was tempted to ask: "You mean today??") that showed a clearer shot of the oogie on the spine. I should hear from Dr. O-cubed tomorrow or the next day - which means, be ready to go on very short notice. He will take out icky bone and replace it with a metal rod. Wonder if refrigerator magnets will work...???
So, back to our de-calibrated life. It's a good life. In fact, it's a very good life. We are blessed beyond anything either of us could have asked or imagined - but that's simply the way our Heavenly Father works. What I want from Him is full and perfect healing!! But then again...what I want is nothing less than what HE wants for me!!
Many years ago, as Don and I changed our diet for the healthier, I adopted my "Six-Months-to-Live Eating Plan" - meaning, if Dr. Wonderful said, "Denise, six months from now, your ticket is punched and you're goin' home!!", I would start gnoshing on jack-in-the Box tacos and stuffed jalapenos, a can of Pringles a day, and double stuff Oreos and pretty much any of the Mother's Cookies brand. After our visit with Dr. Altaha, we were finally able to make that much-needed trip to Costco. As we were cruising toward checkout, going down aisles of yumminess, I pointed out to Greg the stacks of Mother's Iced Oatmeal cookies next to the Oreo Double Stuff - and kept on moving. In our cart? Tomatoes, and fruit and beautiful mushrooms and bananas and spinach.
Yup....I plan to be here a long while....
Monday, September 3, 2012
No Cape, nor Coordinating Tights....
It has occurred to me in the past couple of weeks that people around me are starting to look at me a little funny. I mean, funnier than usual. And it makes me a little squirmy. What tends to surprise most people about me is that, even though I am outgoing, i am actually a rather private person when it comes to some stuff. I don't have a problem sharing the good stuff. I don't even have that much of an issue being transparent in the innumerable ways I screw up. But when it comes to difficulties, challenges, and bad stuff that comes our way....both Don and I tend to play it pretty close to the vest. So, when it came time to "go public", as my friend and pastor, Steve, says, it gave me some serious heebie-jeebies.
So, now most everyone knows of the new Big Adventure for Denise and Don, and I find that I am the recipient of many loving and positive notes and hugs and Facebook posts - and I love 'em, keep 'em coming!! But I also find myself, in more than a few cases, being given a status of near super-hero. Seriously. Don't laugh. But in the loving eyes of a few, it seemed that the cancer diagnosis came with a cape, coordinating tights, and a snappy looking mask. Not so much....
I would like to think that most of my perceived bravery comes from my faith in God. this morning my Facebook post quotes one of the all-time great scriptures, Romans 8:28: "For we know that God cause all things to work together for good to those who love the Lord, who are called according to His purpose". Awesome verse. Awesomer chapter. Check it out. Anyway, so i would like to think that this is the source of that heroic glow that I seem to have floating around me.
But, unfortunately, I think it is mostly still shell-shock. Three short weeks ago this morning, I was happy to have my MRI done so it could show the soft tissue injury in my left hip. It was Don't day off, and we had a great day planned. Duh. We live in Maui. So, I get a call from the MRI place. Come in for a CONTRAST MRI. This morning. Two and a half hours from now. See, I've watched enough Medical Center and Soap Operas to know that this is NEVER, EVER GOOD!! But in we went. The next morning was the call from my ortho (Asian Doogie) telling me about the tumor. Tumors.
To say a dark curtain came down at that moment might sound right, because that is how our spirits felt, but the dropping of a curtain comes at the end of a performance. Our curtain was just rising. By that afternoon, our show, the crazy roller coaster ride had begun in earnest.
SInce then, I have had my moments of being awake and lucid and clear-headed where I am just downright ticked off at this. A few days ago was a good one. Have you ever noticed how women will clean when they are perturbed? Well, that was me. The menfolk were off seeing the latest Bourne movie, and it was just me and the dog and all my pent up indignation. I found a couple of innocent skillets that needed some attention, grabbed an S.O.S. pad (how ironic/appropriate), and started in as I had my chat with God.
"Dear Lord," (scrub-scrubber-scrub), "You know how I said I will be blessed to be used by You for Your glory?" (scrubbedy-scrub-rinse), "I CHANGED MY MIND!!" (scurbby-scrub-rinse-scrub-rinse-CLANG!) "You know how I said I felt humbled to be chosen by You for such a thing as this?" (new skillet - scrubbedy-scrub-scrub) "CHOOSE SOMEONE ELSE!" By the time I was finished with this completely rational, totally reasonable exchange with the Lord, I had cried myself to calm - and had two skillets so shiny and brilliant you could use the reflection to pick stuff out of your teeth.
I do not like this. I do not want this. But here it is. I am in it. And God is with me. Always.
The process itself keeps moving at rather break-neck speed. I got a call from the P.E.T. scan people in O'ahu, and I am set up for Monday morning, so the results will be ready Tuesday morning when when meet with Dr. Labradoodle....Dr Altaha.....I have my biopsy tomorrow morning on the soft tissue ick so they can discern (hopefully) what kind of ick it is exactly so they can use the right anti-ick therapy.
Yesterday, we met with my radiation oncologist, Dr. Diane Tsai - pronounced "sigh" tsorta. Anyway, before we met with her, we had an opportunity to once again sit and wait. We were there toward the end of lunch hour, and so had the chance to sit and observe as the office came to life. In a room opposite where we sat were several comfortable chairs - teal blue leather (pleather??!!?) Lazyboys. The sign on the door read: "Medical Oncology", and we watched as a few people came in sat down, and had their medicine plugged into the ports implanted near their collarbones. Nary a frown in the group. There is a directory near the front doors of the department, and one heading reads: "Tumor Registration". Really?? You can register for a tumor like your wedding gift!?!? Yes, I will take my little barcode-reading gun and choose....the teak salad bowl set.....the ivory pillar candles....8-piece fluted stemware....and a 3-piece set of matching tumors!! Who knew?!?!
Our turn came rather quickly - never have had to wait too long - and met the newest membership of our medical entourage. Pretty soon there will be special blazers, membership cards, and a secret handshake. Dr. Tsai is yet another young and energetic doctor - and with a sweet sense of fashion in her cute little black flair skirt. I appreciate that! She is also a foodie. I appreciate that more! But we actually did talk medicine and cancer and radiation and stuff, too.
Turns out that my femur (thigh bone, for those of you who never watched ER) is pretty much trash, thanks to this tumor that has been hiding there for a while. I am almost certain to need surgery to carve out the bad stuff and put in a rod. As Greg said, looks like I'm still goin' bionic! The question is to do it before or after radiation, and should my Asian Doogie Howser do it here on Maui, or should I go to the big shot ortho onco on O'ahu (I LOVE the syncopation - gotta be a song!). Personally, I choose here and my A.D.H., but those decisions will be made by smarter people than me.
The good news for me is that my radiation treatment should be about 3-5 weeks, and each tumor only gets zapped for 1-5 minutes. I even can drive myself! So, radiation is going to be a lot easier than I expected. When Don and I were reading about side effects and managing them, it said to STAY OFF THE BEACH AND OUT OF SALT WATER. I was so cranked up about that, angry to the point of tears, before the doctor came in and said basically "Eh, don't worry about it. Sunscreen. No hot tubs. Go for it" The other fun thing is that i am going to get TATTOOS!! Fifty-seven. A Grandmother. I'm gettin' my first ink... Actually, it's little dots to make sure that the radiation beam shoots in the same place each time. Yes, you don't want to be misfiring these guys.
The not-quite-so-good news is that chemo is looking more likely. All of these decisions will be made after the biopsy tomorrow and the P.E.T. scan on Monday. I am even on the agenda for Friday's Tumor Board. Do they sit around and do their best Arnold - "It IS a toomah!" "Yes, but vat kind off toomah?"...
So, the ride goes on. And back to my original thought....oh-so-long-ago....I don't like this much. I don't like being transparent about my warts. But I hate being transparent about my needs. I try to help out others when I can. I loathe the idea of asking for help. I have my days and times of being funny and semi-brave. I have days and times, more than I want to admit, of being sad, demanding, and Princess Weenie Pants. I am discovering that there are a ton of things that are going to happen that are going to rob me of my pride - and that's a good thing. There are also things in my private life that will no longer be so. Not so sure how good that is.
I know God will use me in this, and yes, I really do feel His blessing and presence - but He gave me no Superhero costume. You see, the battle isn't mine to win. it is His - and He already has.
So, now most everyone knows of the new Big Adventure for Denise and Don, and I find that I am the recipient of many loving and positive notes and hugs and Facebook posts - and I love 'em, keep 'em coming!! But I also find myself, in more than a few cases, being given a status of near super-hero. Seriously. Don't laugh. But in the loving eyes of a few, it seemed that the cancer diagnosis came with a cape, coordinating tights, and a snappy looking mask. Not so much....
I would like to think that most of my perceived bravery comes from my faith in God. this morning my Facebook post quotes one of the all-time great scriptures, Romans 8:28: "For we know that God cause all things to work together for good to those who love the Lord, who are called according to His purpose". Awesome verse. Awesomer chapter. Check it out. Anyway, so i would like to think that this is the source of that heroic glow that I seem to have floating around me.
But, unfortunately, I think it is mostly still shell-shock. Three short weeks ago this morning, I was happy to have my MRI done so it could show the soft tissue injury in my left hip. It was Don't day off, and we had a great day planned. Duh. We live in Maui. So, I get a call from the MRI place. Come in for a CONTRAST MRI. This morning. Two and a half hours from now. See, I've watched enough Medical Center and Soap Operas to know that this is NEVER, EVER GOOD!! But in we went. The next morning was the call from my ortho (Asian Doogie) telling me about the tumor. Tumors.
To say a dark curtain came down at that moment might sound right, because that is how our spirits felt, but the dropping of a curtain comes at the end of a performance. Our curtain was just rising. By that afternoon, our show, the crazy roller coaster ride had begun in earnest.
SInce then, I have had my moments of being awake and lucid and clear-headed where I am just downright ticked off at this. A few days ago was a good one. Have you ever noticed how women will clean when they are perturbed? Well, that was me. The menfolk were off seeing the latest Bourne movie, and it was just me and the dog and all my pent up indignation. I found a couple of innocent skillets that needed some attention, grabbed an S.O.S. pad (how ironic/appropriate), and started in as I had my chat with God.
"Dear Lord," (scrub-scrubber-scrub), "You know how I said I will be blessed to be used by You for Your glory?" (scrubbedy-scrub-rinse), "I CHANGED MY MIND!!" (scurbby-scrub-rinse-scrub-rinse-CLANG!) "You know how I said I felt humbled to be chosen by You for such a thing as this?" (new skillet - scrubbedy-scrub-scrub) "CHOOSE SOMEONE ELSE!" By the time I was finished with this completely rational, totally reasonable exchange with the Lord, I had cried myself to calm - and had two skillets so shiny and brilliant you could use the reflection to pick stuff out of your teeth.
I do not like this. I do not want this. But here it is. I am in it. And God is with me. Always.
The process itself keeps moving at rather break-neck speed. I got a call from the P.E.T. scan people in O'ahu, and I am set up for Monday morning, so the results will be ready Tuesday morning when when meet with Dr. Labradoodle....Dr Altaha.....I have my biopsy tomorrow morning on the soft tissue ick so they can discern (hopefully) what kind of ick it is exactly so they can use the right anti-ick therapy.
Yesterday, we met with my radiation oncologist, Dr. Diane Tsai - pronounced "sigh" tsorta. Anyway, before we met with her, we had an opportunity to once again sit and wait. We were there toward the end of lunch hour, and so had the chance to sit and observe as the office came to life. In a room opposite where we sat were several comfortable chairs - teal blue leather (pleather??!!?) Lazyboys. The sign on the door read: "Medical Oncology", and we watched as a few people came in sat down, and had their medicine plugged into the ports implanted near their collarbones. Nary a frown in the group. There is a directory near the front doors of the department, and one heading reads: "Tumor Registration". Really?? You can register for a tumor like your wedding gift!?!? Yes, I will take my little barcode-reading gun and choose....the teak salad bowl set.....the ivory pillar candles....8-piece fluted stemware....and a 3-piece set of matching tumors!! Who knew?!?!
Our turn came rather quickly - never have had to wait too long - and met the newest membership of our medical entourage. Pretty soon there will be special blazers, membership cards, and a secret handshake. Dr. Tsai is yet another young and energetic doctor - and with a sweet sense of fashion in her cute little black flair skirt. I appreciate that! She is also a foodie. I appreciate that more! But we actually did talk medicine and cancer and radiation and stuff, too.
Turns out that my femur (thigh bone, for those of you who never watched ER) is pretty much trash, thanks to this tumor that has been hiding there for a while. I am almost certain to need surgery to carve out the bad stuff and put in a rod. As Greg said, looks like I'm still goin' bionic! The question is to do it before or after radiation, and should my Asian Doogie Howser do it here on Maui, or should I go to the big shot ortho onco on O'ahu (I LOVE the syncopation - gotta be a song!). Personally, I choose here and my A.D.H., but those decisions will be made by smarter people than me.
The good news for me is that my radiation treatment should be about 3-5 weeks, and each tumor only gets zapped for 1-5 minutes. I even can drive myself! So, radiation is going to be a lot easier than I expected. When Don and I were reading about side effects and managing them, it said to STAY OFF THE BEACH AND OUT OF SALT WATER. I was so cranked up about that, angry to the point of tears, before the doctor came in and said basically "Eh, don't worry about it. Sunscreen. No hot tubs. Go for it" The other fun thing is that i am going to get TATTOOS!! Fifty-seven. A Grandmother. I'm gettin' my first ink... Actually, it's little dots to make sure that the radiation beam shoots in the same place each time. Yes, you don't want to be misfiring these guys.
The not-quite-so-good news is that chemo is looking more likely. All of these decisions will be made after the biopsy tomorrow and the P.E.T. scan on Monday. I am even on the agenda for Friday's Tumor Board. Do they sit around and do their best Arnold - "It IS a toomah!" "Yes, but vat kind off toomah?"...
So, the ride goes on. And back to my original thought....oh-so-long-ago....I don't like this much. I don't like being transparent about my warts. But I hate being transparent about my needs. I try to help out others when I can. I loathe the idea of asking for help. I have my days and times of being funny and semi-brave. I have days and times, more than I want to admit, of being sad, demanding, and Princess Weenie Pants. I am discovering that there are a ton of things that are going to happen that are going to rob me of my pride - and that's a good thing. There are also things in my private life that will no longer be so. Not so sure how good that is.
I know God will use me in this, and yes, I really do feel His blessing and presence - but He gave me no Superhero costume. You see, the battle isn't mine to win. it is His - and He already has.
Friday, August 31, 2012
So, we're pretty sure it's not The Borg...
For those of you who are not Star Trek Fans (and why aren't you!?!?), let me explain about the Good Guys - The United Federation of Planets - versus the Bad Guys - Klingons, Romulans, and The Borg. The Good Guys go exploring the galaxies, discovering new species who, remarkably enough, almost all speak English. It is then the Good Guys who must protect the never-before-encountered-yet-articulate-in-English newbies from the Bad Guys. Up to speed? Good. It gets more complicated from here. Okay, so the first incarnation of Star Trek, Captain James T. Kirk (before he had to start hawking for Priceline. I guess a Captain's retirement pay from the Federation doesn't quite cover the bills), is mortal enemies with the Klingons and Romulans. He never even heard of the Borg. In this time, the Romulans looked just like Vulcans because at one time they were like all the same or something and then they like had a fight and Vulcans became all stoic and smart and junk and the Romulans just got a nasty attitude. The Klingons of this time looked like a cross between a sixties beatnik and some orange-tanned cast member of Jersey Shore. But I digress. Point being, they were all the bad nasties and Captain Kirk went about valiantly protecting all the well-spoken alien species. Flash-forward a couple of captains and tv decades later, and we have Captain Jean-Luc Picard, taking a break from doing Shakespeare-on-the-Green In Enid, Oklahoma. By this time, the Feds have made nice-nice with the Klingons - who have lost their Jersey Orange tans, but have developed a truly nasty case of forehead ridges from too much time on a tanning bed. The Romulans are still among the bad nasties. But then appears (duh-duh-DUH!!), flying at super warp speed, a cube that looks like something like a '67 Lincoln Continental that went several rounds with an car crusher. But these guys are scary. They want to "assimilate" all species, but barring that ("Resistance is futile" which has to be pronounced "Few-tile", otherwise no one will take them seriously), The Borg will simply annihilate what ever does kick up a fuss. The Borg are also telepathically wired to one another so they can spread a single thought throughout their "Collective", making them the baddest of the bad nasties.
So, WHAT the heck am I talking about!?!?!? Thought you'd never ask....
Today was the first of the results to find out how big the bad nasties were that had invaded my body. A week ago is when I donated about a gallon or two of my blood for them to ponder and examine and sell off the extra. So far, this has been the only test I have had since the many wonderful scans in the refrigerated radiology department. It doesn't mean it's been all quiet and calm. Not quite.
Thank God Greg has been here to take me around to all these places and be my general buddy when Don is working. We are losing track of the number of trips we have taken over to the hospital, including one extra special one to pick up re-writes of prescriptions that Walmart couldn't cover so we then had to go to a different pharmacy that the Cancer Clinic uses. WHEW!! Today, he actually came in with Don and I so he could be there to pray, be supportive, pray, ask good questions, and then...pray. He also has become our personal valet, as they are doing construction on the building (yay, MORE places to get lost!!), and the construction dudes pretty much take up all the parking. So, he tried taking it to valet out by the lobby. The declined saying they could not because FloJo also accompanied us, and they were not allowed to take a car with LIVE animals!! Kinda begs a certain question, doesn't it....
ANYWAY!! He eventually got the car parked and joined us in the waiting room of the Pacific Cancer Center. I really admire the overall attitude of these good people doing a hard job in a difficult area. We are always met with smiles and warmth (in demeanor, not temperature), there are usually home-baked cookies on the reception desk surrounded by gorgeous tropical flowers, and there is a giant jigsaw puzzle on a table for those who are waiting the long wait for a doctor or loved one. Today there was an extra treat - a musician!! A....HARPIST!! Now, I don't want to stereotype, but is HARP music really the appropriate genre in an oncology ward!?!?!?!? ("yes, this is what you may be hearing soon - and you just might be playing it!). So, we sat and giggled our sick, morbid jokes until my name was called and the three of us trudged back.
I know I talked about my oncologist and his sweetness and artistic acumen, but I failed to describe him. Dr. Ramin Altaha a soft-spoken Persian with years of studies from Hamburg, Germany and Johns-Hopkins and few more rather impressive places. He chuckles like an prepubescent boy whose best friend just said "booby". He also has a little gray in his scruffy beard (verrrry comforting, seeing gray), and a crazy, not quite controlled head of longish soft black curls. Kind of a Persian Labradoodle. But he makes what is so tough much easier.
Dr. Labradoodle takes out his notes and asks me what other tests I may have had or have scheduled. I respond about the blood, the biopsy scheduled for next Friday, the meeting with the Radiation Oncologist on Wednesday, and still waiting for the free trip to Honolulu for the P.E.T. scan. he takes down my answers. Then he pulls out his notes about the blood, and smiles as he reports that the blood tests show nothing in vital organs!! PRAAAAAISE GOD!!!! What does this mean?!!? The cancer does not appear to be from pancreas ovary breast liver kidney colon or even from any vagrant thyroid tissue left behind for 8 years ago. Any of these could have been very grim news indeed, as the prognoses for these types of cancer are equally grim. No Borg. No "Collective" trying to assimilate healthy tissue or destroy what it could not absorb.
This was the first good news of any kind since this nightmare began just a couple of weeks ago. Dr. used the term "if" instead of "when" for the chemotherapy. I have admitted to my family that I was kind of getting behind the notion of the smooth, no maintenance head. But then again, I have a very lumpy, bumpy skull and bald would not do. Besides, I am used to pulling my hair through the back of my mask when I snorkel, and I fear that the strap may just slip right off without it. So, yeah...pretty jazzed that I may get to keep my hairs.
But we're not in enemy free territory. The same nodules and tumors are there - and Dr. Labradoodle is seeking answers from the biopsy. And radiation will be hitting all the spots of enemy growth throughout my body. I spent some time ready up on the side effects of radiation. Not pretty. One instruction actually says to avoid going to the beach.......... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!!!!!!! We'll figure a way around that. Then, because I will have some zappage on my chest to get to the little pimples on my lungs, I might have throat troubles. Avoid spicy foods, it advises.....EHEHEHEHEHHEEEE!! I will likely be having three-spice hummus while sitting (under an umbrella) on Ka'anapali Beach.
Things are going to change in a way I don't like - but at least it looks like I will be alive to appreciate it. I was telling Gregory tonight that I have never been so completely out-of-control of anything in my life - nor have I ever felt so free. I do and go what and where the doctors say. It's not them I put my trust in, however - it is the God of Creation who put them in this position to help me. The medicine and prescription and radiation and all treatments may have their name on the orders, but it is God who gifted them and gives them insight. Don't get me wrong. I love every single doctor and medical person I have met in this process, and I am in awe of their brains and years of study and profound work ethic. But.... I know the power comes from above...
So, now back to my odd metaphor.... I know that I have used roller coasters and chariots. Don't mean to give you time warp whiplash, or shock your brain by referring to Biblical History in one entry then a futuristic fiction in the next. But in our conversation with my lovely Dr. Ramin "Labradoodle" Altaha, he expressed deep concern for the pain I would be feeling as the bone and muscle get eaten up a bit under treatment. He insisted I start now. He insisted on Morphine.
Told ya....I'll do whatever the doctors say.....
So, WHAT the heck am I talking about!?!?!? Thought you'd never ask....
Today was the first of the results to find out how big the bad nasties were that had invaded my body. A week ago is when I donated about a gallon or two of my blood for them to ponder and examine and sell off the extra. So far, this has been the only test I have had since the many wonderful scans in the refrigerated radiology department. It doesn't mean it's been all quiet and calm. Not quite.
Thank God Greg has been here to take me around to all these places and be my general buddy when Don is working. We are losing track of the number of trips we have taken over to the hospital, including one extra special one to pick up re-writes of prescriptions that Walmart couldn't cover so we then had to go to a different pharmacy that the Cancer Clinic uses. WHEW!! Today, he actually came in with Don and I so he could be there to pray, be supportive, pray, ask good questions, and then...pray. He also has become our personal valet, as they are doing construction on the building (yay, MORE places to get lost!!), and the construction dudes pretty much take up all the parking. So, he tried taking it to valet out by the lobby. The declined saying they could not because FloJo also accompanied us, and they were not allowed to take a car with LIVE animals!! Kinda begs a certain question, doesn't it....
ANYWAY!! He eventually got the car parked and joined us in the waiting room of the Pacific Cancer Center. I really admire the overall attitude of these good people doing a hard job in a difficult area. We are always met with smiles and warmth (in demeanor, not temperature), there are usually home-baked cookies on the reception desk surrounded by gorgeous tropical flowers, and there is a giant jigsaw puzzle on a table for those who are waiting the long wait for a doctor or loved one. Today there was an extra treat - a musician!! A....HARPIST!! Now, I don't want to stereotype, but is HARP music really the appropriate genre in an oncology ward!?!?!?!? ("yes, this is what you may be hearing soon - and you just might be playing it!). So, we sat and giggled our sick, morbid jokes until my name was called and the three of us trudged back.
I know I talked about my oncologist and his sweetness and artistic acumen, but I failed to describe him. Dr. Ramin Altaha a soft-spoken Persian with years of studies from Hamburg, Germany and Johns-Hopkins and few more rather impressive places. He chuckles like an prepubescent boy whose best friend just said "booby". He also has a little gray in his scruffy beard (verrrry comforting, seeing gray), and a crazy, not quite controlled head of longish soft black curls. Kind of a Persian Labradoodle. But he makes what is so tough much easier.
Dr. Labradoodle takes out his notes and asks me what other tests I may have had or have scheduled. I respond about the blood, the biopsy scheduled for next Friday, the meeting with the Radiation Oncologist on Wednesday, and still waiting for the free trip to Honolulu for the P.E.T. scan. he takes down my answers. Then he pulls out his notes about the blood, and smiles as he reports that the blood tests show nothing in vital organs!! PRAAAAAISE GOD!!!! What does this mean?!!? The cancer does not appear to be from pancreas ovary breast liver kidney colon or even from any vagrant thyroid tissue left behind for 8 years ago. Any of these could have been very grim news indeed, as the prognoses for these types of cancer are equally grim. No Borg. No "Collective" trying to assimilate healthy tissue or destroy what it could not absorb.
This was the first good news of any kind since this nightmare began just a couple of weeks ago. Dr. used the term "if" instead of "when" for the chemotherapy. I have admitted to my family that I was kind of getting behind the notion of the smooth, no maintenance head. But then again, I have a very lumpy, bumpy skull and bald would not do. Besides, I am used to pulling my hair through the back of my mask when I snorkel, and I fear that the strap may just slip right off without it. So, yeah...pretty jazzed that I may get to keep my hairs.
But we're not in enemy free territory. The same nodules and tumors are there - and Dr. Labradoodle is seeking answers from the biopsy. And radiation will be hitting all the spots of enemy growth throughout my body. I spent some time ready up on the side effects of radiation. Not pretty. One instruction actually says to avoid going to the beach.......... AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!!!!!!! We'll figure a way around that. Then, because I will have some zappage on my chest to get to the little pimples on my lungs, I might have throat troubles. Avoid spicy foods, it advises.....EHEHEHEHEHHEEEE!! I will likely be having three-spice hummus while sitting (under an umbrella) on Ka'anapali Beach.
Things are going to change in a way I don't like - but at least it looks like I will be alive to appreciate it. I was telling Gregory tonight that I have never been so completely out-of-control of anything in my life - nor have I ever felt so free. I do and go what and where the doctors say. It's not them I put my trust in, however - it is the God of Creation who put them in this position to help me. The medicine and prescription and radiation and all treatments may have their name on the orders, but it is God who gifted them and gives them insight. Don't get me wrong. I love every single doctor and medical person I have met in this process, and I am in awe of their brains and years of study and profound work ethic. But.... I know the power comes from above...
So, now back to my odd metaphor.... I know that I have used roller coasters and chariots. Don't mean to give you time warp whiplash, or shock your brain by referring to Biblical History in one entry then a futuristic fiction in the next. But in our conversation with my lovely Dr. Ramin "Labradoodle" Altaha, he expressed deep concern for the pain I would be feeling as the bone and muscle get eaten up a bit under treatment. He insisted I start now. He insisted on Morphine.
Told ya....I'll do whatever the doctors say.....
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Chariots of Undetermined Origin...
"When you go to war against your enemies, and you see horses and chariots and an army larger than your own, you shall not be afraid, for the Lord your God is with you, who brought you out of the Land of Egypt." Deuteronomy 20:1
Metastatic Cancer of Undetermined Origin.
That's what was scribbled in the Diagnosis part of the sheet ordering blood tests said. Of course, I already knew that, but seeing it in a doctor's scrawl brought it into light. It was there for anyone to see. The good people handling it would see it and know I wasn't in there for the usual. When the tech came to get the blood, she was cheerful and chatty - she seemed to know how much I needed that. I told her of our plans to head upcountry to Makawao to a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that was supposed to be one of the best on the island, which led to us discussing the dearth of good Mexican restaurants on Maui. A few minutes later (she was VERY good!!), I left - a couple quarts down on blood, but light hearted as I could now head off to one of my favorite spots with two of my favorite people. I could escape for a while.
But before we got there, we had the week previous....
The orthopedic oncologist in O'ahu ordered a contrast chest CT and a full body bone scan. This meant a trip to Maui Memorial, 45 minutes away. Praise God for Gregory being here!! He has unequaled honor of chauffeuring me to and from all these places. Lucky guy. I love that this hospital has free valet - seriously - so that all we had to do was pull up in my rather ragged Jeepie Blue Beastie (yes, that is his formal and full name), and pop out to the bright and airy lobby. The hospital had called the day before (Monday) and had pre-registered me, so the process was a piece of cake once I got there. Then I got the instructions for the journey to radiology...
In Israel during Biblical times, the tradition was for a young man to bring his bride to his home that was built as an extension to his parents home. This made for interesting in-law relations, I am sure, plus add-ons and remodels that would make a feng shui designer's head explode. Maui Memorial looks pretty much like that. From it's earliest beginnings and add-ons and new wings it seems it definitely adopted the function-over-form concept....sorta. The result is a series of buildings connected by hallways and walkways and elevators that don't go to the same floors. A couple of years ago, Don and I were visiting a friend in the same hospital and made the mistake of assuming that taking one elevator would take us to the same floor as the other. I think our friend got out before we did.
So, after I was duly registered, wristband donned (with a barcode, no less! I was tempted to go to the nearby Sears to see how much we could get for me), I was handed a piece of paper with directions. They are, VERBATIM: Lobby Kawaiola Elevator; 1st Floor; Right; Left; Right; Down the Hall to Elevators; to 2nd Floor; Right; Right; Down the Hall to Last Door on the Left Before Blue Double Doors. It's a good thing I saw the radiology sign, because the double doors beyond were NOT BLUE!! Coulda been lost forever....
The radiology department had a nice comfortable waiting area. A nice, refrigerated, waiting area. All the people working there are dressed for a Minnesota January, while we who just came in dressed for the 88 degree Maui summer. The staff understands this disparity, as they are ready with warm blankies for those of us huddled in chairs. A few minutes later, me and my Linus blanket were escorted back for my i.v. placement. Ick. But my veins just gave it up quickly and all was right - and then they brought the contrast syringe in a thick metal vial. Is that for me!?!? After the injection, I had the capability of being my own nightlight...or W.M.D. I would have three hours of the stuff floating around until the body scan, but I could get the chest CT right away. The contrast for this test is like having menopause in a shot - complete with hot flashes and a feeling that you should have worn Depends. But that all went quick as a bunny, and Greg and I were free to go have breakfast (it was a FASTING CT!!) and wander in a mall. I actually was bored in said mall. I must be sick. The body scan later went a little longer. A lot longer. One scan turned into three more, which then turned into extra x-rays. As soon as the folks there left me alone, we made our escape! Okay...they sprung me, but they were thinking up new tests, I'm convinced. But we left there knowing that something was up. But I would not hear results until I met with my orthopedist (Asian Doogie Howser) two days later.
The appointment came almost just opposite of a business breakfast Don had, which meant that Greg and I dropped Don off at work (on his day off, no less!), then boogied up to doctor, then Greg headed back to get Don, then the two hustled back up to doctor. Tired yet!?!? Fortunately, each was only a very few miles from the other. When my turn came, my men were not yet back - and the doctor had me wait until they were there. ulp! Have I said how much I ADORE this young ortho!??! This is wayaay out of his expertise, but he jumped on it with all the fervor of one caring for his own. When we were all there, he loving gave the scoop.
In our last episode, I shared that I had a couple of dangerous tumors in my legs. Turns out that there was plenty of company. For those keeping score: one in left femur bone, one in muscle of right thigh/pelvis, small one in lower spine, one in right arm (how random is that!?!?), plus teeny-weeny (Doc's words, not mine) nodules - two in lymph nodes in abdomen, two in liver, five in lungs.
So, that means no free trip to see the ortho onco (I do love the Dr. Seussian sound of that), because it isn't bone cancer. I met my general oncologist, and he is fun and pretty cute. I must admit, if it weren't for the whole cancer thing, there would definitely be an up-side to having the attention of these young professionals. Dr. Altaha's drawings, as he was explaining where all these pimples and warts were, had all the talent and charm of a drawing posted proudly on the fridge of a five-year-old's parents. But it was effective. I may not get to spend a few days seeing Ortho Onco (LOVE saying that!) - I do, however, get to have a free day trip over there for a P.E.T. scan so they can see more of how "hot" they are (never knew you quantify my level of uber hotness) and stage the cancer. I also have a biopsy in my future, plus a small surgery to implant a port somewhere around my collarbone. This way, all the blood coming out and the juice flowing in will have its own door, and I will still be able to go in the water - an absolute must for me.
I'm not gonna lie. This is a little scary. A lot scary. But God has been showing His mercy and care throughout. The scripture quoted at the top of this is one that my pastor referred to a couple of Sundays ago - when I knew about the tumors - just not how many. Steve was teaching the gospel of John, but quite frankly (sorry, Steve), I don't remember why the connection or what the verse in John was leading to the verse in Deuteronomy, but all I heard was God's voice saying "LISTEN!! This is for YOU!!" Seriously, I almost jumped up and hollered "hallelujah!!", but....I didn't. But this verse sums up what God is telling me. This verse sums up what I am facing and WHO is beside me. All these chariots. All these horses. This large, venomous army set out to destroy me. But I am not to fear.
This is not to say that I don't have my dark moments. There are plenty of those. This is not to say that I haven't cried. A lot. Or that Don hasn't cried. A lot. This wasn't in our plans for Maui - or anywhere, for that matter. We are blessed to have a family with a twisted sense of humor (do NOT know where they got that!) who are helping us get through. I may even post a blog sometime about the best worst jokes coming from this. I am also surrounded with a family of God who will hold me up - and some with the same warped sensibility as our bio family. I don't like what is about to happen, but I am ready for battle.
Like last year, my blogs will be mostly about this journey. I invite you along. If it is too much, that's okay. I'll never know....unless you tell me, of course... It won't be all about it. My life is too rich to be so focused on one thing.
Finally, this - something believers already know and non-believers never may: God WILL be glorified through this...and I am humbled that He chose me. Now, bring on them horses and chariots...
Metastatic Cancer of Undetermined Origin.
That's what was scribbled in the Diagnosis part of the sheet ordering blood tests said. Of course, I already knew that, but seeing it in a doctor's scrawl brought it into light. It was there for anyone to see. The good people handling it would see it and know I wasn't in there for the usual. When the tech came to get the blood, she was cheerful and chatty - she seemed to know how much I needed that. I told her of our plans to head upcountry to Makawao to a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that was supposed to be one of the best on the island, which led to us discussing the dearth of good Mexican restaurants on Maui. A few minutes later (she was VERY good!!), I left - a couple quarts down on blood, but light hearted as I could now head off to one of my favorite spots with two of my favorite people. I could escape for a while.
But before we got there, we had the week previous....
The orthopedic oncologist in O'ahu ordered a contrast chest CT and a full body bone scan. This meant a trip to Maui Memorial, 45 minutes away. Praise God for Gregory being here!! He has unequaled honor of chauffeuring me to and from all these places. Lucky guy. I love that this hospital has free valet - seriously - so that all we had to do was pull up in my rather ragged Jeepie Blue Beastie (yes, that is his formal and full name), and pop out to the bright and airy lobby. The hospital had called the day before (Monday) and had pre-registered me, so the process was a piece of cake once I got there. Then I got the instructions for the journey to radiology...
In Israel during Biblical times, the tradition was for a young man to bring his bride to his home that was built as an extension to his parents home. This made for interesting in-law relations, I am sure, plus add-ons and remodels that would make a feng shui designer's head explode. Maui Memorial looks pretty much like that. From it's earliest beginnings and add-ons and new wings it seems it definitely adopted the function-over-form concept....sorta. The result is a series of buildings connected by hallways and walkways and elevators that don't go to the same floors. A couple of years ago, Don and I were visiting a friend in the same hospital and made the mistake of assuming that taking one elevator would take us to the same floor as the other. I think our friend got out before we did.
So, after I was duly registered, wristband donned (with a barcode, no less! I was tempted to go to the nearby Sears to see how much we could get for me), I was handed a piece of paper with directions. They are, VERBATIM: Lobby Kawaiola Elevator; 1st Floor; Right; Left; Right; Down the Hall to Elevators; to 2nd Floor; Right; Right; Down the Hall to Last Door on the Left Before Blue Double Doors. It's a good thing I saw the radiology sign, because the double doors beyond were NOT BLUE!! Coulda been lost forever....
The radiology department had a nice comfortable waiting area. A nice, refrigerated, waiting area. All the people working there are dressed for a Minnesota January, while we who just came in dressed for the 88 degree Maui summer. The staff understands this disparity, as they are ready with warm blankies for those of us huddled in chairs. A few minutes later, me and my Linus blanket were escorted back for my i.v. placement. Ick. But my veins just gave it up quickly and all was right - and then they brought the contrast syringe in a thick metal vial. Is that for me!?!? After the injection, I had the capability of being my own nightlight...or W.M.D. I would have three hours of the stuff floating around until the body scan, but I could get the chest CT right away. The contrast for this test is like having menopause in a shot - complete with hot flashes and a feeling that you should have worn Depends. But that all went quick as a bunny, and Greg and I were free to go have breakfast (it was a FASTING CT!!) and wander in a mall. I actually was bored in said mall. I must be sick. The body scan later went a little longer. A lot longer. One scan turned into three more, which then turned into extra x-rays. As soon as the folks there left me alone, we made our escape! Okay...they sprung me, but they were thinking up new tests, I'm convinced. But we left there knowing that something was up. But I would not hear results until I met with my orthopedist (Asian Doogie Howser) two days later.
The appointment came almost just opposite of a business breakfast Don had, which meant that Greg and I dropped Don off at work (on his day off, no less!), then boogied up to doctor, then Greg headed back to get Don, then the two hustled back up to doctor. Tired yet!?!? Fortunately, each was only a very few miles from the other. When my turn came, my men were not yet back - and the doctor had me wait until they were there. ulp! Have I said how much I ADORE this young ortho!??! This is wayaay out of his expertise, but he jumped on it with all the fervor of one caring for his own. When we were all there, he loving gave the scoop.
In our last episode, I shared that I had a couple of dangerous tumors in my legs. Turns out that there was plenty of company. For those keeping score: one in left femur bone, one in muscle of right thigh/pelvis, small one in lower spine, one in right arm (how random is that!?!?), plus teeny-weeny (Doc's words, not mine) nodules - two in lymph nodes in abdomen, two in liver, five in lungs.
So, that means no free trip to see the ortho onco (I do love the Dr. Seussian sound of that), because it isn't bone cancer. I met my general oncologist, and he is fun and pretty cute. I must admit, if it weren't for the whole cancer thing, there would definitely be an up-side to having the attention of these young professionals. Dr. Altaha's drawings, as he was explaining where all these pimples and warts were, had all the talent and charm of a drawing posted proudly on the fridge of a five-year-old's parents. But it was effective. I may not get to spend a few days seeing Ortho Onco (LOVE saying that!) - I do, however, get to have a free day trip over there for a P.E.T. scan so they can see more of how "hot" they are (never knew you quantify my level of uber hotness) and stage the cancer. I also have a biopsy in my future, plus a small surgery to implant a port somewhere around my collarbone. This way, all the blood coming out and the juice flowing in will have its own door, and I will still be able to go in the water - an absolute must for me.
I'm not gonna lie. This is a little scary. A lot scary. But God has been showing His mercy and care throughout. The scripture quoted at the top of this is one that my pastor referred to a couple of Sundays ago - when I knew about the tumors - just not how many. Steve was teaching the gospel of John, but quite frankly (sorry, Steve), I don't remember why the connection or what the verse in John was leading to the verse in Deuteronomy, but all I heard was God's voice saying "LISTEN!! This is for YOU!!" Seriously, I almost jumped up and hollered "hallelujah!!", but....I didn't. But this verse sums up what God is telling me. This verse sums up what I am facing and WHO is beside me. All these chariots. All these horses. This large, venomous army set out to destroy me. But I am not to fear.
This is not to say that I don't have my dark moments. There are plenty of those. This is not to say that I haven't cried. A lot. Or that Don hasn't cried. A lot. This wasn't in our plans for Maui - or anywhere, for that matter. We are blessed to have a family with a twisted sense of humor (do NOT know where they got that!) who are helping us get through. I may even post a blog sometime about the best worst jokes coming from this. I am also surrounded with a family of God who will hold me up - and some with the same warped sensibility as our bio family. I don't like what is about to happen, but I am ready for battle.
Like last year, my blogs will be mostly about this journey. I invite you along. If it is too much, that's okay. I'll never know....unless you tell me, of course... It won't be all about it. My life is too rich to be so focused on one thing.
Finally, this - something believers already know and non-believers never may: God WILL be glorified through this...and I am humbled that He chose me. Now, bring on them horses and chariots...
Friday, August 17, 2012
My Own Colossus
I am probably the least coordinated person I know. My track coach in High School gave me the tender, well-deserved, if slightly-politically-incorrect moniker of "Spazz", because while I was fast on the track, being asked to jump a four inch curb would leave me splattered on the ground - and my teammates howling to the side. My attempts at dancing are even more....interesting. Just find me at any wedding. My Macarena leaves my arms in Macrame. I have been known to Hokey-Pokey the eyes of any unfortunate who happened to be within a few yards of me. And my Electric Slide?? Looks more like Electrocution. So, it does seem ironic to me that so often I use the word "rhythm" as a metaphor for the way we live our lives. Just when it seems that life has calmed down to its own steady beat, sure enough, just like me on the dance floor, we get a bit tripped up - sometimes landing on our faces.
A year ago I was chronicling our time back on the mainland - time which we did not choose, but in retrospect, we saw God's mighty and merciful hand all over it! But it was the toughest trial of our lives together. Little did we know that it was a warm up for greater things.
It seems that I quite likely have cancer.
Last year, I started noticing a pain in my hip. It was consistent with arthritis, and given my history - such as doing all my running workouts barefoot...on concrete - it made sense. My favorite medical person in San Diego prescribed a strong anti-inflammatory, it worked, all was hunky, all was dory. Shortly toward the end of last year, the pain came back, along with weakness - but I attributed it to irritation on my joint. Since Don had no insurance at the time, and it wasn't that bad, we just moved on. By the time Don started his new job, got benefits, we knew that something was not quite right. I'll save the long and gories, but after tests and more tests, they found a tumor within the left femur (thigh bone, which according to Ezekiel, IS connected to the - HIP bone), plus another mass in soft tissue near the right pelvis. Neither of these belong there.
My orthopedist (who by the way is wonderful and sweet and kind and YOUNG - think of him as the Asian Doogie Hauser) has been so on top of this that I think I must be on speed dial. We are become good friends quite quickly. Anyway, he already has referred me to and chatted with the guy who is the top Orthopedic Oncologist in Hawaii. This means Don and I get a trip to O'ahu!! There are a couple more fun things here, but then late next week or the first part of the following, we'll be on way.
In the meantime...life is still so sweet. I have never been good at sitting still for more than a few minutes, and this won't be any different. I have the most amazing husband in husbandom. My kids (yes, the girls, too!!) and grands blow my socks off with how much they have blessed my life. We've shared tears, and I know that there are more ahead, but we also share lots more in laughs. So, how is this possible?? Well, since you asked....
I have a God who is endlessly merciful, and utterly perfect in His plans. God is sovereign. God is faithful. I may not even come close to EVER understand why He does some of the stuff He does, or allows some of the stuff he allows - but I haven't kicked up a fuss when he has chosen to give me the life that He has, or sacrificing His Son for me as He did. For you reading this who are believers, this is no news. I have been reading a lot of Psalms and a LOT of the last chapters of Job (38-42). For you reading who do not know the Lord, I encourage you to find a bible, and go to the book of Job. It is awesome.
I'm not ever going to say that I'm not a bit scared. I hate this. But I promised God my everything, and I can't hold back. He has now asked me to ride my own giant roller coaster (read previous entry, "Riding Colossus"), but He promises to be right there with me. He has promised Don, John, Greg, Kyle & Kristin the same thing - even though their rides will be different.
So, everyone...Hands in the air...here we go....
A year ago I was chronicling our time back on the mainland - time which we did not choose, but in retrospect, we saw God's mighty and merciful hand all over it! But it was the toughest trial of our lives together. Little did we know that it was a warm up for greater things.
It seems that I quite likely have cancer.
Last year, I started noticing a pain in my hip. It was consistent with arthritis, and given my history - such as doing all my running workouts barefoot...on concrete - it made sense. My favorite medical person in San Diego prescribed a strong anti-inflammatory, it worked, all was hunky, all was dory. Shortly toward the end of last year, the pain came back, along with weakness - but I attributed it to irritation on my joint. Since Don had no insurance at the time, and it wasn't that bad, we just moved on. By the time Don started his new job, got benefits, we knew that something was not quite right. I'll save the long and gories, but after tests and more tests, they found a tumor within the left femur (thigh bone, which according to Ezekiel, IS connected to the - HIP bone), plus another mass in soft tissue near the right pelvis. Neither of these belong there.
My orthopedist (who by the way is wonderful and sweet and kind and YOUNG - think of him as the Asian Doogie Hauser) has been so on top of this that I think I must be on speed dial. We are become good friends quite quickly. Anyway, he already has referred me to and chatted with the guy who is the top Orthopedic Oncologist in Hawaii. This means Don and I get a trip to O'ahu!! There are a couple more fun things here, but then late next week or the first part of the following, we'll be on way.
In the meantime...life is still so sweet. I have never been good at sitting still for more than a few minutes, and this won't be any different. I have the most amazing husband in husbandom. My kids (yes, the girls, too!!) and grands blow my socks off with how much they have blessed my life. We've shared tears, and I know that there are more ahead, but we also share lots more in laughs. So, how is this possible?? Well, since you asked....
I have a God who is endlessly merciful, and utterly perfect in His plans. God is sovereign. God is faithful. I may not even come close to EVER understand why He does some of the stuff He does, or allows some of the stuff he allows - but I haven't kicked up a fuss when he has chosen to give me the life that He has, or sacrificing His Son for me as He did. For you reading this who are believers, this is no news. I have been reading a lot of Psalms and a LOT of the last chapters of Job (38-42). For you reading who do not know the Lord, I encourage you to find a bible, and go to the book of Job. It is awesome.
I'm not ever going to say that I'm not a bit scared. I hate this. But I promised God my everything, and I can't hold back. He has now asked me to ride my own giant roller coaster (read previous entry, "Riding Colossus"), but He promises to be right there with me. He has promised Don, John, Greg, Kyle & Kristin the same thing - even though their rides will be different.
So, everyone...Hands in the air...here we go....
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Riding Colossus
We all know about roller coasters. Millions love to ride them. Others more sensible - such as myself - prefer to watch them while having feet planted firmly (and safely) on the ground. They are the star attractions in amusements parks, and usually have the longest lines of eager riders waiting to jump into trains of open cars that hurtle them across metal tracks, up steep hills, and down heart-stopping, stomach-lurching drops. Some have spirals and twists, and some have loops. Old school coasters begin with the links of cars being drawn slowly up the first steep hill, with the clackity-clackity of the gears beneath as the cars are ratcheted steadily upward until they reach the pinnacle - suspended for a moment, then all cars are pulled back to earth by gravity, veering off sharply mere feet above the ground. Other more modern rides have a rocket propulsion that shoots the riders (in their little cars) out like a circus clown from a cannon before spinning and looping the screaming occupants (in their little cars) on the tracks.
But then there's another kind: it's called "Life". I do believe that if roller coasters were around when Jesus was here, He would have used them in His parables. Yes, I know that He already knew there were going to be roller coasters, but if His disciples had a tough time grasping parables of things they knew such as farming and fishing, what the heck would they have done with a metaphor based on Matterhorn or Ninja? But our lives are metaphorical thrill rides. Like the literal roller coasters, each of us have a different set of hills and valleys and twists and turns. Some of us get through relatively smoothly, while others seem to go on a harrowing ride with such nightmarish drops that those watching can't believe that the rider doesn't go flying off into space. At times, our coasters are in the dark, like "Space Mountain". Other times we can see the giant loops, like "Montezuma's Revenge". And then there's the feeling of dangling out there like the aptly named "Scream". Unlike those coasters in amusement parks and carnivals, however, is that each of us is in the front car, and it's only suited for one human being - but a place for a Savior, should we invite Him alongside. The other unique and extraordinary thing about our life rides, is that God has given us the chance to sit in any of the chase cars behind another in their own coaster - as many as we want for as long as we want, and without leaving ours.
A year ago, I was on my own particular brand of coaster, with Don in tandem, as we were found ourselves in a place we did not want to be under circumstances we didn't like because of situations beyond our control. We each had those who rode with us from time-to-time, but often folks were so caught up in hanging on in their own spirals that they had to move off for a while. But I had a friend on Maui who always seemed to be right behind me. Juli reminded me of how I wasn't alone as she pointed out Jesus. She would then make me laugh like a fool until it all felt okay. It wasn't that she didn't have her own crazy ride going, as a wife, mother, business woman (3 separate businesses, no less!!), and full time employee at a Maui resort golf course. But Juli never begged off, staying right behind me until Don and I returned home. In the months that followed, Juli and I rode on each others roller coasters from time to time, but since it was mostly the ordinary ups and downs, we didn't have such a need for the company.
In Southern California there is a monster coaster by the name of "Colossus", a giant old school wooden ride that dominates the skyline of Magic Mountain. What makes this unusual is that there are two tracks, with two separate fast moving trains. In April, Juli found herself shot into her own Colossus, as Willy, her husband of twelve years, was diagnosed with cancer. This wife and mother of three young children was strapped into this ride of breakneck speeds. There would be occasional stretches of the slow ascent, the ominous sound of her train clicking upwards as they waited for results, pain relief, treatments, and the medical professionals that would bring them. Juli's husband and kids each rode their own harrowing track, but Juli's had few more twists and turns as she tried to juggle her kids' and husband's needs, her job, and battling her fear of the unknown ride ahead. But she knew about the same car that ran beside her, with only the One rider. Juli knew that God was there. In the way that only God can do, He was also on the seat beside her - but God, being a gentleman, would only be there at her request.
In the cars that followed Juli on her harrowing roller coaster were friends and loved ones who could do nothing more than support her from behind. Many jumped on right away, but then jumped off when it became too scary, too painful, or their own roller coaster ride demanded so much that they had nothing left to share. Others watched from a distance, too nervous to step on. Still others offered to ride along - but only if Juli rode her coaster as they thought she should. None of these are bad people, they just couldn't do it. And even when there were those who were willing, Juli still rode alone with none beside her accept the lone rider in the car next to hers.
It didn't take long for it to be apparent that the ride would not be a long one for her husband. On Mother's Day, when most moms were brunching and lunching and receiving their well-deserved accolades, Juli was rushing the rapidly weakening Willy to the hospital. The doctors on Maui determined the best idea was to fly the two of them to O'ahu. As the news became more grim, Juli's husband became more calm and content, while she, as she put it, became a "blubbering mess." I pointed out that Willy knew he was going to get off his coaster very soon, while she was strapped in to her accelerating ride because of her love for him and the vows that she took. After a few days, Juli and her husband came back to Maui. His ride was leveling out and slowing down, while hers was going up a slow, terrifying hill. And when Willy's ride came to an end, and his Savior gathered him gently away, Juli plunged down the steepest, most terrifying hill yet - yet neither Juli nor Willy had any fear during their separate changes. They each knew that Jesus was there.
Today we said goodbye to Willy in our formal, unified way, yet each has done so on their own. Many have jumped into the chase cars behind Juli in her seemingly runaway roller coaster, helping with food, kids, and various needs. But after a while, many will have to beg off again, as life takes over and the crisis fades. But many will not. They will continue to love and support Juli, riding along behind, doing what they can to make her life easier. Riding behind is the best we can do. But Juli knows, and leans on, the lone rider in the train on the next track - who is the same companion in the same car, and by her side...always.
I'm adding a post script, which is almost a confessional. I began this a few (VERY few) weeks ago when Willy first was diagnosed and Juli described her life as a roller coaster. She still does, in fact, but not with words. I'll ask how she is, and she just gives me a wry grin and moves her hand up and down like the train on coaster tracks. I had intended to finish this, and describe what I saw as they went through the difficult treatment process - but I just couldn't seem to finish it. When I got a call from our pastor's wife, and mutual friend early one Sunday morning, I knew that God had wanted me to wait, because the story had to finish before I could. But after that...after that, I still struggled. I told Don I had never written anything that meant more to me, except for my mom's obituary and eulogy. I wanted to honor my dear friend, and share in a way that might be meaningful to some.
I also have the chance to tell you more how much these two were the very picture of sacrificial love during their last days together here on earth. When Willy was in the hospital on Maui, she drove every morning to the hospital and didn't return until late - forty-five to fifty minutes each way. When he was in O'ahu, she refused to leave his side to shower or sleep in a real bed (two or three hard chairs arranged was all she had). Their daughter, Seraya, was the Lana'i Princess for the Lei Day celebration at her school the Friday after they flew to O'ahu, and Willy insisted that he be home to watch his only daughter for this once-in-a-lifetime event. The following weekend, Seraya had a softball tournament in back on O'ahu, and Willy again insisted - this time that Juli go with their daughter for this fun weekend of competition and fellowship. It was the Saturday of that weekend that the Lord beckoned Willy home. There was no selfishness to be seen. Willy wanted to give this final gift to his beloved wife, and Juli had the selfless grace to accept it. They LIVED their vows!
Don and I were blessed beyond measure to be close witnesses to such an intimate part of a family's life. Through it all, their home was never a place of foreboding and death, but a place of joy. There were tears, to be sure, but there was more laughter. And there are more tears in store, as Juli and her children work to discover, as she calls it, their "new normal", but their faith is unshakable.
And that's all I have to say, now. I just wanted you to know...
But then there's another kind: it's called "Life". I do believe that if roller coasters were around when Jesus was here, He would have used them in His parables. Yes, I know that He already knew there were going to be roller coasters, but if His disciples had a tough time grasping parables of things they knew such as farming and fishing, what the heck would they have done with a metaphor based on Matterhorn or Ninja? But our lives are metaphorical thrill rides. Like the literal roller coasters, each of us have a different set of hills and valleys and twists and turns. Some of us get through relatively smoothly, while others seem to go on a harrowing ride with such nightmarish drops that those watching can't believe that the rider doesn't go flying off into space. At times, our coasters are in the dark, like "Space Mountain". Other times we can see the giant loops, like "Montezuma's Revenge". And then there's the feeling of dangling out there like the aptly named "Scream". Unlike those coasters in amusement parks and carnivals, however, is that each of us is in the front car, and it's only suited for one human being - but a place for a Savior, should we invite Him alongside. The other unique and extraordinary thing about our life rides, is that God has given us the chance to sit in any of the chase cars behind another in their own coaster - as many as we want for as long as we want, and without leaving ours.
A year ago, I was on my own particular brand of coaster, with Don in tandem, as we were found ourselves in a place we did not want to be under circumstances we didn't like because of situations beyond our control. We each had those who rode with us from time-to-time, but often folks were so caught up in hanging on in their own spirals that they had to move off for a while. But I had a friend on Maui who always seemed to be right behind me. Juli reminded me of how I wasn't alone as she pointed out Jesus. She would then make me laugh like a fool until it all felt okay. It wasn't that she didn't have her own crazy ride going, as a wife, mother, business woman (3 separate businesses, no less!!), and full time employee at a Maui resort golf course. But Juli never begged off, staying right behind me until Don and I returned home. In the months that followed, Juli and I rode on each others roller coasters from time to time, but since it was mostly the ordinary ups and downs, we didn't have such a need for the company.
In Southern California there is a monster coaster by the name of "Colossus", a giant old school wooden ride that dominates the skyline of Magic Mountain. What makes this unusual is that there are two tracks, with two separate fast moving trains. In April, Juli found herself shot into her own Colossus, as Willy, her husband of twelve years, was diagnosed with cancer. This wife and mother of three young children was strapped into this ride of breakneck speeds. There would be occasional stretches of the slow ascent, the ominous sound of her train clicking upwards as they waited for results, pain relief, treatments, and the medical professionals that would bring them. Juli's husband and kids each rode their own harrowing track, but Juli's had few more twists and turns as she tried to juggle her kids' and husband's needs, her job, and battling her fear of the unknown ride ahead. But she knew about the same car that ran beside her, with only the One rider. Juli knew that God was there. In the way that only God can do, He was also on the seat beside her - but God, being a gentleman, would only be there at her request.
In the cars that followed Juli on her harrowing roller coaster were friends and loved ones who could do nothing more than support her from behind. Many jumped on right away, but then jumped off when it became too scary, too painful, or their own roller coaster ride demanded so much that they had nothing left to share. Others watched from a distance, too nervous to step on. Still others offered to ride along - but only if Juli rode her coaster as they thought she should. None of these are bad people, they just couldn't do it. And even when there were those who were willing, Juli still rode alone with none beside her accept the lone rider in the car next to hers.
It didn't take long for it to be apparent that the ride would not be a long one for her husband. On Mother's Day, when most moms were brunching and lunching and receiving their well-deserved accolades, Juli was rushing the rapidly weakening Willy to the hospital. The doctors on Maui determined the best idea was to fly the two of them to O'ahu. As the news became more grim, Juli's husband became more calm and content, while she, as she put it, became a "blubbering mess." I pointed out that Willy knew he was going to get off his coaster very soon, while she was strapped in to her accelerating ride because of her love for him and the vows that she took. After a few days, Juli and her husband came back to Maui. His ride was leveling out and slowing down, while hers was going up a slow, terrifying hill. And when Willy's ride came to an end, and his Savior gathered him gently away, Juli plunged down the steepest, most terrifying hill yet - yet neither Juli nor Willy had any fear during their separate changes. They each knew that Jesus was there.
Today we said goodbye to Willy in our formal, unified way, yet each has done so on their own. Many have jumped into the chase cars behind Juli in her seemingly runaway roller coaster, helping with food, kids, and various needs. But after a while, many will have to beg off again, as life takes over and the crisis fades. But many will not. They will continue to love and support Juli, riding along behind, doing what they can to make her life easier. Riding behind is the best we can do. But Juli knows, and leans on, the lone rider in the train on the next track - who is the same companion in the same car, and by her side...always.
I'm adding a post script, which is almost a confessional. I began this a few (VERY few) weeks ago when Willy first was diagnosed and Juli described her life as a roller coaster. She still does, in fact, but not with words. I'll ask how she is, and she just gives me a wry grin and moves her hand up and down like the train on coaster tracks. I had intended to finish this, and describe what I saw as they went through the difficult treatment process - but I just couldn't seem to finish it. When I got a call from our pastor's wife, and mutual friend early one Sunday morning, I knew that God had wanted me to wait, because the story had to finish before I could. But after that...after that, I still struggled. I told Don I had never written anything that meant more to me, except for my mom's obituary and eulogy. I wanted to honor my dear friend, and share in a way that might be meaningful to some.
I also have the chance to tell you more how much these two were the very picture of sacrificial love during their last days together here on earth. When Willy was in the hospital on Maui, she drove every morning to the hospital and didn't return until late - forty-five to fifty minutes each way. When he was in O'ahu, she refused to leave his side to shower or sleep in a real bed (two or three hard chairs arranged was all she had). Their daughter, Seraya, was the Lana'i Princess for the Lei Day celebration at her school the Friday after they flew to O'ahu, and Willy insisted that he be home to watch his only daughter for this once-in-a-lifetime event. The following weekend, Seraya had a softball tournament in back on O'ahu, and Willy again insisted - this time that Juli go with their daughter for this fun weekend of competition and fellowship. It was the Saturday of that weekend that the Lord beckoned Willy home. There was no selfishness to be seen. Willy wanted to give this final gift to his beloved wife, and Juli had the selfless grace to accept it. They LIVED their vows!
Don and I were blessed beyond measure to be close witnesses to such an intimate part of a family's life. Through it all, their home was never a place of foreboding and death, but a place of joy. There were tears, to be sure, but there was more laughter. And there are more tears in store, as Juli and her children work to discover, as she calls it, their "new normal", but their faith is unshakable.
And that's all I have to say, now. I just wanted you to know...
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