Alright. Let's get back to it.
I'm going to try to start blogging again. I think part of me was waiting until I could go back and journal about everything that's happened since March 11, but that's just impossible at this point. So we'll assume that you are generally caught up. If not, feel free to e-mail me at the address at the top of the page and I can give you a quick rundown.
In a nutshell, here's where we are at this point in terms of treatment: I entered the hospital on March 14, 2005, and a CT Scan showed a large mass in my pulmonary artery. The VQ scan showed no perfusion in my right lung and about 20% perfusion in my left (perfusion is the gas exchange--get rid of carbon dioxide, add oxygen to blood). I was on blood thinners for two weeks because the doctors thought it was probably an embolus, but surgery on March 27 proved it to be a sarcoma (a rare soft-tissue tumor). Drs. Marc Moon and Alec Patterson cleared the entire left artery (it was not connected on that side and "flopped out like a tongue") and were able to remove some of the tumor on the right side. The doctors considered removing the right lung at that point, but decided it was too much for my body to take at the time. Post-surgical CT scan showed no tumor on the left, and still considerable tumor on the right. The plan was to have me recover from the original surgery before removing the right lung. Unfortunately, 3 weeks after the original surgery, a CT scan showed a small gray area on the left and Dr. Patterson decided against surgery at that time in case the area was more tumor and not blood clot. I'm on coumadin (blood thinner) now, and also am in my fourth week of six weeks radiation. Another CT scan is planned post-radiation, at which point surgery will be considered (apparently) only if the left artery is completely clear. Otherwise, I will begin chemo therapy.
So radiation is every weekday at 7:15 am, with Technicians Jeff and Elesha. I've had some trouble eating and I've had lots of coughing (Radiation Oncologist Dr. Bradley says "Uh, yeah, you're coughing. I'm irritating the heck out of your lungs.") But I'm over halfway through this little segment of treatment.
That's the physical side of cancer, and that's pretty easy to explain. What's been holding me back is trying to put into words the immense emotional, mental, and spiritual side of things. God has done amazing things in our lives, and we've been overwhelmed by his grace and his people. We've also gone through times lately where we let ourselves get pulled down into the waves. I think of the Apostle Peter when he and some other disciples were out in a boat in the Sea of Galilee. When Peter saw Jesus walking toward them on the water, he jumped out and walked on the water to meet him. But as he realized what he was doing, and what kind of danger he would be in without Jesus standing there, he became anxious. He looked away from Jesus and began sinking. When he focused on Jesus, though, he rose above the waves again.
Too many times recently, I've let myself get overwhelmed by the earthly reality of this disease--the exhaustion, the gloomy prognosis, the fear--and I've sunk beneath the waves. The fact is, there's a much bigger reality that includes the disease, but also includes Jesus standing there asking us to trust him that we CAN walk on water with his help. We had great joy three months ago when we found out the diagnosis and jumped straight out the boat to run to Jesus. Over time, though, it's easy to get sidetracked and then start sinking beneath the burden and the anxiety.
But you know what? God's there the whole time, even when I take my eyes off him. And he never, ever sinks. And he always finds a way to reach in and remind us to look at him, so that he takes that whole burden and we float again.
In a nutshell, here's where we are at this point in terms of treatment: I entered the hospital on March 14, 2005, and a CT Scan showed a large mass in my pulmonary artery. The VQ scan showed no perfusion in my right lung and about 20% perfusion in my left (perfusion is the gas exchange--get rid of carbon dioxide, add oxygen to blood). I was on blood thinners for two weeks because the doctors thought it was probably an embolus, but surgery on March 27 proved it to be a sarcoma (a rare soft-tissue tumor). Drs. Marc Moon and Alec Patterson cleared the entire left artery (it was not connected on that side and "flopped out like a tongue") and were able to remove some of the tumor on the right side. The doctors considered removing the right lung at that point, but decided it was too much for my body to take at the time. Post-surgical CT scan showed no tumor on the left, and still considerable tumor on the right. The plan was to have me recover from the original surgery before removing the right lung. Unfortunately, 3 weeks after the original surgery, a CT scan showed a small gray area on the left and Dr. Patterson decided against surgery at that time in case the area was more tumor and not blood clot. I'm on coumadin (blood thinner) now, and also am in my fourth week of six weeks radiation. Another CT scan is planned post-radiation, at which point surgery will be considered (apparently) only if the left artery is completely clear. Otherwise, I will begin chemo therapy.
So radiation is every weekday at 7:15 am, with Technicians Jeff and Elesha. I've had some trouble eating and I've had lots of coughing (Radiation Oncologist Dr. Bradley says "Uh, yeah, you're coughing. I'm irritating the heck out of your lungs.") But I'm over halfway through this little segment of treatment.
That's the physical side of cancer, and that's pretty easy to explain. What's been holding me back is trying to put into words the immense emotional, mental, and spiritual side of things. God has done amazing things in our lives, and we've been overwhelmed by his grace and his people. We've also gone through times lately where we let ourselves get pulled down into the waves. I think of the Apostle Peter when he and some other disciples were out in a boat in the Sea of Galilee. When Peter saw Jesus walking toward them on the water, he jumped out and walked on the water to meet him. But as he realized what he was doing, and what kind of danger he would be in without Jesus standing there, he became anxious. He looked away from Jesus and began sinking. When he focused on Jesus, though, he rose above the waves again.
Too many times recently, I've let myself get overwhelmed by the earthly reality of this disease--the exhaustion, the gloomy prognosis, the fear--and I've sunk beneath the waves. The fact is, there's a much bigger reality that includes the disease, but also includes Jesus standing there asking us to trust him that we CAN walk on water with his help. We had great joy three months ago when we found out the diagnosis and jumped straight out the boat to run to Jesus. Over time, though, it's easy to get sidetracked and then start sinking beneath the burden and the anxiety.
But you know what? God's there the whole time, even when I take my eyes off him. And he never, ever sinks. And he always finds a way to reach in and remind us to look at him, so that he takes that whole burden and we float again.
Comments
The covenant promise of our great and mighty God for our chldren is seen in the life of our son as He taught him about Himself and taught him to trust, inspite of the failures of his parents. This should be an encouragement to Christian parents old and young. Praise be to our Father from whom all blessings flow.
10:35 AM