The Final Piece of the Puzzle

The voice on the other end of the phone was the nurse from my oncologists office.  She said, “Doug, let me assure you, it’s good to get a call from the nurse”.  I was wondering earlier in the morning whether it would be a phone call from the nurse, or from my oncologist, Dr. Veeder.  I knew that if it was the Dr., the explanation would be a bit more complicated.  But what I heard from Niki, the nurse, was….”your biopsy came back clear”.  Sweet words, indeed.  This was the final piece of the puzzle.  The news that I needed to hear to erase any question as to whether my cancer was gone.  I thank God for bringing me through this whole process, and I want to thank everyone who has been praying for me, and providing support all along the way. 

I have learned a lot, and in the coming months, I will be sharing those lessons, hopefully with many people who need to hear that there is not only hope, but that we need more awareness of the people around us who need us to respond to their needs, and be part of their journey.  I’ll keep you posted on what my plans are. 

But thanks for riding on my journey with me.  Don’t stop praying, though.  If the road ahead was completely smooth, we wouldn’t need a loving and faithful God to depend on.  We need Him at all times….on smooth and bumpy roads.

Five Glorious Words

What words are those? Well, since my last entry, I had my last chemo treatment, and a very important test; a PET scan.  When the nurse called to give me the results, I was walking into a Bible study class at church.  Her words were……”NO…RESIDUAL…EVIDENCE…OF…LYMPHOMA”.  Clear. Zero. Zippo. Nada. Nothing. Gone.  Yeah, we were pretty happy with that news, I’d say.  Obviously, we have much to be thankful for.  I’m not naive, though, to think that this journey is completely over.  I still have a bone marrow biopsy coming up, but we are very hopeful, since the cancer cells were very sparse in the bone marrow to begin with.  And I’ll need follow up scans in the months to come to monitor my progress, and make sure that the cancer cells don’t come back.  And, of course, I’ll need to make sure that I eat the right things, so I’ll need to change my diet as well (darn it).  

I’ve learned a lot of lessons throughout this ordeal, and I have a feeling there’s more to learn, and possibly something to teach others.  And there’s a lot of thank yous to hand out to those who have supported me, prayed for me, and helped me when I could not help myself.  More to come…

Flip Side

I just finished my 5^th chemo treatment, and I am very excited to be on the home stretch. I have one more treatment to go, and my body seems to be responding well, according to my oncologist. My bloodwork has always looked very good over the course of treatment. I will be having a PET scan in about two weeks to see how effective the treatments have been. Then after the 6^th and final treatment, I’ll have a bone marrow biopsy.

But this blog entry is not about just an update on my progress, it’s a follow up on my last entry (“I Am Aware”) where I encouraged focusing on being aware of the needs of those that are around us, and responding with action.  But one of the things I did not anticipate is the emotional feeling I would have when someone actually wanted to do something to help ME.  I’ve always been a person, like most of us I suspect, who is accustomed to doing things my own way, and not likely to ask for help.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I feel like we should make it a point to be self sustaining, and have a good work ethic. I mean, I can change my own light bulbs, and change out a leaky faucet, right?  Now, when it comes to things I absolutely cannot do, like major electrical work around the house, I call someone who is less likely to get electrocuted, namely a professional electrician. But there are still times when I’m a little stubborn about doing a task that I feel like I can handle, even when I should probably call for backup. For instance, there was the time recently that my wife and I were looking at antiques, and we spotted a small dresser that she absolutely loved. Well, we debated about buying it, and decided to wait awhile, and not buy on an impulse. A little later though, I decided to surprise her with it, and I bought it without her knowledge. My plan was to sneak it in the house when she was gone, and be a real hero. Finally, the opportunity came, and she was going to be out of the house all morning on a Saturday. The unfortunate part is, that it happened to be about a week after my second chemo treatment, when I was feeling my weakest.  But I remembered that the dresser was small, and of course, I thought I could just put it in the trunk of my car without much effort, and it would be no problem…….WRONG!  Oh, I got the dresser home alright, but the strain of that half hour of time put me down the rest of the day, and I was no good to anyone. Was I a hero to my wife? Of course. Was I stupid? Absolutely. The next day at church I mentioned the brilliant event to one of my best friends, who, by the way, has a truck. They only live about a quarter of a mile away. What do you think his response was? Right. Why didn’t you call? Well, why didn’t I? Pride, of course. Why do we do that?

Fast forward to this past weekend, when I had just finished my 5^th chemo treatment. I was feeling pretty weak, and I remembered that a group from my church was coming over to clean up all the yard waste in my yard. I can remember my Pastor telling me that I needed to let them do it. Evidently he knows me pretty well. Even after the hard lesson I learned about the dresser, you need to know that it was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, watching a group of people doing something for me that I know I should be doing myself. I had to really take a step back and realize that what they were doing was out of genuine love and servanthood. I didn’t have the strength to do this on my own, and they were responding to a genuine need……They were aware of that need, and provided it. They didn’t wear a ribbon to represent my cause, or put a magnet on their car in the shape of a ribbon to let people know about my need. They fulfilled it themselves with sweat equity and willing hearts. It drove me to tears of gratitude that people would do something like that for me. Should that be such a big surprise?  I guess my point is this…..If awareness is commendable, and it is…..Acting on it is priceless…..and receiving help from those who are aware of your need is, well, humbling and encouraging. Isn’t that what we need sometimes? Accept it and be glad.

Now, can someone please mow my lawn? (I think I’m catching on, here)

I am aware…

As I prepare to have my 4^th chemo treatment, I do so with a heightened sense of awareness of all those who have had to stare cancer in the face. Since I’ve never had to face anything like this before, I guess it makes sense that I had never made a great effort to notice those around me who were struggling with the physical and emotional strain of this disease until it hit me personally.  Oh, I knew people with cancer, and I prayed for them when a request for prayer was made. But I never really understood what they were going through, and never had a genuine compassion or empathy for them. I guess that’s one of the tragedies of our society today. We’re so wrapped up in our own lives, and our own desires, that we don’t take time to stop and consider someone else’s challenges, much less stop to help or get involved in their lives. Maybe it’s because we don’t understand what they’re going through, and don’t really know how to help them. I think that’s valid in many cases. Many times it’s just because we’re too busy with our own lives. But in my case, I’m so grateful for those who have reached out and made a point to intentionally find out how they could help, or reached out to ask how they could pray for me. It has taught me some valuable lessons about my own life, and how I view others, as they face various challenges and hurts, regardless of whether they have cancer.  

In my occupation, ironically I have the opportunity to talk to people every day about their medical needs. I get a chance to encourage them, pray with them, and be that voice of comfort and compassion that they need so much right at that moment. Before I had Lymphoma, I never noticed people who had it, much less understood what it was. But now that I have Lymphoma, I talk to people every week who have it. The best example I can think of, is that when you buy that new car you’ve always wanted. You’re sure that no one has a car that looks as cool as yours. But when you start driving it, you notice something. The car that you thought was so unique, is everywhere! Why didn’t you notice it before? Well, it wasn’t “yours” before. Your senses have been awakened. That’s what it feels like to walk in someone else’s shoes. You begin to understand the challenges that they are facing in a tangible way. And then you begin to understand how you can help them.

My cancer is not unique. But the people that God has awakened my senses to…..are.  Especially the people who are young.   Young men like Collin. A 15 year old young man who has a more aggressive form of Lymphoma than I have. He just finished his chemo treatments, and is waiting for the results of his follow up PET scan to find out if the cancer is gone. Or like Jonathan, another 15 year old, who has testicular cancer, and is in Mexico right now with his mother getting treatment. He’s been away from home for several months. Imagine the challenges of that family. The dad, who is not only away from his son, but away from his wife, and left at home to work, and pay the bills, run the household, and take care of the other 3 siblings.  There are so many others that God has made me aware of in the last few months. These are the people that are around us every day, as we live out our own lives. My prayer is that God makes you aware of those around you in your life that need encouragement, or require some form of more tangible help, like running an errand for them, mowing their lawn, or simply to be a listening ear.  I’m so thankful for those around me who have cared enough to look me straight in the eye and ask, “what can I do for you to help this week”. 

Hebrews 12:12&13.  “So take a new grip with your tired hands and strengthen your weak knees. Mark out a straight path for your feet, so that those who are weak and lame will not fall, but become strong.”

Alter Ego?

 

OK. For those of you that have been perusing my blog, and have been frustrated that it hasn’t been updated, take a deep breath, count to ten, and here we go. I had my second chemo a week ago, and it went very smooth. I was in and out in about 3 hours, as opposed to 8 hours on my first one. The biggest difference I noticed was that I was not in near as much pain after the second treatment. I don’t know much about how the body should respond, but believe me, it was a welcome change. Now….when I hit the seventh day, the fatigue and weakness kicked in big time, and I was hurtin’, but I’ll still take a couple of bad days out of seven for sure.

The week of my second treatment, my hair started to fall out in bunches. While this may be a shock to some, I thought it was quite humorous to be able to grab a clump of hair, and gently pull it out with no problem. I don’t know, it’s just kind of the way my mind works, I guess. It was novel, it was different, and somehow entertaining. It made me think of where I used to work. It was so stressful there, lots of people were pulling their hair out, and without any help from chemotherapy!  Anyway, the fun didn’t last for long, because a few days later, enough of it had fallen out to where I was at the point of making the decision to buzz my head. Now, I understand that this can be a life altering thing for people, but the more I looked at it, the more I got used to it, and I realized something. I looked better without hair, than what little I had to begin with. The second thing I found out was that my head gets very cold, even indoors. 

Then it hit me. I was shaving my head one morning, and this phrase jumped out of my brain…..”who loves ya baby”. You old timers remember what TV show that’s from? Right!  Kojak!  So I’ve included a couple of pictures below, one of which I had some fun with and posed with a lollypop. Don’t worry, I’m not channeling Telly Savalas or anything like that. Having a bald head doesn’t mean I have an alter ego. It’s just me having a little fun with this thing, and trying to keep things upbeat. Check it out…

There it goes!

Well, it has begun. Either my brain has increased so much that my head can’t contain my hair anymore, or the chemo is doing its thing. Me thinks the latter. I woke up this morning to go through my normal routine, and when I combed my hair……tada!! A nice grouping fell out. I felt like the Scarecrow in the Wizard Of Oz, when Dorothy let him off the pole, and he fell to the ground and some of his hay fell out…….”well, there goes some of ME again!”  The difference, of course, is that while the scarecrow was able to just stuff it back in again, my “hay” will continue to fall out. But a couple of weeks ago, I contacted a guy at work who loves playing with PhotoShop, and I asked him if he would PhotoShop the hair off of my head, just so I could get used to it, and ya know what?  After the initial shock, I thought, it’s not a bad look, really. So next time you see me, I’ll look a little different, and if you would, join me in a chorus of “If I only had a brain”.

First Chemo treatment done! Whew!

Well, the day I had been anticipating had finally come. My first chemo treatment. I gotta tell ya, I really didn’t fully know what to expect. No matter how much you read on the subject, it doesn’t fully prepare you emotionally when it’s you getting hooked up. But here’s what I decided. I was going to treat this day just like any other day. Since it was a Friday, a normal work day, I dressed like I was going to work. Fortunately, where I work is pretty laid back on how we dress, so I wear comfortable, casual clothes anyway. And sure, I could have worn some sweats or workout clothes, but that sounded too depressing to me. I convinced myself that when I am feeling good throughout this treatment, I’ll treat it like a normal day, with no limitations. Now, I’m not naive. I know that there will be some days when I’m definitely not feeling normal, and it’ll be tough to get out of bed, and operate normally. I’ll reserve the depressing comfortable clothes for those days. But that doesn’t mean that I will be depressed.

When we arrived at Illinois Cancer Care, we were met by some very nice nurses. Jennifer was my nurse. Her husband has colon cancer. Now, if you’re going to have a nurse hooking you up to chemo, is there a better person to have treating you? Who better can understand and empathize what you’re going through? She was caring, very funny, and she made me feel like we had been friends for a long time. She made my first day so enjoyable, if you can believe that. According to Jennifer, I was breezing through the process. I only had one reaction after awhile. I began to get cold, and I developed the shakes, a normal reaction. Then came Jennifer to the rescue. She gave me a shot of Demerol in my IV, and within about a minute, I had stopped shaking. And, of course, along with the shaking going away, the Demerol allowed me to take a nice, restful nap. Two hours to be exact. Ahhh……

It was a long day, but it was not over by a long shot. After being there for 8 hours, I was finally free from the IV and we could go home……but we didn’t. I was feeling pretty good, so we were able to fulfill a commitment I had made to my daughter April. She finished her Associate’s Degree from Robert Morris College in Springfield, IL. I know it sounds a little crazy, but we gassed up the car, got a quick bite to eat, and we were on our way. It’s about an hour’s drive from where we live, but I was so focused on being there for my little girl, that it seemed like we were there in no time. And, as it turned out, JUST in time! I was so proud of her as she walked across the stage to get her diploma and graduated with her degree……with honors! How could I not be there for her?

It was a good day. Faithful friends were praying for me all day, and God gave me the strength to make it through. As I sit here, the morning after my first treatment, I have no idea how my body is going to react to all this medication bombarding my system. That is not a normal thing to put your body through, to be sure. And I know I will not be able to breeze through every day. But, with the Grace of God, a faithful and loving wife, and friends, family, and co-workers standing at the ready, this journey will be treated with a positive outlook, a trust in God, and a peace that only He can give. This peace and confidence is not something that I possess on my own. It is God working in me. 

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that this all-surpassing power is from God, and not from us.  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.  We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body……..Therefore, we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”  (2 Corinthians 4: 7-12, 16-18) 

No matter what is happening to my body throughout this journey, I have a huge God who loves me, and will sustain me in whatever “light and momentary trial” I may go through, because He is renewing me on the inside, day by day.

Here’s a couple of shots on day 1 of chemo, taken after I woke from my Demerol induced nap. Looks easy, huh?

Standing on holy ground?

I went to see a cardiologist today at the request of my family doctor, just to make sure that my ticker is strong enough for chemotherapy, as a precaution, I guess. It was a very routine visit, as doctor visits go. The nurse weighed me, took my blood pressure, asked about the medications I’m currently on, and went over some medical history.  Then she make a peculiar request. She said, “the doctor will be in a just a minute (yeah…right), so go ahead and take your shoes off“………huh? Did I hear that right? Take my shoes off? Ookaay, I thought. Well, as long as you know, this is at your own risk.  So, I sat and waited for the doctor. He arrived a “few minutes” later, and asked me some questions about my current condition, and the treatment I am about to take for my Lymphoma. He made some observations, prescribed some medication, and then said, “Well, that’s it. Good luck with your treatment”……..then he left.  He…….left.  There I am, standing alone in the middle of a treatment room with my shoes off.  Why was I supposed to do this? Was I on “holy ground” or something? I’ve got to be missing something here, right?  I mean, I’ve heard how doctors can be sometimes, thinking that they are God-like, but this guy was very nice, and almost humble. I was caught off guard so much, in fact, that I didn’t even think to stop him to ask him why.  So, I scratched my head, shrugged my shoulders, put my shoes on, paid my bill, got in my car, and drove away, thankful that at least my socks were clean, and had no holes in them. I know my mom would be proud.

The “gist” of things…

Since I was diagnosed with B Cell Lymphoma on Dec. 24th, 2008, I have been to see an Oncologist, a Cardiologist, a Nephrologist, a Phlebotomist, and a Radiology Technologist.

I’ve been poked, prodded, sliced, scanned, x-rayed, put under sedation, biopsied, tested, and needled.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been asked my birth date, whether I’m allergic to latex, weighed, drained of more blood, and told that I’m “going to feel a little stick”.

I’ve visited hospitals, outpatient centers, cancer centers, and doctor’s offices.

I’ve been told what to do, where to go, when to do it, how long to do it, and how many to take.

And now that I am on the brink of venturing out into uncharted waters in my life and starting chemotherapy next Friday, there is one thing that has not changed. Whether I’m in a doctor’s office, at home, in my car, taking a walk, eating, or sleeping, or any number of things that go on in my day, week, month, or year……..God is still in control, and I’m not……and I am OK with that. The question is, whatever is going on in your life right now…………are you?

I have a glow

Probably because I needed to go for another scan. This time a PET scan. No, it has nothing to do with your dog, your cat, or your goldfish. (I’m surprised you would even try that joke). Although I did go for a CAT scan recently, didn’t I.  Anyway, for this one, I had to lay in a long tube to determine how quickly a solution they inject into you is attracted to my lymph nodes, which are affected by cancerous cells. Some people are a little scared by having to lay in such a tight spot for 28 minutes. Actually, it was quite comfortable and cozy. It felt like a nice long hug. Besides, it was a great opportunity to take a nap….something I’m starting to enjoy lately.  The only thing missing was a little compartment to store a snack or two, and a small TV screen in front of your face for catching up on the latest sports highlights or news. Visiting the bathroom might be a challenge, but other than that, no problem.

I go to my oncologist in a couple of weeks to find out the results, and to determine when my treatment will start. I’ve been looking on the internet, and doing some reading about NHL (Non-Hodgkins Lympoma), and what treatment options are available. It’s amazing what you can learn by reading. I highly recommend doing it if you’re not in the habit. I’m also very grateful to have an oncologist (Dr. Veeder) who will take the time to answer questions, and make himself accessible at any time to address any concerns I might have. He’s been very open, honest, and caring. That’s important for any doctor, but especially when you’re diagnosed with cancer.