At this time of the year we are all talking of the journey. Joseph and Mary went to Bethelehem. The Shepherds found their way across town to the stable. The wise men started their trip from the east. Eventually Joseph and Mary would head to Egypt. In each case the cause of the journey was clear: To Bethlehem for taxes, to the stable for worship, to Judea for adoration, to Egypt for safety. Some causes were mundane, others sublime.
Our journey is set right now in the context of this more eternal and historical journey. Ours seems mundane, and slowly we are getting used to the idea that changes we are experiencing in the journey are changes that would come in some form or another with time anyway. There are the body changes. Yes, those are profound, painful, unpleasant. But some of them would have come in time anyway. Our bodies wear out, they don't function the same. My knees are stiff with arthritis, I pick up things with two hands that formerly I managed easily with one. And our sexual body parts eventually change too. So the journey was a little ahead of what we might have expected some years ago. Of course some journeys, when taken for a longer time are actually more pleasant ☺
Deb finished her course of "chemo" applications last week. What a relief to be able to walk without discomfort--talk about joy in the journey! And then she had another appointment that showed more redness and itching on the other side NOT related to the chemo application—it probably needs biopsy. Anxiety in the journey.
Research and conversation with the plethora of doctors has revealed that the Pagets can easily spread to every adjacent gynecological body part. Considering that the surgery did not give any clear (negative) margins, this probably means that there has been a spreading action for some time. Uncertainty in the journey.
It does not appear that there is much more we can do about any of this. Although Pagets is the “early warning sign” of cancer, there has been no underlying cancer found. God is able to keep it that way. Hope in the journey.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Behold, the old becomes new
You have waited a long time to see if we are alive! You have wondered if we are finished with our "redemption house"? Well, we are alive, and as you can see we are a long way off from finishing the redemption project. The flooring project is half finished on the third floor. Then we have the kitchen to put in. The second floor has the floor to start, and then the kitchen. The first floor has the flooring to start and then the kitchen....so we have a long way to go. But the ugly frame walls are now covered with sheetrock. The wiring, plumbing, heating and insulation are all done.And Jesse has not had to haul Karl off to the hospital for more medical reviews for seizures, but the medications have been changed now three times. Perhaps this one will be right. One made me mad, another sad, another gave me a skin rash.
Debbie has started the medication that was being researched at Sloan-Kettering, but we are not in that program so we don't have to travel to NYC. The medication's immediate impact is not pleasant--itching, burning and pain. So far with three weeks into the three month journey it is being tolerated with some difficult-to-sleep nights.
So, as you look at the pictures, imagine and pray for new faces from all over the world that might be living in one or more of these apartments (a one, a two, and a three-bedroom apartment). New spaces, new faces from new places. New places, new opportunities to redirect our thoughts.
OK tell me, is it really so bad that one way of dealing with unpleasantness and pain is to be busy with good things that the bad and the ugly fade a bit from our attention? Redemption requires a lot of unpleasant moments--but to see new hope, new directions, and new life come out of the old means that we can't stop with the pain.
The next month for Karl is in Manilla. Debbie carries on in Baltimore. Her next surgery is the 17th of November. Stay tuned--or stop by and help her plant flowers in the yard or Jesse put some oak flooring down :)
Thursday, August 7, 2008
EXTRA EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT!!
...Those words are now relegated to old movies that portray a society that read newspapers sold on the corner by men or boys. Things still work that way in Nairobi. But here we just want to talk about EXTRA.
Extra-mammary Paget's disease. It was diagnosed in Debbie on June 27. Operated on July 28. On August 6 we finally have the word that it was almost removed. So now we give....
EXTRA praise that no underlying cancer was found.
EXTRA care as we go ahead. The fact that the excision did not give "clear" margins was not a surprise. Deb will be followed closely every three months since the recurrence rate is high.
EXTRA special hospital. Her follow up will probably be done at Memorial Sloan-Kettering in NY city--a hospital dedicated to cancer treatment. They have state of the art treatment and
EXTRA ordinary clinical trial that provides a cream treatment rather than surgery for recurring Pagets.
EXTRA provision has been granted by our insurance company to cover the cost of a hospital outside our area.
EXTRA grace will be received as we continue to navigate these paths unknown to us.
EXTRA love has been poured out on us from many friends who have visited, communicated and even sent flowers. It shows us that
EXTRA prayer has been offered to the Lord for us, and we feel buoyed by that prayer.
EXTRA thanks are due to all you who have stood with us.
Extra-mammary Paget's disease. It was diagnosed in Debbie on June 27. Operated on July 28. On August 6 we finally have the word that it was almost removed. So now we give....
EXTRA praise that no underlying cancer was found.
EXTRA care as we go ahead. The fact that the excision did not give "clear" margins was not a surprise. Deb will be followed closely every three months since the recurrence rate is high.
EXTRA special hospital. Her follow up will probably be done at Memorial Sloan-Kettering in NY city--a hospital dedicated to cancer treatment. They have state of the art treatment and
EXTRA ordinary clinical trial that provides a cream treatment rather than surgery for recurring Pagets.
EXTRA provision has been granted by our insurance company to cover the cost of a hospital outside our area.
EXTRA grace will be received as we continue to navigate these paths unknown to us.
EXTRA love has been poured out on us from many friends who have visited, communicated and even sent flowers. It shows us that
EXTRA prayer has been offered to the Lord for us, and we feel buoyed by that prayer.
EXTRA thanks are due to all you who have stood with us.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Waiting
Waiting. Ever think how much of life is spent waiting? You can loose hours of your life waiting for your television program to start again while you wait for the advertisements to finish. In our opinion you can loose days of your life by watching the programs to start with. A recent visitor was amazed that Deb did not have a television to entertain her in the bedroom while she waited.
Waiting for the healing to continue. Wait for the pathology report. Wait for me to bring her lunch. Wait for the next phone call. Wait for the mail so she could open wonderful cards. Wait for the email to read encouraging words of prayer and confidence.
We waited together for the surgery to start on Monday, and it finally did even if two and a half hours late. Then I hardly waited for the surgeons to tell me their opinion of the results--they were happy and both were finished in only 45 minutes. Then I waited for Deb to wake from the anesthesia--which was a rather mild one this time. And we waited together for another hour to be sure everything was OK before going home.
So our waiting is for many things. The Psalmist in Psalm 130 talks of the waiting that is good for our souls:
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
6 my soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning.
7 O Israel, hope in the Lord!
For with the Lord there is steadfast love,
and with him is plentiful redemption.
8 And he will redeem Israel
from all his iniquities.
Join us in waiting for His hope and His answers. It will be worth it!
Waiting for the healing to continue. Wait for the pathology report. Wait for me to bring her lunch. Wait for the next phone call. Wait for the mail so she could open wonderful cards. Wait for the email to read encouraging words of prayer and confidence.
We waited together for the surgery to start on Monday, and it finally did even if two and a half hours late. Then I hardly waited for the surgeons to tell me their opinion of the results--they were happy and both were finished in only 45 minutes. Then I waited for Deb to wake from the anesthesia--which was a rather mild one this time. And we waited together for another hour to be sure everything was OK before going home.
So our waiting is for many things. The Psalmist in Psalm 130 talks of the waiting that is good for our souls:
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
6 my soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning.
7 O Israel, hope in the Lord!
For with the Lord there is steadfast love,
and with him is plentiful redemption.
8 And he will redeem Israel
from all his iniquities.
Join us in waiting for His hope and His answers. It will be worth it!
Friday, July 25, 2008
and on...
OK you have checked and nothing new is here. You know that life isn't static so you wonder why?
The bottom line is that I lack inspiration. We are heading into a darker zone than we left.
Well, there it is. A dark night. Yeah we get them too. Surgery is Monday, we don't have any idea what to expect.
I should have been listening, but my head was buried I guess.
The bottom line is that I lack inspiration. We are heading into a darker zone than we left.
We were with Ben and Andrew this week at his farm outside Syracuse. (He came back for his sister's wedding with Andrew and we took the moment to go see them). The night was stormy and thick clouds covered the moon and stars. We went to bed and I couldn't see a thing--rather unlike Baltimore where the darkest night has plenty of street lights and security lights shining in the window. In the middle of the night the thunder rolled and the lightening lit the room as if the switch were thrown.
Well, there it is. A dark night. Yeah we get them too. Surgery is Monday, we don't have any idea what to expect.
I enjoyed the storm of lightning and thunder. It has always been for me the voice of the Almighty reminding me that He holds the heavens and earth, they shake at His command, they become still by his voice.
I should have been listening, but my head was buried I guess.
Monday, June 30, 2008
The journey goes on...
Rare adj
1. not often happening or found
2. particularly interesting or valuable, especially to collectors or scholars, because only a few exist
3. unusually great or excellent
4. thin in density and containing so little oxygen that breathing is difficult
Our journey goes on. It is a rare journey in all the meanings listed above.
You know as we do that Paget’s disease of the nipple is not often found. I suppose that makes it of particular interest to the medical community.
But suppose that Deb had not just one form of Pagets disease but two? In that event, then God’s grace would have to be unusually great, and we would be left a bit winded.
So it is and so we are.
Tuesday Debbie went for a second biopsy for a lesion that we have been watching for a number of months now. There had been some other tests and treatments but nothing really made it better. Hence the biopsy. Three deep conical excisions removed from three areas that should have represented the center, the edge and normal tissue. All came back with a positive confirmation of gynecological Paget’s disease. Debbie learned the results on Thursday and phoned me. I was in Los Angeles on my way to Indonesia. So here it is:
Gynecological Paget’s disease is an extremely rare form of abnormal cells that are either a precursor to cancer or indicate an underlying cancer. There is no relationship between the breast cancer Paget’s disease and this gynecological form. There are only four other known cases reported in medical literature of women with both. Deb will undergo a “wide excision” surgery to remove all the abnormal Paget’s cells along with a margin of safety and a sampling of lymph nodes in the groin. The pathology report will indicate the extent and staging of cancer, if in fact there is indication of cancer beyond the presence of the Paget’s cells. Her recovery period will be about three weeks. We will have a well renowned doctor who trained and works at Johns Hopkins in addition to Mercy Medical Center where she will have the surgery
Yes, I went on to Indonesia. You probably wonder why? Of course by the time I heard I was already 8 hours into the trip that lasted for about 42 hours. But that was not a reason to carry on. The reason to carry on is that in times of rare air, you have to carry on. If you are swimming at the bottom of a body of water you don’t stop swimming or you drown. If you are climbing Mt Everest you don’t stop or you freeze. So we decided to go on. The conference here is short, and my part is over by Wednesday. Perhaps I will be able to make an early return.
It is a unique moment here. Indonesia is the country with the largest Muslim population in the world. Significant violent conflict has occurred between Muslims and Christians here. As usual there is a history of significant conflict in the church among leaders. This conference begins with the government blessing, the Muslim community will be represented by a highly respected leader. Over forty denominations are already represented, and over 2300 attendees are here. The seminary dean is in my DMin program in Manila and has helped bring this gathering of church leaders, Indonesian missionaries, Muslim and national leaders to a conference on biblical peacemaking. This too is rare air.
Tuesday Debbie has an appointment with an unusually excellent doctor. He will advise and plan for a surgery sometime in the near future that will not only take the “wide excision” but attempt to redo some of the pelvic surgery that did not “take” six weeks ago. By the time I get back we should know when that might happen and what it might involve. Right now we are just holding our breath.
Genesis says that the Creator God exhaled into Adam the “breath of life”, and he lived. He lived to labor. He labored to show God’s glory. God’s glory was reflected in Adam’s love and obedience. It was even better reflected when God provided for redemption when Adam made the choice to sin. That sin infected the world and we now live in that infected world. But the Redeemer lives. He breathes into us the breath of life that neither Paget’s nor any other presence or power can take from us. That is rare air—nothing is greater or better. Breathe it with us.
1. not often happening or found
2. particularly interesting or valuable, especially to collectors or scholars, because only a few exist
3. unusually great or excellent
4. thin in density and containing so little oxygen that breathing is difficult
Our journey goes on. It is a rare journey in all the meanings listed above.
You know as we do that Paget’s disease of the nipple is not often found. I suppose that makes it of particular interest to the medical community.
But suppose that Deb had not just one form of Pagets disease but two? In that event, then God’s grace would have to be unusually great, and we would be left a bit winded.
So it is and so we are.
Tuesday Debbie went for a second biopsy for a lesion that we have been watching for a number of months now. There had been some other tests and treatments but nothing really made it better. Hence the biopsy. Three deep conical excisions removed from three areas that should have represented the center, the edge and normal tissue. All came back with a positive confirmation of gynecological Paget’s disease. Debbie learned the results on Thursday and phoned me. I was in Los Angeles on my way to Indonesia. So here it is:
Gynecological Paget’s disease is an extremely rare form of abnormal cells that are either a precursor to cancer or indicate an underlying cancer. There is no relationship between the breast cancer Paget’s disease and this gynecological form. There are only four other known cases reported in medical literature of women with both. Deb will undergo a “wide excision” surgery to remove all the abnormal Paget’s cells along with a margin of safety and a sampling of lymph nodes in the groin. The pathology report will indicate the extent and staging of cancer, if in fact there is indication of cancer beyond the presence of the Paget’s cells. Her recovery period will be about three weeks. We will have a well renowned doctor who trained and works at Johns Hopkins in addition to Mercy Medical Center where she will have the surgery
Yes, I went on to Indonesia. You probably wonder why? Of course by the time I heard I was already 8 hours into the trip that lasted for about 42 hours. But that was not a reason to carry on. The reason to carry on is that in times of rare air, you have to carry on. If you are swimming at the bottom of a body of water you don’t stop swimming or you drown. If you are climbing Mt Everest you don’t stop or you freeze. So we decided to go on. The conference here is short, and my part is over by Wednesday. Perhaps I will be able to make an early return.
It is a unique moment here. Indonesia is the country with the largest Muslim population in the world. Significant violent conflict has occurred between Muslims and Christians here. As usual there is a history of significant conflict in the church among leaders. This conference begins with the government blessing, the Muslim community will be represented by a highly respected leader. Over forty denominations are already represented, and over 2300 attendees are here. The seminary dean is in my DMin program in Manila and has helped bring this gathering of church leaders, Indonesian missionaries, Muslim and national leaders to a conference on biblical peacemaking. This too is rare air.
Tuesday Debbie has an appointment with an unusually excellent doctor. He will advise and plan for a surgery sometime in the near future that will not only take the “wide excision” but attempt to redo some of the pelvic surgery that did not “take” six weeks ago. By the time I get back we should know when that might happen and what it might involve. Right now we are just holding our breath.
Genesis says that the Creator God exhaled into Adam the “breath of life”, and he lived. He lived to labor. He labored to show God’s glory. God’s glory was reflected in Adam’s love and obedience. It was even better reflected when God provided for redemption when Adam made the choice to sin. That sin infected the world and we now live in that infected world. But the Redeemer lives. He breathes into us the breath of life that neither Paget’s nor any other presence or power can take from us. That is rare air—nothing is greater or better. Breathe it with us.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
7000 emails
7000 emails.
Actually probably about 7100 since there are some in my inbox for Debbie that she has not read yet.
If you have to manage a hefty email account you know what a burden that is. And it grows every day. So Deb went back to work this week and was dreading going in—you can understand why. Of course those emails had not all accumulated just from her time out for surgery and recovery.
Some have wondered why she doesn’t stay out longer—but the month she had has gone by already, and extra days will be needed again towards the end of the year for the final reconstruction surgery.
Exercises? Some days more than other days. With a return to “normal” it has been hard for her to build in time for regular post-surgery rehab exercise. In fact since she is not walking to work now she doesn’t get that either. For people like us the regular disciplines of life are some of the most difficult to maintain. We don’t eat on a schedule, don’t travel on a schedule, don’t play on a schedule, don’t sleep on a schedule (but usually it is at night!) and I guess work is the schedule—which we tend to put in to a lot of different time slots.
So, before heading back to “work” Deb managed to pull the 7,000 down to 6,000. The practice here is that when you don’t answer after a certain period of time, then an email is either too old to be of importance, forgotten by the sender, or the matter needing comment was resolved, ended or missed. I suggested that I could cause her computer to crash and it would be faster to just say “my computer crashed and I lost your email” but she figured that it would take more time to remember the 7,000 and write them the message than to sort through the stack. Probably after a week she is back to 6500.
We have had some very interesting visits from folks this past month. Some have been work-related and some have been reconstructing and building on long friendships. We are deeply privileged to have friends that understand and love crazy people like us. These are blessings of the Savior who walks with us in the valleys and on the mountains, and in the skies.
Two more sets of good friends expected in this week. It is a good thing that all our emails don't sit in the box unattended!
Actually probably about 7100 since there are some in my inbox for Debbie that she has not read yet.
If you have to manage a hefty email account you know what a burden that is. And it grows every day. So Deb went back to work this week and was dreading going in—you can understand why. Of course those emails had not all accumulated just from her time out for surgery and recovery.
Some have wondered why she doesn’t stay out longer—but the month she had has gone by already, and extra days will be needed again towards the end of the year for the final reconstruction surgery.
Exercises? Some days more than other days. With a return to “normal” it has been hard for her to build in time for regular post-surgery rehab exercise. In fact since she is not walking to work now she doesn’t get that either. For people like us the regular disciplines of life are some of the most difficult to maintain. We don’t eat on a schedule, don’t travel on a schedule, don’t play on a schedule, don’t sleep on a schedule (but usually it is at night!) and I guess work is the schedule—which we tend to put in to a lot of different time slots.
So, before heading back to “work” Deb managed to pull the 7,000 down to 6,000. The practice here is that when you don’t answer after a certain period of time, then an email is either too old to be of importance, forgotten by the sender, or the matter needing comment was resolved, ended or missed. I suggested that I could cause her computer to crash and it would be faster to just say “my computer crashed and I lost your email” but she figured that it would take more time to remember the 7,000 and write them the message than to sort through the stack. Probably after a week she is back to 6500.
We have had some very interesting visits from folks this past month. Some have been work-related and some have been reconstructing and building on long friendships. We are deeply privileged to have friends that understand and love crazy people like us. These are blessings of the Savior who walks with us in the valleys and on the mountains, and in the skies.
Two more sets of good friends expected in this week. It is a good thing that all our emails don't sit in the box unattended!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
"normal"
Ever wonder what "normal" means? For us, "normal" means "the way we usually are". I find that sometimes I want to be "extra ordinary" and I tend to contrast that with "normal". Now just what is "extra" about extra ordinary you wonder?
"Extra" ice cream would mean a bigger portion. "Extra special diet" would mean more diet with a better taste, I guess. Life in general for Karl and Debbie is somehow not back to normal yet. It is however, extraordinary.
You know the way we usually are--flying just above the ground and in several directions, often different directions. Book projects, teaching, program supervision, planning. That would be in Indonesia, China, Philippines, Africa or possibly the US. It might find me doing a mediation or Debbie visiting a funding office in D.C. Probably it would be receiving special guests. Definitely it would find us in an international student Bible study every Friday and a church small group every Monday when we are in town.
So the way we have been in this last week is sort of like that normal, but a bit extra ordinary. We have not been flying around or supervising or teaching or writing. Nor have we been to California or Florida or Chicago (Karl did run off to Montana for a week though). The International students have still come and the small group met in our home for the last month. And we have been together for the last two months, and that is extra ordinary, and special.
Sunday after church we took a walking tour of the gardens in our "Charles Village" part of Baltimore. Mind you, in the city you tour these micro-gardens from the alley because that is the only place that has more than a 144 square feet without concrete (although our alley garden consists of a few green things around the base of a tree surrounded by brick and concrete). We have had a good supply of wonderful friends from many different eras of our lives come to visit us. That is VERY special and reminds us of God's love through deep friendships that pick up where they left off years earlier. Most folks don't quite know how to relate to either dogs or humans that run frenetically just above the surface of the ground, so when we stop we find that we still have friends who love us.
If you have not yet put the picture in your mind, then let me just say that Debbie is healing wonderfully and will start to wade through the 6,000 emails in her inbox (that is not an exaggeration). We had a wonderful planning meeting with a friend and colleague from Nairobi that might actually get us on a plane to Nairobi together in July. Karl's medication has been changed and he is well, a bit more normal. The new medication takes 45 days to get up to full blood level, so we will see what happens. Deb went to the doctor yesterday for some additional "filling" and came back complaining of the pain. Actually the pain was a good sign that at least sensation and feeling was starting to return to operation site. She "normally" does her three times a day exercises once a day. (NOT GOOD--can you tell who is writing this?)
I was starting to catch up on my email yesterday and settled to write a prayer letter when I noticed that the house behind us was putting in a new concrete parking pad, so I quickly went and asked if I could have a wheelbarrow or two. I was informed that there was just about that much left, so I carried a bucket into the basement to fill a trench cut for a new sewer line. Upon my return I found that the "normal" concrete left over had been placed in the middle of the drive area from which I had removed all the old concrete. I looked at the "normal" and my jaw dropped. It was a mountain. The driver said, "there was more in there than I thought, they must have weighed wrong, looks like about two yards". For those of you who don't know what that means, it is about the cubic equivalent of your washer, dryer and stove combined. But not to worry, I had no form boards, no concrete tools, and only myself to do the work. Not a problem? Concrete sets in about an hour.
Oh yes. Back to normal.
"Extra" ice cream would mean a bigger portion. "Extra special diet" would mean more diet with a better taste, I guess. Life in general for Karl and Debbie is somehow not back to normal yet. It is however, extraordinary.
You know the way we usually are--flying just above the ground and in several directions, often different directions. Book projects, teaching, program supervision, planning. That would be in Indonesia, China, Philippines, Africa or possibly the US. It might find me doing a mediation or Debbie visiting a funding office in D.C. Probably it would be receiving special guests. Definitely it would find us in an international student Bible study every Friday and a church small group every Monday when we are in town.
So the way we have been in this last week is sort of like that normal, but a bit extra ordinary. We have not been flying around or supervising or teaching or writing. Nor have we been to California or Florida or Chicago (Karl did run off to Montana for a week though). The International students have still come and the small group met in our home for the last month. And we have been together for the last two months, and that is extra ordinary, and special.
Sunday after church we took a walking tour of the gardens in our "Charles Village" part of Baltimore. Mind you, in the city you tour these micro-gardens from the alley because that is the only place that has more than a 144 square feet without concrete (although our alley garden consists of a few green things around the base of a tree surrounded by brick and concrete). We have had a good supply of wonderful friends from many different eras of our lives come to visit us. That is VERY special and reminds us of God's love through deep friendships that pick up where they left off years earlier. Most folks don't quite know how to relate to either dogs or humans that run frenetically just above the surface of the ground, so when we stop we find that we still have friends who love us.
If you have not yet put the picture in your mind, then let me just say that Debbie is healing wonderfully and will start to wade through the 6,000 emails in her inbox (that is not an exaggeration). We had a wonderful planning meeting with a friend and colleague from Nairobi that might actually get us on a plane to Nairobi together in July. Karl's medication has been changed and he is well, a bit more normal. The new medication takes 45 days to get up to full blood level, so we will see what happens. Deb went to the doctor yesterday for some additional "filling" and came back complaining of the pain. Actually the pain was a good sign that at least sensation and feeling was starting to return to operation site. She "normally" does her three times a day exercises once a day. (NOT GOOD--can you tell who is writing this?)
I was starting to catch up on my email yesterday and settled to write a prayer letter when I noticed that the house behind us was putting in a new concrete parking pad, so I quickly went and asked if I could have a wheelbarrow or two. I was informed that there was just about that much left, so I carried a bucket into the basement to fill a trench cut for a new sewer line. Upon my return I found that the "normal" concrete left over had been placed in the middle of the drive area from which I had removed all the old concrete. I looked at the "normal" and my jaw dropped. It was a mountain. The driver said, "there was more in there than I thought, they must have weighed wrong, looks like about two yards". For those of you who don't know what that means, it is about the cubic equivalent of your washer, dryer and stove combined. But not to worry, I had no form boards, no concrete tools, and only myself to do the work. Not a problem? Concrete sets in about an hour.
Oh yes. Back to normal.
Friday, May 16, 2008
pa·thol·o·gy (n)
pa·thol·o·gy n
1. the processes of a particular disease, observable either with the naked eye or by microscopy, or, at a molecular level, as inferred from biochemical tests
2. any condition that is a deviation from the normal
Our lives seem to illustrate the importance of this significant word with both of its definitions.
On the positive side, we have received the pathology report from Deb’s surgery. The breast tissue as well as the sentinel lymph node were diced and sliced and scrutinized. Thankfully everything showed that the affected areas were all fully removed. So the disease is over, for which we thank and praise God. We are now eight days after the surgery, and today the next surgery for reconstruction was set--early January 2009!
So there is still a deviation from normal. We are still counting the amount of fluid drained from the operation site. Deb is still working on exercises that would make her grandchildren giggle, but they are painful for her. We are enjoying the presence of many friends—some of whom we have not seen in many years. We are basking in the confidence and knowledge that so many are praying for us particularly at this time. All of that is a deviation from the normal—and it is sometimes good to be outside the normal range.
One deviation from normal that is complicating things right now is the impact of the anti-seizure medications that Karl is experiencing. At this point a day in the hospital or a loss of memory of a few hours would be preferable to the frustration of feeling unable to focus, continually exhausted, just not really interested in people, and snapping at the most simple complication. Yes, the medication is having side effects that are devious, not just a deviation.
So, while Debbie is mending normally, Karl is bending away from normal. It raises the question of who is helping to heal and who is a healing helper. What we do know about our pathology is that the Healer made us whole and is still intervening in our lives to bring us wholeness. The “normal” of our lives misses the mark of His wholeness--which makes our lives pathological.
Pathology in most cases and certainly in our case, leads us to theology. Seeing our sickness helps us see and understand our Savior/Healer. One day all things will be made new. Today we are happy to have a step toward newness.
When we feel lopsided or loopy we remember that Jesus came not for those who were already whole, but those who needed to be made whole. We have some big holes that need filling.
1. the processes of a particular disease, observable either with the naked eye or by microscopy, or, at a molecular level, as inferred from biochemical tests
2. any condition that is a deviation from the normal
Our lives seem to illustrate the importance of this significant word with both of its definitions.
On the positive side, we have received the pathology report from Deb’s surgery. The breast tissue as well as the sentinel lymph node were diced and sliced and scrutinized. Thankfully everything showed that the affected areas were all fully removed. So the disease is over, for which we thank and praise God. We are now eight days after the surgery, and today the next surgery for reconstruction was set--early January 2009!
So there is still a deviation from normal. We are still counting the amount of fluid drained from the operation site. Deb is still working on exercises that would make her grandchildren giggle, but they are painful for her. We are enjoying the presence of many friends—some of whom we have not seen in many years. We are basking in the confidence and knowledge that so many are praying for us particularly at this time. All of that is a deviation from the normal—and it is sometimes good to be outside the normal range.
One deviation from normal that is complicating things right now is the impact of the anti-seizure medications that Karl is experiencing. At this point a day in the hospital or a loss of memory of a few hours would be preferable to the frustration of feeling unable to focus, continually exhausted, just not really interested in people, and snapping at the most simple complication. Yes, the medication is having side effects that are devious, not just a deviation.
So, while Debbie is mending normally, Karl is bending away from normal. It raises the question of who is helping to heal and who is a healing helper. What we do know about our pathology is that the Healer made us whole and is still intervening in our lives to bring us wholeness. The “normal” of our lives misses the mark of His wholeness--which makes our lives pathological.
Pathology in most cases and certainly in our case, leads us to theology. Seeing our sickness helps us see and understand our Savior/Healer. One day all things will be made new. Today we are happy to have a step toward newness.
When we feel lopsided or loopy we remember that Jesus came not for those who were already whole, but those who needed to be made whole. We have some big holes that need filling.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Life support
Surgery is always a complicated process even when it is minor. This has been a full 30 hours!
By seven AM Wednesday, Deb was given a radio-active dye which was to help in locating the sentinel lymph node during surgery. She had several hours to wait then before it had moved through the system and was ready for the parade to begin. Since there were three surgeries, there were three surgery teams. Add to that the anesthesia crew, the nursing crew, and the recovery room crew. For most the routine was the same: check the name band on her wrist to be sure it was the right person. Then repeat all the processes that were to be done--that litany started to feel cuttingly cruel after only the second time. Do we HAVE to be reminded of everything that had to be done? But then I began to watch the story in a new way. All these people were part of the support system, each doing their j0b and each needed to be sure they had the right person and were doing the correct procedure.
So when the surgeon drew her lines on Debbie's chest it was to be sure everything was in the correct place. When the anesthetist looked into her throat it helped to ensure that the correct alternatives were in place when they had difficulty during intubation. All those on every team were well aware of the long list of drugs that could not be considered because of her Long QT. Finally the last nurse finished the routine and said "we are ready, lets go..." I watched as Deb walked with confidence into the surgery area with IV bag in tow. It was just before 11:00 AM.
By 12:30 the mastectomy and the plastic surgeon was finished and came back with a good report: everything had gone smoothly, quickly, and she was buttoned up--well zipped up might be a better description. Good skin preservation had been accomplished, the expander was in place, and the third procedure had been started in the pelvic area. Two hours later that too was finished--repairing and repositioning organs that had been jumbled by three children and infections of the past.
By 3:45 I was in the post-op recovery room with Deb and she was very much awake, but not quite as perky as she had been at 11:00 AM. All three procedures had gone well. The life support systems had sustained her as the doctors did their redemptive cutting and stitching. Although she did not FEEL better, and although there was a very little blood loss, the Life Giver was working in her body to knit it together again.
As the day wore on the pain grew more intense and movement became more difficult. The pain pump alleviated much of the pain, and slowly the shifting of position helped the movement to be less difficult. Hannah spent the night next to her bed and was available as her blood pressure dipped low and then returned to normal.
By 7:30 AM today the doctors had made their rounds and began removing tubes that had siphoned off body wastes or infused life-nurturing liquids. As her body gains strength those other life support systems become less needed, and we are reminded of the single life support system that does not diminish nor become redundant: God's grace supplied with His strength and often through His people.
As this afternoon comes, We await the doctor's decisions about whether Debbie will return home today to be embraced by support there--Donna, Rebecca and Hannah plus many others who have enlisted to encourage and help. We anticipate seeing people who have passed through our lives long ago as we receive visitors. They remind us of God's faithfulness through the years in His supply of life through His body.
Deb has started her exercises! A little head-rocking and arm-movement to there and back. Not much you know, but life movement begins with the regular and faithful demonstration of what we can manage. Call it a mustard seed approach to life.
By seven AM Wednesday, Deb was given a radio-active dye which was to help in locating the sentinel lymph node during surgery. She had several hours to wait then before it had moved through the system and was ready for the parade to begin. Since there were three surgeries, there were three surgery teams. Add to that the anesthesia crew, the nursing crew, and the recovery room crew. For most the routine was the same: check the name band on her wrist to be sure it was the right person. Then repeat all the processes that were to be done--that litany started to feel cuttingly cruel after only the second time. Do we HAVE to be reminded of everything that had to be done? But then I began to watch the story in a new way. All these people were part of the support system, each doing their j0b and each needed to be sure they had the right person and were doing the correct procedure.
So when the surgeon drew her lines on Debbie's chest it was to be sure everything was in the correct place. When the anesthetist looked into her throat it helped to ensure that the correct alternatives were in place when they had difficulty during intubation. All those on every team were well aware of the long list of drugs that could not be considered because of her Long QT. Finally the last nurse finished the routine and said "we are ready, lets go..." I watched as Deb walked with confidence into the surgery area with IV bag in tow. It was just before 11:00 AM.
By 12:30 the mastectomy and the plastic surgeon was finished and came back with a good report: everything had gone smoothly, quickly, and she was buttoned up--well zipped up might be a better description. Good skin preservation had been accomplished, the expander was in place, and the third procedure had been started in the pelvic area. Two hours later that too was finished--repairing and repositioning organs that had been jumbled by three children and infections of the past.
By 3:45 I was in the post-op recovery room with Deb and she was very much awake, but not quite as perky as she had been at 11:00 AM. All three procedures had gone well. The life support systems had sustained her as the doctors did their redemptive cutting and stitching. Although she did not FEEL better, and although there was a very little blood loss, the Life Giver was working in her body to knit it together again.
As the day wore on the pain grew more intense and movement became more difficult. The pain pump alleviated much of the pain, and slowly the shifting of position helped the movement to be less difficult. Hannah spent the night next to her bed and was available as her blood pressure dipped low and then returned to normal.
By 7:30 AM today the doctors had made their rounds and began removing tubes that had siphoned off body wastes or infused life-nurturing liquids. As her body gains strength those other life support systems become less needed, and we are reminded of the single life support system that does not diminish nor become redundant: God's grace supplied with His strength and often through His people.
As this afternoon comes, We await the doctor's decisions about whether Debbie will return home today to be embraced by support there--Donna, Rebecca and Hannah plus many others who have enlisted to encourage and help. We anticipate seeing people who have passed through our lives long ago as we receive visitors. They remind us of God's faithfulness through the years in His supply of life through His body.
Deb has started her exercises! A little head-rocking and arm-movement to there and back. Not much you know, but life movement begins with the regular and faithful demonstration of what we can manage. Call it a mustard seed approach to life.
Monday, May 5, 2008
The glory of God and of Kings
Yesterday morning awoke with misty eyes. We had picked up Hannah from Dulles Airport in DC and drove a short way to retreat in a friend's W.Va. mountain home. The Shenandoah valley at one point was simply filled with fog. From my view in bed I could barely distinguish a single tree in the early morning mist. But I knew the landscape was filled with early spring green and the river curled past the view point. An hour or so later the breeze had blown away the clouds and made even the distance seem near.
So with a hot cup of coffee in hand, Debbie and I waited for Hannah to arise out of her jet-lagged sleep. As I peered over the tree tops and allowed my heart to settle in the beauty of the majestic mountainside, Deb read from Proverbs 25. "It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings to search it out." At first that seemed odd and hard to understand. Why would God conceal a matter? Even more, why would that reflect glory to him?
We thought of our own life journey and those we have known and in whom we have sought to sow the seeds of the Kingdom. So many matters of our own lives remain a mystery. With us so many have sought God's face and mercy to intervene at our point of need. We have sought wisdom to understand and choose the right way forward. We have sought strength to accept the things we could not change. But even now we peer into the circumstances of our lives and see only mist and fog. Of course "why cancer?" has an understanding in the nature of a fallen world and the existence of evil and sickness. We thought about people we have known and loved who have chosen to leave Africa or Asia or some other global point of need to find employment in the U.S.A--a land of plenty. We are puzzled as to why God would have us of all people working out of this country. I thought of the thirty boxes of books that just left our house last week to start their journey to Sri Lanka. It represented the finest of two lifetimes of theology and pastoral library collection. The fog is ever so thick.
But I know that beyond the fog is the beauty of the River of Life even when I can't see it. I didn't create the roads, I only followed the map given by Someone Who Knows. I can only observe trees that are planted and grown by Someone Who Creates. And so the glory of God is seen when the questions are too big for me. God conceals the matter not out of some mean spite to hide understanding from me, but because the matters are beyond my comprehension. Can I fathom the pathway of the kingdom among the nations? Am I able to understand why God uses some people in magnificent ways and others in common ways to forward His reign of righteousness? Am I really able to comprehend even the pathway of my own life and know where my voice should be heard or my feet tread so to nurture seeds of life that He has planted? Can I know in advance the lessons that he has for me to learn through pain or loss? Would I choose the painful pathway even if I knew I would see His glory more clearly on that pathway? Certainly not.
So His glory is the greatness which conceals the smallness of my moment. And my glory? My glory is in seeking out some small part of that greatness.
We took a walk on the Appalachian Trail. For the first time I saw what I knew was true for much of my life. In the middle of the trail was a small acorn, it had sprouted and its tiny two-inch stem was reaching from the acorn toward the sunlight above in the midst of the mighty oaks all along the trail. Its glory was to stretch out its arms and absorb the light.
If I am that acorn, my glory is not to know that one day I will be sawed into pieces to make a grand banquet table for the king. My glory is to reach for the Light and allow the miracle of life to be seen in me.
It is that simple I guess. Cancer. Surgical removal of treasured body parts. Being pulled like a weed out of the garden of Africa. Books that represent aspirations of understanding and learning just heaped onto a truck and shipped half the earth away. Perceived opportunities to impact people and nations that get struck from the travel schedule because of economic realities. Visions of accomplishments quickly eclipsed by other's agendas.
I could feel sorry, or angry, or ashamed, or depressed. But this weekend I saw an acorn in the midst of the mighty oaks. It simply reached up for the Light.
Me too. How about you?
So with a hot cup of coffee in hand, Debbie and I waited for Hannah to arise out of her jet-lagged sleep. As I peered over the tree tops and allowed my heart to settle in the beauty of the majestic mountainside, Deb read from Proverbs 25. "It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings to search it out." At first that seemed odd and hard to understand. Why would God conceal a matter? Even more, why would that reflect glory to him?
We thought of our own life journey and those we have known and in whom we have sought to sow the seeds of the Kingdom. So many matters of our own lives remain a mystery. With us so many have sought God's face and mercy to intervene at our point of need. We have sought wisdom to understand and choose the right way forward. We have sought strength to accept the things we could not change. But even now we peer into the circumstances of our lives and see only mist and fog. Of course "why cancer?" has an understanding in the nature of a fallen world and the existence of evil and sickness. We thought about people we have known and loved who have chosen to leave Africa or Asia or some other global point of need to find employment in the U.S.A--a land of plenty. We are puzzled as to why God would have us of all people working out of this country. I thought of the thirty boxes of books that just left our house last week to start their journey to Sri Lanka. It represented the finest of two lifetimes of theology and pastoral library collection. The fog is ever so thick.
But I know that beyond the fog is the beauty of the River of Life even when I can't see it. I didn't create the roads, I only followed the map given by Someone Who Knows. I can only observe trees that are planted and grown by Someone Who Creates. And so the glory of God is seen when the questions are too big for me. God conceals the matter not out of some mean spite to hide understanding from me, but because the matters are beyond my comprehension. Can I fathom the pathway of the kingdom among the nations? Am I able to understand why God uses some people in magnificent ways and others in common ways to forward His reign of righteousness? Am I really able to comprehend even the pathway of my own life and know where my voice should be heard or my feet tread so to nurture seeds of life that He has planted? Can I know in advance the lessons that he has for me to learn through pain or loss? Would I choose the painful pathway even if I knew I would see His glory more clearly on that pathway? Certainly not.
So His glory is the greatness which conceals the smallness of my moment. And my glory? My glory is in seeking out some small part of that greatness.
We took a walk on the Appalachian Trail. For the first time I saw what I knew was true for much of my life. In the middle of the trail was a small acorn, it had sprouted and its tiny two-inch stem was reaching from the acorn toward the sunlight above in the midst of the mighty oaks all along the trail. Its glory was to stretch out its arms and absorb the light.
If I am that acorn, my glory is not to know that one day I will be sawed into pieces to make a grand banquet table for the king. My glory is to reach for the Light and allow the miracle of life to be seen in me.
It is that simple I guess. Cancer. Surgical removal of treasured body parts. Being pulled like a weed out of the garden of Africa. Books that represent aspirations of understanding and learning just heaped onto a truck and shipped half the earth away. Perceived opportunities to impact people and nations that get struck from the travel schedule because of economic realities. Visions of accomplishments quickly eclipsed by other's agendas.
I could feel sorry, or angry, or ashamed, or depressed. But this weekend I saw an acorn in the midst of the mighty oaks. It simply reached up for the Light.
Me too. How about you?
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
surgery vs. redemptive removal
Debbie is now scheduled for surgery on May 7. Of course there are several things that will happen at the same surgery time. The mastectomy, start of reconstruction, and since there is recovery time anyway, Deb is going forward with a recommended abdominal sling. This last is to repair the damage of bearing three children and the ravages of time. Doing one thing at a time would not be something we would consider :)
Yesterday was also a day to make further life divestments. I have been asked to vacate my office at NEGST, which means dealing with about a thousand books. The request is fully appropriate since I am not spending much time at NEGST these days and they need the space. But what to do? In God's providence in one day, He provided two schools that can use all the books I have both in Kenya and in Baltimore. One is a missionary training school in Eldoret Kenya. Thanks to some good friends rarely seen (Ray and Jill Davis) my Kenya library will be transferred over the next months. Thanks to a colleague here in Baltimore that traveled with me to Sri Lanka (Ananda Kumar) I have a home and transportation for the books that have been in Baltimore. These should be packed over the next week or so.
Many of these books have never been in the same room together--a bit like our lives that have been lived here and there. Many of the books came from Dad--who also does not need them now. Many I have collected over the years. They are sort of family and friends for me. Although I have not had the hours to curl up and read many of them, some of them have been read and used many times. Books, like their owners, grow old. Many of these are classics--but roaches have nested in them and silver fish have found a home. The bindings of some are broken and some need to be rebound. So reconstruction and recycling goes on. New purpose and new ideas come from old books that come from aging people. New visions of the kingdom in Kenya as Kenyan missionaries are trained. New biblical understanding for building a community of shalom in Sri Lanka where war has been destroying for decades.
So there is a certain sense of loss, but a more profound sense of thankfulness. Thankful that lives can be impacted by lifetimes of collection. Thankful that what decays, deteriorates or is diseased can have new opportunities and be life-giving. That is redemption.
And redemption is not just something to talk about. It is a purpose that God gives. Yes, we live in a fallen world with decay and disease. God is not the creator of that breakdown. But he is the creator of the new opportunities that come from brokenness.
Why does God "bring" or allow cancer into our lives? Why does He not speak into our aging bodies and leftovers of life and stop the decay or the disease or the conflicts? Because He intends redemption. Redemption requires things falling apart that I can't fix. God won't fix them either. Instead He redeems them by taking the old and making something new. That is better than a repair.
But redemption is not about recycling trash. I am paying three bills to move a dumpster of old concrete and plaster to be recycled from our "redemption house" next door. It is a good thing to not just fill our environment with junk. But redemption is about more than just recycling. It is about purpose, direction, and hope.
Won't you take a moment with us and think about redemption in your life? Imagine the old and broken stuff giving new life and opportunity. Removal of things gone wrong or old so that lives can be brought into the joy of God's shalom. The process is not easy, but is there any greater hope?
Yesterday was also a day to make further life divestments. I have been asked to vacate my office at NEGST, which means dealing with about a thousand books. The request is fully appropriate since I am not spending much time at NEGST these days and they need the space. But what to do? In God's providence in one day, He provided two schools that can use all the books I have both in Kenya and in Baltimore. One is a missionary training school in Eldoret Kenya. Thanks to some good friends rarely seen (Ray and Jill Davis) my Kenya library will be transferred over the next months. Thanks to a colleague here in Baltimore that traveled with me to Sri Lanka (Ananda Kumar) I have a home and transportation for the books that have been in Baltimore. These should be packed over the next week or so.
Many of these books have never been in the same room together--a bit like our lives that have been lived here and there. Many of the books came from Dad--who also does not need them now. Many I have collected over the years. They are sort of family and friends for me. Although I have not had the hours to curl up and read many of them, some of them have been read and used many times. Books, like their owners, grow old. Many of these are classics--but roaches have nested in them and silver fish have found a home. The bindings of some are broken and some need to be rebound. So reconstruction and recycling goes on. New purpose and new ideas come from old books that come from aging people. New visions of the kingdom in Kenya as Kenyan missionaries are trained. New biblical understanding for building a community of shalom in Sri Lanka where war has been destroying for decades.
So there is a certain sense of loss, but a more profound sense of thankfulness. Thankful that lives can be impacted by lifetimes of collection. Thankful that what decays, deteriorates or is diseased can have new opportunities and be life-giving. That is redemption.
And redemption is not just something to talk about. It is a purpose that God gives. Yes, we live in a fallen world with decay and disease. God is not the creator of that breakdown. But he is the creator of the new opportunities that come from brokenness.
Why does God "bring" or allow cancer into our lives? Why does He not speak into our aging bodies and leftovers of life and stop the decay or the disease or the conflicts? Because He intends redemption. Redemption requires things falling apart that I can't fix. God won't fix them either. Instead He redeems them by taking the old and making something new. That is better than a repair.
But redemption is not about recycling trash. I am paying three bills to move a dumpster of old concrete and plaster to be recycled from our "redemption house" next door. It is a good thing to not just fill our environment with junk. But redemption is about more than just recycling. It is about purpose, direction, and hope.
Won't you take a moment with us and think about redemption in your life? Imagine the old and broken stuff giving new life and opportunity. Removal of things gone wrong or old so that lives can be brought into the joy of God's shalom. The process is not easy, but is there any greater hope?
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Deciding
Like the fiddler on the roof (aka Karl fiddling on the roof?), we have gone back and forth. On the one hand...but on the other....
So, the updates: Deb's MRI did not show anything, and her mamogram did not show anything. That is good news, but then neither of these imaging methods do very well in showing ductal carcinoma--which is why the biopsy was necessary in the first place. The good news is that things are probably contained in the ducts. But break-away cells might have gone down the tubes, so to speak. That is why a partial mastectomy would have to be followed by radiation therapy. Radiation therapy can have some nasty side effects, and still does not rule out other cancer cells forming in the future.
On the other hand, the total mastectomy option seems severe, but certain. In a life full of uncertainties, it looks like we are opting for what might be as certain as can be. Reconstruction process begins with the surgery. Surgery will possibly be scheduled in the next two weeks.
Meanwhile the guy fiddling on the roof is now on seizure medication. Hopefully he won't loose his head on the roof again
So, the updates: Deb's MRI did not show anything, and her mamogram did not show anything. That is good news, but then neither of these imaging methods do very well in showing ductal carcinoma--which is why the biopsy was necessary in the first place. The good news is that things are probably contained in the ducts. But break-away cells might have gone down the tubes, so to speak. That is why a partial mastectomy would have to be followed by radiation therapy. Radiation therapy can have some nasty side effects, and still does not rule out other cancer cells forming in the future.
On the other hand, the total mastectomy option seems severe, but certain. In a life full of uncertainties, it looks like we are opting for what might be as certain as can be. Reconstruction process begins with the surgery. Surgery will possibly be scheduled in the next two weeks.
Meanwhile the guy fiddling on the roof is now on seizure medication. Hopefully he won't loose his head on the roof again
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Seizure
I like the second dictionary meaning better than the first or the third. The first implies force. The third implies dysfunction. The second is just sort of in the range of normal activities. Like "grabbing a cup of coffee" or "seizing a moment of time".
In actual fact it seems that the result of my EEG was within the normal range, but there was an abnormality in one area of the brain. OK so it feels really good to be told I only have an abnormality in ONE area of the brain! That abnormality probably explains a memory lapse that I had a number of years ago in Kenya where I lost a couple of days, and again this past week where I lost only about 8 hours. But the neurologist still wants to put me on medication so that I can be free of such losses that he is calling "partial seizures". I guess that is like having only a half a cup of coffee, or half a moment of time?
Meanwhile until things get sorted out I am supposed to be restricted in driving and other things--like hanging out on rooftops.
We have also learned that the plastic surgeon Debbie went to for reconstruction is probably not a part of the PPO insurance program, so we get to start again with appointments.
Life is getting more interesting by the day. Just wait for tomorrow!
In actual fact it seems that the result of my EEG was within the normal range, but there was an abnormality in one area of the brain. OK so it feels really good to be told I only have an abnormality in ONE area of the brain! That abnormality probably explains a memory lapse that I had a number of years ago in Kenya where I lost a couple of days, and again this past week where I lost only about 8 hours. But the neurologist still wants to put me on medication so that I can be free of such losses that he is calling "partial seizures". I guess that is like having only a half a cup of coffee, or half a moment of time?
Meanwhile until things get sorted out I am supposed to be restricted in driving and other things--like hanging out on rooftops.
We have also learned that the plastic surgeon Debbie went to for reconstruction is probably not a part of the PPO insurance program, so we get to start again with appointments.
Life is getting more interesting by the day. Just wait for tomorrow!
Monday, March 31, 2008
A surprise refrain
Saturday was one of those days. I drove Debbie to the airport for a weekend speaking engagement in Los Angeles. Then I returned home, created the blogspot, and started to work with Jesse on our "redemption house". It seems I managed about a half hour of work on the top of the parapet roof scraping the paint off the metal cornice molding when Jesse tried to talk to me about the paint scheme. I stared at him rather absently. He decided to come to the roof top and check me out--only to find that I was somewhat stuck on the edge of the roof and was disoriented. Disoriented enough to not know the year, the month, the president, or what I had been doing when so asked in my trip to the ER. An ECG, blood tests, admission, holter monitor, MRI and EEG and by Monday (today) I am home. The diagnosis was something like, "global transitory amnesia". OK, so I didn't know where I was, or what I was doing--but that shouldn't be SO abnormal for me is it?
Yes. Even for me. We don't know the cause yet, and we await the results of the EEG. But so far the results are that there is no "structural" problem--no TIA or stroke or such. Possibly some form of a seizure, and if not then it will be hard to know the cause.
As I was being released Debbie was finishing her mamogram and getting ready for her MRI. The mamogram came back clear. Pagets disease is most often accompanied by an invasive cancer, and at this point it looks like she is clear of any other invasive presence, so we are thankful for that. Tuesday we meet with a plastic surgeon to understand the issues in reconstruction better. I will be with her rather than on the roof or in a hospital bed myself.
Yes. Even for me. We don't know the cause yet, and we await the results of the EEG. But so far the results are that there is no "structural" problem--no TIA or stroke or such. Possibly some form of a seizure, and if not then it will be hard to know the cause.
As I was being released Debbie was finishing her mamogram and getting ready for her MRI. The mamogram came back clear. Pagets disease is most often accompanied by an invasive cancer, and at this point it looks like she is clear of any other invasive presence, so we are thankful for that. Tuesday we meet with a plastic surgeon to understand the issues in reconstruction better. I will be with her rather than on the roof or in a hospital bed myself.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Monday, April 1 we go for mamogram and MRI and then to a plastic surgeon to discuss the options. With Paget's the mamogram is not particularly helpful unless the diagnosis is known, which it is now. The MRI can be "focused" according to the Mamogram, so the imaging results should tell us if there is underlying invasive cancer, or if the extent of the cancer is in the ducts still.
Those are the facts...we are dealing with it, and the SongWriter is dealing with us in His love.
Those are the facts...we are dealing with it, and the SongWriter is dealing with us in His love.
LifeSong
It’s three o’clock in the morning. In Papua, eastern Indonesia, where I was just two weeks days ago, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon. I guess perspective and location make a difference in life.
Six days ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer—an extremely rare form—Paget’s disease of the breast. Like a good professional nurse, I have listened carefully to doctor and nurse’s explanations and peppered them with questions, researched the web about Paget’s, and gave careful and thorough explanations to my family, concerned coworkers at World Relief, my friends at Faith Community Fellowship and Mission to the World. Disclosure, openness, honesty, transparency are what we promote in the HIV and AIDS ministries that I lead. It can be no less with this, I tell people. I have nothing to hide. Inside, I wonder what other parallels there are with the disease of AIDS that I have embraced for thirty years.
But inside, I am hiding something. I cry and wrestle with sleepless nights. After work, I sit down to the piano to practice for the lessons I resumed a year ago after a forty year hiatus. My fingers curl through the A flat and E flat scales with a vengeance. Somehow, the minor scales seem major to me now.
I agonize over why I have to go through this. As a young nursing student many years ago at Columbia University in New York, I watched from the surgery galleys as the blob of breasts of women undergoing mastectomies were scooped from their chest walls and bagged for pathology. I was often the first face the same women looked up at as I hovered over their beds in my crisp pin-stripped student’s uniform when the bliss of anesthesia gave way to the stark reality that it was gone. “Yes. It’s gone.” I would say, as they pushed their free hand all over their grossly uneven chest wall. “We had to take your breast because of cancer. I am so sorry.”
Perhaps every nursing student imagines sometime, somewhere in the stacks of medical libraries or the surgery bleachers, “What if it were me?” I pressed the question to my fiancée at the time—Karl. “What if it were me? If I have a mastectomy someday, will you still love me? Will you still want me?” Perhaps few men know how to answer that question weeks before their debut to the wonder and beauty of sexual love in marriage.
Tonight, I have more questions.
God, isn’t it enough that I survived the trauma of Anna Strikwerda’s murder in Eritrea and my own kidnapping of twenty-six days along with my unborn child?
God, isn’t it enough that I and two of my three children and one of my grandchildren have a life-threatening, congenital heart condition that prompts the reminder that even a simple heart flutter can mean a sudden and complete heart failure?
God, how is it that the marvelous mechanisms you designed to pull a husband and wife together in the ecstasy of love, poignantly described in the Song of Songs in the Bible and the very vehicle you created to nurture newborns and first year infants somehow become a death trap? I just learned this week, that not just one or two milk ducts but ten to fifteen different ones all converge to ensure life for a new life. How did it suddenly happen that they are now pathways of destruction?
So God, do you love me? What Song of Songs applies to me today?
Karl did have an answer for me thirty-seven years ago when I questioned his yet-to-be-quickened love for me. “Of course, of course, I will love you—always.” He has strengthened those words with years of deep bonding and constant reassurance these last weeks that nothing, nothing has changed in his love to me. When he learned the biopsy results, he took the next plane home from Manila, leaving only several days ahead of schedule. Yes, he meant what he said thirty-seven years ago.
Today, while banging piano keys and fruitlessly tumbling around in bed seeking sleep, another question surfaces. This one I’m learning to answer in a deeper, major/minor sort of way. Perhaps a bit like scale practices—keeping on until the fingering is right, the discipline routine, the finger-memory secure, the sound pure, the application for the Performance ready.
God has already told me multiple ways in his Word and in my life, that He does love me. That He will always be with me. Just now, I think he is telling me I have the question backwards. It’s not about whether or not he loves me. It’s a question about how much I love him.
Lord, you are my Song of Songs. And Lord, I have some scale practicing I need to do.
Debbie
March 28, 2008
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