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.

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
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