23. I Can See All The Way Up My Nose. And Infusion #3.
Today is Infusion #3 and marks the halfway point of my chemo treatments if all goes according to plan. I'm waiting for the nurse to stab me and then poison me, but I've already had my blood pressure checked along with my pulse. Both OK if a little high. I also received the results of blood tests done on Wednesday and overall things look ready to go for today's infusion.
The number Juli and I and the family always want to hear is the PSA number. As you may recall, PSA means Prostate Specific Antogen, and it is a way of measuring how actively the cancer cells are growing. Normal for most men is something like 0 to 4, mine was 26.1 when I was diagnosed. Two months ago I was started on a quarterly Lupron injection and 30 days later my PSA was 0.8, an excellent and even emotional result as it indicated that the cancer was being very responsive to that treatment. After another 3 weeks it had gone down to 0.5, and the results that came back today show another drop down to 0.3. The goal according to my oncologist is 0.2, so we are almost there.
I've been stabbed in the wrist, Taxotere, my chemo drug, is flowing, and I can taste it. And our friend just walked in! The young woman Juli and I met at my first infusion appointment just arrived with her husband, her smile is as beautiful as ever and I now have a haircut to match hers! She has three more treatments after today, one per week, and her last one will be the day of my next one. I hope we see her on that day and never again in an infusion recliner - may God grant her the return of a healthy body with long life as well.
On Wednesday, Juli and I took an additional trip to UC Davis, this time to visit with a Familial Cancer doctor to discuss genetics. When my sister Darlene was diagnosed last summer, one of the things she did before she passed was to have her DNA tested to see if there was a family DNA anomaly that predisposed her to cancer. When the testing was done, she had discovered that a mutation called chek2 was present in her DNA so she informed the rest of her siblings so we could be warned and tested ourselves. Unfortunately, Darlene was unable to win against the cancer that devastated her, but the work she did on DNA will hopefully help others in the family. Her data was provided to my doctor, and it will be used along with the testing they began on me on Wednesday.
As positive as my experience has been, my sister Darlene's was terrifying and her family is suffering through her loss. Juli and I have felt the prayers and support of so many people through this experience, but it begs questions about the sovereignty of God, and the goodness of God when people suffer. I don't have the answer, but I still trust God with my life and I recently read an illustration that helps.
Because I have been drawn to learn about the Orthodox Church, I have been reading a book by Frederica Mathews-Green called Welcome to the Orthodox Church. I won't go into detail about the book itself, or even Orthodox Christianity, but an illustration in the book spoke to my soul last week as I read it. The book is deep enough that I benefitted from reading it twice. The first time I read the illustration in question it was interesting because of its somewhat embarrassing context, but the second time I read it I was humbled and inspired as I recognized application in my health.
A qualifier: You may not be able to accept this story as fact, but even if you cannot, it can still serve as an illustration that can be applied to suffering and life challenges in spite of its mystical nature. It is however purported to be a true story about a monk named St. Conon who lived and worked among those known as "The Desert Fathers" in the early centuries of the Church. In those days when people were baptized into the Church, it was done sans clothing, and this was very problematic for St Conon as he would often be responsible for the baptism of women. He quit in fact, but was met on the way out of the monastery by St John the Forerunner who told him he would help him deal with his errant thoughts. St Conon decided to try again and all was well until an exceptionally beautiful woman wanted to be baptized. St Conon made her wait for two days outside the monastery gates as he struggled with his thoughts before finally giving up and quitting a second time. He was met again on the way out by St. John and assured again that he would help him, but St. Conon complained that John had said that before and it hadn't "worked." At that point, St. John made the sign of the cross over St. Conon and all his impure thoughts disappeared.
And then St John said "I could have done that before, but I thought you wanted the crown."
When I read those words on my second journey through the book, I reflected on my cancer and the incredible closeness to God I have felt as a result of leaning on Him completely, trusting Him with my life - be it short or long - and crying out to Him in pain, while at other times laughing with Him in pure joy.
If you ask me whether or not I want to be healed from cancer, I would have to say, "Not if I have to trade back what I have experienced. Not if I have to give up the intimacy with God that has become a central part of my existence."
Though ultimate healing is promised in Eternity for all of us who turn our faces to God in obedient and beautiful surrender, God may yet heal me in this life. The genetics doctor commented that we live in wonderful times. Genetics study is bringing multiple treatment options for the human body so if my cancer, or I should say when my cancer stops responding favorably to Lupron, there are many other effective drugs waiting to be tried. It is even conceivable that I could live long enough to die of old age.
If my healing was to miraculously come through a singular instantaneous event, rather than a 20 plus year marathon of drug combinations and therapies, what would I be losing to gain that quick and easy healing? What would I be giving away? Does the suffering itself carry great reward?
I prefer the crown, thank you.
The number Juli and I and the family always want to hear is the PSA number. As you may recall, PSA means Prostate Specific Antogen, and it is a way of measuring how actively the cancer cells are growing. Normal for most men is something like 0 to 4, mine was 26.1 when I was diagnosed. Two months ago I was started on a quarterly Lupron injection and 30 days later my PSA was 0.8, an excellent and even emotional result as it indicated that the cancer was being very responsive to that treatment. After another 3 weeks it had gone down to 0.5, and the results that came back today show another drop down to 0.3. The goal according to my oncologist is 0.2, so we are almost there.
I've been stabbed in the wrist, Taxotere, my chemo drug, is flowing, and I can taste it. And our friend just walked in! The young woman Juli and I met at my first infusion appointment just arrived with her husband, her smile is as beautiful as ever and I now have a haircut to match hers! She has three more treatments after today, one per week, and her last one will be the day of my next one. I hope we see her on that day and never again in an infusion recliner - may God grant her the return of a healthy body with long life as well.
On Wednesday, Juli and I took an additional trip to UC Davis, this time to visit with a Familial Cancer doctor to discuss genetics. When my sister Darlene was diagnosed last summer, one of the things she did before she passed was to have her DNA tested to see if there was a family DNA anomaly that predisposed her to cancer. When the testing was done, she had discovered that a mutation called chek2 was present in her DNA so she informed the rest of her siblings so we could be warned and tested ourselves. Unfortunately, Darlene was unable to win against the cancer that devastated her, but the work she did on DNA will hopefully help others in the family. Her data was provided to my doctor, and it will be used along with the testing they began on me on Wednesday.
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| Seeing if I can alter test results with a little hacking while waiting. Just kidding UC Davis!!! |
Because I have been drawn to learn about the Orthodox Church, I have been reading a book by Frederica Mathews-Green called Welcome to the Orthodox Church. I won't go into detail about the book itself, or even Orthodox Christianity, but an illustration in the book spoke to my soul last week as I read it. The book is deep enough that I benefitted from reading it twice. The first time I read the illustration in question it was interesting because of its somewhat embarrassing context, but the second time I read it I was humbled and inspired as I recognized application in my health.
A qualifier: You may not be able to accept this story as fact, but even if you cannot, it can still serve as an illustration that can be applied to suffering and life challenges in spite of its mystical nature. It is however purported to be a true story about a monk named St. Conon who lived and worked among those known as "The Desert Fathers" in the early centuries of the Church. In those days when people were baptized into the Church, it was done sans clothing, and this was very problematic for St Conon as he would often be responsible for the baptism of women. He quit in fact, but was met on the way out of the monastery by St John the Forerunner who told him he would help him deal with his errant thoughts. St Conon decided to try again and all was well until an exceptionally beautiful woman wanted to be baptized. St Conon made her wait for two days outside the monastery gates as he struggled with his thoughts before finally giving up and quitting a second time. He was met again on the way out by St. John and assured again that he would help him, but St. Conon complained that John had said that before and it hadn't "worked." At that point, St. John made the sign of the cross over St. Conon and all his impure thoughts disappeared.
And then St John said "I could have done that before, but I thought you wanted the crown."
When I read those words on my second journey through the book, I reflected on my cancer and the incredible closeness to God I have felt as a result of leaning on Him completely, trusting Him with my life - be it short or long - and crying out to Him in pain, while at other times laughing with Him in pure joy.
If you ask me whether or not I want to be healed from cancer, I would have to say, "Not if I have to trade back what I have experienced. Not if I have to give up the intimacy with God that has become a central part of my existence."
Though ultimate healing is promised in Eternity for all of us who turn our faces to God in obedient and beautiful surrender, God may yet heal me in this life. The genetics doctor commented that we live in wonderful times. Genetics study is bringing multiple treatment options for the human body so if my cancer, or I should say when my cancer stops responding favorably to Lupron, there are many other effective drugs waiting to be tried. It is even conceivable that I could live long enough to die of old age.
If my healing was to miraculously come through a singular instantaneous event, rather than a 20 plus year marathon of drug combinations and therapies, what would I be losing to gain that quick and easy healing? What would I be giving away? Does the suffering itself carry great reward?
I prefer the crown, thank you.
You are amazing. Such profound truth to what you say. Thank you for sharing your story! We continue to pray for you and your family. Blessings on you!
ReplyDeleteHi Dan, I love reading your posts ! I look at your side view (serious look) or at your smiling face or at your "I'm just kidding you" at UC Davis on their keyboard and I see your Dad (and your Uncles also), your Dad always liked to chase us kids and tickle us!!! He was a True Character, a One Of A Kind Man who loved God, his Wife and All of his children (and nieces & nephews). I have so many good memories of trips to your house or to the beach ...... always good family time. I did have my genetic testing done and sent the results to Dave. Do you know if he has heard from all his cousins and siblings that had the test done, and what he found out? Keep Writing Dan, hang in there and give Juli a hug from us........Love your cousin, Elaine
ReplyDeleteDan: Your honesty, humbleness, and spirit are amazing. As I was reading this Michael W. Smith was performing Worthy is the Lamb. God points that he is there so many ways if we look - your writing is opening eyes and hearts.
ReplyDeleteYou both are continually in our prayers. I have been waiting to tell you a story about the time I heard Ralph Nader speak - someday I may share it.
We Love You.....