Within hours I began my search for resources to assist me in evaluating all my cancer treatment options. I contacted a woman who orchestrates care for several international clinics and tried to prepare a plan for gathering and processing information from a variety of health care practitioners and printed resources. Since it was the weekend, Kent and I had much work to complete to be ready for our move out, just six days away.
Graciously, God ordained that my mother would be nearby. Only 4 1/2 hours away working in a retreat with my brother's ministry, The Elisha Foundation, we were able to drive down to Santa Fe, New Mexico to pick her up and bring her home to help us. It was such a tremendous blessing to be with my mom, my brother and sister-in-law's family, and with five of my nieces and nephews. I received hugs, prayers and a special word of wisdom: to keep my hope in God Himself alone and not in any treatments, therapies or any other thing. I was so very grateful. He was keeping me close, keeping me covered in prayer and focused on Himself.
And the prayer cover was spreading a shelter of love over my soul. I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of support, prayers and strong encouragement that came from Facebook, email, phone calls. People from different seasons of my life, dear friends of friends, and even complete strangers. How surprisingly open the world became with cancer. It immediately humbled me, comforted me and caused me to think of all the deeper pains and diseases of the soul in which people suffer in darkness and loneliness without receiving this generous outpouring of compassion and prayer. My heart was going out to them, and at the same time I was desperately thankful to be held up in the prayers of so many, as mine were faint.
I began the week with my new to-do list. At the top was scheduling a CT scan. However, I was concerned about the risks associated with the test (29,000 new cases of cancer each year caused by CT scans) and decided to wait until I consulted with the ENT surgeon. I was glad I did. He was straightforward, but kind, and told us that in my risk group "X" the cancer doesn't respond very well to interventions, that only removing the lymph nodes and examining them could truly confirm any cancer spread. Due to his personal experience with younger women such as myself, he would recommend modified neck dissection to remove all the lymph nodes on the right side of my neck, remove the salivary gland and then remove the tumor on my tongue, to include wide clear margins, to be followed by a reconstructive procedure to close the tongue tissue removal. Neither Kent nor myself were prepared for that, as the oral surgeon thought that with the confirmation of no spread to the lymphatics, the tumor could be removed in a local excision performed in the hospital as an outpatient procedure. We walked out of that office stunned. We were truly being held up by the hand of God, receiving strength to put just one foot in front of the other. Every day that week, carried by grace on the prayers and helping hands of others.
One of our sweet friends came down to be with me one day, and she along with my supportive and diligent mother, worked to finish packing some of the more challenging things. Tape Queen saved the day! So much was accomplished in such a short time. God knew we couldn't have completed the huge task without their help. So many last minute details, reviewing tasks, delegating, rearranging scheduling and ever processing... I have cancer. What happens next?
The Lord reminded me of what was important by the words of Hannah W. Smith, in reflecting upon Romans 6:13. "It certainly is profound common sense to place our treatment for a physical illness into the hands of a skillful physician. And it is the most profound common sense of all to put our poor, weak, foolish and helpless selves into the care and keeping of the God who made us, who loves us, and who alone can care for us. When we yield to God, it means we then belong to God and that we now have all His infinite power and infinite love at work on our side! What I am inviting you to do is this: Yield yourself to Him. Take advantage of this amazing privilege that human words cannot even express... Regardless of the circumstances or of consequences...yield." (Everyday Religion: Ch 4)
By the end of the week we knew that we had to place everything in storage and drive to San Diego to begin additional consultations with doctors I have worked with in the past, deciding to end our trip in Portland, Oregon where we would consult with one of the best ENT surgeons in the field. And at that point in the process, be ready to make decisions. Life-altering choices. Life-affirming ones, too.
To be continued...
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Feast of Glory
Mise en place. Everything in its place. A necessary thing for a master chef and home cook alike. Assembling ingredients to produce a savory dish. I like to think of my life in just this way, with God preparing my life for a feast of glory. The bitterness, the sharpness and dark tang of this ingredient, this experience, will be just one of many which will surprise the palate, and the soul, with a dish meet for Heaven, and oh, what a feast!
It was just another item on my to-do list, another check mark on my long list of transition tasks. Kent was due to deploy and we were moving out of our house. Due to our landlord's financial difficulties we found ourselves in a tentative situation, and so we thought I would take advantage of the opportunity presenting itself to pursue a healthier atmosphere where, with support for all things alternative, green and sustainable, having just completed my holistic health practice training, and pursuing building biology training, I would be able to improve my health and spend time preparing and writing my protocols for wellness.
It was time for a follow up on my tongue with the oral surgeon after identifying a small growth on the underside of my tongue. Thankfully, last year my dentist had urged me to have it examined. At the time, I was also being "urged" into exploratory surgery to remove a suspect ovarian cyst. I had negotiated out of that with optional lab work and more ultrasound oversight. All of that was clear. And so with a small patch of leukoplakia on my tongue, I again, insisted upon observation of changes as I was in no apparent risk category. The oral surgeon agreed, and so my follow up was part of my responsible routine.
However, I knew that something wasn't right. My tongue had been sore for quite some time. I initially assumed it was from thyroid problems, vitamin deficiency or food sensitivities. And so, I wasn't surprised when the oral surgeon said a biopsy was now necessary, due to tissue changes. And the tissue changes he was concerned about had nothing to do with the leukoplakia, so I had been negotiating about an entirely different issue. I left his office knowing that it must be done and so sad about the necessity for it.
At the beginning of the year, I struggled to trust God with our future. We were wrestling with seeking direction for what comes next: retirement or another PCS? At the same time, I was incredibly wearied and despairing of God's love for me as demonstrated in my continual, isolating health problems. So many unanswered prayers and even desperate pleas. And yet, God assured me that He would guide us continually. And so I struggled to wait on His promise in my quiet, sick and desperate heart. And every day, and every month, the prayers, the redirections, the closed doors, the not yets, the silence from Heaven.
And now this.
How good and kind our God, as I drove home navigating through tears. I stopped at the mailbox and found a sweet card that read, "God is always near, you are not alone", and I was comforted in that word, so divinely appointed for that very moment. So on I went to packing and checking off more to-dos on my list.
Then came the appointment for the biopsy results. Unfortunately, there were no results. Another sample had been requested by the pathologist. Standard procedure, just to be sure. And so we discussed our urgent time frame (moving deadline in just a week, vacation before deployment/get me settled somewhere OR if the dreaded result of the big C, then what?) Under our compressed and urgent timeline, the surgeon agreed to give me the results over the phone.
The results came late in the afternoon, when I was alone. Squamous cell carcinoma. The surgeon recommended a CT scan to assure the cancer hadn't spread to the lymph nodes, and provided referrals for consults with two ENT surgeons, urging that soonest. I hung up and barely had a moment to process before other tasks and people forced themselves into my piercing reality. An hour later I sat on the couch while my mind whirled and spun, my heart whispering stunned and feeble prayers.
Kent came home and I waited to tell him. I knew it would be something he would not taste without great grief and distress, how deep his love for me. But so I told him. And we wept our tears and held each other tight and tried to pray ourselves to sleep.
Kent notified his military branch with the results, to begin the process of rescinding his orders, and I had to keep packing. So now, add more to that to-do list. In fact, time to make a new list.
To be continued
It was just another item on my to-do list, another check mark on my long list of transition tasks. Kent was due to deploy and we were moving out of our house. Due to our landlord's financial difficulties we found ourselves in a tentative situation, and so we thought I would take advantage of the opportunity presenting itself to pursue a healthier atmosphere where, with support for all things alternative, green and sustainable, having just completed my holistic health practice training, and pursuing building biology training, I would be able to improve my health and spend time preparing and writing my protocols for wellness.
It was time for a follow up on my tongue with the oral surgeon after identifying a small growth on the underside of my tongue. Thankfully, last year my dentist had urged me to have it examined. At the time, I was also being "urged" into exploratory surgery to remove a suspect ovarian cyst. I had negotiated out of that with optional lab work and more ultrasound oversight. All of that was clear. And so with a small patch of leukoplakia on my tongue, I again, insisted upon observation of changes as I was in no apparent risk category. The oral surgeon agreed, and so my follow up was part of my responsible routine.
However, I knew that something wasn't right. My tongue had been sore for quite some time. I initially assumed it was from thyroid problems, vitamin deficiency or food sensitivities. And so, I wasn't surprised when the oral surgeon said a biopsy was now necessary, due to tissue changes. And the tissue changes he was concerned about had nothing to do with the leukoplakia, so I had been negotiating about an entirely different issue. I left his office knowing that it must be done and so sad about the necessity for it.
At the beginning of the year, I struggled to trust God with our future. We were wrestling with seeking direction for what comes next: retirement or another PCS? At the same time, I was incredibly wearied and despairing of God's love for me as demonstrated in my continual, isolating health problems. So many unanswered prayers and even desperate pleas. And yet, God assured me that He would guide us continually. And so I struggled to wait on His promise in my quiet, sick and desperate heart. And every day, and every month, the prayers, the redirections, the closed doors, the not yets, the silence from Heaven.
And now this.
How good and kind our God, as I drove home navigating through tears. I stopped at the mailbox and found a sweet card that read, "God is always near, you are not alone", and I was comforted in that word, so divinely appointed for that very moment. So on I went to packing and checking off more to-dos on my list.
Then came the appointment for the biopsy results. Unfortunately, there were no results. Another sample had been requested by the pathologist. Standard procedure, just to be sure. And so we discussed our urgent time frame (moving deadline in just a week, vacation before deployment/get me settled somewhere OR if the dreaded result of the big C, then what?) Under our compressed and urgent timeline, the surgeon agreed to give me the results over the phone.
The results came late in the afternoon, when I was alone. Squamous cell carcinoma. The surgeon recommended a CT scan to assure the cancer hadn't spread to the lymph nodes, and provided referrals for consults with two ENT surgeons, urging that soonest. I hung up and barely had a moment to process before other tasks and people forced themselves into my piercing reality. An hour later I sat on the couch while my mind whirled and spun, my heart whispering stunned and feeble prayers.
Kent came home and I waited to tell him. I knew it would be something he would not taste without great grief and distress, how deep his love for me. But so I told him. And we wept our tears and held each other tight and tried to pray ourselves to sleep.
Kent notified his military branch with the results, to begin the process of rescinding his orders, and I had to keep packing. So now, add more to that to-do list. In fact, time to make a new list.
To be continued
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