Courage to Conquer

Grace Like Rain

2010-03-13T21:44:00.001-06:00

One of Emmett's goal upon leaving the hospital was to have a bowel movement. After much pain and laboring we finally accomplished that goal today. I will not go into details, but suffice it to say that it has been a rough journey, and I am officially the best wife ever. If there were ever a doubt, today sealed the deal, so someone get me a blue ribbon.

As Emmett was getting out of the shower, the prayer and worship group was just cranking up in our living room. Tonight the first worship music Emmett has heard since the beginning of February, and he was overwhelmed. He laid on the bed weeping as I sat by the bed in tears. After such a rough day, hearing our friends worship the Lord and knowing they were praying for us was like feeling the grace of the Lord wash over us like rain. Eventually we made it into the living room and got to share the blessing of worship and prayer with our friends.

I'm so tried I can't even think to write another sentence. There's a lot on my heart, but currently sleep is my first priority. love to all.

Resting

2010-03-11T23:33:00.002-06:00

Just a quick update from a very tired Wendy, so I hope this makes sense.

Emmett is home and resting in bed finally. He has to stay propped up, which is actually much less comfortable in our bed than in the hospital, but at least we don't have constant beeping and nurses hovering like vultures.

After having the staples removed from his abdomen this morning, one began bleeding just before we left the hospital. The nurse said it looked okay, but we have to keep gauze on it and keep an eye on how much it bleeds. We may have to go in and get it looked at if it gets worse. This incident only magnified Emmett's anxiety. The process of going home was tough on him, and the bleeding incident wasn't helpful to Emmett's morale. The more he moves, the more the incision site bleeds, so there is a tension between wanting to get up and push himself to get stronger, and not wanting to damage the incision site. Pray for swift healing for this site, for Emmett's anxiety about being home, and for sweet rest in his uncomfortable position.

Tube feedings are going well, though they are still a bit uncomfortable and stressful. Pray that Emmett's body would absorb the food and that he would get used to this strange new form of eating.

signing off from home,
w

Home again

2010-03-11T08:50:00.002-06:00

Emmett's dozing this morning while we wait for the painfully slow hospital gears to finish all the last minute details. We should be home for dinner. There is both great joy and great anxiety in going home.

The past couple days have been very encouraging. Emmett is able to get out of bed now without help. He can walk small distances with help and is weaning himself off some of the pain medications. When he's doped up, he's either funny or sleepy. When he's not doped up, though, you can see the old Emmett shining through. Last night when I came back to the hospital, I felt like I was doing a little happy dance all night.

As excited as we are, though, there is also significant apprehension. We have now left the hospital three times only to return again in a few days when things are much worse. He is definitely more stable now, and we have a home health organization involved to make sure we can stabilize him at home with fluids if needed. All in all, there should be very little chance that we will be back here, but then again, we've heard that three times now, so the fear is still present.

Chemo is scheduled to begin Monday the 22nd, so he has another 10 days or so to heal and get back to his old self before we start blasting away at the cancer. Pray that his body has a chance to heal and get strong. Pray that the tumors shrink and disappear. Pray that we can keep him hydrated and stable at home. Pray for laughter. Pray for little Quinn, to be obedient and loving despite the massive changes he's been through in the past month. Pray for my sanity and patience as I learn to be a nurse and mother at the same time.

Thank you for your prayers. They are felt and heard.

Healing

2010-03-08T23:03:00.004-06:00

Wow,

Where did the weekend go?

Emmett came out of a flawless surgery on Friday sans stent and plus a feeding tube. He was surprisingly conscious all afternoon and late into the evening. Despite the disbelief of the doctors and nurses, he continued to complain of pain late into the night, sitting almost immobile. Finally, around 3 a.m. after more pestering from us, our night nurse discovered that Emmett's pain pump was leaking medicine, so he wasn't getting much, if any, pain meds. She switched it out, and he was happily passed out by 4 a.m. But alas, the nurses and doctors were upon us by 6 a.m., so most of Saturday passed in a haze of napping. After much threatening form doctors and nurses (for things I will not mention here), he forced himself to use the bathroom in an amazing two hour ordeal that left us both exhausted.

Sunday Emmett was able to get to the chair by his bed and sit for a short time, and today he made two laps around the round wing and sat in a chair for four to five hours. Such exertions are generally followed by a lengthy nap and recovery period. They finally put him on IV nutrition Saturday night, and they've tried to begin using his feeding tube today. There was actually a blush tint to his cheek when I returned to the hospital tonight. That was an awesome sight to see.

It continues to surprise me that the healing process can be such a roller coaster ride. In many ways it was a good day because Emmett was able to get out of bed so much, yet he's also paying dearly for it tonight. While making a couple laps around the hallway is definitely an accomplishment, it also accentuates how far we still have to go. He needs to be completely better for chemo to begin, and that day still feels a long ways away. Tonight, as he lingered over the ever-anticipated red jello, it was obvious that Emmett was physically and emotionally spent. The valium that usually helps him rest has sent his over active brain into hallucinations, and he is currently dozing fitfully and keeps waking up confused, thinking he was just in the middle of a conversation. This is a hard, hard fight for Emmett, so keep him in your prayers. In some ways each ounce of joy we experience is purchased with three times the amount of sorrow and weariness. Your prayers hold us up during these times, so thank you for saturating us in them.

Out of Surgery

2010-03-05T14:13:00.001-06:00

Emmett is out of surgery and all went well. Now it's on to recovery, getting nutrition, and building strength for chemo.

Moving on

2010-03-05T11:58:00.004-06:00

Wow,

First off, I know you want to hear directly from the man himself, but he's had a rough couple days. There's an IV in his right hand, so the most he's been able to do is post a few tweets with his iphone in using his left hand. He promises to write in a few days when he's recovered and the IV is out.

So... the last couple days...

Tuesday, the GI docs went in through Emmett's mouth to remove the stent but did not feel confident doing so through his esophagus. Although it was mostly in his stomach, they didn't feel confident that they could remove it through his esophagus without causing more damage. They decided to postpone any more stent procedures until the tumor board met Thursday.

Wednesday, Emmett had a port put in. The chemotherapy will require frequent IV access and the port should minimize the needle poking and confine it to one place. The port looks like a little cowboy hat shaped device under the skin in his right shoulder. It was painful, and Emmett couldn't move his head, talk, or chew much since then, although it was starting to feel better this morning.

Thursday the tumor board met, and we were informed last night of their discussion. We knew Emmett's case was unusual, but this particular mix of circumstances has never been seen before. We all know that statistically speaking, Emmett shouldn't have this cancer this bad at this age, but he does. Furthermore, stents rarely move, and when they do, they usually move completely into the stomach, they don't get stuck on tumors. The procedure that should have made his life easier has essentially beaten him up and made him terrified of every medical procedure. Since the stent is partially in the esophagus, there is no immediate danger of it moving to the intestines or perforating the stomach lining, but it is causing discomfort and a lot of anxiety.

So we had two options, and the doctors wanted Emmett to choose because basically we're in uncharted territory. First, since there is only a small chance of damage from the stent, we could proceed with chemo and attack the cancer, addressing the stent again when it becomes a problem. Second, we could do a "minor" surgery to remove the stent and then hopefully proceed with chemo in about 7-10 days. As our physician wisely quips, minor surgery is surgery performed on someone else. Despite great fear and anxiety, Emmett decided on the surgery so that he would be free to attack the cancer without any more anxiety from the stent. This morning as they were preparing to draw blood to run some tests before the surgery, Emmett became so anxious that he began vomiting blood and had to be given sedatives before we could even draw blood. I apologize for being graphic, but I hope to give you an idea of the anguish he is in and our desperate need for your prayers. Emmett has never had so much as a mole removed, and his introduction to various medical procedures has thus far continued to make his anxiety worse.

Ideally, Emmett will come out of this surgery with the stent removed and a feeding tube in his stomach. I've basically been watching him starve the past two weeks. He's been given no nutrition because they keep expecting him to be able to eat and things keep not working. He should start getting IV nutrition tomorrow, but that's a lot more complicated than you'd expect. We should be able to give him nutrients through the feeding tube sometime next week. Once we perfect the technique then I'm sure it will be a great party trick.

In short, Emmett needs this stent out and we need this operation to go smoothly. We are both crushed with the way things have gone, and we aren't even addressing the real problem. As Emmett put it last night, "it's like i can't even get out of the gate to start the race because the gate is glued shut." The cancer continues to attack his body, which has been vastly weakened by the last two weeks. He has to get stronger before he can do the chemo. He needs to get nutrients back into his body and keep them down. He needs the chance to fight, and so we need your prayers.

Don't feel obligated to respond in any way but prayer. We are vastly encouraged by the notes, letters, phone calls, texts, tweets, visits, and all the other things you have thought of to encourage us. Your creativity is amazing as you create art, songs, and so many other things as a result of Emmett's fight. In small ways, God has already begun redeeming Emmett's cancer for good, and these small things continue to give us hope. It reminds me of Matthew 24:12 where Jesus is talking about the end times, "Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold." Without the hope of God, suffering and sin lead us into a deeper spiral of sin and despair. May our suffering serve as a reminder that the people around you suffer in all kinds of ways, and none of them are small when you are going through them. The only remedy to suffering and evil is love, the kind of love that would cause God to send his only son to die on the cross in order to redeem us from our sin. Our prayer for you is that you would live in such a way that other people are drawn to the love of God by the way you live.

Okay - I'm off my soap box and on to find other ways of distracting myself. Love to you all.

Thank you.
-w-

Next Step

2010-03-05T07:42:00.002-06:00

Just a short informational update:

Emmett and I have decided to go with a minor surgery to remove the stent and place a feeding tube. We feel this best prepares his body to deal with the chemo and only postpones the chemo a few more days if all goes well. We're going ahead with that decision today, so pray that all goes well. Emmett has had a very rough morning. We're all nervous, but his anxiety level is maxed out. Today needs to go well. Please pray.

oh- and Emmett has wanted to write, but the IV in his hand aggravates him too much to type. He hopes to post something himself soon.

-w-

Anger

2010-03-02T23:54:00.002-06:00

I have a problem with my temper. I've already admitted I'm a completely lousy person, so I might as well come clean on all fronts. Sometimes I get really really angry about things that don't matter. I keep myself up half the night stewing over the finer points of what I would really like to say to that person who made me mad or plotting ways of revenge that can be enacted without me looking like I was out for revenge. The one saving grace is that I am a terrible plotter. My revenge usually amounts to a "yeah, well.... i don't like you either" type of comeback, so I'm rarely tempted to actually enact my lame revenge.

Today I was really angry. The GI doctors went in to take the stent out of Emmett's stomach. They found that the stent was about 75% in the stomach, but the remaining 25% was still in the esophagus. The wall of the esophagus had started to encroach around the top of the stent, so they couldn't remove it without serious damage to the esophagus. The good news is that the stent won't migrate to the intestines, which was the main worry. The bad news is that there is more pain than before, just as much nausea as before, and now they're telling us he won't be able to eat solids at all. Today it feels like every time we come to the hospital that Emmett takes a step backwards.

Needless to say, we were deflated after the procedure and angry. The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of procedures and tests. Each one turning up bad news or going wrong. The volume of information has been overwhelming, and our first GI doctor was somewhat less than endearing. Another doctor though would have made the same decisions with the same risks, we just seem to always fall into that "very small risk of ... category" every time. We wanted to be mad at that doctor, though, and we tried. Our friends have been drawing straws for who gets to kick him first, but really there is no blame here. It's just another setback, another jar of water on the altar.

How do you process that kind of anger in a godly way? Or even can you? I feel like an olympic wrestler with the amount of self-control I've had to exert just to refrain from ripping someone's head off. It sort of helped that we had meditated on Ephesians 4 two days ago in church. Part of the sermon last week was verses 26-27:

"In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.

A lot of good words were said about those verses, but I think they bounced right off my thick skull. I still don't get it. Today's anger was not righteous anger, it was selfish anger over the consequences of a fallen world. But processing and letting go of something so utterly disappointing without letting the devil run wild with my emotions has been the biggest challenge of today. Ultimately it reveals yet another layer of unbelief in my own heart, that God is not somehow in control of things if they don't go the way I want them to. You would have thought I should be past that hang up by now given that Emmett has cancer and all, but it's strange how the little setbacks derail me more effectively than the big picture.

In a fit of self-pity it occurred to me that today might be a good day to ask the why us question, but that is such a lame question that I wasn't even slightly tempted to dwell there. I just rolled my eyes at myself. It struck me, though, that it would be interesting to ask how will God redeem the 7 inches of very small metal chicken wire hanging out in Emmett's stomach. I bet there's a funny answer to that question.

So we're moving on and focusing on what lies ahead. Wednesday Emmett gets a port placed so that he will be ready to start chemotherapy next week. Then he just needs to recover from all the procedures because they won't give him chemotherapy if he can't walk into the clinic. That is going to be a huge hurtle for Emmett, so we'd appreciate specific prayers for him to be able to hold down food, regain strength, and stop losing weight. We're going to get a second opinion because the doctor encouraged us to, but from what we understand most therapies available are just variations of the one we would get here, and this combination is the most widely used and accepted. The research to tell which variation of the therapy is best for certain patients is only in its infancy, so no one can determine what particular variation would be best for us.

We have one more small procedure and then we're ready to jump in and fight. Right now that means getting food into Emmett one smoothie at a time. So here's to another sip. Cheers!

News

2010-03-02T00:01:00.002-06:00

Job 1:20

"Naked I came from my mother's womb,
and naked I will depart.
The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
may the name of the LORD be praised."

Sorry for the delay in getting news out. We wanted time to process and part of that time was simply spending sweet moments with family and visitors. Emmett was too tired to write his post tonight, but he is planning on writing one tomorrow so you can hear it straight from him too. In the mean time we didn't want to leave anyone hanging (if anyone is still up at this crazy time of night).

In short, when oncologists talk about cancers like Emmett's, they don't talk about healing, they talk about managing the cancer. Average life span is 1-2 years if chemotherapy goes well. The 5 year survival rate is less than 5%. Usually these types of tumors initially respond well to certain types of chemotherapy. We can reasonably hope that the cancer will shrink for a while and that Emmett's quality of life will improve for a time, but usually these types of tumors eventually stop responding to therapy and start growing again.

I suppose I was more prepared than Emmett because I had heard a little more from doctors and others than Emmett had, and I have already dealt with the reality that I may very well lose the one part about life I love most, being married to Emmett. But there was mostly quiet acceptance of the odds. In a strange way there is peace and freedom in knowing how little hope you have in medicine.

Don't get me wrong, we are totally jazzed for the fight. We're ready to pour our hearts into praying and living and hoping and fighting. But there is a comfort in knowing how fully you rest in the hands of God. He has already redeemed our souls through Christ's death on the cross, so redeeming Emmett's body is a small thing to him. We pray with every breath that he will choose to glorify himself through Emmett's healing, and we plan to pursue that in our lives. But even if God doesn't heal Emmett, even if God chooses to take Emmett sooner than I want him to, he is still a wonderful and merciful God. I am reminded of the words of three young men in the Bible who were faced with death:

Daniel 3: 16-18

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to the king, "O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."

Our God is a compassionate and loving God who does not want to see his children suffer, but we do suffer because we live in a world of people who choose to sin and turn their backs on God. So we will fight, but in the end, we know our hope lies with God, and we are content to love each other well for the time we have left, fully praying for that to mean another 60 years together on this earth.

What do we need from you? Be our friends. Laugh with us, cry with us, play scrabble with us. Don't be weird. Don't expect us to be extra holy. Don't send us your miracle cures or diets. God's love for us despite our sinful nature is miracle enough for us. His grace will guide us through the rest of this.

much love tonight.
-w-

Game on

2010-03-01T09:20:00.001-06:00

I am a completely lousy person. I just want all of you to be fully aware of that.

Yesterday (Saturday) I watched Emmett struggle not only to battle his cancer, but also to tolerate the lunch sack bag of medications he's taking to control his symptoms enough to eat. As he started to come back to life, I started to completely break down. I found myself walking in circles, accomplishing nothing, but managing to be irritated by everything. I was even annoyed with myself because I was so crabby, and I'm not even the one who is sick. Emmett very wisely kicked me out of the house for a couple hours. I came back a different person, and I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with the flip flops I bought at Target.

You see, somewhere in the hazy last few days after the stent procedure didn't make things better, I remember asking God, "how many buckets of water are you going to pour on this altar before you light it on fire?" I have no idea where that question came from, but I distinctly remember asking it. I love the story of Elijah in 1st Kings Chapter 18 where Elijah is facing off with the prophets of Baal and has the servants pour buckets of water on top of the sacrifice to prove that the God of Israel is the on true God, but I love even more in chapter 19 where Elijah is hiding in a cave moping and God comes to meet him in the gentle breeze. I've mostly been vacillating between not being able to accept what is happening and moping about it. But something about that question wouldn't let me go, so tonight as we sat in the hospital again, I read that story. Maybe I'm doing things a bit backwards, but I'm out of the cave and waiting for the servants to finish pouring on the water because God will consume the sacrifice. Whether it's four hundred prophets we're up against or four million cancer cells, doesn't much matter to a big God I suppose. What matters is that we show up.

It took me a while, but now I'm here waiting, watching, and praying.

So game on.

Fluids

2010-02-28T22:41:00.002-06:00

We are in the hospital tonight again. After being unable to keep anything down for three days, we decided it was wise to come get some fluids. After the stent procedure Friday, Emmett essentially slept until Saturday afternoon. Yesterday Emmett was able to take in about 4 cups of fluids, all of which he ended up throwing up before bedtime. We thought perhaps it was because he had exerted himself too much that evening, so we were hopeful that today would be different.

Today he could not really function at all before about 4 pm, and what little fluids he took after that were thrown up almost immediately. We made the decision, with the help of the doctor, to come in and get some IV fluids. He is in too much of a hole right now to dig himself out on what he can consume orally, so this is just to give him a boost. We hope to be home after our oncology appointment tomorrow.

Being here is different this time, less scary and more hopeful. We are not here to get cured, but we also know why we are here and what we need. It is not a step backwards this time as much as it is a step forwards. Get fluids so that Emmett can get enough energy back to keep going. Although we really don't want to be here, this may not be the last time in the hospital for such a purpose. It's part of the game plan now - keep Emmett strong enough to keep going.

We appreciate your prayers and love tonight. It will be a long journey and we hope you will continue walking with us.

love to all
-w-

Grief

2010-02-26T21:22:00.001-06:00

Lamentations 3: 1-58 (sorry so long, but it's all good)

1 I am the man who has seen affliction
by the rod of his wrath.

2 He has driven me away and made me walk
in darkness rather than light;

3 indeed, he has turned his hand against me
again and again, all day long.

4 He has made my skin and my flesh grow old
and has broken my bones.

5 He has besieged me and surrounded me
with bitterness and hardship.

6 He has made me dwell in darkness
like those long dead.

7 He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains.

8 Even when I call out or cry for help,
he shuts out my prayer.

9 He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
he has made my paths crooked.

10 Like a bear lying in wait,
like a lion in hiding,

11 he dragged me from the path and mangled me
and left me without help.

12 He drew his bow
and made me the target for his arrows.

13 He pierced my heart
with arrows from his quiver.

14 I became the laughingstock of all my people;
they mock me in song all day long.

15 He has filled me with bitter herbs
and sated me with gall.

16 He has broken my teeth with gravel;
he has trampled me in the dust.

17 I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.

18 So I say, "My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the LORD."

19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.

20 I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.

21 Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

24 I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

25 The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;

26 it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.

27 It is good for a man to bear the yoke
while he is young.

28 Let him sit alone in silence,
for the LORD has laid it on him.

29 Let him bury his face in the dust—
there may yet be hope.

30 Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him,
and let him be filled with disgrace.

31 For men are not cast off
by the Lord forever.

32 Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.

33 For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to the children of men.

34 To crush underfoot
all prisoners in the land,

35 to deny a man his rights
before the Most High,

36 to deprive a man of justice—
would not the Lord see such things?

37 Who can speak and have it happen
if the Lord has not decreed it?

38 Is it not from the mouth of the Most High
that both calamities and good things come?

39 Why should any living man complain
when punished for his sins?

40 Let us examine our ways and test them,
and let us return to the LORD.

41 Let us lift up our hearts and our hands
to God in heaven, and say:

42 "We have sinned and rebelled
and you have not forgiven.

43 "You have covered yourself with anger and pursued us;
you have slain without pity.

44 You have covered yourself with a cloud
so that no prayer can get through.

45 You have made us scum and refuse
among the nations.

46 "All our enemies have opened their mouths
wide against us.

47 We have suffered terror and pitfalls,
ruin and destruction."

48 Streams of tears flow from my eyes
because my people are destroyed.

49 My eyes will flow unceasingly,
without relief,

50 until the LORD looks down
from heaven and sees.

51 What I see brings grief to my soul
because of all the women of my city.

52 Those who were my enemies without cause
hunted me like a bird.

53 They tried to end my life in a pit
and threw stones at me;

54 the waters closed over my head,
and I thought I was about to be cut off.

55 I called on your name, O LORD,
from the depths of the pit.

56 You heard my plea: "Do not close your ears
to my cry for relief."

57 You came near when I called you,
and you said, "Do not fear."

58 O Lord, you took up my case;
you redeemed my life.

I've always loved the book of Lamentations, and tonight these words resonate in my heart. Today has been a hard, hard day, and though I have not been beaten and thrown into a well and left for dead like Jeremiah, my heart has echoed these same strains of despair today.

Our GI doctor is very good, but perhaps he overstepped his bounds today when talking to Emmett, who was alone awaiting the stent procedure. He ventured to make some pessimistic predictions about Emmett's condition. Although we completely acknowledge the gravity of Emmett's condition and understand that the Lord may choose to take him sooner than we wish, he was not the doctor and today was not the time or place to say such things. I fear it did more emotional damage to us, specifically Emmett, than we can handle. He was very discouraged in the recovery area, and it broke my heart to hear the way he talked, so much so that I cannot bear to repeat it here.

We had such hope for this procedure to make eating more bearable for Emmett, but the stent had to be placed such that it keeps open the valve between the esophagus and the stomach. Currently the stent seems to be doing more harm than good, as Emmett has been curled up in a ball in bed all day taking the maximum dosage of medications and barely able to take liquids. Before today the nausea came and went with medicines, but currently nothing keeps it away. A doctor called in another medicine for us to try tonight, an anti-anxiety medicine that happens to have nice anti-nausea and sedative effects that seem to be allowing Emmett to rest finally. It crushes my spirit to watch him suffer and not be able to help him at all.

I feel very much like I could be drowning a the bottom of a well unable to claw my way out. I was about a nanometer away from a complete breakdown this evening when the Lord slipped these words into my heart, "wait for morning." I remembered the phrase, "his compassions never fail, they are new every morning," and I found the passage in Lamentations that has meant so much to me at different points in my life.

21 Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

24 I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

25 The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;

26 it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.

27 It is good for a man to bear the yoke
while he is young.

28 Let him sit alone in silence,
for the LORD has laid it on him.

29 Let him bury his face in the dust—
there may yet be hope.

30 Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him,
and let him be filled with disgrace.

31 For men are not cast off
by the Lord forever.

32 Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.

33 For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to the children of men.

The morning may not bring what I want, but it will bring new mercies, and for that I am thankful. Though he has brought us grief, he will show us compassion for he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to his children. This is my hope for tonight, small though it be, and it has invaded my heart and taken up residence. Tonight I will turn my face to the morning and wait silently for its mercies to find me.

Procedure #1 - The Stint

2010-02-26T08:03:00.002-06:00

So as this is being posted, I am headed into Vanderbilt Medical Center to have a Stint put in my throat, so that the tumor does not close it, and it will still allow me to eat. Hopefully this may help to combat a little of the nausea as well, and hopefully it will allow me to eat solid foods again. I have been on a liquid diet now for a week, and I am looking forward to getting back to things I love to eat. I am curious to see what my diet restrictions are going to be. I don't know if there are any, or what they will be. I'll have to let you know that tomorrow, as today, I will be more or less battling the leftover effects of anesthesia. I look forward to posting tomorrow that all went well, and that I am home again.

Thank you so much for your continued prayers.

Patience

2010-02-25T17:27:00.000-06:00

Another note written by wonderful wife.

Psalm 27
Of David.

1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?

2 When evil men advance against me
to devour my flesh,
when my enemies and my foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.

3 Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then will I be confident.

4 One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.

5 For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.

6 Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the LORD.

7 Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;
be merciful to me and answer me.

8 My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"
Your face, LORD, I will seek.

9 Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
O God my Savior.

10 Though my father and mother forsake me,
the LORD will receive me.

11 Teach me your way, O LORD;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.

12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
breathing out violence.

13 I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.

14 Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.

Some people have a skill that I envy. Oddly enough I have never wanted to be famous or pretty or cool, but I have always wanted this one skill because it's probably the unifying characteristic of every person considered to be a master of his or her craft. It's the skill of waiting well and there seems to be an art to it that positively eludes me most of the time.

To take a completely trivial example, look at cooking. If you watch a master chef, there's a precise moment in the process when each ingredient should be added and a very specific method to preparing, combining, and cooking the ingredients. The slightest inattention to detail may result in making a phenomenal dish merely passable or even completely ruinous. But I find myself over and over again fumbling through a recipe and missing these details in the anxious rush to "get it right," and consequently my cooking is merely passable (and sometimes a total failure) instead of phenomenal.

Too often, I live like I cook, botching the whole recipe because of my anxiety to "get it right." For a not so trivial example, I was trying to get a thousand details about appointments and insurance and childcare and medicines correct this morning - things that are important and no one else can do, yet at some point in the process I actually snapped at Emmett. I was horrified with myself, yet I realized at the same time how much of my life I spend trying to get miniscule details in order while simultaneously neglecting what matters most, living like the child of God that I am. I'm sure I could dredge up a thousand more examples from teaching and parenting, but I'd rather not drag myself through the torture of analyzing my past.

Emmett and I forgive each other immediately these days. Repentance is easy for us and we almost apologize to each other too much because we're trying so hard to take care of each other and hold our family together. I forced myself to take a long, hot shower and refocus on God. In many ways, I felt like a horse whose blinders had been removed and I could see beyond my narrow focus. I thought of verse 14 of Psalm 27 (though I confess I had to look up which psalm it was), and I am reminded of how much David waited on the Lord. As a boy he waited and practiced his sling shot, never anticipating how God would use that talent. As a fugitive David waited, even refusing to take Saul's life himself, in order to accomplish what God had promised. How many caves did he hide in? How many nights on the run did he have to endure? How many times did he refuse to take control but instead let God guide him to seemingly foolish decisions? Yet, no matter his circumstances - forgotten while watching his father's sheep, abandoned by friends, or reigning as king - this was the song of his heart:

13 I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.

14 Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.

My prayer today is that this psalm would be the song of my heart. As we wait on the details and anticipate the battles ahead, may we have confidence that we will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. May we wait, with strength of heart, for deliverance from evil. And may we walk each minute fully conscious of God's Spirit at work in and through us each minute we are alive, no matter how trivial those minutes feel.

Waking up and a multitude of Prayers.

2010-02-24T13:46:00.004-06:00

It was still quiet this morning when I woke up. I didn't move for a long time, secretly hoping that when I did it would be a bad dream, or some misremembered event, or that it would be like every other illness I have ever had; that I had just slept it off. I really don't get sick. ever. If I do get sick, food poisoning, the flu, stomach virus, chicken pox, pneumonia, whatever . . . at worst, it's just a long day. I'll sleep for a day, a good hard sleep at night, and it's done, over with, gone. I have relied on that system for years.

When I finally started moving this morning though, I realized once again, I'm still sick. It's still there. Nothing has changed. I still have Cancer. I wondered as I started my new morning wake up routine, how many times am I going to have to tell myself that, how many times am I going to have remind myself that I have cancer, before it sinks in. Will it ever? will it be the first chemo appointment? will it be when I meet with the Oncologist, when they start reading statistics and giving me numbers, options and whatnot, will it sink in then? who knows. I am praying that it will all be over before it sinks in, and that the thought that will sink in is, I HAD Cancer, and now I am cured. I pray for that day to come soon.

My morning's used to consist of rolling over, hopping out of bed, and padding to the kitchen, making some hot tea, waking up my favorite little boy, and then spending the morning at the breakfast table joking around before we started the day. this week, it takes me about an hour, to wake up, take some antacids, then some nausea meds, and then eventually lay on my back (which is a big step), and then slowly, over a long period of time, gradually work on sitting up in bed. If I move to fast, I get nauseous, and the morning tanks. Once I finally sit up, then I start drinking liquids, to re-hydrate from a long night, and then eventually my wonderful wife will bring my breakfast (right now its liquified oatmeal, grits, cream of wheat, etc. so exciting I know). all that to say, it's radically different, and a reminder of just where I am right now in this long journey.

It does, however, give me plenty of time to pray in the mornings, being thankful for seeing another day, praying for strength, for endurance, for wisdom, for perseverance, for hope. A good way to start a day that will be full of ups and downs, unpredictable obstacles, and new challenges.

In light of all that . . .
Tonight, Wednesday, February 24, at 7:00 pm, some very dear friends of ours, Adam and Nicki Silverman are hosting a prayer Gathering tonight at their house for us. If you are in Nashville and would like to go, feel free to email them for directions, etc. Or, feel free to email them if you want to know more of what they are praying for tonight. They would welcome as many people as want to come, so feel free to drop them a line.

I am still humbled by the body of Christ, and I pray that I will continually be so, to see it move in such a way. I am encouraged by the multitude of those coming together in prayer, and I am reminded of what it means to serve, and what it mean to love, and to show compassion. I am so thankful for these lessons that are being poured out in abundance right now.

Thank you for your continued encouragement and the outpouring of your prayers.

The short story of how it began.

2010-02-23T19:59:00.003-06:00

I went in to the Vanderbilt Emergency room on February 14th, for the first time, due to excessive vomiting, and after being discharged returned two days later, on tuesday, for the same thing. I was admitted to the hospital Tuesday night, and on Wednesday, a GI doc sent me for an Endoscopy. You know, where they put you out, send a camera down your throat, and check things out. The consensus with the Physicians, Doctors, Nurses, etc, was that I had a stricture, something giving me a hard time swallowing, and causing me to vomit.

I woke up an hour or so later to find out I had a cancerous tumor growing in my throat and it was huge.

The Endoscopy doc was surprised to find it. The attending doctor was surprised it was there. No one, least of all myself, expected to find anything there. I was sent for a CT scan that afternoon, which when the dye was injected into me for the test, sent excruciating pain through my hand where the IV went in. It showed that the cancer had spread to at least my liver.

On Thursday, I was sent for a Liver biopsy, where they took two samples to be studied. It hurt, a lot, and later, when the local anesthetic wore off (which they used since I was awake for it all) It felt like I had been kicked repeatedly in the side by small ninjas all day.

On Friday, I was sent for a PET scan, where they injected me with a radioactive isotope, then sent me under some x-ray cameras so that they could see where all the cancer had spread too. It showed up in my esophagus, my liver, some lymph-nodes, and my abdomen. It seemed like every test just got worse and worse. The glimmer of hope in this last one, was that we discovered the cancer had not yet spread to my bones. A small praise, for a week of devastating news.

We learned later that liver biopsy came back as indistinguishable carcinoma. So we had to wait for the Throat biopsy (which they took when they scoped me) came back to learn a little more. I was told that would have to wait until monday, or tuesday. I spent the weekend working out meds, regulating them, and learning to eat, on a liquid diet. I had basically been without food for a week, just a mere IV in my arm all week caring for me.

I went home on Monday, February 22, with a slight return of the symptoms that brought me in (which scared me like no other). I crashed monday, and laid low, resting from the transport home, and trying to regain some sort of strength.

Today is Tuesday, February 23, and I heard back on my Original Biopsy. It is a poorly differentiated Carcinoma. Translation - an aggressive form of cancer, in stage four.

I am still in shock. I am still in disbelief. Half of me is dealing with it, half of me is denying it, half of me is just thinking I will sleep it off, like a bad cold, or a headache. yet I wake up everyday, and it is there. staring me in the face, curling itself up in my chest, pressing against me, and reminding me it is there. I am still regaining strength, and I have to stay on a constant rotation of meds just to keep me stable. Two different anti-nausea meds, morphine as needed, double strength antacids plus small peripheral things as needed. It's hard for me to comprehend it all. I don't even take tylenol usually. so the fact that I have to take morphine, to feel normal, to function normally, weirds me out, and is disconcerting.

I have been blessed though, beyond compare, with the community of believers. I would be remiss to say that Christ has played no part in this at all. He placed physicians at the hospital when I reached the ER to admit me to a GI doctor for scoping, He has placed doctor after doctor in the system there to gather all of this information, to react quickly, and to calm me, and to translate all my questions. He has granted me peace when asked for, has granted me small blessings when I need them, and has sustained me, my wife, and my family as no one else could.

In addition to all of this, I have been surrounded by friends and family, by believers from my wonderful Church, from members of churches across the U.S., from friends on the other side of the world. My family has been ministered to as I could never imagine. Every time I turn around someone else is there, someone else is helping, and praying for me and my family. I have shed more tears in the last week, than in my entire life. Tears of fear, Joy, disbelief, humbleness, thankfulness. I have learned more of the body of Christ, and what it means, than I ever thought I would.

So feel free to walk with me, learn with me, and struggle with me over the next however long it takes to get rid of this. I'll write as often as I can, and keep you updated on tests, Dr. visits, Therapy, and whatever else. Thank you for being a part of this. It is something I can not do alone, and I welcome as many as want to. This is all an open book, so feel free to share with anyone, and feel free to ask any questions. I am humbled already by how many people are helping to support me in this. It brings tears to my eyes every time I think of it. God bless -

Calm

2010-02-22T22:44:00.000-06:00

February 22, 2010 Monday 10:44am

Matthew 6:25-34

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

There's something difficult about going home or doing mundane things like balancing our checkbook or shaving or cleaning. Having to acknowledge that cancer is now part of our "normal" life, that leaving the hospital does not mean the cancer is behind us - all this is a more difficult emotional step than we imagined. Praise God that we do not have to worry about what we will eat or what we will wear, but the anticipation of Emmett having a bad day or simply not knowing what's in our future can be a heavy burden at times.

But today is a good day. Emmett seems to have recovered from his tests, actually getting up, getting dressed, and shaving this morning. I actually cried because he is doing so well this morning, almost as if none of the news could be true. But it is, and they will put a stint in on Friday, and we will have follow ups with the oncologist and GI specialist next Monday to work out a game plan. We are rejoicing over today's mercies without too much worry for the future, and for that we are very thankful.

Today there is much to rejoice over, so thank you for your prayers. They are felt in ways none of us could ever imagine.

Quiet

2010-02-21T15:46:00.000-06:00

February 21, Sun at 3:46pm

Psalm 130

Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD;

O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.

If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?

But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.

My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.

O Israel, put your hope in the LORD,
for with the LORD is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption.

He himself will redeem Israel
from all their sins.

There is a new tension for me when I read the Bible now. It would be easy for me to confuse redemption from our sins and redemption from our circumstances. We want so desperately to believe that God's plan for us is physical healing that every day is a struggle to remember our need for spiritual life.

All day yesterday it felt like ice cold hands were wrapped around my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until hope seemed like nothing more than a morphine induced hallucination. Emmett ordered me to go to church this morning (he is very wise), and as part of our promises to each other, I followed orders without complaining, though it made me anxious both to leave him and face everyone else. Scott spoke on Ephesians 4:17-24 and mentioned that greed is the quality of heart that drives us to want more and more of what satisfies us. At first I thought about how our current circumstances put things into perspective, and for only a fleeting moment thought I had been pushed past greed before I was blown away by how greedy I have been. What I have wanted more than anything is redemption from my circumstances, not redemption from my sin. The hopelessness that strangled me was the ugly fruit of my own inability to change my circumstances and my refusal to trust God for his new mercies every morning.

Three nights ago we pinky swore (yes, we're dorks) never to celebrate Valentine's Day again, but to celebrate Emmett's recovery at this time every year. I still pray for full recovery with every breath, but I pray also for the grace to walk in each moment aware that I am a daughter of the living God, fully atoned for by the blood of Christ and lavishly adorned in his grace and mercy. So now my soul waits for each morning and each new mercy with quiet expectation, open to anything. This week will be one of waiting, but the stillness is no longer excruciating. It is full, sometimes with pain, sometimes with peace, but always with the presence of God's Spirit.

When Mallory passed away, Emmett asked the worship band to play The Valley Song, by Jars of Clay. That song was on my mind shortly after we found out about the cancer, and a sweet friend unknowingly included the lyrics in a card she sent us. I'm looking at them now, and so I will share them with you.

You have led me to the sadness.
I have carried this pain
On a back bruised and broken.
I am crying out to you

I will sing of your mercy
that leads me through valleys of sorrow
to rivers of joy...

While we wait for rescue
with our eyes tightly shut,
face to the ground, using our hands
to cover the fatal cut.

And though the pain is an ocean
tossing us around, around, around,
you have calmed greater waters,
higher mountains have come down.

I will sing of your mercy
that leads me through valleys of sorrow
to rivers of joy...

Pain and hope intertwined with faith, that is my heart right now

Hope

2010-02-19T17:22:00.000-06:00

Friday, February 19, 2010 at 5:22pm

Over the last two days Emmett has been through a series of tests, each of which resulted in the worst case scenario. The final test today was a PET scan (cool nuclear physics I’ll explain to you if you want). It was the first glimmer of good news. Although the cancer is all over his abdomen, it is not in his bones. I never thought I would rejoice to know the cancer is only all over his abdomen, but praise the Lord it is not in his bones. This brightens our outlook, even if only slightly.

It will still be a long, painful road ahead. The wool gathering is done, so the oncologists will meet and then we will all decide on a course of action. Next week is when we get the numbers on percentages and years. It may be a question of healing, it may be a question of how many years we can buy him. We just don’t know at this point. But we do have what we need now, hope. It stole in the room quietly this afternoon and now overflows our hearts.

For the moment we are so well taken care of that we can only wonder at the amazing love of our friends. Apparently there is food coming out the windows of our house, friends have opened their homes to our relatives, and all we have to do is ask and someone coordinates whatever we need. But the road ahead is long and may often be dark, so if you haven’t had a chance to help, we will certainly need you in the months or years to come.

Right now we need to get Emmett capable of going home, which means regulating his meds and discussing options for keeping his esophagus open. We hope to be home in a few days, and they’re planning on putting a stint in his throat on Friday, though that may change. The oncologists will meet with us next week to discuss our options for treatments and give us percentages and time lines.

So this weekend we rejoice, though we continue preparing for the long and painful battle ahead. He’s ready to fight and so are the doctors, so please continue to pray with us in this long season. Thank you so much for your prayers. They were answered in both small and large ways today.

Pain

2010-02-18T16:05:00.000-06:00

Thursday, February 18, 2010 at 4:05pm

7 Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.

8 By day the LORD directs his love,
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life.

Psalm 42: 7-8

I remember a time in Hawaii years back when a few college friends and I were playing on the beach. The waves there can get pretty huge, and one particular wave caught me off guard. I was thrown under water, flipped over, and completely disoriented in a matter of seconds. There was only about two feet of water and still I couldn't tell which way was up.

In the waves of bad news, the Lord brought this verse back to my mind. it's so tempting to get sucked into the currents of pain and self-pity. But of this I am confident, that in this night, the Lord's song is with me, and his waves surround me. I know which way is up.

That being said, we are in desperate need of encouraging news. There won't be an official word for some time, but it looks like the best news we can get right now is that we have a fighting chance. Emmett and I had to have the "what if" talk this afternoon. Our biggest fear now is that we won't have the chance to fight, and our deepest prayer right now is to have that chance.

Love

2010-02-17T00:42:00.000-06:00

Wednesday, February 17, 2010 at 12:42am

Romans 8:28-29 (New American Standard Bible)

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.

For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren;

I squeezed onto the edge of Emmett's hospital bed tonight after everyone had left, and I watched him try to get comfortable with tubes coming out of his arms. He has endured more pain today than perhaps any other day of his life, and ironically not from the disease trying to kill him, but from the tests that will eventually help cure him.

This irony seems so true in our lives, that often what hurts the most can be our highest good. I was reminded of the above passage that our pastor spoke about during his series on Romans a few years ago. At the time we had just lost our daughter Mallory, and the Lord was showing me the seeds of beauty and hope he had sown in the midst of the tragedy. God works all things for his good purpose in us, to draw us into Christ and make us more like him. In the shaping there is pain, but also beauty and healing, hope and deep, deep joy.

I drove home tonight to shower while some dear friends sat with Emmett, and on the ride home, I cried a lot, but I also searched my heart. I found neither sorrow nor anger, but rather a beautiful melody of joy and hope, and a curiosity to see God's redemptive work in our broken lives. I know full well that the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. He may do either here, but he still remains a wondrous and merciful savior.