What Comes First

“But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” This has been buzzing in the back of my head for the last week.  It’s from Matthew 6, from the middle of the Sermon on the Mount, right after the Lord’s prayer.  The next verse starts with “Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow…”  It’s part of a compelling passage about anxiety and how it can control your life, and Jesus utters this phrase as the solution to managing our anxious lives.

First, the cancer news.  I am back in treatment and it’s an old pattern of Tuesdays at the infusion center for most of the day. Then hanging in there Wednesday and Thursday to start to feel better on Friday and into the weekend.  Stay hydrated.  Get some extra rest.  It’s not fun, but it is a familiar track to race on.

The two main updates are that I have had a new biopsy that confirmed my diagnosis of Cholangiocarcinoma, and I met with a new doctor at the Sara Cannon Institute (SCI) in Nashville.  While everyone agrees that the current treatment is the best course for now, SCI may be able to help find trial drugs that might help if the current approach fails.  It’s always good to have a plan B. or Plan C.  The biopsy I had will provide current tissue to test and look for markers that can confirm my eligibility for new treatments.

Please pray that my current treatment is effective.  I am also experiencing a little PTSD-like anxiety reaction with needles and injections lately.  I still have a port that works for injecting, but has become a little difficult when drawing for lab tests.  Last week was fine, but I have passed out several times recently when doing basic draws for labs and scans.  It’s challenging to try and ‘think your way through’ the moment, but just can’t quite keep from blanking out for 30 seconds.  It’s nothing serious but just embarrassing.

On the happier side of family life, Ella, Mia and Mason were on the robotics team that won the state championship and qualified to go to the World Championships in Houston.  We are still working on getting together the plans to see if we can make it for the trip.

Otherwise, life has a normal pattern while living under a rather abnormal set of circumstances.  Mason and Colin recently spent time with their Trail Life friends playing Airsoft wars.  Mia had a couple of friends over to spend the night, and Ella when out with a friend to go dress shopping and came home with half a dozen books.  That’s our girl! I got to spend a little time with Colin and Brenden tossing the ball and batting at the park this last weekend.  Ella and Mia spent the last week at an event called TeenPact in Montgomery where they practiced the legislative process and meet state and national leaders.

Seeking first God’s Kingdom is hard when you have your own daily responsibilities.  How do I give attention to the kingdom business when I have my own affairs to manage?  Yet, the truth I experience is that when I put the perspective and priorities of Christ’s kingdom first: Loving God and loving my neighbor, I find that I have less stress and a better perspective.  I can see how God has provided for me and my family above and beyond my own effort. Jesus connected the idea of actively engaging in establishing his kingdom with prayer and communication with God with the command to not be anxious. I am still contemplating how all this interacts and relates, but It’s clear there is a real progression here that is worth considering. 

Notes

• Cancer has returned in multiple locations
• Returning to Chemo and Immuno
• Multiple locations bad, small size good
• Fear is a chain to be broken: It won’t rust

Many Roads 

…Were meant to bring me here all along

Could it be that the many roads
I took to get here
Were just for you to tell that story
And for me to hear that song
And my many hopes
And my many fears
Were meant to bring me here all along

     ~ Andrew Peterson “Many Roads”

After a season of remission, I am humbled to announce that my cancer has returned.  With no symptoms, I went in for my quarterly scan in January hopeful that it would be clear. Unfortunately, that was not the case.  The CT detected “areas of concern” in several spots.  We followed up with a PET scan which revealed in more detail that the cancer had returned to multiple locations. It was hard news after several months of feeling confident that we had removed all visible signs of cancer.

 So today, I am back in the chair with an IV in my port, looking for the snack cart. We are picking up with the same treatment that was previously so effective: two types of chemotherapy as well as immunotherapy. I am honestly looking forward to tackling this again -It means I am fighting back.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not especially fun, but it was effective before, so I just want to kill some cancer cells.  Beyond the immediate treatment, I will be looking for a biopsy again sometime in the next couple weeks – we want to see if it’s the same type of cancer, or if its profile has changed and we need to adapt treatments.  I am also going to get connected with a research group to get on the radar for any potentially relevant medical trials.

There are a few good hooks to hang hope on: While we have multiple locations to worry about, it’s relatively early detection.  All the areas are currently small – measured in millimeters, not centimeters.  I am pretty healthy, working and exercising, holding my weight, and don’t really feel symptoms yet. We have a treatment that we know was effective previously. These are all good, real, and hopeful indictors.

But I have no illusions: This is going to be hard.  We have stepped into a new level.  The next three months will be critical.

I will be posting more often again.  So many people have prayed, sent supportive messages, and contributed to our family in so many meaningful ways.  Thank you.  I could not have made it this far without the love and support of family and friends.  Please continue to pray for our family.  I don’t get to do cancer on my own – I am forced to drag my wife and kids on this journey that we didn’t choose.  But there is real blessing in a cancer diagnosis: It reveals the hidden love of your community, your family, and your church.

I am not angry at God.  I was expecting to feel that, but it hasn’t shown up yet.  I am sure it will.  I have been sad and framed it with lament.  I have been afraid and expressed that to God in my prayers.  I am more broken when I look at my wife and children.  I am going to wrestle with that.

I have experienced many sovereignly timed occurrences over the past year and a half, many more than I have catalogued here. A couple weeks ago, I was contemplating a lesson, and I had a reoccurring thought that has stuck with me: Chains of fear don’t rust.  They must be broken, the links struck and worked loose, bent and cracked until they each fall away using the tools of faith, hope and love. It’s hard, thoughtful and spiritual labor.  

Please pray for me.  Pray for my family, my wife and my children. Pray that the many roads to this moment result in a healing of body, mind, heart and soul, and that we find our good story to tell, and a song to sing.  God is good – Even when He says no or not yet.  I am just trying to step up, kneel down, and honor God as I ask for my daily bread each day.

The Year We Hung On

It’s been one year since we discovered I had a Cancerous tumor the size of a peach in my liver.  I had six months of chemotherapy.  Nine hours of surgery in March followed by a 2^nd round of chemo/immunotherapy. Last week there was a new genetic profile blood test and CT scan.

The news was good – no sign of cancer in my blood, and the CT shows continued recovery from the surgery and no areas of concern.  I am done with chemotherapy for now; I will only continue another three months of immunotherapy according to plan.  Just a one-hour infusion once every three weeks, then we do another scan in October to see the next step. We are very grateful for the healing God is continuing to provide, the wisdom of my medical team, and the support and prayers of family and friends.

This year has been one where we have been hanging on – holding on to each other, to hope, and to God.  We have had so many ups and downs.  Truly, it’s been the hardest year of my life in many ways. This year of facing cancer, trying to love and lead my family through the uncertainty and fear, and honestly not always doing it well, has left us all hanging on.

While we may have felt like we were just barely hanging on, God was holding us securely in his hands.  If you take that as an objective truth, the subjective feelings of fear have bulwark of hope to crash into. Every step of the past year was taken according to the plan of an all-knowing, merciful and loving father.  Peace is not based on an understanding of our circumstances, but by faith in the character of God.  The scriptures are really a thousand-year story of God laying out His character against the ever-changing circumstances of a family, turned into a tribe, turned into a nation, and finally a way of salvation that transformed kingdoms and empires. My single year of struggle for my life is a small matter indeed when weighed against the ten thousand years of God stringing threads of his will through all of human civilization.  We feel like we hang on by a thread, but He holds all things completely and comfortably.

We recently were able to take out our trailer and go camping for the first time in over a year.  We ended up at a place called Cloudland Canyon in Georgia.  It’s a beautiful park, with one of the nicest campgrounds I have been to.  It’s part of the long plateau of Lookout Mountain, and it’s stretched above Chattanooga and the Chickamauga Civil War battlefield.  The canyons there were lush and green, and there is a 600-step staircase leading down the canyon to a rushing creek and waterfall.  Tucked down along the rim of the canyon wall, near the waterfall, where my boys were wading in the cool waters and skipping rocks, Brenden reached down and picked out a little wedge of broken stone.  He looked at it closely, and realized he found something special and brought it to me.  I looked down at the sliver of rock in his small hand and realized he had found an arrowhead.  I inspected it closely to be sure – it had the clear triangular shape, the tap-sharpened edges, and the notches to hold the ties onto an arrow.  Brenden was thrilled with his find.  I wondered at the timing and placement of this little treasure.  I am sure that tens of thousands of campers and hikers had been in that little wading pool beneath the splashing waterfall and tramped all around that little piece of history.  It may have been laying there for hundreds of years, season after season, until my boy reached down to pick it up, and had the insight to recognize what he had grasped.

For the Christian, we are all artifacts traveling in time.  We may feel stuck or lost, and it may get cold and dark, season after season.  But sooner or later, God reaches down and picks us up, and we find our value in his hand.

a sWEET sUMMER

• Anticipation is a Form of Faith
• Look up to Look Forward
• A Test Returns Good news
• We Say Thank You to Partners

The Empire Summer

What we anticipate points to our faith

In the late spring of 1980 – a good 44 years ago – I was itching with anticipation.  I was nine years old and the end of a long school year was coming. Longer days of sunlight and the heat was already coming on in south Florida.  I was impatient with the last weeks of school, longing for the freedom of summer break.  I just wanted the freedom. The release from homework and school.  I had dreams of running loose, riding my bike and racing through the neighborhood.  There was also a special movie coming out: “The Empire Strikes Back”.

Now, I had seen Star Wars back in 1977 when I was 6 and I had been captivated ever since.  It’s hard to imagine in this current world that there had only been one Star Wars movie, only 1 Star Trek movie, only a single Indiana Jones movie … there were no such things as ‘franchises’ with hours and hours of streaming content.  There were no books – Star Wars had never been on broadcast TV, and there were no video games.  It was just the movie, and you needed to see it in a movie theater.  That’s it.  Oh, except for the record,  The Story of Star Wars record; which I had played endlessly under a blanket fort in my room.

To say I was excited to see the movie was an understatement.  The anticipation was real.

For example: I was not a particularly good student, and I had been told that summer school would be required.  At one point my mom said that if I didn’t buckle down and do well, I would not be allowed to see The Empire Strikes Back.  This threat was an emotional nuclear bomb – I immediately burst into uncontrollable sobs for 45 minutes. In later years, we would laugh about it, but at the moment, I was devastated by the mere threat.

While that movie was a specific event for me, we all can point to many things we have sweetly anticipated over the years.  The childish energy of looking forward to an adventure movie gives way to romantic urge of a first kiss, the open door of graduation, or the deep nervous joy of getting married.  Anticipation is a real branch of Joy, rooted in a hoped-for event with have faith in. 

As a Christian, we have the hope of an ending that is actually a beginning, and radical promise that we stand on and look forward to.  The final experience of moving into Eternal life.  It’s a bold, big promise that we often tuck over the horizon and don’t consider on a daily basis, even if the sky is lit above by that coming dawn.  We keep our heads down on the worries we have, keeping our eyes on each step of our daily tasks, rarely looking up at the colorful sky filled with God’s hope and presence. 

We should be waking up anticipating that God not only has a future secured for us, but a present where He is our companion, guide, defender, and provider.  He walks beside us with an abiding presence that offers comfort.  He offers direction for our tasks and priorities that is balanced and wise.  He is willing to protect our heart and mind from accusations and condemnation.  And He actively provides for our lives through his providential work.  These are all reminders I have encountered over the past few months.

Last week I got good news on a test – It showed no signs of cancer in my blood.  This new test was a new baseline to measure early signs of a re-occurrence, and it did not change the fact that I am still in chemo- and immunotherapy, but there was a wave of emotion to wash over me.  It was anticipation.  Hope that I can be done with therapy soon.  Joy that I can move on away from treatment.  Hope that the dark side of anticipation – dread – might recoil from the light of God’s mercy.

The road through the night is still long, but I hope the path is now lit by a coming dawn.

On the other side of anticipation is gratitude, and I have much to be grateful for.  Even as we travel the latter road through treatment, we have been blessed by so many to help us in fighting the financial battle.  This front in our struggle has been greatly aided by so many allies that have come to carry a little of the burden, and so do a great work all together.  It has been an incredibly humbling experience to have to raise your hand and ask for that help, but we have seen so many people offer in their generosity.  Words are so inadequate, but we offer them anyway.  Simply Thank You.  We still have a way to go, but God has been good through his people.

So, go enjoy a summer drive with the windows down and catch the scents of the road.  And wonder what amazing thing God has around the corner for you.  I testify that God is rich is mercy and is willing to do good things for you.  As long is there is breath is your lungs, let the light of the coming dawn color your world with anticipation.

• Life is often a Mess
• Not having it together is OK
• Good people will show up
• Keep looking upward and outward

Karly and I were having an honest discussion a couple of days ago.  We’re kinda a mess, yet God is working through that.

This conversation thread started when Karly was scrolling through Facebook.  We all tend to put our best foot forward online.  Happy pictures with the kids, great vacation spots, and happy celebrations.  That’s the kind of stuff we like to post and get affirming thumbs up and hug emojis.  Maybe it’s a hot take on a political or social issue, or just a funny cat video.

I think it’s sometimes discouraging to see happy people in our lives always doing well.  We unintendedly create feelings of envy or distance when we don’t intend to.  I have been guilty of this – all the pictures on my first draft of BaileyLife have been happy and charming. But this is not the reality of our daily life.  So I want to be a little more honest.

We went to a local festival this last Friday and had a fun time with free food and a good band, and some Japanese themed entertainment.  But when we were heading out, we got stuck in the mud.  All the fun started to evaporate into frustration.  It took and hour to get some help to pull us out – and then the electronic parking brake would not disengage.  It took another 45 minutes to figure that one out.  All the while, dozens of people offered to help.  Three police officers gave over an hour of their time to help us figure it out.  There was hidden truths to be seen.

The dishes aren’t always done: the kids don’t do the chore chart every day without tons of vocal reminders.  Laundry piles up, and the dog peed on it.  The kids fight and take offense at jokes that turn into arguments.  There are homeschool lesson problems to figure out, reports to do, projects to complete.  As a husband, I am not the best communicator; I get a plan in my head, and I don’t tell Karly my thoughts.  I miss getting everything I planned to do done, then don’t communicate the changes.

Just trying to get this post together was a challenge.  I started, then stopped.  Tried again when I was sitting in bed, but then fell asleep.  Sometimes, we just run out of steam, even with the best intentions. 

Then there is this little thing of cancer casting a shadow over the family.  There have been amazing answers to prayers, and we praise God for them to be sure.  But I am also back in chemo.  I don’t feel good for a couple of days afterword’s – it’s hard to focus, my body is still adjusting to not having a gall bladder so I have more nausea.  so I have to keep up with my work and not always be great about helping with homeschool.  Liver cancer has a high recurrence rate – going back into treatment was not an option.  I must do the right thing for Karly and my kids, so if I need to endure a few more months of chemo, it’s not a question.

And there is a reality that finances have become an issue.  As many of you have likely seen, Karly’s sister Kelly started a Go Fund Me to help raise funds to cover the bills.  You can read more about it HERE, but the basics are that Insurance is still covering most things, but not everything.  We have run out of the HSA funds quickly this year, so all co-pays are out of pocket for scans, treatments, and appointments.  I have medications and supplements recommended by doctors, but not covered by insurance.  We have other household costs that have gone up substantially.  My raise this year barely covered the increased cost of home escrow (taxes and insurance), let alone the cost of groceries for 7.  The van has a cracked windshield that needs repair… it feels endless, and being honest about it in detail feels embarrassing and invasive and feels like we are inviting judgment.

Yet we are called to share our needs with our community of friends and family, especially in Christian fellowship.  And we have seen an outpouring of generosity that is a profound blessing and life-changing paradigm shift.  While this has been one of the most difficult things we have had to do – harder than cancer in some ways – we are working to see how profoundly kind people are from a lifetime of relationships old and new. It’s a remarkable tapestry of generosity. 

• To those who have sent encouragement – Thank You!
• To those who pray for us – Thank You!
• To those who have given – Thanks You!

My goal is to reach through this season and into what I believe is a new hopeful year with real and substantial and beautiful life beyond cancer by God’s hand of mercy.  I have seen my children cry for me and grow in faith and maturity this year, and I am incredibly grateful for it.  Cancer has taught me about honesty that was the hardest lesson I have ever learned, and I am working out all the implications still.

Finally, we try to not navel gaze.  We keep looking to help others.  We are very glad to have encountered and encouraged others on their cancer journey.  I may have stepped down from the Troopmaster position, but I enjoy coaching my own boys and being a Trail Guide for the other patrols.  Karly still finds ways to bring meals to others and encourage her friends.  We want to keep reaching out and up.  Send us a message.  It’s our joy to pray for you. For all our messy lives, there is a blessing to be found with humble prayers.

Psalm 103

Bless the LORD, O my soul,

and all that is within me,

bless his holy name!

² Bless the LORD, O my soul,

And forget not all his benefits,

³ who forgives all your iniquity,

Who heals all your diseases,

⁴ who redeems your life from the pit,

who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

⁵ who satisfies you with good

so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Overview

• 9 hours of surgery went well
• No clear consensus  on next treatment
• I have an amazing family
• Keep Praying!

Spring in the SOuth

A SUBHEADING

I have lived in many parts of the United States – Florida, Minnesota, Illinois, California, and Alabama. I love falls in Minnesota – the turning of the leaves and the crisp October mornings. Falls in California as well with the coming of the Santa Anna winds and some clouds after 6 months of endless blue skies. But in Alabama, I like the springs best. The warm weather before getting too hot, sitting on the porch before the mosquitos show up, and the wonderous flowering of the dogwoods and other trees that turn every neighborhood into a colorful parade of surprising color. It’s especially appreciated this year.

Five weeks ago I underwent 9 hours of surgery to remove what was left of the main tumor mass: I lost about 20% of my liver, my gall bladder, and ten lymph nodes. The nine hours was longer than expected, but it was a fully robotic procedure. I came out with eleven small incisions across my torso, but it was far less invasive than a fully open procedure. There was significant inflammation around the cancer tissue, but that just confirmed the immunotherapy had been working.

While I had the surgery on Friday, I was able to go home on Sunday, after only 2 nights in the hospital. I started going for walks in the park near our house on Tuesday. I have continued to get better and stronger over the past few weeks and have returned to work, but I am still not my normal self. I just don’t have the energy at the end of the day, and my digestion is a bit off, likely due to the loss of my gall bladder, but I am on the recovery road.

While I have spoken to several doctors who have called my treatment and surgery recovery remarkable, I can only give credit to God for his hand of mercy. I am not an ambitiously heathy eater or disciplined exerciser, nor do I feel like a ‘cancer warrior’ committed to battling this dreaded disease. I am just man trying to show up every day, take his medicine, eat the right stuff, go for a good walk, and let God do the healing. He has used my doctors and surgeons to apply wise counsel and effective treatments, but I humbly give God the credit for the arrangement of the circumstances. I have learned new dimensions to understanding God’s providential and sustaining hand, as well as the effect of the support of prayer.

Finally, I need to call out my family, and especially Karly. My kids have consistently been encouraging and loving, kind and thoughtful even as they have had to experience the fear of the unknown while still working on being a kid, each at their own stage.  I am so proud of each of them.

Karly has been extraordinary. This has been so hard on her to watch my struggles, offer encouraging words when she has been feeling the fear.  She had to sit in the waiting room for those nine hours wondering and worrying, praying, and facing the wall of fear. She has been the one to keep me going with healthy food, tea, supplements, and prayers. Every day for months and months. She has kept the family moving and learning and growing with a fierce determination that put herself last. I can’t help but feel incredibly blessed to have her in my life.  I am not worthy of the love she has shown me, but I want to be. I want to love this exceptional woman that God put in my life. And I want to do it for many years to come.

So, what’s next?  The pathology report was encouraging – Everything was cleanly removed, so it does not look like any of the tumor was left.  However, It was stage III advanced cancer that had reached the lymph nodes, a virtual highway to the rest of the body.  So far, eight different doctors and oncologists have not reached a consensus, but some kind of follow-up treatment is almost certain.  I expect another 3-6 months of immunotherapy, and maybe some reduced chemotherapy treatment.  We should have a plan by the end of the week.

Spring is a time of renewal, when the hand of God puts on display the beauty and wonder of life that is thriving.  We are trying to walk in that spirit of thriving each day.  We are incredibly grateful for all the prayers and encouragement we have received.  We both feel that it was the prayers that have carried us through the last 9 months – and we hope for whatever the next few months hold, we can continue to hold close to God and all his provision.

Beware the Ides of March!  March 15^th has come, and unlike Ceaser, I hope to walk out of my encounter with a knife in healing.  My encounter is knowing, and hopeful, if not easy.

Friday, I will undergo surgery to remove cancer in my liver and a lymph node.  Hopefully it will be all robotic, but it could end up being more intense and an open surgery depending on what the doctor actually encounters.  I am asking for prayer for myself, my wife and my children.

Our perspective in the world is sometimes only focused on the threats around us.  At one point in the past year, one cell in my body divided wrong and kept going.  My immune system missed it.  Nevermind that millions of other cells kept functioning correctly.  This little cluster got out of hand.  We forget the daily grace that abounds all around us.  We may have 364 days in a year that are warm sun or nurturing rain, but only one when a tornado shows up.  I am not trying to minimize tragedy or challenge.  Really, my Friday is going to be rough.  But I don’t want to lose perspective that there are a lot of beautiful days in this life, and there is a common, vast amount of grace in this world.

Please pray for us.  My paradigm of faith sees the sovereignty of God at work.  I have prayed for others in my life, but over the past few months, I have newly experienced the emotional and spiritual compassion of faithful people praying for me, and it has changed me.  If God is merciful, of which I am hopefully confident, I have a new trajectory for my life.  One way or another, I am going to have a deeper and richer experience after tomorrow.

We will keep you updated on the results.  Thank you for your prayers during this real challenge.  There is fear in this, but I hold there is a God working mercy – undeserved – but mercy no less.

• 6 Months of Treatment Completed
• Latest Image Results are ‘Remarkable’
• Surgery Date Set
• God is Still Good

We have passed a milestone, and have a new direction, and it comes with some good news, but confirmed one big challenge. 

I have now completed 6 months of chemo- and immunotherapy. It was a long process, and was becoming more and more difficult, but we did it.  So, last week on February 15, we spent the day at Vanderbilt having scans, labs and meeting with the surgeon.  The scan results were very positive.  Compared to the original set of images from last September, the liver tumor (and affected lymph node tumor) has reduced over 60%. He used the term ‘remarkable’ for the results.  I feel remarkably blessed.

With that kind of success, we were able to have an informed discussion about surgery. I am a little leading edge:  The immunotherapy that I have been receiving is a very new treatment for my type of cancer, and it creates two additional challenges. First, it’s inflammatory to the tumor area.  This is why I have been feeling discomfort in my side even as the tumor has been shrinking – it’s a good thing, because it means that my immune system is responding and fighting the cancer.  But the inflammation of the area makes the surgery a little more difficult.  It also has another effect: treatment makes the cancer tissue ‘sticky’, making to more challenging to remove.  (I wanted to suggest spraying my liver with Goo-Be-Gone and rubbing it out, but that felt snarky)

Despite the challenges, my surgeon was still very confident that he could be successful removing the last of the cancer.  It’s going to cost me 15-20% of my liver, my gall bladder, and a lymph node deep inside.  He was also confident that he could do the liver resection and gall bladder removal as a robotic/laparoscopic procedure, which would reduce my recovery time.  The challenge is the lymph node.  It’s deep inside my trunk and surrounded by some core arteries and veins.  He is going to try to do it robotically but will switch to an open surgery approach if necessary to make sure to get all the cancer tissue.  It’s a call he will have to make during the surgery itself depending on what he sees.  All that considered, we think it’s the right approach with the right surgeon. 

We scheduled surgery for Friday, March 15.

So now the preparation begins for that last mountain – God willing it’s the last mountain on this journey.  I will be honest – I am not excited by the prospect of 6 hours of major surgery. I am haunted by the surgery that my own father went through when I was 13.  That was far more invasive and challenging, and he recovered, but I can’t deny the daunting aspects of this solution.  I am on board, and this is a sound decision I am confident in, but it’s not emotionally easy.

I know that it’s not just a challenge for me.  This is hard for Karly and the kids as well.  There are plans to make and preparations.  I am glad to be done with chemo, and I am increasing my exercise for the next couple of weeks to build up my strength.  I am making time to spend with the kids and Karly.  I am trying to focus on the outcome, not just the challenge.

Did you know that every time your heart beats, 30% of that flow goes to your liver?  Did you know the liver is one of the few organs that can actually grow back?  I could have 75% of my liver removed before they would start to be concerned about organ failure.  It’s a remarkable organ within a remarkable system.  The interconnectedness, interdependency, and functionality of the human body is miraculous to me.  What is conscience in the brain?  How is cellular mitosis regulated?  It’s all a wonder, and we tend to take it for granted until something goes wrong.  Even when cancer invades, there are billions of other cells still working right. 

I see the hand of a creator and sustainer at work.  I see that designer’s hand in the endless stars above, moving among the uncounted cells of my own body, and His fingerprints further below in the mysterious quantum mechanics of the smallest particles. We are suspended in this life between the astonishing immensity of the cosmos, the surrounding complexity of our own existence, and the mysterious reality of the subatomic. Though a paradigm of faith I can see an order and a balance to existence, and even further, I see purpose.  It’s humbling.  It’s encouraging.  It’s even glorious.  That little pain in my side has reminded me that hurting can be part of the healing process, and that mercy is still something that God expreses.
Please keep praying – there are still mountains to climb and valleys to stumble through.  As we move closer to the next big step on March 15, I’ll keep everyone updated.

First, some updates: I am nearing the end of my 6 months of chemotherapy: February 6th is my last scheduled treatment. We now have new appointments on the board: 2/13 is a CT scan and 2/15 is my next consultation with the surgeon at Vanderbilt.  There are a lot of branching possibilities depending on the scan and tests, but the middle of the road is to expect some kind of surgery 3-4 weeks after my last Chemo treatment.  Maybe.  Unfortunately, we just don’t get to see past the next set of tests to see what the future has in store.   

My treatments have become increasingly challenging.  The fatigue is real and persistent.  I spend a full Tuesday at Clearview Cancer Institute getting my infusions, and the fatigue builds Wednesday and Thursday and peaks on Fridays.  Then over the weekend, I start to get a little more energy.  It’s challenging to keep clear-minded as well.  Karly and the kids all dance to this rhythm, giving me space, encouragement and patience as I work through the process. It’s a new routine, but it’s never normal. 

We have noted a few interesting things about my particular brand of cancer and treatment. For one, I have discovered my own form of cancer-induced male PMS!  I tend to get a little emotional and ‘dramatic’ on my down days. My naturally emotive self really comes out when I am tired and feeling blue.  Karly is both patient and amused at my displays of sensitive manhood. 

There are a few common questions that I can answer.  I have not lost my hair, (Well, at least not any more.  It was thin to begin with.)  I am not supposed to hug small children and pets the first couple of days after a treatment, since I am RADIOACTIVE MAN! (no super-powers yet.) I had a port installed in my chest to be able to take chemo, So I consider myself fully a cyborg now. (I am Locutus of Borg…).   

We have this weird mix of the serious and the absurd.  The shadow of cancer falls over everything.  How do we plan for summer trips? How will I feel this weekend? What do I step back from?  We have been told many times that it’s OK to step back and say no to taking on things. Take time for yourself.  And there is a certain reality where we have changed focus.  I stepped down from being Troopmaster in Trail Life.  But there is also reasons not to give in to a fully self-focused life, even when the struggles are real. 

I look at it this way.  I am glad that Paul didn’t say “I am stuck here in prison, chained to this guard.  Things look bleak.  I should really focus on myself and my situation – The Philippians will be able to take care of themselves for awhile while I practice some self-care.”  Instead, he wrote: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  When you remember the context of where and when Paul was writing, his encouragement is remarkable. 

It’s easy, and even expected that we should curl up and turn inward when hard times come.  I have done some of that.  But it’s also isolating.  Keeping a compassionate eye toward others is a way to keep your own balance.  I think as I roll into the early weeks of a new year, I am less concerned about a personal new resolution or some trendy form of self-improvement, and I am more likely to lean over and offer a hand to someone else. I’m doing ok, God is gracious and has a plan I trust, even if I don’t know it.

How are you? 

First, we are still in the race.  While we were very encouraged to hear that the tumor has been reduced after three months of therapy, the team has decided to keep up the full regimen for the full 6 months. Basically, don’t take your foot off the throttle if it’s working.  The downside is that I never get quite a chance to fully recover, so the fatigue and side effects are somewhat cumulative.  Each time is taking a little more time to bounce back, a little longer in the fog.  But the reality is this is a marathon, and I am in it to win it, so by God’s grace, I’ll keep running.  The new milestone is February 6 – A full six months of therapy. Then a new CT Scan and likely a liver resection surgery.

I am thankful for cancer.  I have been dancing around that statement for sometime, but I think I can finally state it honestly.

It’s going to take some explanation, right?  How can I possibly be grateful a life-threatening illness whose treatment is taking poison just enough to kill the cancer but not quite kill you?  What about the fear it’s introduced to my wife, my kids, and myself? Being confronted with Cancer with a capital C means you are going to have to face your world in a hard way. 

Some foundations were tested and revealed to be sure.  My faith in God as a Christian gave me real strength and perspective.  More on that in a moment.  My wife was a real blessing: Karly expressed her love for me in real ways for my mental, emotional and spiritual health, and it has allowed our relationship to grow into new, more open ways.  My children have all grown in ways that has given them a more mature perspective as they have processed our family situation.  No one is perfect, and we have all had our moments of frustration.  But we are doing this together.

I am grateful because the cancer has made me more vulnerable.  I am less self-reliant and more dependent on God, my family, my church and my friends.  It’s healthier to be more interdependent in a community.  Some of the old American ideas of self-reliance go too far into isolation and alienation.  Yes, we should be responsible and capable adults able to take care of our basic needs, but we should also be humbly open to share experiences and burdens.  It’s the model of the most ancient church, and the best still for thriving modern faith communities.

One other complex idea that I have been meditating on is that this cancer is actually a gift and challenge from God.  I have never bought into the prosperity gospel messages.  God is not a shallow gift-giver only looking to give material Gifts.  He is not Santa Clause.  The Scriptures reveal a far more compelling, meaningful, and real perspective.  God allows hard and harrowing events to happen to his faithful people all the time.  From the fates of the disciples (None of whom ended healthy or wealthy) to the martyrs of the early church, it’s clear that God has a purpose in working through suffering.  It builds faith, reveals character, validates sincerity, instills compassion, and nurtures empathy.

Thanksgiving was a time of deeper gratitude than I have known for many years.  It was richer because of the circumstances.  And Christmas has always been about hope fulfilled.  So I find myself standing between those grand ideals, not with a shallow faith, but reaching into something more robust and enduring. Through the gates of thanksgiving, I can embrace the reality of hope that Christmas offers.

So Merry Blessed Christmas!