What a couple days we have had. . . .

I tried to cheer for Duke Monday night in the men’s college basketball championship, since we were a stone’s throw from campus and have been the beneficiaries of their university. I thought it would be fun to to celebrate with them. But, I discovered I could not cheer for the experienced, expected winners. Every trip up on offense I wanted Butler to score. I wanted Duke to miss on their end. Amidst the back and forth of the game, I switched my head to go with my heart and cheered for Butler. Duke eventually won, of course– barely, but fully.

Next morning we headed to the medical center. The routine is that we go check in at the Cancer Clinic, then we go to the lab to have the needle inserted into the port surgically implanted just below my right collarbone, and the blood drawn for various tests. After nearly an hour’s wait there, I was called in.

After that, on to the CT area. By now I know that if you wear soft clothing with no buttons or zippers, you do not have to change into a hospital gown for these tests. By now I also know that EVERY time they will  have to x-ray me to verify what type of port it is. I asked everyone around why they can’t just mark this is in my record for future reference. Finally someone told me that they have to verify in case it’s been switched.

After the CT was over, we went to the food court to get my breakfast. Then we waited to see my oncologist. We knew it would be awhile because it takes 2 hours or so for the CT to be read. Finally we’re called in and Dr. Morse reports good news! No signs of tumors! I had not been as mortified with anxiety before this appointment, yet I was elated with the news. We bantered a bit, including about the clinical trial I had participated in–no firm results in yet, because it takes a while to wait and compare rates of recurrence.

This oncologist’s clinic is beside my surgeon’s clinic and often one just calls the other in after they’re done to save the patient time. This time, though, they moved me to a different room to wait. We were on schedule to have our fastest CT day ever, as it was not even 1 p.m. yet and we only had one person left to see. Eventually, a medical student came in to check on me and report back to the surgeon before the surgeon came in. I wondered how long I would continue to have to follow up with the surgeon, since my surgery was nearly a year and a half ago. As we waited, Charlie and I also talked through my reaction to the oncologist asking if I’d given any thought to having the port removed. He could see I bristled at the thought of giving up the port. It seemed to me like it would be too presumptious–confidence I didn’t yet have that I would not need need treatment or surgeries again. The doctor had actually caught himself and said, yes, perhaps it would be better to wait another year or two till after the time of most likely recurrence had passed.

Amidst my and Charlie’s conversation, my surgeon came in the door. He was pleasant as always, repeated a couple general questions from the medical student. All I remember next is that he pulled out a piece of paper and when my mind registered what was coming out of his mouth, he was pointing to a CT image of a cross-section of my body, pointing to a “spot” on the top of my liver, immediately beneath one lung. He pointed to the vena cava (sp?) indicating the proximity to this spot. He said the spot could be just an artifact, but with my history we had to see if it is another metastasis to the liver. He suggested a PET scan which might show the area as “lit up,” and confirm it to be cancer. If it didn’t light up, we still could not be sure so we would re-scan in a month or two to see if there was growth. He said if it lit or grew and if this is all there was, he felt he cut remove it surgically and would want to do so in the next 3 weeks.

He said the prognosis with second liver mets is the same as with the first–20% chance of long-term survival; 50% chance of 5 year survival.

It is surreal to be celebrating life and the possible return to “normal” one hour and switching the next hour back talking survival chances. –At Duke, every image is looked at by at least two people. The first radiologist had missed the spot, but the senior radiologist had caught it, so that’s why it had changed in an hour.

They scheduled the PET scan for this morning, though he said he wouldn’t be able to let me know the results for a few days due to his surgery and travel schedules.

We had seen no one celebrating the Duke victory and only a couple people talking about it. Just as well, we no longer felt like celebrating.

I wanted to cry in despair of my own news, but Charlie kept me sane and focused on waiting to find the facts. We stayed another night in Durham and thankfully had the good distraction of the women’s basketball championship to watch. For the first half, it seem that a miracle was happening–that the Goliath, UConn’s 77 game win-steak could end; but, in the secon half, it switched and UConn came back to victory.

At 6:30 this a.m. this morning we drove to the hospital and went in for the PET scan. Again no food or drink till after the scan, except the oral contrast you have to drink. Like the CT, they inject you with radioactive dye and then suggest you drink plenty the rest of the day to limit your exposure. The scan was easy enough.

The whole community there, us included, was distracted–not by yet another championship by Duke–but by this thick yellow layer of pollen that had taken over the city. It was not just noticeable on cars–it lined the streets. You left foot prints in it on sidewalks and parking lots. Some people were wearing face masks outside. It was strange, like we were on  a yellow planet.

My mind had leaped ahead to preparing for the surgery. He could not do this one laparascopically as it would be more difficult than the last. He would have to open me up. I decided that I would pretty much do it on his first available date–perhaps as soon as the next week or so. All the things that had seemed so urgent at work the rest of the month all of a sudden didn’t seem that urgent anymore. I wanted to hug Shayley. But I didn’t want to have to tell her that the cancer was back and I would be having more surgery.

We got back to Floyd this afternoon and I went to the office for awhile. An hour and a half later, my cell phone rang. It was the surgeon’s nurse. She said, “Nothing  lit up.” I said, “You’re kidding.” She said, I don’t kid about these things. She proceeded to read me the summary of the scan. They saw the spot, but it did not “light up” as tumors often do. And there were no other bright spots either.  I was elated. She said that the surgeon would still want to watch it closely over the next month or two to see if it grows, but we did not need to schedule a surgery appointment right away as we had anticipated. I thanked her profusely for calling me. Before she hung up, I asked, “Has this been reviewed by the senior radiologist?” not wanting to risk any more switches. “Absolutely, “she said.

Thanks be to God for another new lease on life.

Love,

Lydeana

GREAT NEWS! No polyps in the colonoscopy today! The doctor assures me he took extra time and was extra thorough. He did biopsy an area that was red, but he thinks it’s just an irritated area and nothing to worry about. Hopefully he’s right.

So, we are celebrating today! I had real food for the first time since Monday. Tonight we’re going to sit back and watch the new baby chicks play! They arrived yesterday and they’re great fun so far!

Thank you so much for your prayers. Now if I can get a clean CT scan on April 6th, maybe I can avoid doctors for a couple months.

Love,

Lydeana

Dear Friends,

 Today was a 10 hour day and was well worth it.  Everything in the CT scan was clear!  Now Lydeana is laying in bed moaning dreadfully and I’m barely holding on due to an acute case of Golden Corralitis.   Celebration over health can be devastating in the short term and not great for the big picture either.

 A little more detail about the days events were as follows:

1) Blood work was taken, a port access needle installed and Tiger wasn’t talking.

2) The oncologist was somewhat baffled about the meaning of a white circle that appeared on Lydeana’s leg and had some theories about it though it wasn’t worth the effort and time to check into.  Meanwhile Tiger’s wife was using a golf club to save him from a fire hydrant due to his rumored affair.

3) Radioactive contrast was injected and Lydeana went bravely through the scan while the tree trashed Tiger’s right front quarter panel out of jealousy from getting too close to the fire hydrant.

4) Waited several hours in hall way to speak to surgeon about results as the Florida state police investigated the situation further with the possibility of a great scandal unfolding.

5) Got to see surgeon and found out all looked good and could come back for the next scan April 6, 2010 and that Tiger would be charged with careless driving the same as you and I without legally having to give any bigger down payment with a chunk of his soul than the news dogs already took.

 The moral of the day is that you can still occasionally receive good news from hospitals and CNN.   It’s still exasperating to have to go through it over and over to get to that point.

We want to thank you all for your prayers because they mean so much to us and are the biggest reason for this outcome.

 Love, 

Charlie

Dear Friends,

I’m writing to let you know that I’ve had my strongest, most “normal” week in a long, long time.  Thanks be to God!

 Back during chemo, Shayley had commented that she couldn’t remember what it was like before I had cancer. That broke my heart. But by a few more months, I could scarcely remember either. Thankfully, THIS WEEK it has been coming back to us—as I not only worked all week, but also managed to have some energy left to do a few things in the evenings—including going to my first PTA meeting in a year. (I got to see Shayley win a blue ribbon for writing. Yeah!)

 This weekend has been especially good, as I was able to go Christmas shopping for about 90 minutes by myself yesterday. I was able to walk around that entire time. Even two weeks ago I couldn’t have done half of that—I would have still needed the buggy you ride in. It is such a WONDERFUL thing to not only still be walking by the end of the day, but to be doing so in  a pretty normal gait, rather than the slumped shuffle I had so long. I’m not ready to run any marathons—and am  tired today, but it’s a more normal tired and not the complete exhaustion as before.  I think I am finally stabilized and strong enough to begin exercising again this week.

 This weekend has been reminiscent of good times in years past  in several ways. Friday night we all sat in the living room together and watched the old TV show called Benson. Then, as some of you know, Charlie used to make wonderful sourdough bread all the time. Yesterday morning he put together “starter” for the first time in years. Then, he got to go hunting yesterday afternoon and brought home a nice size buck. So this afternoon we’ve had the tenderloins and sour dough and are preparing to can and jerk the rest of the deer.

 It is not lost on me that a year ago today we were driving to Durham for my liver surgery the next day. Things looked pretty bad going into that surgery, but God has allowed me another year despite the advanced nature of the disease then. I am so grateful for that and to all of you all who have helped us in so many, many ways.

 So many times we wonder why bad things happen. Have you ever heard anyone question why good things happen?  We are such self-confident creatures that we tend to think that we deserve only what we perceive as good. We also tend to rely on our “own strength” as long as things are going well. I know that I’m guilty of that. We tend to seek guidance or help only in desperation.

 In fact, Shayley and I were playing an electronic spelling game one night this week. I had started the game and got to a certain point, then she took over and gradually advanced to a higher difficulty level. Then I took over again and was trying to get her to stop helping me. She said, “Mom, I’m the one who got you to this point, why won’t you let me help you.”

 Those words keep rattling in my head. As I’ve finally gained strength and set about to accomplish things myself, I wonder if God has whispered that in my ear?

 Our visiting pastor today was talking about this being the day we especially celebrate Jesus is King. She commented on how it is so much easier to see Jesus as Savior, and thus think of his work as largely passed, when in fact, as King and Lord, he wants to be an active part of our everyday life. I think if I did that, it would take so much pressure off and would help me celebrate Thanksgiving every day of the year.

 Wishing you all a great Thanksgiving, and please know how very thankful we are for you.

 With love,

Lydeana

Dear Friends,

 We’ve had a splendid weekend! I got to sit at Shayley’s table at the Arts and Crafts festival a few hours yesterday and today. It was great to be able to sit still and yet see a parade of people and find new thoughts to think. I wanted to get up and hug many people, but had to refrain because I was short on energy and also tried to be mindful that we’ve entered flu season. Shayley made a few photos of the goings on around us yesterday and we posted them to 3martins.com last night (plus she wrote a little the day before about her latest project).

 October is one of those months when I wish I could be 5 different places at once, with festivals hither and yon, not to mention just the sheer joy of absorbing the autumn leaf colors and rustlings. Just in the few hours between town and back today it seemed that several maples matured from little patches of orange to large reds. My camera will not do justice to the red berries and burgundy leaves of the dogwoods in our yard.

 I have felt stronger today than yesterday, though I still had to lay down and rest in the afternoon. I see Dr. Fintel tomorrow. I continue to be concerned about the sore lymph nodes. I emailed Dr. Morse at Duke on Friday and he said he would see me this week if Dr. Fintel thought he should. I’m scheduled to go to Duke for the next vaccine on Tuesday, October 13, so I expect he’ll say just wait till then. I’m not scheduled for the next CT until mid-November.

 Charlie’s getting some color back in his cheeks after some pale days. A friend is taking me to Salem tomorrow to give Charlie some extra time for his work. Please continue to pray for him.

 Congratulations to our pastor, David, and his wife Ginger on the birth of their first child, Caligan, last night. I understand all are well. It’s a joyous reminder of the beauty and wonder of life and gives us all happy thoughts. On Tuesday, it will have been 3 weeks since the live-virus vaccine, so I’ll be able to hold babies again! I can’t wait!

 And speaking of young people, Tuesday from Noon to 1 p.m. will be a time of special prayer for Younglife in Floyd County. It’s a great new outreach for our young people.

 Again, speaking of young people, the grandfather of one of Shayley’s good friends put together a video of Shayley and Jacq talking about Lyrical Miracle: Creativity in Creation. Only Jacq could talk Shayley into singing a couple of the songs! They put it on YouTube. The link is below. WARNING: the  girls had been working with eye-shadow and it’s a little scary!

 Smiling tonight. Thankful for friends and family and for your continuing prayers.

 Love,

Lydeana

We had a great time at the Woman’s Club Arts and Crafts Festival. I got both a funnel cake and a 2-hour nap in today so it was a splendid day!

I saved my energy for getting to and from the vehicle rather than looking around any, so Shayley made some pictures of some people and art today for me to see. Here are ALL of them!

Blessings to all,

Lydeana

Dear Friends,

My physical body is much improved today over recent days. All the scans and procedures have found no signs of tumors, which is very good. My intestines are inflamed (at this point, just sore, not aching), and the doctors’ best guess—and it’s admittedly that—is that perhaps it’s a result of past treatment. Of course, inflammatory bowel problems run in my family,so maybe it’s just a genetic gift.

We also got good news that my brother Martin’s polyps found last Thursday were benign. And my other “brother” Greg had a clean scope this week. (If YOU are 50 or older and haven’t had a colonoscopy, you need to. Or if your under 50 and have a family history of colorectal cancer, polyps or colitis you need to have a colonoscopy at least 10 years YOUNGER than the age at which your family member was diagnosed. Also, I recommend scheduling your scope as early in the morning as possible. I subscribe to a colorectal research listserv and recent studies have shown that more polyps are found in the morning, with fewer being found with each passing hour during the work day.)  Sorry for the soapbox.

My mind is restless, and I’m getting anxious to get home to Shayley, who’s been with my mom all week. Thankfully Charlie has stayed with me constantly except for one brief trip home on Monday. Otherwise it might have been a difficult week for me.

My nerves have been pretty good this time and I don’t cringe with every code. I’m thankful to be on my “home” floor—6 West, the oncology wing. I love the staff here; they’re so good to us. I do keep my door closed, though, because a poor lady one door down and across the hall moans with every breath—for days now. I can only pray for her when I walk the halls. Hopefully she is not in physical pain, yet the mental torture may not be any better. As I want to ponder what might could be done to relieve her agony,  I cannot help but think of the song of an old man:

Song: Almost Home

(Craig Morgan/Kerry Curt Phillips)

He had plastic bags wrapped ’round his shoes.
He was covered with the evening news.
Had a pair of old wool socks on his hands.

The bank sign was flashing 5 below.
It was freezing rain an’ spittin’ snow.
He was curled up behind some garbage cans.

I was afraid that he was dead.
I gave him a gentle shake.
When he opened up his eyes,
I said, “Old man are you ok?”

He said, “I just climbed out of a cottonwood tree . . .
I was runnin’ from some honey bees.
Drip dryin’ in the summer breeze . . .
After jumpin’ into Calico creek.
I was walkin’ down an old dirt road
Past a field of hay that had just been mowed.
Man I wish you’d just left me alone
‘Cause I was almost home…”

Then he said, “I was just comin’ round the barn”
‘Bout the time you grabbed my arm.
When I heard Momma holler son hurry up,
I was close enough for my old nose
To smell fresh cobbler on the stove.
And I saw daddy loadin’ up the truck,
Cane poles on the tailgate,
Bobbers blowin’ in the wind.
Since July of ’55
That’s as close as I’ve been.

“Yeah, I just climbed out of a cottonwood tree . . .
I was runnin’ from some honey bees.
Drip dryin’ in the summer breeze,
After jumpin’ into Calico creek.
I was walkin’ down an old dirt road,
Past a field of hay that had just been mowed.
Man I wish you’d just left me alone . . .
I was almost home.

I said,”old man you’re gonna freeze to death,”
Let me drive you to the mission.
He said, “Boy if you’d left me alone,
Right now I’d be fishin’ . . . “

“I just climbed out of a cottonwood tree . . .
I was runnin’ from some honey bees.
Drip dryin’ in the summer breeze,
After jumpin’ into Calico creek.
I was walkin’ down an old dirt road,
Past a field of hay that had just been mowed.
Man I wish you’d just left me alone,
‘Cause I was almost home.”

“Man I wish you’d just left me alone
I was almost home…”

There seems to be so much sadness in our community and country and world right now. Are we almost home?

Please pray for my co-worker’s son Bubba who is suffering terrible seizures as they try determine if surgery may be able to help. Please pray for a friend’s sister who just had major abdominal/liver surgery today to remove cancerous tumors. Please pray for a miracle for my first-cousin Letty who is suffering a very, very oppressive form of MS though she’s only in her mid-40’s; I pray that she will be able to be restored to health that would allow her to enjoy more of the life she used to know. Please pray for another first cousin (on my dad’s side) that is about my age and has two young children; she has been suffering seizures so badly for the past year that she can’t drive or work—she too is being tested for possible surgical options. And on. And on.

Please pray for the family and friends of Senator Kennedy. I can’t claim to have ever followed his career closely and admit that most references I’ve heard over the years through friends and acquaintances have tended to be negative, even down-right demonizing. In reading and learning more about him in the last couple days, he clearly made mistakes and I couldn’t agree with some stances or choices he has made. But, from political friends and foes alike, he is now hailed as a man who loved people—truly loved his fellow human beings and reached out in personal ways to help so many—from the children of his slain brothers to the children and grandchildren of co-workers to children in the Washington DC schools. He cared about people regardless of political stances, and reached out with real policy ideas to help provide better opportunities for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for all Americans—especially soldiers, minimum wage earners, disabled, disadvantaged, and disenfranchised—those too often forgotten by people who make it to “higher ranks.” (Didn’t Jesus says whoever has helped the least of these has helped me?) Tonight I am sad, not only for the Senator’s passing, but for how I had accepted the dehumanizing and demonizing of him through the gossip and flames of cynical, over-generalized political attacks. Why do we wait till people are dead or near to it before appreciating their contributions to family or community or nation or humankind? It is a sad thing that we come to attacking others personally if they are giving true effort to serving their fellow human beings in some capacity. Surely we can disagree without demonizing? Didn’t Jesus ask who was perfect enough to  cast the first stone?

The weight of life and love is heavy. And yet it is the buoy that keeps us all afloat. Yes, life and love intertwined is the hope that floats us on the waves of pain and cynicism, the known and the unknown, service and loss, temptation and opportunity. 

I pray that I could lighten the load of others; that I can recognize their love and service; that I can behold and reveal God’s light of love in a world that can seem so dark. We’re not yet home. The dream lives on.

Thank you for your prayers, especially this past week.

With love,
Lydeana