Confusion....

It's difficult to describe our day. Unfortunately, we were the victims of a huge lack of communication among our medical team. To make a very long, confusing story very short....we know nothing new. Dad's oncologist was ill today and his replacement was....um...ill prepared. He was unable to provide any information regarding the most recent images, labs, or radiology reports. While this, naturally, was very frustrating, there were blessings in the chaos. Dad's labs looked much better and he received a treatment of gemcitabine intraveneously (which we were not expecting). Dad's typical oncologist will be following up with us within the week. So....the waiting game continues.

Here's a cute story...after dad went back to have his chemo, Uncle Craw, Tim, Mom, Ben and I left to get something to eat. We were outside-almost to the parking lot and Benjamin turned around and started running back toward the automatic doors. I grabbed his hand and said, "No, we're going bye bye to eat lunch." He continued to protest, "No" (his favorite new word). So, I let him walk through the automatic doors and followed him as he headed back into the empty waiting room. He turned sadly to me, lifted his little arms and said, "PawPaw?" He thought we were forgetting to take his PawPaw with us to lunch. He was only satisfied after I took him into the Infusion Room to see dad. He gave him a hug and waved bye bye happily to him, and off we went to lunch. He is only 16 months old, but is already such a sensitive child.

Many of you have expressed difficulty leaving comments on this site. I changed the settings today, so give it another try and let me know.

We're all very tired tonight. Have a good one.

We took Ben to meet the Clydesdales....

Gary, Lou, and Ben

9-25-08

Yesterday, an internist at Southeast Missouri Hospital informed dad that his cancer has grown much more rapidly than expected. It has metastasized to both lungs and into the tissue and arteries surrounding the pancreas. One of the nodules in the lungs is pressing against his heart. Representatives from Hospice met with our family and made plans. Dad will meet with his oncologist Tuesday morning to determine if any other possible treatments are warranted or encouraged. The news was obviously devastating. Within moments we all found ourselves reaching into the depths of resources for the strength, steadfastness, and patience we have spent years storing up in case a situation like this should arise. These are the things we have to cling to since our own understanding evades us now.

Uncle Craw had been at the hospital with mom and dad and, thankfully, was there when the doctor delivered the news. Two nights before we learned the cancer had spread, Uncle Craw and dad spent hours telling stories and laughing about the trouble they've gotten themselves into over the years.

I couldn't sleep last night and found myself thinking about the idea of greatness. Greatness is typically defined by grandiose achievements and Nobel Prizes and world championships. I think greatness truly exists when one walks through the valley of the shadow of death and fears no evil. In the same conversation in which dad was telling me aspects of the doctor's news, he was truly more concerned about Ben and James' pink eye. Greatness exists in the true acts of selflessness evidenced by putting others before yourself even during a time of individual crisis.

How many of us could have news like this and not have to think about mending broken relationships or forgiving enemies? These things are not among the overwhelming thoughts clouding dad's mind as he has no enemies or animosity toward anyone.

I couldn't sleep last night through the anxiety shadowing my thoughts. I couldn't help but think about the road before us. I couldn't help but think about the unbearable feelings I have watching my mom endure this. I also couldn't help but think about the blessings in knowing the true value and magnitude of time. Honestly, there are a spectrum of emotions here. A bit of anger from some of us, a huge lack of comprehension, and a flurry of things in between. I thought last night....I guess in our process of this, we start with anger and disbelief and will eventually transcend to "It is well with my soul."

This sounds so depressing. We still have hope. In the face of the seemingly insurmountable, we still have hope. God is larger than cancer. We rest in this knowledge. A wonderful friend of mine told me she is praying that a blanket of love and comfort be layered over all of us. I think that is a beautiful prayer, and especially pray that God make his presence known and real to mom...in the form of physical hugs.

James, Ben, Tim and I came in last night. Today, we're going to pick out pumpkins at the farm and going to see the Anheiser Busch Clydesdales with Jessica and Austin. Dad's looking forward to taking Ben to his first Cotton Carnival Parade tomorrow.
Our family is never short of one liners, good food, and wacky ideas. We are running short on none, and enjoying them all.

Thank you all so much for your cards, meals, prayers, support, fasting, and love. Dad has the stack of cards you've all sent by his recliner and reads them daily....we all do. He also reads the comments you post here. The outpouring of love and support has been a true testament to dad's character.

"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them."
Isaiah 42:15-17

Hug your family. Cherish each moment. Life is precious.

09-24-2008

I spoke with dad this morning and he was in good spirits. He's still in the hospital. He didn't know if they would let him out today or not. They've been running some tests and he's waiting on the results. (chest X-rays, EKG, bloodwork, stool samples, etc). They found a place on the lung and they scheduled him for a cat scan around 1:00. He said he was eating and his pain had diminished a little. He has a pretty bad cough. Uncle Craw stayed with him last night and mom went home and came back this morning. I think my sister and nephew are coming in this weekend and dad's looking forward to seeing them. I'm planning on being around as well. Dad said he was wanting to take Ben (my nephew) to the cotton carnival parade. Maybe we'll try and get a fish fry together or something. Please continue to pray for dad and the family.

I'll let you know when I here something else.

Later


Update: 9:25 pm
The doctor left without talking to dad so he's staying another night in the hospital. Mom's with him. We should know more tomorrow.

09-23-2008

They didn’t give dad a treatment today because of his blood levels. They admitted him to Southeast hospital this morning after meeting with his oncologist because he was complaining of chest pains. He’s been in and out of the hospital the last week with various problems but was never admitted. The oncologist said the chest pains had nothing to do with the cancer so he wanted to admit dad to check him out. Uncle Craw is with mom and dad at the hospital. Hopefully it’s indigestion and they’ll let him go home. The chest pain thing is new as of last night. It is not a symptom of the medicines or the cancer and was not expected. Unfortunately, trips to the hospital and the ever changing news are becoming a part of day to day life. It sucks, there’s really no way to sugar coat it. I would give anything if dad didn’t have to go through this. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s the nicest person I know. This cancer is some bad stuff.

To learn more about pancreatic cancer and the research that is or isn’t getting done please visit http://www.pancan.org/. This organization provides national public and professional education embracing the urgent need for more research, effective treatments, prevention programs and early detection methods for pancreatic cancer. If you’re a part of the Missouri State Employees Charitable Campaign (MSECC) it is option number 9411.
I’ll let you know when I find something out.

09-19-2008

Mom had to take dad to the Southeast hospital last night. He was fatigue, had a rash, his urine was red, fever climbed to 102, and he developed a cough. I spoke with them earlier and they got back to the house about 1:00 this morning. When they got to the hospital last night his blood pressure was low, white blood cell count was higher than it was the other day, platelet level was low, and bilirubin was elevated. He was dehydrated so they hooked him to an IV. They took blood to check the liver, bladder, etc. They gave him an antibiotic, told him to drink more water, said he had bronchitis and sent him home. We’re waiting on the blood tests.
Dad is in good spirits.
Enjoy your day!

Doing Fine

Good morning! Dad got another treatment under his belt. Mom went with him. His white blood count was border line but they decided to proceed with the treatment. He had a reaction to the treatment last night and broke out with a rash and a fever. A small rash is to be expected. It occurs in over 70 percent of the patients taking the same medicines as dad. I've read studies that say the rash could be a good sign. We contacted the doctors and they told him to keep an eye on the fever throughout the night and to come to the hospital if it went up to 102. It got up to 101 but when I spoke with him this morning the fever was back to normal. His sugar level has been a little high. His next treatment is Tuesday but they may not give it to him if his white blood cell count is any lower than it was this week. Things may need to be adjusted. I think mom's going to try and keep him down today. Dad enjoys all the company but please don't come over to the house if your sick or have been around other people that are sick. We can't take any chances with the low white blood cell count. I spoke with him this morning and he's doing fine.

Sounds like SE Missouri had a heck of a wind storm. Dad said it was "a huffin and a puffin out there." Thanks to Pastor and the guys from the church for coming by the house to pick up the limbs. I'm sure dad would have loved to have been able to go around town to help you.

I'll keep you posted.

Later

"Ain't no step for a stepper"

Well, the treatment has begun and were on the way to getting to the point where the surgeon can yank that cancer out of there. We've decided if the doctor won't take it out, I'm going to give it a try. Couldn't be any different than skinning a buck, right? Anyway, we went to Cape yesterday morning. They started by having dad come back to a room that had 8 or 10 chairs positioned in a semicircle where other cancer patients were receiving chemo. I went back with dad to get a better understanding of how things worked. The chairs were pretty comfortable, sunlight was coming in the room, and they had a TV in the corner. The other patients were going through the same thing as dad but they all were at various levels in their treatment plan, with different symptoms, and cancers. At first I didn't like the idea of dad being in there with other patients, I thought it would be better to have a little privacy when going through chemo, but after 2 minutes of being back there I realized I was wrong, dad had already struck up a conversation with the guy next to him. It was good for dad to be back there with other patients experiencing the same thing he was. Dad started his treatment with blood tests, followed by steroids, nausea medicine, and chemo all administered through an IV. The whole thing took about three hours. Once they started the treatment I left the room because the chairs were starting to fill up, seems like a lot of people are getting cancer these days. Mom and I took turns going back to check on him. Every time I went back he was in good spirits, talking to folks around him. I was kinda surprised to see he was eating when I went back around noon, actually I wasn't, but he tackled that grilled chicken salad. He said it was pretty good. There were people in the waiting room that had family members getting chemo. Mom and I spent most of our time talking to them. That was comforting for us. It's good to talk about things, especially with people that are going through the same stuff. Dad walked out of the room shortly before 1. Dad made it through the first treatment just fine. He'll take a pill (Tarceva) every day around 2:00 that's a targeted therapy that may slow the growth of the tumor. He can't eat 2 hours before or after taking the pill. (Not even ice cream, dad!!!). His next treatment will be next Tuesday. I really appreciate all the support we are receiving from family and friends. I know it means a lot to dad as well. Thanks for the comments on the blog. Dad reads them. Oh yeah, thanks for all the food. It's greatly appreciated.


P.S. One person that seems to get overlooked in a lot of the blogs is mom! Mom, you've got to be the stongest person on earth, Love you!

"Keep on Keepin On"

Later

There is no amount of darkness that can extinguish the inner light. The important thing is not to spend our lives trying to control the environment around us. The task is to control the environment within us.
-Joan Chittester

Starting Chemo

Dad's oncologist from Barnes was in Cape today and saw him there, which saved mom and dad another trip to St. Louis. They finalized a treatment protocol which consists of a combination of chemo (Gemcitabine) and Tarceva. After the first cycle we may replace the Tarceva with a drug called Oxaliplatin. His treatments will start tomorrow morning at Southeast Hospital in Cape. Radiation will probably come later depending on how the tumor responds to chemo.

James, Ben, and I were home this weekend. Laughter and grandchildren are good for the soul...dad had several doses of both. Tim came down to be at the appointment today.

We will keep you posted as the therapy progresses. Thank you for the continued support.

The Median isn't the Message

I have been thinking a lot lately about time. When people are diagnosed with life threatening illnesses, there is almost always a number linked with the prognosis. We have been very discouraged by the numbers we've been given by doctors, but we have not lost faith. They are months, hours, seconds, units on a digital clock face. They are not whispered by God or written in stone. Therefore, we are not bound by them. While, yes, there is a sobering dose of reality delivered with the prognosis of pancreatic cancer, dad is not constrained by the statistics of that diagnosis. People surpass insurmountable odds everyday. Of all of the new terminology, emotion, discouragement, encouragement, and general surrealism that has come with a loved family member being diagnosed with a terminal illness, I have been the most struck by one sentence. An oncologist looked at my dad and told him that only 4 out of 100 people survive pancreatic cancer. Dad didn't hesitate....he looked at him and said, "I'm one of those 4." I wasn't in the room, Tim told me about it later. It gives me chills each time I think about it. In the face of fear, he hears odds like that, and is at the blackjack table with a hand full of chips. We are all cheering him on and hoping for that 21. We rest in the hand of God and pray without anxiety and with thanksgiving for healing, strength, and positive focus.

In the meantime, all these thoughts about time reminded me of a brilliant essay passed to me a few years ago. It was even more inspirational now for obvious reasons...
http://www.phoenix5.org/articles/GouldMessage.html
(copy and paste the link into your browser)