Well, here I am -- fifty-two. I have made it to my fifty-second birthday. A birthday that, except for the grace of God, the odds were against me seeing. One year ago I had taken to sleeping on the couch. After completing fifteen radiation treatments, my right side and back hurt so bad that I had to prop myself up on my left side to get any sleep.
One year ago, I received a phone call that the latest pathology report came back showing that my cancer was ALK+. Everything we did from then on was targeted to get me into a clinical trial for a new medicine to treat ALK+ lung cancer. I would be given a month to recover from radiation and then start my first round of required chemo treatments. Two months later, I was accepted into the clinical trial and six weeks after that we received the first report of "no evidence of disease."
Over the past year, I have lost count of the number of people I know who have lost their battles to beat cancer. But here I am muddling along and still kicking. There is no road map for this journey to beat cancer; it is a day-by-day, step-by-step journey. Along the way, I have learned to trust God to place my feet on solid ground.
The past year has been as much of an emotional struggle as a physical struggle. I have seen parts of my life erode away much like giant waves hitting a beach and sweeping the sand out to sea. At one time, I prayed that God would show me the unimportant parts of my life and remove them. Is He answering that prayer?
The past year, I have developed a real appreciation for what Jesus did for me on the cross. There have been moments when every breath seemed to be a struggle, and after fracturing two vertebrae in my back, it seemed like every bone in my body ached, and I was not nailed to a cross. The discomfort that I have experienced just does not compare to the pain and suffering that Jesus experienced on my behalf. The prophet Isaiah said, "by His stripes you are healed." The day that Jesus was beaten and hung on a cross, He provided a way for my sins to be forgiven and for me to be healed.
Thank you, Jesus!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
What a View
While we were on our vacation in Hawaii, we visited the island of Kauai. One of the must-sees on the island is Waimea Canyon. This canyon has been called the Grand Canyon of Hawaii.
There are two routes to drive up Waimea Canyon. One way is more scenic than the other. Of course, the reason it is more scenic is because it starts at sea level and climbs to over 5000 feet and skirts the canyon rim. DeLayne has never done well on these kinds of roads, but she wanted to take the scenic route anyway. The road is a narrow, two-lane road that twists and turns its way up the mountain. There are steep climbs followed by rapid descents, blind corners followed by hairpin turns. She white knuckled her way all the way up, and I am sure that she left finger impressions in the armrest and dash board. She held my water bottle some of the time, and when we got out of the car, I discovered that it was crushed from her squeezing it too hard. We are still unsure if the drive is really all that scenic; DeLayne would not look, and I was not allowed to look after being admonished multiple times to just watch the road.
After enduring all of the ups and down, twists and turns, we reached the end of the canyon road. We had to climb a few stairs but were finally treated to this view of God's handiwork.
All of this makes me realize that someday we will come to the end of the road on this journey. We will look back down the road we have been on and see all of the steep climbs, rapid descents, blind corners and hairpin turns, and see all that God has done and His handiwork in our lives. And we will say, "What a view!"
There are two routes to drive up Waimea Canyon. One way is more scenic than the other. Of course, the reason it is more scenic is because it starts at sea level and climbs to over 5000 feet and skirts the canyon rim. DeLayne has never done well on these kinds of roads, but she wanted to take the scenic route anyway. The road is a narrow, two-lane road that twists and turns its way up the mountain. There are steep climbs followed by rapid descents, blind corners followed by hairpin turns. She white knuckled her way all the way up, and I am sure that she left finger impressions in the armrest and dash board. She held my water bottle some of the time, and when we got out of the car, I discovered that it was crushed from her squeezing it too hard. We are still unsure if the drive is really all that scenic; DeLayne would not look, and I was not allowed to look after being admonished multiple times to just watch the road.
After enduring all of the ups and down, twists and turns, we reached the end of the canyon road. We had to climb a few stairs but were finally treated to this view of God's handiwork.
All of this makes me realize that someday we will come to the end of the road on this journey. We will look back down the road we have been on and see all of the steep climbs, rapid descents, blind corners and hairpin turns, and see all that God has done and His handiwork in our lives. And we will say, "What a view!"
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Purpose
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)