A Leaf on The Tree

By now you know I love the connection between obedient lions, my namesake Daniel of Lion's Den fame, and my description of cancer as a lion backed into a corner, not asleep, not dead, but rather waiting for a chance to pounce. Well, I met some more lions today. An account of the martyrdom of Virginmartyr Glyceria at Heracula in the 2nd century is detailed here , and concludes with: "The lioness meekly crawled up to her and lay at her feet. Finally, the saint prayed to the Lord that He may take her unto Himself, and a second lioness was loosed upon her, pouncing on her and killing her, but refused to tear her apart." Can you imagine the scene? If you read the account you will see that Glyceria was saved from injury several times, and was miraculously healed from injury multiple times as well. Her example helps me view my life as it stretches through eternity rather than being myopically focused on the physical present. When she was healed, it resulted in the repent...

She is not an attractive young woman. Her face is all I can really see, and it is puffy. Not puffy like chubby, or like a medically challenging acne-case puffy. More like allergic to bees and fell on a nest puffy. Her whole body is heavy and, well, the same kind of puffy. She is bundled in blankets and strapped to one of those bright yellow Stryker gurneys, a bed on wheels that one rides around on when one is injured or when one cannot even function well enough to sit up in a wheelchair. I can't tell if she arrived by ambulance, stranded on the gurney waiting to be admitted, or if she came from home on it, living with that yellow Stryker day after day, arriving at Admissions, having been unloaded in the parking garage by her father, pushed into the admissions waiting room by her father. Waiting on her back, unable to move, she was making guttural noises with a nasal accent through her puffy face. I looked quickly her direction as I walked into the same waiting room to be checked in...

My name is Dan. My parents named me Dannie, although I am convinced that the particularly unique spelling they used was a typo on the birth certificate, and as child #11 my parents really didn't have the energy to fix it. And it was certainly better than being referred to as #11! When I was old enough to want my name to sound a bit more masculine, I began to write my name as Dan and it stuck. My Dad's name was Raymond and his middle name was Daniel, so can you guess my middle name? My mother, of blessed memory, often reminded me of the meaning of my name as I grew up. The name Daniel means "God is my judge." These days people do not usually know the meaning of their names, often because their parents were more interested in how the name sounded to their friends than in what namesake the child would be offered as a hero to live up to. I mean, how do you live up to the name Moonbeam? Or Rusty when your last name is Nail? Or Case when your last name is Beer? True story...

When Saint Laurence was grilled by the authorities regarding the whereabouts of the "treasures of the church" he asked for 3 days time to prepare them. Of course, those authorities were drooling over the idea of confiscating gold and silver while sticking it to the Christian church. Laurence arrived 3 days later before the Prefect with a crowd he had gathered of poor and needy people and declared: "Behold the treasures of the church!" The Prefect was really mad. The Prefect was so mad that he first had Laurence stretched out on a rack, then he had him scourged with "scorpions" - a whip furnished with sharp iron points - then had him stretched out on a red-hot iron grill. After his body was badly burned Laurence said, "My body is done on one side, turn me over on the other." When that had been completed he declared "My flesh is now well done, you may taste of it." As he gave up his spirit, he prayed for his slayers.  The date was Aug...

My friend Roger passed away. His wife Sue and I go all the way back to First Grade and Laurel Elementary School in Junction City, Oregon. Her parents had a neat old house with a front porch on 6th Street, and I lived just outside of the city limits on the same street. Roger began attending the same school as Sue and I sometime around the middle school years. They became sweethearts in High School and married soon after graduation, paralleling my courtship with Juli and married around the same time. Thirteen or so years ago Roger was diagnosed with cancer. We reconnected via FaceBook as so many of us have, and along with that reconnection came the knowledge of his battle and I watched the slow trek toward a physical battle lost. When I was first diagnosed in December, my own news seemed to get worse and worse with each subsequent appointment. There were lots of tears and fears all wrapped up in the latest test result. As time went on and treatments began, the news improved and the p...

It's Saturday, nearly one full day after infusion number 6, the last of 6 rounds of chemotherapy. I am exhausted to the point of not being able to stand easily, or walk up the stairs without panting like a dog. The chemo is certainly a part of that, but I'm also on the last full day of a 5 day water-only fast and I simply do not have any energy stores from food. I'm living off my own fat while a very toxic platinum-based drug is circulating round and round through my bloodstream looking for cancer cells to body slam and kill. Yesterday was a very good day. I had enough energy in the morning to walk three miles - very carefully - with Sophie and Stella, our Golden Retriever and Brett's Golden Retriever respectively. Sophie is seven years old and likes to walk herself, her leash proudly carried in her mouth, walking right next to me without chasing cats. Stella is one year old and quite active to say the least. I had her in a harness and she pulled me pretty hard, givi...

It is way too soon to celebrate, but this coming Friday I am scheduled for the 6th and final chemo infusion. My fingertips and toes are certainly feeling the effects of neuropathy and my fingernails in particular may not survive this last one as they have turned from a glossy red glittery color - I mean a healthy masculine pink with dirt under the nails - to an ugly brown with blood splotches visible underneath. Maybe I should consider a glossy red glitter finish? I did get some very positive news recently as well regarding my DNA. You may recall that my sister Darlene was tested for genetic mutations after her cancer diagnosis last year. Her DNA contained a genetic mutation called Chek2 and the rest of our family was to be tested since it might indicate we were also prone to cancer. The results of my tests were revealed to me by the geneticist and my DNA is clean. That is excellent news because it indicates that I am not predisposed to cancer and the treatments have a ...