And as we made our way up the coast of California, God blessed us with moments of spectacular beauty, glimmering joy and opportunities to worship Him. Fighting for faith in my own forlorn landscape of fear and despair, I could only cast my hope in Christ, trusting that my soul would survive the fury of the dashing waves of affliction.
The closer we got to Portland, the more certain we became that the Northwest would not become our place of healing. There had been a possibility for Kent to take an assignment in Salem, but we knew that wasn't right in a matter of moments. Some things come easier than others. We were grateful we could remove even one consideration from the list.
Fires burned and agricultural activities spread a dirty cloud that reached my spirit, agitating my doubts and stirring up unbelief. Not a happy place to be. It was all I could do to walk into the surgeon's office on that bright September afternoon.
I looked around at the disfigured, scarred people who were so marked by disease and could barely take my eyes off the carpeting. I did not want to see such frightful suffering. I wrestled with anger too, as I saw a young smoker with a fresh surgical wound, continuing still his deadly habit. And yet here I was, numbered among them. Severe mercy.
Nausea and fear, as well as resolve, were welling up. It was all I could do not to run out of the room, back down the highway, back to the beach far from these horrors. Then came the assurances that we were making the right decisions, seeing the right people, investigating all our options properly and thoroughly.
Again, this oral surgeon recommended a modified neck dissection, with the possibility of radiation to ensure remission. However, he was willing to remove just the tongue tumor if I insisted upon that. So we left there leaving the doors open to surgery if needed. We had decisions to make.
We had hoped to take a few days to rest in Bend, Oregon, and to spend time with my youngest brother and his family. But the fires were fierce along the route we would take and so instead, we routed ourselves down the Oregon and California coasts for more spectacular beauty... and fears.
Now to condense and synthesize all the information and research. Now to continue the press for a new military assignment, and yet to where? We were facing treatment decisions, locations, healing/recovery time, safe housing, and financing the whole endeavor. So many concerns, so many possibilities. So many hopes. And for a time, scant admonishment and comfort, as I cast about for the good Lord's help to my anguishing questions and unanswered cries.
We decided to again visit a doctor in Santa Barbara, before determining that we needed to return to San Diego to make our final decisions. Kent needed to get back to Colorado so we could prepare for a new assignment. How grateful we were for the time that had been provided for Kent to be with me while we processed all of this together. Even though I was prepared to do all these things alone, while he deployed, how grateful I was for the blessing of his loving presence and help.
He reminded me that in this confusing mess of pain and uncertainty we must still obey the truth of Ephesians, that we must be thankful and that whatever we do and say, all be done in the name of Jesus. That in every test, every thought, every task, we give thanks to God through our interposing, compassionate Christ. Oh, what bitter medicine must be applied to wretch up bitterness and cleanse my cloudy soul! Was there no other remedy than this? How simple, how excruciating, how critical, how fortifying. And oh, how wearying...
To be continued...
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Saturday, October 8, 2011
A Little While
In those first few early days, one of the strongest encouragements came from the Lord in the affirmation and prayers of a sweet friend who reminded me of a powerful promise, that unbeknownst to her, had been a word the Lord had spoken to me in the midst of my "Roman" health crises some three years ago. A promise I was still clinging to with great expectation. 1 Peter 5:10 declares, "And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you."
A little while. I knew that could mean a season of testing, or it could mean the rest of my brief, temporal life. But certainly, my confidence could rest on my glorious Christ who would HIMSELF restore me, confirm me, strengthen me and establish me. Rock solid.
As we drove away from Colorado the miles blurred into one another as we talked and prayed and weighed all our options. I was holding a loose plan in place, anticipating changes and redirection at every step. And that very first visit with my former health care providers left me with more questions than answers, confirming that I needed to move on to the next practitioner on my list.
Of course, there were many confirmations in our discussions with a variety of practitioners. We needed to establish the extent of the cancer and determine the best ways to measure treatment progress. And nearly all were suggesting that I needed to examine my life and recall those things I wished I'd never said and those things I should have said. Perhaps I had bit my tongue, or that perhaps I had a toxic tongue. How can anyone bear the burden of that? How I searched my heart, confessed my sins and pleaded the blood of Jesus against the accuser and embraced His healing grace. I knew that as James said, the man who can tame the tongue is perfect.
I was also strongly encouraged to act quickly to make a decision. The surgeon thought I should act within six weeks, and we had decided to give ourselves two weeks to finalize our decision. And so we continued our pursuit as God providentially provided opportunity for me to attend a cancer convention in Hollywood. While at the conference Kent and I were able to consult with a very thoughtful, Christian doctor who gave us good information and words of wisdom. I gathered several valuable resources, consulted with another doctor, had a phone consult with another clinic, and left Hollywood armed with more resources... and refreshed by the great raw food restaurant we discovered just a mile from the convention center. Nourishment and sustenance.
The uncertainty of the extent of my cancer would lead me to fear and I wrestled to lean upon God and to trust in His love. My pain of heart, my faith so small. And yet.
There was a spark of joy that led me to hope in God, to a confidence and excitement that the glory of God was being displayed in our lives. He was preparing to demonstrate His power in my life in ways I could not anticipate.
Oh, for the courage to believe and to hold tight!
To be continued...
A little while. I knew that could mean a season of testing, or it could mean the rest of my brief, temporal life. But certainly, my confidence could rest on my glorious Christ who would HIMSELF restore me, confirm me, strengthen me and establish me. Rock solid.
As we drove away from Colorado the miles blurred into one another as we talked and prayed and weighed all our options. I was holding a loose plan in place, anticipating changes and redirection at every step. And that very first visit with my former health care providers left me with more questions than answers, confirming that I needed to move on to the next practitioner on my list.
Of course, there were many confirmations in our discussions with a variety of practitioners. We needed to establish the extent of the cancer and determine the best ways to measure treatment progress. And nearly all were suggesting that I needed to examine my life and recall those things I wished I'd never said and those things I should have said. Perhaps I had bit my tongue, or that perhaps I had a toxic tongue. How can anyone bear the burden of that? How I searched my heart, confessed my sins and pleaded the blood of Jesus against the accuser and embraced His healing grace. I knew that as James said, the man who can tame the tongue is perfect.
I was also strongly encouraged to act quickly to make a decision. The surgeon thought I should act within six weeks, and we had decided to give ourselves two weeks to finalize our decision. And so we continued our pursuit as God providentially provided opportunity for me to attend a cancer convention in Hollywood. While at the conference Kent and I were able to consult with a very thoughtful, Christian doctor who gave us good information and words of wisdom. I gathered several valuable resources, consulted with another doctor, had a phone consult with another clinic, and left Hollywood armed with more resources... and refreshed by the great raw food restaurant we discovered just a mile from the convention center. Nourishment and sustenance.
The uncertainty of the extent of my cancer would lead me to fear and I wrestled to lean upon God and to trust in His love. My pain of heart, my faith so small. And yet.
There was a spark of joy that led me to hope in God, to a confidence and excitement that the glory of God was being displayed in our lives. He was preparing to demonstrate His power in my life in ways I could not anticipate.
Oh, for the courage to believe and to hold tight!
To be continued...
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Yielding
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...
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...
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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