I wasn’t quite holding my breath this morning, but man it was taking a long time for the doctor show up. We knew a chapter in this story was about to end when we got the results of the CT scan I had yesterday. Karly and I were just waiting, chatting a little, but silence would drift in and eventually take over the room.
Finaly the door cracked open, and Dr. Miriovsky poked his head in, said nothing, but curled his finger for us to follow him, and then vanished. Karly and I looked at each other, then followed him out into the hall and around into a little alcove to see my comparison scan images on the screen. Then he started comparing the results.
Well, God is gracious. After 3 months of therapy, my liver cancer tumor is showing signs of reducing! In general, the measurements between the liver and affected lymph node are showing a nearly a 40% reduction! I was not prepared for that news this morning, but it certainly was welcome. Dr. Miriovsky was pleased with the progress as well. While there are still hurdles ahead, we are taking a moment breath in this encouraging sign. Seriously. Just breathing.
The last three months have been a tidal wave of mental, emotional, and spiritual energy that washed over us as a family. I have never been confronted by more pronounced fear or seen more expressions of assurance and support from more people. It’s been a grueling wonder. This menacing disease has given Karly a chance to express her love and encouragement. It has opened new friendships and deepened old ones. It’s a blessing to be cursed sometimes. But I am feeling grateful for merciful God, a loving family, good friends, and Hope. I still have a long trail to walk, but this was a break in the clouds to let some sunlight in.
I need to make some comments here. I was prepared to still praise God for whatever the news was today. I really didn’t feel it was getting better – I get occasional twinges or pressure in my side that remind me that it’s there pretty much every day. I still have cancer – it’s not gone, and there is plenty left that needs to be treated, and still a chance that it could all go sideways. That’s OK. I have been learning a lot. For example, the last 30 years of living as a Christian has not been fake. I am not a holy person and I have not overcome all my sin, but I have clung to the old rugged cross for a long time now, and I have found that it is a sure foundation for hard seasons in life. This has been a season of applying the nuances of my faith, having a sure handhold with my Savior, and walking out into the dark trusting He knows the way. I have learned more about lamenting – not just crying or complaining, but healthy grieving over the brokenness of body I have experienced every day. There are blessings of revelation about the true state of my soul, my family, my friendships, and my life that came with my cancer diagnosis, and I am grateful. I want the cancer to die, but the revelation of truth it brought is a unique gift when seen through the eyes of faith.
So what’s next? We may pause the chemotherapy after this current sequence (After Nov 16) and focus on the immunotherapy into February. We have also been working with a holistic physician and will continue to use some well-regarded supplements and healthy diet choices to hopefully continue the momentum. We are notifying our surgeon of the scan results and will make a team decision. The middle of the road answer still looks like surgery in the February timeframe, but this is real progress.
But that’s a chapter a few page turns away. For today, I get to just breathe in some fresh autumn air.
