I seriously want a do-over for the month of September. It has just been one thing after another. I do not ever remember continually hurting myself so much in one month.
The month started with me accidentally kicking a chair in the kitchen. My little toe, that I rarely pay much attention to, made a ninety-degree right turn and a really nasty sound. I was amazed at the pain such a little digit can generate. Two days later, all of my toes on my right foot had turned black and blue from the injury, and it hurt to put any kind of shoe on.
Two weeks later, I was still slightly hobbled, when we went to Hawaii. While out doing some site seeing at a waterfall, I was enjoying the scenery as we were walking along the sidewalk. The sidewalk made a slight turn to the left and my right foot landed half on and half off the sidewalk. In the blink of an eye, my ankle rolled and I was on the ground. Thankfully, only my pride was injured and only DeLayne saw this demonstration of gracefulness.
Two nights later after getting up and doing what old guys have to do in the middle of the night, I was headed back to bed. In the dark I managed to catch my little toe on the nightstand and was instantly reminded of its presence. The next day, I was thankful for the wonderful invention known as flip-flops.
Two days later, our vacation over, we loaded up and headed back to the airport. After dropping our bags at TSA, I felt a slight twinge in my back. After we made sure we had everything and were ready to go through security, I picked up my camera backpack and slung it over my shoulder. I would swear that someone shoved a knife in my back. By the time we got home, it hurt to lie down, stand up, sit down, or just breathe.
The next week we repacked and headed to Houston for my checkup at MDA. The CT scan found a slight inflammation in my left lung. On Thursday, the doctor asked if I had been sick lately or coughing more. I told him, "No, not really," and he said that he did not think that it was any more than an infection and prescribed a round of antibiotics for me. I am willing to bet that he does not know he can tell the future. By Friday afternoon I was beginning to get a scratchy throat and starting to cough.
The weekend found me coughing and sneezing with a head and chest cold. Each time I sneezed, I felt my back hurt a little more. By the time Sunday morning arrived, I was absolutely miserable and about all I could do was sit in the recliner.
During times like these, I begin to reflect and start asking God questions. "What is the purpose of all of this?" "What is the purpose for me having cancer?" These questions come out of frustration, and I honestly do not expect to get an answer. But suddenly, there it was. I was surprised at how simple of an answer it was. I really thought that if I was going to get an answer, it would be something really deep and astounding, but it wasn't. Six simple words flashed through my head and that was it.
So that God will be glorified.
I'll pass on the do-over.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Standing on the Pedals
I have not written much lately. The truth is that I have not felt like writing because I have been frustrated with the seemingly slow progress I have been making. It came to a head last Saturday when I drove up to the north side of McKinney. On the way, I saw people riding on the hills that I use to ride on. With each passing rider, I began to get more frustrated that I was unable to do what they were doing. Sitting at a stop light, I heard cancer throw down the challenge, "You can't do that anymore." I knew then that it was time to do battle once again.
This morning I got up early and did my quiet time reading and said my prayers. I asked that God give me a good ride today. I filled my bottles with water and Gatorade, readied my bike, and was out the door by 6:30. Riding out of the neighborhood, for the first time in over a year--I turned right. Today I was going to ride cancer into the pavement.
Heading north, the morning air felt cool on my arms. Before long I had reached the first down hill section and I could hear the air rushing by my ears. It has been too long since I had heard that sound. I was able to make it up the next hill with minimal effort and started another descent. Before I knew it, I had made it up and over the three hills and was on my way to north McKinney. However, I knew that to get home, I would have to ride back over these same hills. And the way home is the hard side.
At mile ten, there they were: The three hills I had fun riding out on would now have to be ridden over with tired legs. This was why I had come this way. I had to take on this challenge, if for no other reason than to prove I could. Slowly I made my way up the first hill. At the top of the hill, I was passed by another rider who rode away from me like I was going backwards. As I made my way down the first hill, I sucked in as much air as I could and prepared to ascend the second hill. I had made it about half way up the second hill when I had to get out of the saddle and stand on the pedals. I had to take a few pedal strokes and coast. Then repeat. I made it to the top and begin sucking in the air again. I was hoping for a long descent, but it was over too soon and I was headed up the final hill, and it is the worst. Again, half way up, I was out of the saddle and standing on the pedals. After a few seconds, I had to sit back down to try and catch what breath I could. As I got closer to the top, I again was standing on the pedals. This time the frustration I have been feeling and shear determination provided the fuel I needed to get to the top.
As I reached the top, I knew I had once again managed to meet the challenge. Thankful to see a flat section of road, I sang the Doxology. Each day may bring a new challenge, but each day is a blessing.
This morning I got up early and did my quiet time reading and said my prayers. I asked that God give me a good ride today. I filled my bottles with water and Gatorade, readied my bike, and was out the door by 6:30. Riding out of the neighborhood, for the first time in over a year--I turned right. Today I was going to ride cancer into the pavement.
Heading north, the morning air felt cool on my arms. Before long I had reached the first down hill section and I could hear the air rushing by my ears. It has been too long since I had heard that sound. I was able to make it up the next hill with minimal effort and started another descent. Before I knew it, I had made it up and over the three hills and was on my way to north McKinney. However, I knew that to get home, I would have to ride back over these same hills. And the way home is the hard side.
At mile ten, there they were: The three hills I had fun riding out on would now have to be ridden over with tired legs. This was why I had come this way. I had to take on this challenge, if for no other reason than to prove I could. Slowly I made my way up the first hill. At the top of the hill, I was passed by another rider who rode away from me like I was going backwards. As I made my way down the first hill, I sucked in as much air as I could and prepared to ascend the second hill. I had made it about half way up the second hill when I had to get out of the saddle and stand on the pedals. I had to take a few pedal strokes and coast. Then repeat. I made it to the top and begin sucking in the air again. I was hoping for a long descent, but it was over too soon and I was headed up the final hill, and it is the worst. Again, half way up, I was out of the saddle and standing on the pedals. After a few seconds, I had to sit back down to try and catch what breath I could. As I got closer to the top, I again was standing on the pedals. This time the frustration I have been feeling and shear determination provided the fuel I needed to get to the top.
As I reached the top, I knew I had once again managed to meet the challenge. Thankful to see a flat section of road, I sang the Doxology. Each day may bring a new challenge, but each day is a blessing.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Rain
Today marks one year since I received the call from the doctor informing me that the pathology report confirmed non-small cell lung cancer and our journey began. I really wish that I could sit here today and tell you that I understand God's purpose in all of this, but I can't. I can, however, tell you that over the past year, I have seen God's glory on display multiple times. I still do not know how long the journey will be and where it will take me. I only hope that through it all, God will be glorified.
The following is a song by Mercy Me off of the Coming up to Breathe CD. Yeah, I know that is ironic. This song says it better than I ever could.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kseRKxkq5iY
The following is a song by Mercy Me off of the Coming up to Breathe CD. Yeah, I know that is ironic. This song says it better than I ever could.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kseRKxkq5iY
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Doubts
"You may get cancer out of your body, but you will never get cancer out of your mind."
Those words were said to me by a friend at one of the very first cancer encouragement groups that we attended. Truer words have never been spoken.
Remembering this past year, I can scarcely remember doubting that I would beat cancer. However, the past week has been a constant battle, and I have been reminded that I am not just in a physical battle but also a spiritual and mental battle as well. We have received word of another person's diagnosis, two friends who are not doing well with their treatments and complications, and one friend losing his battle with cancer. Although I currently have no evidence of disease, cancer has seemingly been on an all-out attack every day, creating doubts and causing me to lose my focus.
In the middle of the beat down, my morning Bible reading took me to the story of Peter walking on the water with Jesus. Peter was doing fine until he noticed the wind, and then he began to sink. All of the news this past week caused me to notice the wind, and I took my focus off Jesus--the very One who has gotten me through the past year.
Jesus will never leave me nor forsake me. I am thankful that when I begin to sink, He is there to grab my hand, too.
Those words were said to me by a friend at one of the very first cancer encouragement groups that we attended. Truer words have never been spoken.
Remembering this past year, I can scarcely remember doubting that I would beat cancer. However, the past week has been a constant battle, and I have been reminded that I am not just in a physical battle but also a spiritual and mental battle as well. We have received word of another person's diagnosis, two friends who are not doing well with their treatments and complications, and one friend losing his battle with cancer. Although I currently have no evidence of disease, cancer has seemingly been on an all-out attack every day, creating doubts and causing me to lose my focus.
In the middle of the beat down, my morning Bible reading took me to the story of Peter walking on the water with Jesus. Peter was doing fine until he noticed the wind, and then he began to sink. All of the news this past week caused me to notice the wind, and I took my focus off Jesus--the very One who has gotten me through the past year.
Jesus will never leave me nor forsake me. I am thankful that when I begin to sink, He is there to grab my hand, too.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
One More Hill
There are times when I ride that I try to see how fast I can go. There are other times that I decide to make it a test of endurance. I was getting tired of riding ten miles and so, this Saturday morning, I decided to test how far I had come by seeing how far I could go.
I have intentionally planned my routes so that there are places I can turn around and head back home, in case I am not feeling up to a long ride. This morning I found myself bypassing the turn offs and riding on roads that I have not ridden in a year. By the time I hit the nine-mile mark, I was committed. I was also out of gas. I stopped on a side street to drink some water and catch my breath. I was trying to decide whether I should call DeLayne to come get me. But I felt that if I gave up now, cancer would win one. I decided that if it took me all day to finish the ride, that's what I would do. Determined, I clipped my feet back on the pedals and continued my ride.
At mile fifteen, I had reached the next to last intersection on the home stretch. I had stopped for the red light and there staring at me, barely a half mile away, was one more hill to climb. I hate this hill! I have to climb this hill on every ride and it is always a struggle. I could hear it taunting me this morning - "You don't have the legs left today." The light turned green, and the first few pedal strokes felt like I was riding in wet concrete. Once I reached the start of the hill, I had to grit my teeth, and it took every bit of what I had left to get up and over, but before I knew it, I was coasting toward home.
As I rode up to our front walk, the odometer clicked to seventeen miles. Half of what I use to do on Saturdays but seven more than usual; I was happy with the effort and did a very sad, weak happy dance. I had once again proven to myself that I may have cancer, but cancer does not have me.
I have intentionally planned my routes so that there are places I can turn around and head back home, in case I am not feeling up to a long ride. This morning I found myself bypassing the turn offs and riding on roads that I have not ridden in a year. By the time I hit the nine-mile mark, I was committed. I was also out of gas. I stopped on a side street to drink some water and catch my breath. I was trying to decide whether I should call DeLayne to come get me. But I felt that if I gave up now, cancer would win one. I decided that if it took me all day to finish the ride, that's what I would do. Determined, I clipped my feet back on the pedals and continued my ride.
At mile fifteen, I had reached the next to last intersection on the home stretch. I had stopped for the red light and there staring at me, barely a half mile away, was one more hill to climb. I hate this hill! I have to climb this hill on every ride and it is always a struggle. I could hear it taunting me this morning - "You don't have the legs left today." The light turned green, and the first few pedal strokes felt like I was riding in wet concrete. Once I reached the start of the hill, I had to grit my teeth, and it took every bit of what I had left to get up and over, but before I knew it, I was coasting toward home.
As I rode up to our front walk, the odometer clicked to seventeen miles. Half of what I use to do on Saturdays but seven more than usual; I was happy with the effort and did a very sad, weak happy dance. I had once again proven to myself that I may have cancer, but cancer does not have me.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Wind At My Back
The weather has turned hot here in North Texas. We, once again, seemed to have jumped from winter directly into summer. With winds gusting out of the south, the temperatures are already hitting 100 degrees. These hot days have caused me to ride in the evening after dinner and early on Saturday morning to avoid riding in a convection oven.
This last Saturday morning, I could hear the wind blowing and see the tree tops swaying in the gust, as I got ready for my ride. Once I was out the door, I could feel the wind blowing against me as I headed out of the neighborhood. I was greeted with a strong gust of wind as I turned south and thought to myself, "This will not be a fun ride." The first half of the ride it seemed like I struggled up every little hill and fought the wind with each turn. I knew I had been struggling when I looked at my speedometer and it only read 12 mph; then I saw the arrow pointing up indicating that my average speed was increasing.
I finally made the turn to head back north, and I could feel the wind beginning to push me along. Picking up some speed, I reached for the shifter with my left hand and moved it to the right; the chain moved to the big ring and I began to pedal harder. Then suddenly, it was back. My legs and my breathing were in my pre-cancer rhythm. I started pushing the pedals harder as I shifted through the gears with my right hand. Picking up speed, I glanced at the speedometer, 20 mph, 22 mph.... How long and how hard could I push it?
Then I realized that this morning's ride was a perfect symbol for my last year. I had been riding against the wind and, at times, struggling to get over the hills. Now I am riding with the wind, pushing hard, and getting back into rhythm.
I looked back down just in time to see 25 mph. When I looked up, I realized that I was close to the intersection where I would make a right turn to head back home. I took a quick look to the left and saw no cars; as I pedaled through the turn, I looked down to see 23 mph displayed. With a smile on my face, I yelled at the cancer, "You will not win!"
After a drink of cool water, I began pushing the pedals toward home, and I laughed. It's good to feel the wind at my back.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Things Cancer Has Taught Me
I remember thinking when I was first diagnosed that I should not have lung cancer. Even one of the doctors said, "You should not have this, but you do." I have the memory of praying that God would use this as an opportunity for us to teach others about lung cancer and present us with those openings. If I could have lung cancer, then anyone could develop lung cancer. Little did I know at the time what cancer would teach me.
One thing that I have learned is to laugh every day, and when you think you are tired of laughing, laugh some more. There have been times that if I had not of laughed, I would have cried. The thing that has surprised me is how many openings the medical staffs give me for a joke. They just get use to saying things and just are not prepared for someone like me. For instance, at one of my blood specimen collections the tech said, "Today we need to get urine on you." To which I replied, "How about I put it in a cup?" Then there was the day I was being prepped for a CT scan. I lost count of the number of times I was asked if there was any metal in my body. One tech was being very serious in asking me questions and then asked, "Is there any metal in your body?" I replied, "Only if the aliens left something." She really tried to not laugh but finally gave up.
I have learned to cherish every moment of every day. Life has a different pace now. Gone is the rushing. I find myself taking time to look about and really see what is going on. Why do we race from place to place? Take time to enjoy where you are and who you are with. You will never have that moment in time again.
I have always believed in the Bible, but this experience has taught me that the Bible is more than just words on paper. The Bible is the very living, breathing word of God. I have seen the scriptures come alive daily.
One thing that has surprised me is the realization that everyone has a "cancer" in their life. Mine was physical, but others may be dealing with porn, gambling, alcohol, eating disorders, issues at work, financial issues, problems with a child or spouse. Everybody has something that, given time, will grow, and if left untreated, like cancer, will take your life. The great thing is that we have One who sits at the right hand of God ready to help us. I am thankful that He is there.
One thing that I have learned is to laugh every day, and when you think you are tired of laughing, laugh some more. There have been times that if I had not of laughed, I would have cried. The thing that has surprised me is how many openings the medical staffs give me for a joke. They just get use to saying things and just are not prepared for someone like me. For instance, at one of my blood specimen collections the tech said, "Today we need to get urine on you." To which I replied, "How about I put it in a cup?" Then there was the day I was being prepped for a CT scan. I lost count of the number of times I was asked if there was any metal in my body. One tech was being very serious in asking me questions and then asked, "Is there any metal in your body?" I replied, "Only if the aliens left something." She really tried to not laugh but finally gave up.
I have learned to cherish every moment of every day. Life has a different pace now. Gone is the rushing. I find myself taking time to look about and really see what is going on. Why do we race from place to place? Take time to enjoy where you are and who you are with. You will never have that moment in time again.
I have always believed in the Bible, but this experience has taught me that the Bible is more than just words on paper. The Bible is the very living, breathing word of God. I have seen the scriptures come alive daily.
One thing that has surprised me is the realization that everyone has a "cancer" in their life. Mine was physical, but others may be dealing with porn, gambling, alcohol, eating disorders, issues at work, financial issues, problems with a child or spouse. Everybody has something that, given time, will grow, and if left untreated, like cancer, will take your life. The great thing is that we have One who sits at the right hand of God ready to help us. I am thankful that He is there.
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