My cancer story so far - part 2

Last week I did a post detailing my short journey with cancer and talking mainly about the ways I think God was preparing me for the news that I had cancer.  In the future I'd like to share a few of things I am learning along the way and how I think God is working.  For today I thought I would just share some of the nitty gritty details about what life has been like these past few weeks - what it has been like for me to find out I have cancer, emotions and reactions.

As I mentioned in my last post I think God was preparing me for this through renewed attention to the theology of the cross, which teaches that great blessing comes through great suffering.  Now, to be honest, I don't have a right to call my suffering great, and I know that.  Even in the midst of finding out cancer and even if the worst case scenario comes about as a result of this, whatever suffering I endure will be with my family and a loving church family beside me, with hundreds, maybe thousands praying for me, and with the best medical treatment and pain management in the world.  Great suffering is endured by believers who, because of their testimony are persecuted, beaten and killed for their faith.  When they get sick, they don't get comfort, they get another kick in the gut and suffer alone and forgotten.  So, in what I share below I don't want to come across in a "woe is me" fashion.  In truth, I should say "blessed is me" in the midst of all of this. 

At the same time, this is a trial and it is real and I don't mean to minimize the fear and worry that comes with it, for the ones who endure it and for those who have to sit and watched their loved ones go through it.  I do believe that in many ways the loved ones of those who go through these kinds of trials have an even great trial of their own. 

So with that, here's more of my cancer story. 

A few days before Thanksgiving I got sick.  It was a weird sickness - not exactly a cold or a flu because I didn't have some of the typical symptoms like stuffiness, sore throat or temperature, but I just generally felt bad all over and wanted to lay down.  I got over it in a day and it happened again on Thanksgiving day and I got over it by sleeping about half of the day.  This began a pattern over the next few weeks where I would have 1-2 days a week where I would be terribly fatigued and very sleepy.  I remember going to a meeting one day and coming back to the office after lunch and I could hardly stay awake.  I was drinking diet pepsi max and the time (the one with double caffeine) and I think I drank several cans that afternoon but I just couldn't get good and awake. 

I'm your typical American male who hates doctors and may be willing to partially consider going to see one if a limb is severed or something like that, so I just figured this was due to me not getting enough sleep at night or eating bad or something. 

But after awhile this became a problem and even my wife, who is not a run to the doctor with every sniffle kind of person, thought something could be up so she was also pushing me to go to the doctor.  At the time a mono outbreak was going around my kid's school, and even though I'm 45 and don't hang around the school I wondered if somehow I could have gotten that, as it would explain the fatigue.

When I went to the doctor that was her first read on my situation too. So she did a blood test for mono.  It came back negative but what did come back was that I was anemic.  When the doctor called she said that I needed to go get a colonoscopy right away to rule out colon cancer.

That was the first time I heard the "c" word and to say the least, it gave me quite a fright.  I immediately started researching colon cancer on the internet and found that it usually strikes people who are much older than me and even when it hits those younger, as long as you catch it early, it's very treatable.

So, since I am a young man I figured its probably not colon cancer and even if it is, since I am so young and healthy even the worst case scenario would be that I had an early stage of it and I would be fine - but again, I probably didn't have it, at least that's what I kept telling myself.

But I couldn't shake it that the doctor had used the "c" word.  I had the colonoscopy scheduled for about a week later and I had a pretty big struggle with worry and fear that weak.  Part of my struggle was not only with fear and worry over the possibility of cancer but wrestling with my own lack of faith.  I wondered why I was letting this get to me.  First of all, there was no reason to believe I had cancer (remember, I'm young and healthy and young and healthy people usually don't get cancer), so I was probably worrying about nothing and as a Christian I knew that worry was a sin, so not only was I worried about the possibility of cancer, I was sinning on top of that by worrying about the possibility of cancer.

It's amazing how neurotic we Christians can make ourselves isn't it?

For the most part I maintained my composure the week of the colonoscopy.  My session laid hands on me, anointed me with oil and prayed for me and this greatly buoyed my spirits.  I read Piper's article "Don't Waste Your Cancer," and that gave me another shot of courage.  Well, for the most part it gave me a shot of courage - I wished he had said something to acknowledge that this is indeed a fearful thing, but for the most part it gave me a good perspective on cancer.  And again, this was all just in case, because being young and healthy I probably didn't have cancer and had nothing to worry about.

Still, I couldn't shake the premonition that I was going to get bad news at the colonoscopy.  I had this picture in my mind that the day I walked into the doctor's office for the colonoscopy I would open a door and enter a room I could never leave.

The best thing that happened that weak for me was a conversation with my good buddy Glenn Lucke who helped settle me down.  I was telling him about my wrestlings with fear and worry and the struggle with guilt over being fearful and worried, and I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was something to the effect of "there is hardly a more fearful word in the language than 'cancer' and even to raise the possibility is a fearful thing."  He helped assure me that my anxiety over this was legit and I didn't need to compound it with guilt.

The night before the colonoscopy I put myself to sleep quoting Isaiah 41:10:

        

10 So do not fear, for I am with you;
           do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
              I will strengthen you and help you;
               I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

And the word of God did it's work.  I slept fairly soundly and approached the colonoscopy with a pretty fair amount of composure.

Some of my worst fears were realized when the doctor came to tell us the results of the colonoscopy and I knew my premonitions had been right.  He hung his head and looked quite dejected and said "there's no good way to tell you this, but you have a tumor on your colon."  He said they usually biopsy things like this, and he would, but he didn't need a biopsy to know this was large and it was cancerous.

I knew it was serious by his actions.  Do you know how a doctor will sometimes refer you to another doctor and give you the number for you to call and make an appointment?  He didn't do that - he called a surgeon for me.  This was Friday and he made sure I was in there on Monday.  He also set me up for a CT scan that same day (Friday).  Again, I knew this was not looking good by the speed and urgency with which he acted.

We held together fairly well over the weekend.  We were indeed worried, but I did my best to comfort myself with the notion that, since I was young and healthy, I had probably caught this at an early stage and would be fine. 

We were busy that weekend and the busy-ness helped.  Our elders came over on Saturday and prayed for me and encouraged us.  We told the congregation on Sunday and one of our members asked us to come stand in the middle of the church so the church could surround our family and lay hands on us and pray for us.  It was one of the most beautiful scenes of love and encouragement I have ever been a part of.  People were crying and crying out to God for my healing and for comfort for the family and they were all very encouraging.

I like the word "encourage."  It assumes that the one who is being "encouraged" lacks courage and someone or something from the outside needs to put "courage" in them.  I have experienced this all throughout this process.  I experienced when the session prayed for me on 2 separate occasions and when the whole church surrounded us with prayers that Sunday.  Little did I know that I was going to need encouragement more than I ever dreamed in the next few days.

My wife Lynette and I went to see the surgeon on Monday morning and again I kept telling myself over and over that I'm young and healthy and colon cancer usually strikes older people, so even though I've got it, it's probably in an early stage and we'll probably find that we can go cut it out and I'll get on with life.  I had many folks at the church that Sunday tell me stories of people they knew who had colon cancer, who had caught it early and had gone on with no problem.  So I was encouraging myself with all of this.

When we saw the surgeon he started asking some questions that I didn't like at all and I had a feeling this conversation was going in a direction I wasn't going to like.  He asked me about symptoms and I told him a few of the things I mentioned here, but he stopped me and said he wanted to know about symptoms over the last year or two.  He also had a very serious look on his face and I figured that if he knew that whatever it is I had has been growing for a couple of years this couldn't be good.  Then he dropped the bombshell.

"You have a large tumor on your colon, tumors on your liver and 2 nodules in your lung."  Then he said he wanted to schedule surgery right away and get me connected with an oncologist right away.

I looked at Lynette and she was stricken.  Up until this point she had kept herself together pretty well, believing that everything was going to be fine, but this news devastated her, as well as me.  I looked at her and said "this is about the worst thing we could have been told."

In my reading on colon cancer the previous week I had learned enough to know that this meant my cancer was advanced and in one of the later stages.  To make matters worse, somewhere along the line I had heard someone say that when a cancer gets in the liver, it's pretty much over.  So, both of us felt like we were getting a death sentence that day. 

The doc went out and we hugged and cried and I am not sure what we said but I know were stunned and devastated.  The day got worse quickly.  The first thing I did was call my mom and tell her the news.  This is devastating to any mom, but especially to mine because I'm an only child and she's already lost one husband to cancer.  Then we had to tell the kids - that was the hardest of all and there were many tears shed that day.  Lynette's mom was also there with us and it devastated her too.

I comforted myself with the thought that the doctor was discussing treatment options with us, he didn't tell me to go home and arrange my affairs.  But the outlook was still pretty bleak.  Surgery was scheduled for Christmas Eve and then I was to be referred to an oncologist.

By this time I had put up a post on my blog and on facebook that I had cancer and the prayers and support was flooding in.  That day I put up a follow up post about the new things I had found out and the prayers and support just kept coming.

And at this time the church sprung into action in a marvelous way.  Our session came over again to pray for me and the family the night before surgery.  It was a very emotional time for us all, the most emotional part being when my oldest son prayed "God, please don't take my dad."  While we were praying we heard a commotion outside our house and went out and found about half the church or more on our front lawn singing Christmas carols for us.  At that time I was having bad chills so I quickly invited them to come in and we must have had 50 people or so  inside the house, singing and praying for us.  Again, it was one of the most moving experiences of my life.

Surgery was the 24th and I came through it fine, though we did find that the cancer was in my lymph nodes and that I have two tumors on my liver, one quite large.  At the same time we received a great deal of comfort and encouragement.  My intake nurse before the surgery was terrific.  I asked her about the liver situation and she said that years ago, when cancer got to the liver it was indeed a death sentence, but that remarkable progress has been made in recent years.  She also assured me that the doc who was operating on me was their best surgeon, he is the one that the nurses would want operating on them in a similar situation.  And again, I was hearing more and more about treatment plans and this encouraged me that there was a treatment plan, not final plans. 

Fortunately, this also brought some hope to my wife.  I think it was before the surgery that she told me that for the last couple of days she had been figuring on being a widow, but for the first time she had some hope that she would get to keep her husband a good deal longer.

I'm going to wrap up this post now.  There's more to say.  My old college roommate and one of my best friends in the world, Steve Price, asked me how one absorbs the news that he has this kind of cancer, and I want to share a few thoughts on that later.

For now I'll conclude by saying that in writing this emotional travelogue I'm not just trying to vent nor am I trying to incite pity.  Not that there haven't been moments of self-pity, but I am coming through this whole thing bewildered, yet blessed.  And I also know that my story will be your story some day.  Some day every one is going to have a doctor say something like "there's no good way to tell you this but . . . " Or you are going to get a phone call that tells you news you never wanted to hear.  Or, or, or . . . And though my story won't make it hurt less I hope it helps you at least know that you aren't crazy, you aren't sinning, your fear and worry are legit, and God can and will get you through this. 

Comments

[J.]

Did you I hope, in all this, hear the Gators won some kind of big game or something? But people are saying Utah is the real national champion.

[J.]

My part in getting your fighting spirit up?

[ech0_/\ng3l]

Ha. Somehow through all the blogs surfing I came across you. Praying for you. A friend of a friend who knows and being mentioning you in his prayers.

[Jared Wilson]

Prayed for you with Element tonight, David. Still praying for you.

Thank you for sharing this fearful, God-trusting journey with us.

[nancy]

thank you for writing this all down for us to read.

[Walter]

Hang tough David. I just prayed for you.

[David A. Porter]

David,

Thank you for having the courage to share this. You willing openness will certainly be used by God, as you make this journey.

Our Sovereign Father indeed has great plans for you.

[Molly]

"It's amazing how neurotic we Christians can make ourselves isn't it?" AMEN! I especially appreciated your comments on fear, thank you for sharing. May you experience more and more of his faithfulness!

[cavman]

Thanks for sharing it Dave.
I learned just the other day that they have made great strides in the last few years regarding tumors in the liver. This is great news.
My trial is different, but I experience many of the same fears & doubts. That crazy indwelling sin- so difficult to trust in the love, mercy, compassion & goodness of our Father who did not spare His only Son, but offered Him up for us. With ya!

[Robin]

David -

Your family is in my prayers. I am currently making this journey with my mother. Her colon cancer has not followed the standard path - the one yours is taking. Instead of going from the liver, to the lymph nodes, to the lungs - hers skipped the lymph nodes and lungs, going instead to her head. It has now doubled back to the lymph nodes and we are looking a it heading for the lungs at some point.

I firmly believe you can have solid faith in the Lord and still be a bit anxious about the unknown. The sin, in my humble opinion, is in not looking to the Lord - in faith - to calm those anxieties.

Thank you for sharing your journey. Not only will it be helpful to others going through it, but I pray God will use this to help you and your family in going through it also.

God bless you.

[Lisa Hoffman Davidson]

Praying for you each and every day. Curt and Lisa

[J.]

I tell this to people for what it is worth. I recently watched my father die. For various reasons he was a great case of a person who was able to give us a lot of information on that passage beyond the veil. He wasn't terminal. He was awake. Not in pain. His heart was just running down to the terminal point due to congestive heart failure and advanced age.

I myself witness him surrounded by presences that we couldn't see. He talked to them. He didn't have dimentia. Once he started to go under, the last three hours, his talking to them became unintelligible to us. At one point, when he was talking to 'them' I stood over him and said, "Dad, I love you, you're the best dad in the world." He immediately turned his head to look up at me, and said, in his normal voice and cadence: "I love you too, honey." Then he went 'back' to interacting and talking with the 'others.' This showed he wasn't just being looney.

He wasn't on drugs either.

He was having extremely vivid out-of-body dreams *that he was remembering* and recounting in great detail. One where he went out to a building in the desert, saw three women, and they told him he wasn't supposed to be there yet. Like, they said: "Now what are you doing here? You're not suppose to be here yet..."

My father was not a type to recount dreams and things like that.

He also gave his family a death bed talk for about four hours. He spoke of things he never spoke of in life. He was in-between worlds. He was discoursing on time and giving us advice in how to see our lives so as to make changes. Very unlike him in terms of language and subject matter.

I never feared death anyway, but seeing my father go first in-between worlds, then beyond the veil, I really don't fear it. Easy to say when not staring it down directly I know, but still...

[Cindy ( from Hong Kong)]

I will keep praying for you and your family, David. Your testimony helps me understand more and it is with understanding that I could empathize with you or with other people who may need my empathy in the future.

[Bonnie]

David, thank you so much for sharing your experiences. I wish I had something profound to say but what you've said already is much more profound than what I could come up with. So I just want to send you {{{{hugs}}}}! I am glad you have such a wonderful support system.

Actually, I do want to say something. I think the notion that we shouldn't fear or worry about scary things or that doing so evidences lack of faith is one of the most harmful notions out there. Actually, I think it signals a lack of faith. It's probably the root, or result, of the "prosperity gospel" and seems to me part of that false-Christian entity that says one must always be perfect & strong & happy & confident & all that. Baloney... I don't think it's possible to come to true strength until one acknowledges the fear, weakness, etc. and allows God and others to minister to it. And through it.

Not that worry, fear, etc. should dominate a person's life; that's probably not a good thing. But anyone who wouldn't have those feelings in a situation like yours...well, I'd have to wonder if they were all together, KWIM?

Anyway, you & your family are still in my prayers, and I look forward to future updates. Thanks again for sharing.

[Barry]

David, I just want to say thanks for being so transparent. I don't think there is any way to calculate how many people will be comforted and encouraged by your honesty and humility, and your quiet, trembling trust in the goodness and mercy of Jesus. My wife and I have you in our prayers.

[Jan]

I believe you've done well, David. You've given us an honest and open account of a man acting out his faith through suffering. My courage and faith in Christ are stronger for having read your words. May you, your wife, and other family members find daily rest in the "steadfast love" of Christ.

[Rick Moore]

Thanks for sharing your journey, David. We're praying for you out here on the left coast.

[Matt E.]

Praying for you, David. Grace and peace.

[Jack Brooks]

Fight as hard as you can, David. God works through means.