The God-Factor

Ann Sophie, Will, and Astrid came back from Germany last night and I’m so glad they’re here again. They attended a memorial service for Annso’s grandmother who passed away last week among other things. I’m reminded that I also almost passed away earlier this year.

But at 49 years old, I thought I had lots more time. It turns out I might have been right at the end without even knowing it. 

Was I ready if the end did come? I’d like to think so. 

For now, I’m taking chemo meds every morning and every night doing whatever I can to stick around as long as I possibly can and the results are looking good. I have more to live for than ever before! 

On a different note, I got a follow-up call yesterday from a guy at the US Social Security office who wanted to work on finishing up my application for a disability benefit.

When he asked about my disability and heard me say “stage 4 lung Cancer”, he told me I would definitely qualify and that the payout would be labelled a ‘compassion benefit’. It would also carry on for Annso and Will in my absence. He didn’t come right out and say it, but thankfully, the benefit would continue even if I did not. 

What a wonderful thing, and for it, I’m very thankful, but it’s also sobering in another sense when statistically the world sees you as a man who will not be alive 5 years from now. Think about it. How would you feel if you knew that you would be gone within the next 5 years?

Then later the same day, Mom and I went to a check-up at the Mayo Clinic. My Mom is the queen of questions and she kept on firing away at the doc. One thing she asked was, “If the chemo meds have worked this good so far, can we expect them to keep working this way until the cancer is eventually totally gone?” 

We got more sobering news.

The doc said in her experience, there will be a plaining off then sometimes a turn before the cancer starts to grow again. But, at that point, we will come up with another plan.

“Wait a second, what?”

The effect this info had on me were strong reminders that I’m not out of the woods at all, that this kind of cancer is resilient and resistant to even the best treatment… and that most of the time, the medical community encounters some road blocks to a smooth, speedy recovery… even with a genetic match and some of the most advanced chemo treatment available.

Apparently, the ‘Match’ they found for me is not guaranteed to be the Silver Bullet I was hoping it would be. hmmm. 

Once Mom and I were in the elevator talking about the meeting, I shared how I felt. “Twice today, I was basically told by professionals that I won’t be around long.”

Without skipping a beat, Mom said quickly, “But they’re leaving out the God-Factor!” 

Yes! The God-factor! Of course, how could I forget that?

With only science and medicine, we can go part of the way, but it’s faith in the Creator of all life that finally brings the ship ashore. Common sense and reason only take me part of the way.

It’s faith that brings me home! 

Living like you’ll Live

We have small group tonight, and have been trying to get plugged into life in Rochester as much as I’m able. We have some new friends and most of them are from a great church we became part of almost right when we got here. 

From the first day here, I’ve been trying to do things that assume I’ll be alive and well down the road. When I got a Minnesota driver’s license, I took the extra test and paid the extra money to get my motorcycle endorsement transferred over from my Hawaii license even though I no longer have a bike. I’m sure I’ll get one at some point and I want to be ready when that day comes.

Annso and I got ourselves a 75 gallon fish tank with a bunch of African Cichlids in it because everything we do doesn’t need to be about medicine, survival and hospitals.

It’s still amazing what you can get on Craigslist.

 Of course having a baby assumes a certain level of commitment and participation in life, then again, we didn’t know I had cancer when Will came along. 

And… if everything goes as planned, Annso and I will close on a single family home right here in Rochester that was made into a triplex sometimes back in the 50’s. We hope to occupy one of the downstairs units and a couple really nice tenants already occupy the others. You can see the house in the background of this joyous tomato harvester.

It’s always been my dream to own a rental property and now we just might be able to do that and cut our monthly housing payment in half in the process. God really does the impossible if you let him. 

God really does take pleasure in looking out for the weak. He loves to help out the broken-hearted. If you read the Bible, you can find it everywhere. He takes the side of the low and the meek while opposing the proud and the self-righteous. 

In the goals I made while we started this fight back in May, 1 of them was to accomplish something every day that didn’t have to do with cancer or directly to do with getting well. 

The fish tank and the house came out of that plan. 

It’s healthy, I think, to work on things that are not only about survival. Write down dreams and share them with God,  then see what happens. He just might help you out in ways you’d never expect. 

Annso and I are looking forward to life here in Rochester, Minnesota even though it’s not a place I thought of living in a million years. 

When our time in Hawaii ended abruptly, I knew we were coming here, but not how long. 

We figure it’s as good a place as any to raise out little family and I need to stay close to the clinic for a few years anyway. Might as well embrace life in Small Town USA. It’s been good to us so far.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us…”

Ephesians 3:20

A Moment of Truth

As Nelson wrote in his last blog post, he’s looking forward to the scans that are scheduled to happen this Wednesday. It will have been six weeks since he started taking the immunotherapy pills (two each day), and the upcoming scans will be a moment of truth: Are the pills working or not?

In recent days Nelson has been feeling almost like his old self, breathing well without extra oxygen, cutting back on the pain pills, sleeping less, and dealing with only mild nausea. But as is true of this cancer, no matter how good he feels, there’s always a new crisis quietly brewing in the background.

On Friday, September 16, he, Ann Sophie, and Will drove the 80 miles to Luke’s house to spend a quiet weekend away from the apartment and from all things medical. But during the night, Nelson spiked a fever (102.7) accompanied by chills so powerful he shook all over. His oxygen slipped to 80 with a heartbeat of 160.

 On Saturday, the high fever and chills returned, prompting them to call back to Mayo’s for a doctor’s opinion. Their advice was for Nelson to head for the ER…again. So they left Luke’s in a rush, and he was checked into Emergency by late afternoon.

It was another nine hours before doctors finished all their tests and had the results in hand. Since his numbers seemed to be where they’ve been recently, many in the normal range, they weren’t sure what was causing the fevers, chills, fast heart, and low oxygen.

A thousand mg of Tylenol brought the fever down, but they hesitated to let him go without a reason for his symptoms. They did have a couple of ideas, though. The doctor told Nelson, “These pills you’re taking (immunotherapy) are hard core drugs.” In other words, it’s possible the weeks of taking them have accumulated somehow to now cause his body to react negatively.

Their other idea was that his cutting back on the opioids might be causing the same withdrawal symptoms as any addictive drug would cause.

Nelson hoped not to be admitted to the hospital again, and though the doctor suggested an overnight stay for monitoring, he chose instead to head home. But that wasn’t the end of it.

Today the fever and other symptoms have returned, and though Ann Sophie urged him to return to the ER, Nelson wanted to battle it out at home. They did call the doctor, who suggested they “pause” the immunotherapy pills for now. Nelson has four appointments at the Clinic this week, and as always, the medical staff will be current on all that’s occurred in these last couple of days.

While these new negative developments hang over Nelson and Ann Sophie, they did get some good news at the ER. A scan showed that the initial tumor, the one that has been causing Nelson to cough till he wretched, has shrunk by nearly half. We like to think that surely those powerful little pills are, indeed, beginning to overwhelm the cancer. His coughing has almost completely stopped.

Another plus is that his severe neck pain of a couple of weeks ago is gradually improving. They don’t know conclusively if it was a broken bone or cancer in the spine, but whatever it was, it’s been able to heal itself. This is refreshing news.

And so we await this week’s appointments, hoping for new hope—and a very positive moment of truth.

“Be strong in the Lord and in the power of his might.” (Ephesians 6:10)