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.

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.

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.

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. :-)

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.

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.

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!

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. 

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!" :-)