Sorry for the gap in postings,

It is 11 PM Wednesday night and I feel wide awake. On Wednesdays and Sundays I double the amount of thyroid replacement and the result is usually trouble getting to sleep on Wednesday and Sunday nights. Well, today was my 17th radiation treatment. Each treatment is very short and relatively uneventful. However, I am realizing that the cumulative effects are beginning to affect me. Sure, early on there would be times when I would feel tired right after the treatment and sometimes a little bit nauseous, but these feelings would pass, and the rest of the day would be no problem. Looking back, I realize that each day I have been getting tired and more tired. If something comes up that demands my attention I rise to the occasion. But if nothing comes up, I am quite content. I have often thought about writing an update, but I find myself tired, needing to nap, and being careful not to go too far away from a bathroom as that side effect is becoming more of a factor. Karen observes that these are just a few more indignities I have to deal with. She is so sweet in her care and protectiveness of me, and I do appreciate it. But, on the other hand I see all of this coming from the hand of God with a purpose. I may not understand all the purposes, but I can see the deepening of relationship with God, Karen, friends, and family. I can see opportunities I have had to challenge and confuse those without hope, and comfort people in their difficult or fearful situations. Serving God, many have faced much greater indignities, so I count myself blessed in all the joy and peace I have.

In the midst of all this I have to say I am enjoying life. It is a blessing to spend time with my grandchildren. Karen and I may both be slowing down a bit, but we are slowing down together. During all this time I am learning and being reminded of what a wonderful blessing she is to me and I thank God so much for her. Reading and discussing the Bible with her, we are delighted after all these years to be still learning things about our God and about each other. People continue remarking about my attitude in facing death and the difficulties of living. It is only because of the reality of God working in my life that I can endure and look forward to whatever is next.

Quite an interesting side effect is from my Lupron shot. Prostate cancers feed on testosterone, part of the treatment is to reduce the level of testosterone and weaken the cancer so it is more susceptible to the radiation. The lowered testosterone has the effect of making me more expressive with my feelings. We often joke about that since being really expressive about feelings is not one of the things I was known for. The other day I was saying something very sweet, meaningful, and affirming to Karen. By the time I was finished I had tears running from my eyes and was all choked up. I felt kind of strange, but Karen defused my awkwardness by saying “there's that Lupron interfering again”. I have also noticed that it is hard sometimes to sing through a hymn without getting choked up, especially when it is referring to our hope in life and in death because of Jesus.

An update on the actual cancer situation. Blood tests show no evidence of thyroid cancer. The doctors are quite happy, but I will still need regular blood tests for the next five years to monitor the situation. The thyroid replacement medicine will be a lifelong necessity. Regarding the prostate cancer, one blood test showed a dramatic decrease in cancer markers. In my case that means from VERY high to just high. It is still too early to tell what the results eventually will be. The two big questions remaining are-                              Will the whole cancer be killed by the radiation? and                                                           How much of me will be damaged by the radiation?

Also, a little update on Karen. I am amazed at all the strength she has and blessed by her willingness to take on extra work while at the same time affirming me as I feel frustrated by what I cannot do. Two weeks age I thought that I could provide a nice break for her by sending her and our two Pennsylvania daughters to Florida to surprise our youngest daughter for her birthday. I thought a girl’s weekend in balmy Florida would be a refreshing treat for her. (Before you start thinking what a thoughtful, generous guy I am, I have to say that I did it because I was able to get roundtrip tickets for $29.) Unfortunately, after landing, on the way to leaving the airport Karen fell down the escalator. Fortunately, it was only four steps from the bottom, but she ended up with a dislocated finger, bruises, and four stitches in the head. Her first five hours in Florida were spent in an Emergency Room getting x-rays, cat scans, rings being cut from her finger, injections, etc.  After that the visit was uneventful, but it was a pleasant surprise for our daughter. Karen is recovering well, the stitches are out, her finger is almost back to normal and the bruises are painful but slowly healing. 

 One down, 43 to go

Today was the first day of radiation. Things went very smoothly end quickly. It is probably just my imagination, but I feel a little queasy down in the area of the X Ray but not any really big problem. The only disappointment that I could have about the process is that it is so quick and easy. I had thought that I might have 44 days of getting to know nurses and other patients and being able to talk to them about hope. But all the technicians sit in another room and one nurse adjust me on the table and then she leaves. There is no opportunity to even meet other patients in the waiting room. On the positive side I am in by 8:30 and out before 9 so I have the whole rest of the day to do things.

Friday was much different than today. Besides a 30 degree difference in the temperature which made it nice and balmy, I was there in the afternoon for a preliminary visit. When I was leaving in the elevator there was an older couple coming down from the second floor which is where they do chemotherapy. We started to chat a little bit and the man, remarking about the nice weather said, ‘Today is a godsend’. I remarked that for those of us having treatment in the Cancer Center every day is a Godsend. There was a moment of quietness as they reflected on that and they then said thank you and goodbye as the elevator reached the ground floor. I probably will never see them again, but I pray for them as I remember them. It was just a little comment, but it put a different perspective in their thinking, and I can only hope that it might be just one little piece that God will use in bringing them to find peace and hope in Jesus.

Update and a little insight into my head and heart

On March 4^th I had  bunch of CAT Scans which guided them to put the locator tattoos in the right place for the upcoming radiation. They also made a mold which will hold my body in the same place during all the sessions of radiation. If the Doctors can complete their treatment plan, then tomorrow will be the final preliminary visit to the cancer center before they begin the treatments.

On the Thyroid cancer front, I continue with hormone replacement pills. The big picture is that I have the proper dosage. Blood tests show the right levels, and I do not have many of the possible side effects. On a smaller scale, I reach the correct weekly dosage by taking a double dose on Saturday and Tuesday nights. That makes Sundays and Wednesdays very interesting. I swing between bouts of tiredness and energy. It seems that the cancer fog is a little more of a factor on those days too. At Wednesday night Bible study, the leader will ask for the group to find a passage related to the topic. When he gives the reference, I think ‘I know that without looking it up’ so I start to recite it and the fog rolls in and I end up paraphrasing or even making up the rest of it. We now joke that while some use the ESV and others the KJV, I use the JCE version.

It is 2:20 AM Thursday morning and I am still feeling the effects of Wednesday’s double dose. Wednesday night we were in bed by 10PM. At 11:30 I was still wide awake and ready to say, ‘Forget about all this medicine and cancer treatment. Maybe I should just live normally until I die.’ This was not the most rational of thoughts, but I was really feeling tired and discouraged with the changed lifestyle and intrusive therapies I am going through. I so much wanted to get up, throw the medicine away, cancel all my appointments, and go into the kitchen and eat foods I am not supposed to have. I realized this was ridiculous thinking and finally asked God to help me fall asleep. He was merciful and I fell right asleep. It makes me wonder why I spent the time fretting about my situation instead of asking for His help sooner. I woke at 1:35 which was the perfect time to take my next Thyroid pill. I went back to bed and began to think about all the things in this experience I could write about and by 2 AM realized that I would not remember it by morning. Thus, I find myself in my office typing this out. I am using the energy cycle of my medication for good purposes, instead of moaning about it.

I was really encouraged by something at Bible study tonight. It was one of those little ‘God things’ where I saw something that had nothing to do with the lesson and while I dwelt on it, everyone else moved on. We were looking at 2 Peter 1:3 ‘His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence,’. I took the ‘all things’ as similar to the ‘precious promises’ of verse 4 ‘by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.’ I started to list the promises that seemed especially precious to me at this stage of life. I began paying attention to the class when they started looking at Acts 2:14 and following. My eye glanced down at vs 24 ‘God raised him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible for him to be held by it.’ And the phrase ‘loosing the pangs of death’ jumped out at me. I put that together with the ‘partaker of the divine nature’ of 2 Peter 1:4 and realized that as part of our identity in and union with Christ, we are loosed from the pangs of death. This helped me understand the way I am dealing with two aggressive forms of cancer, where statistically speaking, successful treatments will see my life expectancy to be in the high single digits. How can I be not only accepting, but embracing this harsh reminder of my mortality? It is simple, it is because of Jesus, He has loosed me from the pangs of impending death. I extended that thought to another concern I have had. This is the impact of my death on Karen. I realized that while she will still experience loss, memories may be tinged with sadness, and there will be times of missing me; as a follower of Jesus, she too will be loosed from the pangs of my death. Because of this, she will grieve, but not as one who has no hope. Her hope as well as mine is rooted in the precious promises of our God and Savor, Jesus Christ.

The rest of the story from 25 Feb that I should have written sooner. 

The procedure of 25 Feb was the most painful episode in my whole cancer journey. It seems that the skin and blood vessels on my right arm are very tough. At least, that was the conclusion of the two nurses who after numerous attempts in two spots were finally able to get the IV in. I was literally groaning as I clutched onto the bed rails. Karen got up and came to the bed and rubbed my feet because she saw how much pain I was enduring. Afterwards I thought about just how merciful God has been to me through all this. Many dealing with their cancers are suffering so much more and for much longer then I did during my IV difficulty. I am certainly extremely fortunate.

After the IV, everything went smoothly and successfully. I met with the surgeon and told him over a hundred people were praying for him and we chatted about that a bit. We had an exciting ride on the gurney through crowded halls. Once I reached the operating room, I was asleep until I woke up in the room where it all started, and Karen was by my side. The aftereffects of anesthesia were minimal, and I was soon able to walk gently and slowly out to the car and go home.

Shortest Post Ever 

Surgery successful. Home now. Groggy, tender, hungry, and tired. Thankful to God and for all those who prayed.

 Moving On

After everything being cancelled because of Covid, we are making progress on treatment being scheduled. Thursday the 25^th I will have the gold markers and spacing gel put in. This is a relatively simple surgical procedure, but I will have an IV anesthetic. I am glad that I will not be awake for this, but neither am I looking forward to this as I am concerned that it will increase the fogginess that my mind has to deal with. The following Thursday March 4^th is what they call a preliminary radiation consultation. This is when they will make the mold for holding me in place and make final decisions regarding the actual radiation therapy. The. radiation therapy will start sometime in the following week. In preparation for this Thursday, I have to stop taking vitamins, supplements, and pain medications. This has made life a little uncomfortable.

I added a new song to be used at my memorial service. It hasn't been scheduled yet and I hope it won't be for awhile, but I am planning ahead. It’s sung by a group of five South African men and called ‘I could sing about heaven for a million years and never get the story told’. It is kind of upbeat and not real theologically deep, but it makes a powerful point.

Because my thyroid was totally removed, I must take a pill to replace stuff the thyroid used to make. To avoid interactions with other stuff, I have to take it between 1:00 and 2:30 AM. I am fairly good at waking up to take it, but sometimes it is hard to get back to sleep. Saturday night could not get back to sleep and my mind went to thinking about many of the times I failed in the past. Often when I have this sleeplessness, I am able to turn my thoughts to blessings I'm thankful for, but not that night. I must have dozed off a little bit because the next thing I remember is being very disturbed about dying-the uncertainty and the unknown of the process. Of all things, I thought of the Elvis Presley song ‘Softly as I leave you’. This song recounts a letter written by a seriously ill man to his wife explaining why he was going to let her sleep while he died. Softly, I will leave you softly, for my heart would break If you should wake and see me go. So, I leave you softly, long before you miss me, long before your arms can beg me stay for one more hour, for one more day. After all the years I can't bear the tears to fall, so softly, I will leave you there.
I confess I have a soft spot for Elvis’ ballads, and this always moves me. Saturday night went beyond just music appreciation. I liked the sentiment of sparing Karen having to watch me die. But I also thought don’t I want to hold her hand and talk while I pass on. I was moved to sadness as I thought about dying alone.

 I was really pretty disturbed and disheartened by this point. I began to pray and thank God for the reality of forgiveness, confessed my lack of faith, and ended up with the words of Mark 9:24 “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!”. Then I fell asleep until we got up at 5:45.

I was well rested now, but still trying to process the sleeplessness and disturbing thoughts I had during the night. Looking at my phone, I saw I had a message from our Iranian daughter in London. It was just a bunch of hearts and Psalm 91. What a great Psalm, as I read it, I enjoyed the reminder of God’s love, care, and protection. What really struck me though was verse 5 ’you will not fear the terror of the night nor the arrow that flies by day’. God used that verse and the whole Psalm to make sense out of the previous night. I learned or was reminded, that God gives grace and comfort as we need it. Also, our times are in God’s hands and He will be merciful to both Karen and I and give grace as it is needed. The key is to remember and trust in His promises and commit ourselves into His care when life gets really messy or scary.

 Memories...

Getting ready for bed last night I ripped off the tape from yesterday's blood test . I commented that between the blood drawing and the EKG that was the most uncomfortable aspect of the day's tests. I then observed that next Thursday would be the next time for a hole in my arm for anesthetic and then another puncture on my body in a less comfortable and public place to insert the gold markers and the SpaceOar.

Karen kissed me and said she really admired me for the way I was responding to all the pain discomfort and indignities I was going through. That really helped a lot. Words of affirmation and touch are my two biggest ‘love languages’. But I also thought that while for decades I have talked about the sovereignty of God, it is in circumstances like this, that belief becomes precious. Especially as I know it is not a distant despot controlling things according to his own directionless whims. Instead, it is my loving, heavenly father who created me, redeemed me, controls my destiny, and does this all as an expression of His love and holiness to accomplish my good and His glory.

For Christmas I gave each of my five grandsons the gift of a day with me where I would teach them to build a birdhouse. At the time I was looking for some creative alternative to just spending money on another toy that would be forgotten in a week or two.

So far I have worked with two of the boys. While I have learned the harsh lesson that I no longer can work with the degree of precision of the days of making missile parts and jewelry, I have had a really good time. I have come to realize I am not just making birdhouses, but memories for my grandsons. I'm teaching them about tools and letting them do the work. I am talking with them, spending time just the two of us, and affirming them as they are creating something. When you have the reminder of your mortality in two cancers and their ongoing impact on your life it is a little easier to think in terms of, “This might be the last time I/we do...”, and to want to make it a good memory for the other involved. But I am thinking what a great thing it would be if we all viewed even our daily, mundane activities as an opportunity to make good memories for those we love.