He Says, She Says....

Just before my surgery in May, I found a prayer journal in our local Christian bookshop. I use it each week, moving new requests from last week to on-going requests for next week. The journal has a place for answered prayers and praises, and, just on my own, I've been collecting encouraging Bible verses and quotations that I come across. This is the first time in my life I've been intentional about keeping track of prayer requests and answers to prayer. It has been a really interesting activity. One of the Bible verses that I've written in this week's journal is Psalm 112:7:

He will have no fear of bad news;
his heart is steadfast, trusting in the LORD.
This is surely a verse that God knew I would need for my consultation with Dr. Kathy Miller on Wednesday morning. Both of my sisters went with me, and Paul was able to listen to the doctor's comments via my cell phone. She spent probably about 45 minutes with me, and essentially told me to give up chemotherapy now because she was 95% certain that I would develop metastatic (incurable) cancer within the next 1-2 years. I shouldn't "waste" my good time now feeling badly from unnecessary and unhelpful chemo. She was kind and compassionate as she offered this news, but definite. In her mind, my future is short and it is grim.

Wow... Somehow my sisters and I were able to eat lunch afterward. Each bite was a heavy one. We discussed how in the world I would break this news to the rest of my family and to our boys?? Paul left his office, and went home to telephone his family and regroup. I also called my Beaumont oncologist to let him know that Dr. Miller would be calling him, and that her "treatment plan" was radically different than his. If he could talk to her before our appointment with him on Monday, that would be great.

He called me at my parents home that same night.

God bless him -- he was as upbeat and hopeful as she was grim.

By the time he called me, he had already talked to Dr. Miller, and he said he completely disagreed with her assessment. Her job is deal with metastatic (incurable) disease, and his job is to do whatever necessary to make sure his patients do not progress that far. He said he felt "strongly" that the chemo drugs I am on now are a good strategy and that we should stay the course. I said I would continue the chemo that has already started. He also suggested (to Paul in a separate phone call) that I buy a stack of post cards -- presumably to mail out one each year to Kathy Miller!

So, who is right and who is wrong? Only time will tell. Only God knows.

But I'm not the kind of person who is just willing to lay down and die. To end chemo now because it might not work seems like a defeatist attitude. One of my favorite quotes is from the Introduction of a book by Sue Buchanan entitled I'm Alive and the Doctor's Dead:
"The computer (or statistics or expert doctor or...) doesn't know you. It doesn't know how often you laugh or cry or that you have spunk. It doesn't know about the support of your family and friends and how well you're loved; whether or not you're prayed for isn't taking into consideration by the statisticians. And no matter how many mega-giga-humonga-bytes-bits-RAM the computer may contain, it simply isn't capable of computing the fact that -- are you ready for this? -- the God of the universe has a timetable for your life and mine! Yea! Rah! Cheers! Maybe a hallelujah or two!"
My future is unknown to me, but it is secure in God's hands. That is what He wanted me to remember with Psalm 112:7. I'm not unrealistic -- my time with my family might be very short. I might never see my kids graduate or hold my grandchildren. God forbid, Paul might retire as a widow. But I am also not giving up -- I'll continue with a doctor who has hope and who gives me hope. I can make better diet/exercise choices. I'll try to live each day fully and completely. It is all in God's hands. He is the true expert.

Cancer Treatment Moves Slowly

I thought I would update folks on what is happening (or not) in regards to my treatment.

My oncologist is out of town all this week, so my chemo cannot be scheduled until the week of June 23. But, between our schedule and the doctor's schedule, we couldn't get a chemo appointment set up until June 30. This is a longer wait time than I would have liked, but I am trusting that it will be okay.

Last week we met with an oncologist in Midland to try to get a treatment of Zometa for me. This is a bone building drug that has been shown to reduce a breast cancer recurrence by almost 33%! Fantastic, fantastic news for any breast cancer patient! (This is a very recent break-thru -- for more information, Google "Zometa" and browse news articles).

Long story short, I was not able to get the Zometa last week. It was a big disappointment for me, particularly because the delay was due to communication error between Midland and Royal Oak oncologists. Hopefully will get the Zometa on June 30 -- or earlier if it can be scheduled once my oncologist is back in town. (Yes, I have thought about calling my onc's office during his vacation to get someone else to order the Zometa treatment, but that is like having "too many cooks in the kitchen." I think it is safe to wait another week, and keep as few people out of the loop as possible.)

So... June 30 is the big day for me. It is when I'll find out what M.D. Andersen has found, and when I hear for sure about chemotherapy from my oncologist. I am 95% certain I'll have more chemo, and frankly, I'll be disappointed if he says, "No chemo." It is not that I want the drugs or to put my life on hold again, but I also want to FIGHT this cancer.

I've been reading a book called Mistaken Identity. Actually, I only started reading it this morning, but it is one of those books that you just cannot put down. It is the true story about two girls who were in a car crash in 2006 -- one lived and one died. Only after five weeks in the hospital, did anyone realize they had pronounced the wrong girl dead.

Books like that really intrigue me -- how normal people work through life changing events. The families in the book are incredibly strong Christians -- stronger than anyone I know and certainly more so than me. At one point, the mother of the living (but presumed dead) daughter explains how her daughter ended up attending Taylor University -- that all the circumstances fit together in such a way that it was clearly God's plan. The logical argument is that the car crash (and the mixed identities) must also be part of God's grand plan. Not something that anyone would wish for or can even understand. But part of the plan, nonetheless.

I guess I feel the same way about my cancer. In April when I was being diagnosed, all of the doctor's visits just "fit" into my schedule without any conflict. The cancer prayer group that I started for other people several months ago was a real source of encouragement for me recently. And, the unexpected extra time at home with the boys has been one of real bonding. The boys are old enough to be a help around the house (they're learning new skills!), and old enough that we can enjoy movies, games and such together. And, since I'm not supposed to be driving on my own for several weeks, Shane has been my chauffeur. He's had a great attitude about this, and we've had some interesting talks that I am sure would not have happened otherwise.

So, do I understand or even like this cancer. Definitely not! Do I feel like it is part of a grand plan, bigger than my way of thinking or understanding? Yes, I do. The trick is to accept this, and to live contently with it. Truth be told, I'm still working on that. But, I guess we all are a work in progress, aren't we!?