A Move...

Due to some capability issues, Rosie Rambles On has a new home!

I have moved to RosieRamblesOn.WordPress.com. 

I'd love to have you follow me there! 

Please click HERE to follow the link to my new home!

No More Chemo

Habakkuk 3:17-8 (KJV) 

 ¹⁷Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls:

 ¹⁸Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.

The cancerous tumors have grown. No more chemotherapy. The other chemotherapy options open to us hold less hope than the one Matt was receiving. We will continue with some of the homeopathic protocols we have been using, switching a few of them.

Leaving the doctor's office, the Lord brought Philippians 4:4 to mind: "Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice."

It was not the verse I was expecting. Wasn't it a bit much to suggest I start rejoicing right then? My heart cried, "God, I love and trust You, but what is there to rejoice in? The hopeful treatment failing? Tumors having grown?"

God so graciously reminded me,  "No, not in your circumstances, but in Me."

Our circumstances may not warrant anything to rejoice in, but as Habakkuk so eloquently stated it, our circumstances are not what we are to rejoice in! Though our circumstances may not be something that calls for rejoicing, yet we can still rejoice IN THE LORD! We CHOOSE to rejoice in the Lord.

"You Are My God" by Nicol Sponberg

The daughter of a friend who is in critical condition shared this song. Be blessed by it!

What Will Next Week Bring?

A strange mixture of feelings dominate my heart this week.

Next Monday's CT scan followed by a doctor's appointment on Wednesday to hear the results is strangely anticipated just to know ... while at the same time I could wait forever to hear the results. I could continue on in ignorant bliss.

A definitely strange and contradictory set of feelings.

It's another milestone. Has the chemo kept the tumors at bay or shrunk them? Has God chosen to do a miracle in Matt's body and life by removing the tumors? Or is God asking us to continue to glorify Him through this difficult journey?

Whether we find next Wednesday to be a day of rejoicing, or a day of facing hard news, we know that God will continue to provide the strength, grace and encouragement that we need. We know it and we claim it. We cling to Him. Please keep us in your prayers.

In the Presence of Mine Enemies

Missionaries Martin and Gracia Burnham had their plans.  They were enjoying an anniversary getaway.  God had other plans.  Martin and Gracia were kidnapped by the Abu Sayyaf terrorist group and lived a dangerous year on the run with their captors. Gracia's book is an open, from the heart account of the highs and lows of surviving a year of terror. Listen to Gracia's story on the video clip below. In the Presence of Mine Enemies can be purchased from Gracia's website at: www.graciaburnham.org

Our Witchdoctors Are Too Weak

This is a great interview promoting, not only Davey & Marie Jank's new book Our Witchdoctors Are Too Weak, but also promoting tribal missions. I've known Davey since childhood, and Marie for many years now. They are normal people who God has used in not-so-normal situations to reach an indigenous group of people with God's message of salvation.

The Challenges of Life

Life is full of challenges. Cancer is not the only one. Back home on Thursday after three nights in the hospital and 6 units of blood, Matt typed up notes for his Sunday sermon only to have his computer contract a virus on Friday. With the programs and files frozen on the computer, Matt lost all his notes. 

Saturday morning Jamie reformatted the hard drive. Then it was my job to re-load Matt's LOGOS Bible program, Microsoft Office Suite -- and of course to put on an up-to-date virus protection! Mission completed, Matt then had the job of recreating the notes for his Sunday sermon. Sunday's sermon went well. :-)

Tomorrow we head back up to Rochester for a doctor's appointment -- and tentatively for round four of chemo. Thanks for praying!

Back to Normal

Matt is home. I think that says it all. :-) He was moved from the ICU to a regular room on Wednesday, and then Thursday was released to go home. Jamie picked him up and took him home as I was at work. 

Arriving home after work, it was SO good to see Matt sitting in the chair upright, and yes, not in a hospital gown! His laptop was on his lap and he was working on a sermon for Sunday. Life looked so normal again. Thank you for praying.

Texting...

His blood counts were obviously dropping, but Matt wasn't ready to admit it. He wanted to preach on Easter Sunday. Still, the symptoms were hard to hide. As he lay exhausted on the couch we discussed what I saw as reality versus his desire. I told him outright that I wasn't sure if I should be listening to him or not, but that if his blood pressure didn't drop any further, I would try to honor his wish.

With our conversation over, I stood up and headed to the kitchen, texting as I went. 

"Who are you texting?" Matt asked in a strangely concerned and accusatory manner. 

"Chuck," I replied with a straight face, sure that I knew what he was thinking.


The response on his face confirmed my suspicions causing me to burst into laughter before correcting my statement.


"I wasn't texting Chuck. I was texting Jamie."


Chuck is our EMT friend and you could just see Matt's brain whirring, figuring I was texting for backup!

Mocha, the Competition

Matt has developed a dislike of having his blood checked, having an unfortunately realistic fear that he'll end up in the hospital for more days than he cares for. We were at the stage of his trying to convince me to hold off on calling the doctor, knowing the doctor would most likely send him to the ER.

On this particular day we were relaxing on the couch. Mocha, my Jack Russell Terrier, was stretched out between us and Matt was giving her lots of attention. I leaned in on Matt. 

"How come Mocha's getting all the attention and not me?" I asked with a mischievous smile.

"Mocha's not trying to send me to the hospital," came Matt's quick teasing response.

"Mocha's not trying to save your life!" I responded just as quickly.   

I was rewarded with attention. 

Home Tomorrow?

Another long day. I spent the first half at work and the second half at the hospital. The endoscopy went fine. No current bleeding was revealed. Matt's blood counts are creeping up. They're hoping one more unit of blood, for a total of 6 units, will bring it to the 'at least acceptable' range. If it gets there and stays there, Matt could come home tomorrow (Wednesday)! That would be SO nice! :-)

An Easter to Remember

This was an Easter to remember. My folks visited Thursday through Saturday, joining us for the Good Friday service at our church. As always, we had a great time with them. By the time they left on Saturday, Matt had admitted to experiencing the signs of a low blood count ... but the preacher in him wanted to get through Sunday first, to be able to preach for the Easter service! I told him I wasn't sure if I really should be listening to him, but if his blood pressure didn't drop too low, I would try to honor his wish.

My check list for Saturday was contradictory at the least: Laundry. Check. Change sheets on the guest bed for missionary guests (Saturday night - Monday morning). Check. Out for coffee with my daughter-in-law. Check. Preparations for Easter brunch at church. Check. Preparations for Easter dinner at our house for sixteen people. Check. Add clothes to the always partially ready "emergency" suitcase. Check. 

What? Yes, you got that right. Preparing for a crowd while preparing to take off at a moment's notice. Contradictory? Yes. Abnormal? Probably not, at least not for us. It's our life right now. You make plans and continue on with life, ready at a moment's notice for it all to change.

By Monday he was in the ER with the lowest blood count I've seen him with yet. He shouldn't have been standing the day before. The prayers of the saints had to have been holding Matt upright and able to preach on Sunday.

After eight hours at work following his progress through the ER by phone, and then four hours at the hospital, I was exhausted by the time I arrived home last night and ready for a good night's sleep. Matt was settled in the ICU when I left, receiving a life-giving blood transfusion. He was stable and in good hands. 

What will today bring? I'm not sure. I do know God gave me a refreshing night's sleep, though I don't even know yet if I'm headed to work first or the hospital. God knows and that's enough for me. Thanks for your continued prayers.

Round Two of Chemo

We entered the next round of chemotherapy a little gun-shy. Would it put Matt back in the hospital for another five days? Due to the fact that Matt's blood counts had started dropping before the first chemo treatment, we weren't necessarily placing the blame for the dramatic drop in his blood counts on the chemo itself. Of course, the chemo probably accentuated the problem. So we entered the next round of chemotherapy, pretty much considering it to be the test week.

Thankfully, the second round of chemo was much less dramatic than the first. After the three days of chemo, Matt wasn't suddenly experiencing low blood count symptoms. We counted that a blessing. A few more days passed and I found myself practically grinning when we could count this hurdle as clearly passed over. It did not lead up to a five day hospitalization. The side effects were minimal -- especially when you compare them to the the long list of horrendous things you need to watch for!

Two treatments down. Two to go. Then a CT Scan to determine if the chemotherapy has shrunk the tumors or held them at bay (both good outcomes!) -- or if the tumors continue to grow despite the chemo.

Thank you for your continued prayers.

Home Again!

"The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD,
 And He delights in his way."
(Psalm 37:23 NKJV)

Pulling up to the driveway yesterday afternoon after work, it was so good to see Matt standing outside with his brothers checking out the used boat and motor his brother had just purchased. Being a typical male, his brother was sure this would cheer Matt up. He was probably right. For me, seeing Matt upright and at home was enough to bring cheer to my heart.

Do we have answers? Not really. We know where the problem isn't -- but we don't know what actually caused the drop in Matt's blood counts. For now, he's stable and back home with us. We'll count our blessings.

On Friday more blood work will be completed in an attempt to determine if possibly the problem is that Matt is not making enough red blood cells.  Monday we head back up to Rochester to see the oncologist for a re-evaluation after this most recent hospitalization. It's still unclear whether his counts will permit him to have the second round of chemo previously scheduled for that day.

Our days may feel uncertain, and rightly so. We never know what the next day or week will bring. One thing that is unchangeable is our God to whom we cling. He is in control. He has ordered the steps that we are walking in. Proverbs 3:5 tells us to trust in the LORD with all our heart -- and not to lean on our own understanding. We don't have to understand. We don't have to know what tomorrow may bring. We just need to keep trusting in our most trustworthy Heavenly Father.

Fighting Fear with Joy!

This young Canadian living in Japan during these horrific days explains why she's back at the school working. A quote in her blog from "Suheir Hammad: Poems of war, peace, women, power" reads as follows: 

"She tells stories about the supposedly powerless women who fight in their own way; beating their fear by going on with normal life and finding something to give them joy. Doing simple things like keeping a music school open no matter how dangerous the situation is, that's how these women kept their souls alive during horrible times."

http://hezcultureshock.blogspot.com/2011/03/fighting-fear-with-joy.html

Good News Despite the Lack of Answers!

A quick update. Thanks for praying! Matt's white blood cells stayed up. He had the colonoscopy early this afternoon, and we finally saw the doctor about 7:30 tonight. The lower GI tract is clear. There was nothing to explain the low blood counts. The doctor explained the next step clearly. It made total sense to me for about a minute, but my brain cells aren't functioning up to par and when I went back over it in my mind there was a definite loss of understanding. There is something about Matt being hospitalized that leaves me exhausted! My brain doesn't function so well when it's exhausted! But, like many things in life, I don't need to understand them all. What I remember is enough for now. No iron supplements through Friday. More tests on Friday to determine if the problem is that he's not making enough red blood cells. The good news is his blood counts stayed up after last night's blood transfusion. The great news is that he comes home tomorrow. :-)

Our Newest Challenge

Three days, seven units of blood, and an endoscopy later, we still have no definite answers. We do know Matt's upper GI tract is clear. Tomorrow he is slated for a colonoscopy to determine if the problem lies in the lower GI tract -- as long as his white blood count is high enough. Presently it is too low. 

I left him tonight with this gallon container of laxative sitting on the table beside him in preparation for tomorrow's colonoscopy. That would look daunting to me just to drink if it were just water -- and he was to get as much down as possible before midnight! 

Later they will be giving yet another blood transfusion in an attempt to boost his white blood cell count high enough to even be able to have the colonoscopy.

So there's our newest challenge. Matt is preparing for a test that will have to be canceled if they can't get his white blood cell count high enough. Please pray!

Buy a Great Book -- Proceeds go to Dale Shaylor's Liver Transplant!

Earlier, I have written about Dale Shaylor, who used to fly for us in Venezuela. He is in desperate need of a liver transplant, but cannot get on the registry until he raises more funds. Mike Dawson, also a missionary in Venezuela, has written two books, "Growing up Yanomamö" and "I Can See the Shore." He will donate the profit from all book sales sold through their website for the next two months towards Dale's transplant. His books are excellent. If you are interested in purchasing any, go to http://www.mpaviation.org/store-2/.

          

Mission Padamo Aviation

www.mpaviation.org

Last week, we were very disappointed to get the word that our fuel barge had sunk losing all materials and fuel on board. Our biggest worry was the fuel, which up here, is almost impossible to get as it is, then to lose it before we got it up here, was just very frustrating.

Another Turn In the Road

The exhausted worn-out feeling was joined by a new symptom, that of being lightheaded. Given the fact that Matt's blood counts had been lower than expected this past Monday, we had been instructed to call if any signs of anemia appeared. Whether this was anemia or chemo related symptoms was uncertain, so blood tests were ordered. With the results showing that his blood count had dropped another 6 points since Monday, he was soon in the ER, and then admitted to the Auburn hospital.

That's where I left him late this evening. He was hooked up to monitors, special wraps on his leg kept the blood circulating, and they were to arrive shortly to begin a blood transfusion. Despite all the wires, he was still my smiling cheerful hubby.

Thank you for your continued prayers.

One Down...

The first treatment of chemo is over. One down, three more treatments to go at two week intervals before the next CT scan. I'm not sure who was more pleased after the nurse came by to disconnect the needle, pouch and tubing -- Matt or Mocha. Mocha is my Jack Russell Terrier who routinely rejects me for Matt!  

Knowing Matt's phobia for needles, I know he is thrilled to KNOW the needle is no longer in his chest -- especially one that felt like it was being stabbed right into his heart! At least that's how he described it. Having watched the nurse take the needle, and yes, stab it into the medi-port which was surgically placed under Matt's skin above the heart, well, I couldn't exactly argue the statement!

But remember Mocha -- my Jack Russell Terrier who routinely rejects me for Matt -- well she is definitely pleased to no longer having Matt cautiously keeping her away from all the hoses and connections. Presently Matt is stretched out on the couch watching old reruns with Mocha happily snuggled up to him. They look quite content.

Considering the toxicity of the treatment, Matt is feeling remarkably well after this first treatment. He's experienced only minor side effects thus far -- though admittedly his energy and strength is a bit zapped. Yes, that explains the stretched out on the couch watching old reruns with Mocha. Mostly right now we're just thankful for how well he is feeling. What a blessing.

Chemo 101

Chemotherapy. The dreaded word. The dreaded treatment. A word synonymous with horrific side affects and loss of hair -- though hair loss obviously isn't Matt's greatest concern! But still, a treatment that states without a doubt that you have cancer.

Matt began the dreaded treatment today. Anti-nausea meds were followed by a  two hour drip of drugs one and two combined. Later, instruction was given as a pouch/pump was attached  to slowly administer drug number three over the next two days. Five hours later we were finally heading home.

Thus far it has been wonderfully anti-climatic. I know by tomorrow night he might be experiencing side affects. I know there are accumulative effects to consider. But for today it's been such a relief and blessing to see none of the possible initial side affects or reactions pushing their ugly heads to the surface.

 One chemo treatment at at time. One day at a time. God's grace is sufficient.

A First Hand Account of the Tragedy in Japan

We are definitely not an island unto ourselves. We're a global world. Our hearts ache for tragedies that occur outside our borders. The link below will take you to a blog post giving a first hand account of the day of the earthquake. It is written by the sister of a missionary kid who rooms with my parents while attending nursing school.

http://hezcultureshock.blogspot.com/2011/03/jishin-my-story.html

Laura Story - Blessings

Earlier, I shared Laura's story behind her new song Blessings.
Click on the play button below to be blessed by the song itself.

Praying for a Miracle

After much prayer and discussion, Matt has made the choice to take chemo. The tentative plan is that next week Matt will go in for an outpatient surgery to have a medi-port put in. The Monday following that he will begin chemo. We are waiting for the outpatient surgery to be set up.

We appreciate your prayers as we accept the prognosis given us as a probable reality, while recognizing that a prognosis is not synonymous with God's will. We are ready to accept whatever outcome God has for us in this, but until God makes it clear otherwise, we ask that you continue to pray with us for a miracle.

Blessings Through Raindrops & Tears

Click on the video above to hear Laura Story explain
the background behind her new song Blessings.
She speaks of learning how blessings don't always come through prosperity,
but often through raindrops and tears.
It is such an encouragement and testimony!

Hope in the Lord

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:31 

The cancer has grown. There was an urgency in the air as treatment options were presented, attesting to the doctor's concern. With the diagnosis moving from an indolent, slow-growing cancer back to an aggressively-growing one, that should be expected.  It seemed a bit surreal to be discussing quality of life over quantity of life. Had it really come to this? -- It had. 


The prognosis is bleak. If Matt does nothing, the average life expectancy is 2-4 months. If he takes chemo, you get to add on another 2-3 months of life. That's not a prognosis that inspires, brings hope, or strengthens you in your inner being.


Thankfully God offers a different hope. Only God can offer hope in a hopeless situation. Not hope in a prognosis, but hope in HIM.  As we keep our hope in the Lord, He has promised to renew our strength. If we hope in the Lord, He has promised that we will soar on wings like eagles, that we will be able to run and not grow weary, and that we will be able to walk and not be faint. Right now I could settle for just being able to walk and not be faint, but we'll claim the promise that we will also be able to soar on wings like the eagle!

My Friend in Need

Can you help me to help a friend in need of a new liver?

Dale Shaylor is a missionary kid turned missionary. 
As a missionary pilot he flew us to our remote jungle home when we were missionaries in Venezuela with New Tribes Mission.
He is currently in need of a life-saving liver transplant.

Transplants weren't in the picture when the same disease killed Dale Shaylor's grandfather, also a missionary in Venezuela, at age 46 in the 1960s. Shaylor discovered he had the chronic condition of Hepatitis B when he was in his teens, as the family was being tested to receive hepatitis vaccines.

He had one bout with the disease four years after that diagnosis, but didn't really get seriously ill until last Thanksgiving Day. And, after chronic hepatitis symptoms left him in a coma from the toxins his body couldn't flush, Dale Shaylor knew he would have to go back to the United States for a transplant."They don't have the medical facilities to take care of that thing," he said.

Dale Shaylor journeyed to Florida in search of a life-saving liver transplant -- only to find the surgery has a price tag far out of the missionary pilot's reach. He was told that to get on a list to receive a new liver from a cadaver, he would have to make a deposit of nearly half a million dollars -- $425,000 to be exact.

"A transplant is not something that's covered as an emergency -- it's more of a luxury item," said Shaylor, 40, referring to what he's learned in the last month about his options. 

Shaylor's family members said there was no time to waste -- they don't know how long his health will hold out now that his liver has been irreversibly damaged by the hepatitis, which is endemic all over Latin America. 

"To have them tell us that transplants aren't considered an emergency, even though he's in end-stage liver failure, it's been a heartbreaker," said his brother, Douglas Shaylor of Deltona.

How can you help?

1. PRAY! PRAY! AND PRAY SOME MORE!

2. DONATE! DONATE! DONATE!

You can give ONLINE NOW (with Credit Card) at: https://www.transplants.org/DonationForm1.php

Be sure and click the box that says, "in honor of a patient" and then find Dale's name. (DALE SHAYLOR)

Or you can send Checks to:

National Foundation for Transplants

5350 Poplar Ave. Suite 430

Memphis TN 38119

Remember to write "In honor of Dale Shaylor" on the memo line of the check!

Thank you for praying, giving, or both!

http://www.news-journalonline.com/news/local/west-volusia/2011/01/15/man-discovers-transplant-patients-face-huge-costs.html

It's Only Because of Him

^"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed. (2 Cor. 4:7-9)

I love these verses. I love the fact that God doesn't require that of our own energy that we generate some type of magnificent power or strength to carry us through difficult days. If that were the case, I may as well give up right now. I marvel how He chooses to use us for His glory, though we are merely weak earthen vessels. 


Only God can lead us through dark valleys in such a magnificent manner, that though we feel the pain, we feel the emotional drain, and we have no real substantial answers for the trials before us -- yet we can state with the apostle Paul that we are not distressed, we are not in despair, and that we stand assured that we are not forsaken and will not be destroyed. Why? Because we have such inner strength? Definitely not. It's only because of Him, only because the "excellency of the power" is of God and not of us. It's only because of Him. 

The Continuing Saga...

Dragging a box of Kleenex from room to room wasn't how I had envisioned our mini-vacation, but the special time with friends outweighed the congestion in my head. Coming down with a bad cold may not have been the way I would have planned it, but God gave us a great time reconnecting with Walt and Jane.

Likewise, the second opinion appointment wasn't what I had envisioned. Loving to read and write, I couldn't help but take note of the "foreshadowing" woven in the doctor's beginning words as he prepared us for an opinion different than the one previously given. In any other situation it may not have held a sinister tone, but if there ever were a 'good' diagnosis of Stage IV Pancreatic cancer, Matt had already been given that one. A different opinion or new diagnosis could not be good news -- but they gave us a different opinion anyway. Of course, we had driven five and a half hours for them to do just that. 

In a nutshell,  the second opinion was that this is not the slow-growing type, but a more aggressive type of pancreatic cancer. The difference in the interpretation of the pathology needs to be investigated. Further testing of the pathology and a CAT scan are in order. It definitely wasn't the second opinion we were looking for. Instead of more answers on how to treat the already rare diagnosis we had, we find God stretching us yet more and reminding us our hope is in Him and not in diagnoses or prognoses. We face many unknowns, but we have a great hope in our God who is a known, who has been faithful throughout the ages, and will continue to be faithful on our behalf.

A Second Opinion

Matt and I are getting away for the weekend! We're looking forward to getting away for a few days that don't involve Matt lying pale and hooked up to wires in a hospital bed -- and my spending 14 hour days at his side, to head to my temporary home to sleep and back again the next day. Spending the weekend with former co-workers, who are also special friends, sounds SO much better!

Of course, this is a mini-vacation with a purpose. On Monday, February 28th we have an appointment at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, MA. At the recommendation of Matt's oncologist, we will be meeting with three doctors to gain a second opinion on Matt's case.

Medical combined with a mini-vacation? I can handle that. :-)

A Better Case Scenario

The road we've been traveling has been varied. There was the impossible to miss sinkhole spanning the width of the road at the preliminary diagnosis of liver cancer, possibly originating in the pancreas. We were told Matt had 2 months to a year to live. It was a worst case scenario.

Lifted from the cavernous hole by our loving Savior, we continued our journey. The road turned into an oasis of hope when the prognosis changed to a rare slow-growing type of pancreatic cancer. Though it was Stage IV and had already metastasized to the liver, surgery offered the hope of a cure. It was a best case scenario.

The day of the surgery came, revealing that the cancer was more extensive than the scans had shown. The surgery was not a possibility. Was this a pothole ... or a sinkhole? We didn't know for sure. We continued on hoping for the best, not ready to accept another worst case scenario before it could be spelled out for us. It was the hopeful, yet unknown scenario.

Today we had an appointment with the oncologist to determine what we are really facing and what the current prognosis is. The doctor explained that because this is a slow-growing cancer, the prognosis is 3-5 years without surgery -- possibly even longer. Options included radiation & chemotherapy. However, due to Matt's current good health and the slow-growing nature of this particular cancer, the doctor's recommendation is to wait, have a three-month scan in March to determine how slow slow-growing is -- and make decisions from there. He said that though a second opinion is not essential, he would recommend it. We will be setting up a second-opinion appointment within a few weeks time at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. It's not a worst case scenario nor a best case scenario -- but it's definitely a better case scenario.

Home Again!

We're pleased to say we arrived home last night. It's GREAT to be home. We have a follow-up appointment on Thursday with the surgeon. We'll be calling the oncologist on Monday to set up an appointment with him. 

We were able to speak with one of our oncologist's colleagues Saturday morning, as our oncologist was out of town. He is definitely in the loop. What we're up against is the rarity of this cancer. Research is being done to determine the best course of action, but it's just going to take time for even the experts to sort this all out. This type of pancreatic cancer only shows up in 1-2% of pancreatic cancers, is usually found in young women, and only 10-15% of this type ever metastasize to the liver. This makes Matt's case a rarity in an already rare type of pancreatic cancer. Surgery to remove the primary tumor and metastasis is the recommended course of action with good prognosis. The presumption had been that the surgery would be a success, therefore now further research is necessary. Pray for wisdom for the doctors as they seek the best course of action.

We are so thankful for God's continuing grace and peace in the midst of great unknowns. 

Yet I Will Rejoice in the Lord

"Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation."  (Habakkuk 3:17-18)

Each day we have waited to write, hoping the next day would bring a visit from the oncologist, hoping the next day would bring answers -- but they have been slow in coming.It's been a time of waiting, a time to remind ourselves anew that we are waiting on God's timing and not on the timing of the oncologist. It's been a time to see God bring a calm and peace despite the lack of answers, a peace that goes contrary to our human nature.

Only God knows for sure when we'll get to see the oncologist, but we're told now that he'll be up to see us tomorrow. We heard him tell this to one of the surgeons who called to check into it for us. Of course, we've been told this before. But maybe, just maybe, we'll have news tomorrow night? That would be nice. If not, we'll re-write Habakkuk 3:17-18 to say, "Although the oncologist doesn't come by and visit ... yet I will rejoice in the Lord!" :-)

God's Ways Are Not Our Ways

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,

Nor are your ways My ways,” says the LORD. 

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

So are My ways higher than your ways, 

And My thoughts than your thoughts."

- Isaiah 55:8-9

This was to be the "victory message," the message letting you know the operation was a success, that they were able to remove the cancer riddled organs from Matt's body, the message offering yet more hope. Yet, as the verses above read, God's ways are not our ways. Upon opening Matt up they found the tumor by the portal vein had invaded further than expected, making the proposed operation impossible. They closed him back up. We are not yet certain what this means. We don't have a new prognosis. We have yet to speak to the oncologist. 

Is this what we had hoped for? Obviously not. Is God still in control? Most definitely. Isaiah 55:9 tell us that as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are GOD'S ways higher than our ways, and GOD'S thoughts higher than our thoughts. We claim the truth, even if we have to claim it through the tears of our human frailty. God has a greater purpose to accomplish through what appears to be a major setback to our human minds and hearts. We cling to Him and to His promises by faith. At the same time we covet your prayers as we continue down this difficult journey with God.

The Plan

We've reminded ourselves as we have waited that we are really waiting on God -- and not for a response from a doctor's office. Our waiting has reached the point of having a plan. 

We met with the surgeon this past Monday. The surgeon presented a two surgery approach. Surgery number one will take place Tuesday, January 25. During this surgery, the more pressing need of the enlarged spleen and the pancreas (which is practically one big tumor) will be removed -- and the remaining parts will be "reconnected" as needed. To ensure the tumors in the liver do not continue growing, they will either use radio waves or 'burn' the tumors to disrupt them. The second surgery will take place roughly three months later when Matt has healed sufficiently. At that time they will need to remove two-thirds to three-quarters of the liver. 

We plan to enjoy the time between now and January 25, realizing at that time we'll be facing the challenges of surgery, of the recovery time, and of Matt becoming an instant insulin-dependent diabetic when the pancreas is removed. We've been told to expect the surgery to take roughly 6 hours, for Matt to be in ICU for 12 to 24 hours following surgery, and for a total hospital stay of probably 10 days -- barring complications.

We've a long road ahead, but we know we are not alone. God continues to be faithful, encouraging us when needed, challenging us when needed, and sometimes just wrapping us in His loving arms and comforting us. He has also blessed us through so many of our extended family of God, through their prayers, words of encouragement and expressions of love. We, as believers, are most blessed to have such a wonderful extended family.

Next Step: Meeting with the Surgical Team

I was on the phone several times with the doctors' offices today. We will be heading up to Rochester this Monday, January 10th for a meeting with the surgical team. Discussing the tentative surgical plans with the oncologist could leave one wondering what will be left in Matt's abdomen following surgery. For the weight conscious among us, this has to be some weight-loss of an operation!

We are told that the tumor in the pancreas is quite large and the plan is to remove the entire pancreas. Being that the pancreas is what controls the blood sugar levels, removing the pancreas will automatically make Matt an insulin-dependent diabetic, but that is something we can live with. The spleen needs removing as well as the 3 tumors on the liver which, thankfully, are all confined to one lobe. The portal vein leaving the liver is affected and will need reconstructing. The oncologist wasn't clear as to whether this would take place in one surgery or if Matt will be facing multiple surgeries. I'm sure this, along with other issues, will be clarified at Monday's appointment.

Worry & Concern

There's plenty to worry about right now. I could justify throwing a party and inviting numerous concerns and worries to the feast. It's in my nature to worry. I mean, doesn't worrying about things help? 


It's been by an active choice of my will that I've not been worrying. When my mind starts to go there, the Holy Spirit, as the sentry of my mind, leaps up, swords bared, reminding worry and concern that they are not welcome here. He reminds me to "Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7)


When I try to handle tomorrow's worries and concerns today, He reminds me that I don't have to bear tomorrows problems today because "it is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not, They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in Him." (Lamentations 3:22-24)


So I've been handing all my worries and concerns over to God and feeling His peace undergirding me and holding me up. Then today around noon I called to get Matt's insurance I.D. number to pass on to the Cancer Clinic. With the new year we'd had a change of insurance and the Cancer Clinic needed our new insurance information.


Finally talking my way through to the point where I figured they would give me the number, I was informed that though our insurance was effective as of 1/1/11, our account had not yet been "uploaded," and therefore there was not yet an I.D. number. Asking more questions, I realized that meant we aren't able to have any procedures or surgeries that required pre-approval until such a time as we are "uploaded." The "when" was vague.


I felt worry and concern pushing their heads to the forefront of my mind and their strong clingy tentacles wrapping around my heart. That would mean they wouldn't be able to even think about surgery until this was processed. How long would it take? Would it take a month like it did with our last insurance? How long was it safe to wait on surgery? And on and on....


"Excuse me," I felt the prompting of the Holy Spirit. "Why are you allowing worry and concern to take up residence? This is not their home."


"You're right," I conceded as I let them melt off and away from me. If God was big enough to trust with the health and life of my husband, if God was big enough to trust with our future, was He not also big enough to be able to trust Him to handle an insurance company? It sounded quite petty when put that way.


I took a deep breath. I explained the situation to the woman on the other end of the phone, letting her know I realized she wasn't in control of the timing of the insurance, but wanting to know if there was a way to remedy this.


She was understanding. She wanted to help. She said she would push it through as a rush job, but wanted me to realize it would still take 48 hours. It would still most likely take two days. 


It sounded like an eternity, but I reminded myself that this was God's department and not mine. She took my phone number. I thanked her for her help and for putting the rush job on it. Hanging up, I went back to my work.


As I was preparing to close the office for the day, the phone rang. Answering it, I was greeted by the Excellus agent. She apologized that she didn't have our temporary insurance cards, but sounded quite pleased to tell me she had our insurance I.D. numbers. I felt humbled by God's grace in speeding the process, in turning a 48-hour rush job into a 3-hour rush job. I didn't necessarily need a temporary card. What I needed was the numbers and those she was able to give me. I thanked her. I thanked God.


I could have spent the day allowing worry and concern to destroy my peace, raise my blood pressure, and wreck havoc with my stomach. I could have "enjoyed" their company. I am so thankful that our God is faithful to bring His Word to our minds, to remind us to trust Him, to encourage us, direct us, and draw us close to Himself. We serve an awesome God.

Tears of Hope

We had the appointment with the oncologist today. The final diagnosis wasn't a surprise. Every test, every conversation, had been paving the way to the diagnosis of Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer that had metastasized to the liver. It was not a surprise. It was confirmation.


What was a surprise was the doctor telling us that there are three types of pancreatic cancer when I had only read of two. He explained that Matt had a very rare type of pancreatic cancer. He emphasized this several times -- while I wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. His tone seemed to indicate it could be a good thing. 


He went on to explain that since it was this very rare type of pancreatic cancer, surgery could be an option. He will be presenting the case to the surgeons in the next few days and then getting back with us by Friday. The proposed plan, should the surgeons concur, would be to remove a good portion of the pancreas, the tumors from the liver, the swollen spleen, and reconstruct the portal vein -- giving at least the hope of a cure. I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his words, tears of hope. 


We don't know what Friday will bring. Maybe the surgery will be a go. Maybe the surgeons will say it is not possible after viewing the CAT scan and MRI. What we do know is that God will be there right with us whatever the outcome. Thank you for your continued prayers.