Begone Unbelief

Dear Friend in Need,

It is a long time since I have written to you and for awhile, no news was good news.  An oral chemotherapy agent handled my cancer just fine for a number of months: no infusions, my hair, less frequent doctor visits, weight gain, familiar energy, interests and commitments.  Life became as though I did not have breast cancer and we hoped that stuff would keep working a long time.  It was in this time we made the passage to greater wellness.  God impressed me not to be marked by my cancer, not to be labeled as a cancer survivor or victim, pink ribbons and such; but to understand my stage 4 breast cancer as a condition which must always be managed and must always be offered to Him, regardless of the physical state the disease produced in me.

We had been fairly warned, “Your cancer will come back and when it does, you need to have a good plan in place.”  Also, “In the world you will have tribulation…”  (It is telling to notice which voice held greatest authority:  the naturopath’s or Christ’s.)  You remember that I have resisted traditional medical oncology since diagnosis in 2011.  Along with reading the American Cancer Society side of knowledge, I have watched alternative methods of treatment and asked which of these are real; which fakery?  Cancer Treatment Centers of America kept surfacing, validated from several sources.  I had been reading of them, wishing and watching, doubting that insurance would even look at them.  In August, we visited Seattle for a lovely, joyful wedding and coveted time with our two West Coast kids.  In the same trip, we visited the Seattle clinic and were treated with a thorough, thoughtful, personal medical review and plan.  This coincided with a recent sharp rise in my tumor marker, revealing indeed, tumor growth had resumed vengefully.  Symptoms were still at bay and the Seattle vacation was lovely.  We even took in a breathtaking, glorious week in the Canadian Rockies while in the Northwest.

Home again, we visited our oncologist, got scan results and her new treatment plan.  I already liked what Seattle offered, with ideas based in two years of reading; Rick used his methodological head and loving heart, trying to keep our treatment both manageable and superior.  Through days of researching options, yet pushed by rising uncomfortable symptoms, we chose Seattle.  (Our insurance covers it!  Michael lives there, is willing to help and Molly is nearby.  It is doable.)  I naively thought we would do this for about six weeks.  Nuh-uh, their regimen is twelve weeks!  So, mid- September, I left Rick at home, landed hard, started weekly chemo infusions and the battle to withstand those medicines and cancer.  This experience looks awfully like surrender.  My part has been to follow instructions, take food, water and a huge amount of sleep, day and night for this past month.  I am weak, lame, helpless- useless.  I am always being served; I am not helping.  This aspect is crazy- making.

At first, this made perfect sense.  Sleep is lovely, my body called for it and I was most willing.  Further in to it, I have become impatient with the helpless uselessness.  Further in, I am symptomatically anemic from one of these chemo agents and weaker than I have ever known. Michael handed me a lovely plated lunch, I struggled to roll over to get it, said, “what’s wrong with me!?”  With his brutal honesty, he giggled and said, “Mom.  you’ve got cancer!”  (“Oh! That.” I says to myself.) 

The care I am receiving here is remarkable.  Mike and Molly happily took to the Treatment Center’s dietary restrictions, putting me on straight good fats and proteins plus vegetables.  No banana splits, in other words.  There is a fabulous couple house- sharing with Mike, both of whom are foodie- cooks.  Her soups and stews are hot and soul-soothing.  His free-range, organic, rooster-kickin’ chicken grilled and seasoned in his skillet is- heavenly!  This served beside a pile of fresh, balsamic and “evoo” smothered spinach sided by black beans means a quick, clean plate.  Another great one by Mike is skillet made lamb-burger sided by grilled, seasoned vegetables.  You didn’t know you were eating vegetables.  The result is an astounding three pound weight gain on me inside of two weeks.  Today was week 5 of chemo and I logged another 3 pounds on the scale- well into those triple digits! 

At the Cancer Treatment Centers of America, I’ve been given a remarkable team.  (Watching the others, my team is the best!)  My oncologist is the Center director, brilliant, kind and most thorough; my nurse, Connor, is the best IV starter in the world and is keenly aware of  my case, history,  weekly labs and drugs; the Naturopath knows all the things, but interviewed me down to the toes- about me and all things cancer- two hours maybe!?  And the Acupuncturist- Chinese medicine doctor is equally thoughtful, thorough and kind. Each one of these people are working hard to achieve my success in the treatment and the demise of my cancer, together!  I couldn’t be more impressed with the entire regimen and am grateful each week to be in their care.  Again, it seems I am to trust and follow their care- taking the burden off of me to track what everyone is doing.  Rick flies in next week.  We’ll see if he has the same response. 

My struggles are missing Rick- of course, chemo side effects- which are mostly manageable- we have done this three times before.  Numb feet and tingly, clumsy hands, no hair again, weight loss, chemo is famously constipating, it is exhausting.  These agents are serious about their mission to kill fast growing cells. Healthy blood counts are a battle front.  Anemia.  I will get two units of blood this Thursday. 

Mercies and blessings are grown, brilliant children who can and will care for me, my loving husband who is watching all this from afar, the loveliest and coziest upstairs bedroom with every possible comfort acquired, a morning latte made of my Trader Joe coffee plus butter and coconut oil blended, eggs and fat bacon with a vegetable side, soups for lunch and amazing Paleo things for dinner.  No banana split is a mercy because the sugar really does grow my cancer.  (That read no banana split and mercy in the same sentence-  there is a certain craziness which comes with the cancer experience.)  Mike is firm with my whine for dessert.  He, however, keeps a grin and good spirit while saying, “NO, you may not.”  My bed backs to the windows, sun or cloudy weather stream in during awake times; train whistles, neighbor barking dogs, a rooster and all the birds make happy sounds around the clock.  An old hymn written by John Newton of Amazing Grace fame called Begone Unbelief, (listen to it at: https://soundcloud.com/lori-sealy/begone-unbelief-lori-sealy), blesses me with several lines so pertinent to my experience right now.  I hope you listen to it. 

You are praying so faithfully in a time when I find it difficult to do so.  Your prayers are carrying us Belliveaus through this time and are being answered in our hearts and in my body all the time.  Your little ones and youth are praying for me! I am mostly unaware of all of you hosts of folks- I do experience God’s kind and good results, every hour!  Right now, bedside, is your gift of fresh flowers which has been alive for 12 days-(change the water every day, take out the dead ones!)  Its yellow roses are fading, but as their blown open petals fall, they are giving me whiffs of the three-story climbing yellow rose at our Freetown house in Africa when I was a wee one.  Your gift of ten gorgeous inches of hair astounded me speechless!  The hats.  Letters.  Emails!  Cards. Mercies.  Goodness.  Love.

Thank You!

love,

Ellen

My fourth Lipidox infusion is scheduled for Friday, Oct 26 following which we get a new scan and blood work to see if I should go for a possible six treatments. I am doing ridiculously well with it, side effects are negligible, energy is quite high, liver enzymes and alkaline phosphatase levels are dropping nicely-nicely.  The alk phos shows liver and lung and bone responses to the treatment- you want all these low to tell you the cancer is retreating, no, dying.  The weight loss subsided and gain of a whopping 13.5 pounds is in its place…( even though you look at me and say “where’d ya put it?” then, kindly, “oh- but you look great!”)  Back in July, we discovered the breast cancer had re-emerged with bigger metastases in liver and bones where it had been before.  That new scan was frightening for us after such success last summer and after the shock and grief stuff, I became grateful and willing to take chemo- knowing I really needed it.   Thank goodness for it, but also for alternative treatment which counter medical, devastating side effects like heart damage, bone loss or possible other horrific-ness.

So, why have I stopped blogging?  I saw why in conversation with a thoughtful man, asking how he is, how is graduate work, research, life, how is it all going?  As it turned out, my interest was disquieting but he was able to honestly, not unkindly say, “I don’t like to talk about myself.”  Oh!- huh- that’s it.  I knew what he meant and liked his candor.  When someone is personally honest, it is refreshing and teaching.  In me, there is this shyness to talk about myself or cancer, especially and weird adaptation to the new found, wacked out popularity.  Getting cancer shoved me into this mode of telling virtually anyone personal things, repetitively, then discomfort about the talk, then not knowing how to interact with people or even if I should engage others. The stage 4 cancer word hijacks the whole scene and you never know who or how cancer has already hurt folks!  All of this in an awkward, introverted passage connected to being a diagnosed person.  But not talking about it or avoiding folks doesn’t make it go away and certainly didn’t detain you from praying and caring about me or asking for an update!

The disclaimer on the preceding complaint is: there are many of you who do kindly ask about me and my condition; you are not offensive or discomfort-causing and besides, your prayers are working!  Nope, I cannot explain the nuances… maybe it is simply the level of closeness I perceive with you or the level of my own stupid shyness.  So please ask away if you are curious and I will practice the kind honesty of my friend if I can or need to.

And (with Rick’s help, of course) I painted the pantry and replaced the shelving with cool new white metal “mailorder catalog” rolling shelf units.  The shelving requires two for assembly with happy loud music- as does most of life!  It’s kinda gorgeous- so fun stuff.  Thing is, I am ready to take on the family room before Thanksgiving or Christmas because that gold paint needs to go.  This also implicates Rick and maybe some highrise scaffolding, ceiling and electrical work- but he always seems up to the task of doing what I want.  Sweet deal- is it not!?  At present, we are doing Very Well and again, thank you for all your prayers and love.  I remain a humbly, undeservedly but needful recipient of God’s love and mercy all the time.  Not seize the day- but thanks for the day!

Alive and Well! Thank you.

You wonderful friends are asking me what is new and where is my blog update. Thanks for the kickinthepants and regrets for procrastinating on writing to you.
No medical news is available until my oncology visit on Jan. 30; we are down to quarterly checkups now. But based on how wonderful I feel and asymptomatic I am, we expect the cancer will have further retreated if not disappeared.  That was a remarkable thing to write.

Do we know how every new moment and every person are treasures? It is a starkly aware thing to ponder; doing it means we are alive and are Image bearers.  Shiver.  Be reverent and vervy.

So yes, my hair is back, long enough to wear and insanely curly. I dyed it red. It is too easy, as there is nothing which can be done with it whatsoever.  I must hydrate well; drink 3 glasses of water on rising and a total of 8 per day. New diet rules include fruits, sweet potatoes, rice (YAY) and eat more vegetables than animal products.  Gaining weight continues to challenge me, though energy and stamina are excellent. Visits to our naturopath are always encouraging- this must be his mission statement. Living Well Studio (holyyoga.net) offers scripture-infused exercise in a body and mind connection.  This is one of the best things which has ever happened to me. Please join us, Saturday mornings, 9:00, Columbia Presbyterian, the Living Well class.
I am completing an online course with Christian Counseling Education Foundation. It is Paul Tripp teaching his book, Instruments in the Hands of the Redeemer and the course is called Methods Of Biblical Change. This explains where my writing has gone.  It is the Gospel remixed, up-close-and-personal to a heart that is more receptive due to the real threat of dying. (ccef.org)  Flower work carries on and just as you challenged me to blog, another dark closet of procrastination is that of creating Petals & Stone’s web site. OK! I will.  I have two delightful flower jobs this weekend.
Our adult children are doing quite well. Each one is dealing with challenges life offers, respectively: college, pre-internship suspense, new job, finally coming home from Afghanistan next month and finally getting him home!  Christmas and New Year’s were more wonderful than ever- we all just love our fireside, house, Christmas tree, friends, food and the Savior whom all of this celebrates.
Rick is steady; as wonderful as ever. He works all-the-time, reads, emails everyone, inspects with panache, runs Highland Home Inspections, is finishing the punch list at church, helps to shepherd our church and keeps his wonderful humor alive. Mostly, he loves me tenderly and fathers the children. Those are holy gifts, indeed.
So if you have a friend with cancer, here is the straight skinny. Tell them to stop sugar, hydrate aggressively, alkalinize and seek the care of a homeopath or naturopath to accompany the traditional medical care they seek.  There is a wealth of ability and information to stop cancer.  Get them in touch with me if you want.

Thank You for everything!

love,

ellen.

goin' to parties, livin' life!

 

A Condition to be Managed…

Hello, Dear One,
We feel more normal again after the busier summer of doctor visits, therapies and diagnostic tests that a stage 4 diagnosis flips you off into. There isn’t any new news in that department- which is a mercy! There is less to write about, sort of.

I started Femara (levotrole- an aromatase inhibitor) after acquiring it from my North Carolina brother-in-law, Eddie-the-famous-pharmacist for $18.00, not $898.00. Please tell everyone you know to insist on buying generic pharmaceuticals. And tell them to really insist or walk away and then call me for Eddie’s store number. (A good pharmacist will tell you which generics act differently than the original.) Of course my store can’t stock or order the generic brand with that difference in markup; nor can I buy it. One moment of uncommonly psychotic thought, hot flashes or being cold, some mood swinging are the worst that I have to report in the realm of untoward effects from the drug. When Rick starts laughing out loud at me, it is a pretty good clue that maybe I am goofier than usual, but being of entertainment value adds to my sense of self worth.

We are to see the oncologist after being on levotrole for one month. This seems like a good point to seek a second opinion and get a different view of our whole picture. Finding a recommended oncologist within our insurance network is proving to be a chore.

Weight is gaining, appetite is normal and I am eating whenever I can. It is just always very healthy food that wouldn’t make you gain weight. Exercising to tone the muscles that were taken away and build bone is the current goal; that looks like isometrics, light weight training plus yoga and walking. Still I would rather read, write and nap in my spare time. Energy is virtually normal and I feel good, if not great. Folks from out of town who see me and read our cancer story are pleasantly surprised that I don’t look all that horrible. (Thanks for the underwhelming compliments.)

I am verbally impoverished to express thanks for your prayers and support. When we could not mouth a prayer for healing, you stood for me and stormed the gates of Heaven to ask for my wellness. God is graciously answering your prayers while still aggressively at work inside our hearts and minds through the experience that cancer brings. While the doctor has not pronounced remission and there remains danger of regrowth, I am told that my cancer is a condition to be managed over a lifetime. These improvements I can report are significant. It appears that I won’t need to stock in the Christmas presents ahead of time, just in case… which is what I was thinking in July. So, seriously, thank you very much for helping me out by your intercessions.

Rick is uber-busy over at Columbia Presbyterian’s building site and truthfully enjoys the work. All that he does is rather hard to believe, but clearly, he is happily suited to the work, and is necessary for project completion. The project is true to form: it needs more time and it needs more money. Opening Sunday will be October 16 and after that, we are headed out of town for vacation and that idea is enticing. Another mercy from heaven is that Highland Home Inspections is successfully tooling along based on her stellar employees’ performance.

Gina sent me a care package replete with love and treasures amongst which was a copy of her new CD, “Turning Over Stones” with its lyrics! I am wearing it out and carry it from car to house, basement and up to bed. I should buy at least 3 more copies! Her rich, folksy voice, fascinating acoustic guitar and deeply metaphorical lyrics commend this cd to Anyone who has an ear. Look her up and buy; she’s amazing and I am not shy to say! One of my particular favorites is “Invisible Maps” or “Birdseed” or “How Rain is Made”. “East of Eden” is excellent… you should listen to all of them.
http://www.myspace.com/abilingualeve
http://www.reverbnation.com/ginabelliveau
http://www.facebook.com/ginabelliveaumusic

Tom is a freshman in Mechanical Engineering at UMBC and doing college with all the aplomb of your average Belliveau. Andrew is in his junior year at Oklahoma University, studying International Business/ Economics and Chinese and is likewise stellar. Molly today finishes an incredible 6 year barrista career at Starbucks and will now manage the doings at Maryland Piano and Maryland Academy of Music. Mike won’t say what he is doing, except that it is going well and he must hold forth in the war theater until March 2012. So I am very proud of the all of the Belli-babies.

This was a wonderful week. We traveled to Janice and Terry’s for Ryan’s birthday last Sunday, where they served us the most exquisite beef filet. On Monday, I attended an “Unstuff Your Life” seminar by Andrew Mellen who cleanly explained many reasons and ways to unclutter your life. From this side of cancer, it all resonated. There is no time to be entangled by stuff and only time to nurture relationships. Get the book by that name at the library; the methods are very accessible. If you read it, share with me your successes at cutting the clutter- you will be successful. Mine has been a clean, no-joke, kitchen counter top all week long. It’s a new rule which in deed, makes me happy to follow. Do not put it down on the counter top. Nothing belongs there except a vase of flowers and a lit candle, reminding me to pray for all the children. My kitchen is automatically beautiful as a result. Tom and Priscilla came for dinner on Tuesday at which we feasted on Clint’s rosemary and thyme leg of lamb, also exquisite. We talked way into the darkness on the very patio Priscilla had designed for us. Wednesday, I saw a counselor to talk about how to grieve the passing of my dear father last December; on Thursday I hosted a Petals & Stone Design booth-full of flowers at the Howard County Womenfest and later went to our Bible Study group. On Friday we lunched with Allen and Kathie during which it was difficult to eat, due to all the talking and laughing. Saturday, I constructed three floral designs for worship and Randy’s installation party. We feted Mark Floyd’s birthday and ate a lot of some large animal’s most tasty ribs then did burgers on the grill Tom’s 18th birthday on Sunday. Life is great- but it is the people we love who fill it with goodness. Thank you deeply! (ellen)

Earthquake hits Maryland.

On Tuesday, the earth quivered, a lot and for a long time. In that 30-second long earthquake, you flashed through exactly what my summer of a stage 4 cancer diagnosis has been like.
The shock: What is happening!? This is unreal.
The realization: I am helpless and my world could end.
The truth: God is personal, is with me and is powerful. He is protecting us and can at any moment take everything that we know away. And if He did that, He would still be perfectly righteous and loving. This is a thing which I cannot nor am I required to understand.
Thankfulness: Our house did not crumble, we are safe and we have opportunity to continue living and enjoying our lives.
Reverence: Now that I grasp the fragility of my existence, how should I live? What should my intentions and behavior be?! I better understand that surrender of my things and loves to God is a free existence. He is kind and oh-so-Good to actually give me the desires of my heart. Not only does He give them, He has redeemed the desires of my heart!
That alone is a heart stopper. He doesn’t have to do that, you know. He is GOD, after all. But it is as if there is some cosmic equation. His glory is our joy is His glory, and so on, to infinity. (Here I am using a deeper meaning for joy than pleasure or a happy feeling. Remember, joy was at the heart of pretty significant lamenting a couple of blog posts ago.)

Later on Tuesday, we saw the oncologist. This appointment was to get the skinny on future treatment plans now that chemotherapy was so miraculously discontinued. I asked him why he stopped the treatments and he gleefully explained that the tumor mass in my lung is significantly reduced and is not threatening my life. If I wanted to, I could take another chemo treatment- just to be sure. NO, (thank you). We can save that for future… or never!
The medical plan is to use an aromatase inhibitor, Femara, which blocks estrogen, now made for me by my adrenal system, from feeding breast cancer cells- wherever they’ve lodged. However, once a homeschooler, always one. I sort of  look at the machine, the system, the way things are done with over-healthy skepticism. We have well water, not city water. We own our own businesses, schooled our kids differently, treasure unusual, but hopefully, biblical, theology and now take what American medicine offers with reasonable questioning. First, I would like to truly know the adverse effects of this medication and the long term risks. Second, I would like to know what natural alternatives exist and which is best. Thankfully, Rick is most patient and supportive with these efforts and questions.

The other encouraging thing from Tuesday’s visit was that our nurse remarked how she loves to see us, that we are doing extraordinarily well and have an attitude which is refreshing. Not knowing how to compare myself, I asked what the normal looks like. By the third chemotherapy, she said, folks are typically depressed, sickened and weakened. They look like [death], she whispered. You’ve got the hair, makeup, clothes, smile and attitude that light us up. You feel great and have no complaints!
How could I begin to explain to her about our loving God and the myriad prayers which are offered to Him for me. Thank you, loving, praying friend for standing beside us and all around us. You have brought about miracles!

So, I hope you have an earthquake kind of a day! Helplessness is a real, good, thing.

Hannah and the announced end of my chemotherapy

Last night following the Lord’s Supper, Missy and her daughter, Hannah told me they were praying for me every morning and night. Hannah had learned some of the side effects of chemo and my “hair” (the wig) confused her, she delightfully, rapidly asked me why I am not bald and why do I still have eyelashes and eyebrows and if I am bald, could she see my head? Her curiosity is a delight- it IS, Missy. Regrettably, I was too embarrassed to pop off my wig in that room near those people- I promised Hannah a peek another day and time.

Imagine! An adopted Russian orphan, rescued out of a bleak and harmful existence, now brought into a safe nurturing home, eight years old and believing God to heal me of cancer. She wrote her prayer with indelible sharpie inside our church building- God heal Mrs. B! (Yes, I am crying. These are the prayers which I think God hears and answers with intention. What a privilege to be a subject in her growing faith in such a good God.)

Today I went for my 3rd chemo drip. This was to be #3 out of a possible 4 to 6. First we saw Dr. Knight who re-examined me, asked all kinds of penetrating questions which were leading to signs or symptoms of cancer. All my answers were negative. I have gained weight. a bit! anyway, it’s a trend. Blood work including tumor markers and liver and kidney functions and blood work all remain very good to excellent. The CT scan showed satisfactory reduction of masses, etc. as well. And! He loves the hair. = ) They always told me good hair and a little lipstick will get you places- the friends, not my mother.

Put all this together and he is stopping our chemo! This one was the last. From here we move on to hormone therapy such as tamoxifin or the like to deal with any residual places of cancer. Besides avoiding the nuisances and risks of chemo this means so much. Part of which is Wayne can now deal with my little neck issue much sooner. And I can get a life back. There is a follow-up visit in two weeks for more information about that treatment plan and choices as he had just worked us in early. Some answers are still unknown; sorry you too must wait for the unfolding.

Imagine once again! We walked in for a chemo drip which is only halfway through a typical course for my diagnosis to learn that we are done! “O frabjous day- Calloo! Callay!” I’m here on the disgusting exam table in the silly XXL ugly blue tie shirt trying to be dignified when every hair (follicle) on my head is erect. Done with chemo?! Believable but fantastic from inside me. I told Beckie my news and she exclaimed joyfully that she had prayed this drip would be my last. Mandy was praying for me while golfing and asked God for a sure sign that I would be healed. She swung, hit the ball and… it was a hole in one. Barb never dreams or at least does not remember her dreams and related a vision of me at a quite old age. This was after fervent prayers that I would be healed before she dropped off to sleep. My second grade Sunday School teacher, Edna Ruth is praying for me and she means business. Dolly has told me of specific prayers for my blood counts and levels to stay healthy. Numbers have always been within normal limits or better. People I do not know, people who could not possibly know that I have cancer, people who know my family and all their churches are praying for me. All of you have a host of folks helping pray for my healing. The Session has anointed me with oil and prayed for me. Women are meeting together daily to pray for me and others who are sick. Others gathered around me and laid hands on me- well a few different groups have done that. I have only named a few, but you see that these stories are a mere sample of what has been happening, of what you’ve been doing. The outpouring of love and support has been overwhelming, and it had to come from other than myself. For me, I find trepidation at praying those mighty, expectant prayers about my healing.

See, this has been intense. From the unfolding of this reality, many personal transformations have emerged. Those events would make another page, but in the thinking which a stage 4 cancer necessarily evokes, (transformation # 1!) many things come to light. It becomes very clear that this is a place which a loving God would want one of His children to be. My illness is an Intentional event with Planned outcomes. One then becomes quite still, understanding that I should have known and behaved with such awareness all along. Scripture holds a crisp appeal, electrifying, rather! While knowing God can certainly heal me, even my bodacious self can’t defy that Will. (Trust me, I would always and even, adamantly pray healing for another person in such a state.)

But, remember, from within, it is intense. Thought and action has been called into scrutiny because I grasped the reality of dying. For a person of my heart and behaviors, this can only be a healthy outcome in my life. Sort of, like, strike me with cancer to give me health. I have likened it to the enhanced vision I had after days and nights of migraine. In the headache, my sight was struck with darting blurriness that ached and could not be used. When that sensation clears and the pain is gone, it feels as if you can see every color, every line and detail for miles. You look with new thirst and your mind drinks in what it can see, remembering it all with renewed joy in seeing. Looking at the reality of death stops one short, creates reverence, reveals sin which had been denied or not perceived, and slams one close into the Persons of God with a desperation that ought to be a habit. Looking at death clarifies one’s vision of life. Be clear, I’m not less sinful in this state of thinking, just more aware of my desperate need of the Savior. You sort of don’t have the guts to pray yourself out of such a scenario if that is what God intends.

You hope for life and health and Christmas and a better summer next year. You make resolutions of things to do with your life. You ask for God to grant it all with success and prosperity, even. This is such a sweet life, overblessed as it has been, undeserved and joyful in all of its living. I do want much more of it and hope to live it in better ways- greatly, even! And so, I am very thankful for all of you Hannahs who have done the work of healing prayer for me. You have done much to carry me through. Thank You wonderful friends and family.

Oh! by the way.  Did you get the overwhelmingly joyful news that Michael and his team were not in or near the shot down helo?  That was too terrifying between first hearing and knowing who the dead heroes are.  These are the tools and tricks of his workaday world; the relief that is is not he is flooding.  Our hearts ache mightily for the families of those gone.  Dear God- send our Lord Jesus, would you?

Something kind of black and white in a very gray world

We received some good news late Friday (7/29).  There are two tumor markers that are being used to help determine the effectiveness of Ellen’s battle against cancer: CA 27.29 and CEA.  Their levels were measured prior to any treatments (to get a baseline) and are being measured periodically as the treatments progress.  The normal CA 27.29 level is usually less than 40 U/mL (units/milliliter), depending on the testing lab.  The normal CEA range of blood levels varies from lab to lab, but levels higher than 3 ng/mL (nanograms per milliliter) are not normal.  The doctor called with the results of the most recent blood test and the markers have gone down which is good.  For the data lovers out there, here is the history:

	CA 27.29Normal is < 40 U/ml	CEANormal is < 3 ng/ml
Baseline (before treatments	87	9.1
After Chemo #1	101	6.6
After Chemo #2	88	3.9

July 26, 2011 – CT Scan Results

We met with Dr. Knight Ellen’s oncologist today.  Pretty good news all around. 

The CT Scan indicates that the lung masses have been reduced in size but that’s all it said on the report (a one-liner).  Dr. Knight was disappointed at the scant description in that there was no numerical comparison with the previous CT Scan in the report, and he is going to have it revised once the senior Radiologist is back from vacation.  But he was encouraged by what he read and so were we.  Actually, we were very encouraged. 

He definitely wants to proceed with 4-6 chemo treatments she has had 2 so far).  We asked if it would be OK to delay the next one because Andrew is coming home on Saturday the 30th; he will only be here for one week and Ellen did not want to be in a fog the whole time.  We expected push back on this, but Dr. Knight said “no problem.  Since the cancer is already metastasized (i.e. the horse is out of the barn), there’s no problem with a small delay”.  So, we scheduled Chemo #3 for August 8.

She weighed in at 95 lbs which is a 3 lb increase!  An amazing feat and a tribute to all of the help we’ve had with meals – thank you for all of them!  An extra week delay in the Chemo schedule will also give her that much more time to eat well. 

On a personal note, I’m working about half-time for now which is enabling us to spend more time together.  It’s a little disappointing to see how quickly we tend to fall into old habits as her body recovers from the chemo treatments, but we have also enjoyed some of the best and deepest talks and prayer times that we have had for  a long time.  It occurs to me that we are experiencing the Romans 8:28 effect in almost realtime rather than having to wait so long to see how God uses a tough situation in our lives.  I am not saying to myself “well, one day (probably in heaven), we’ll see why God brought this evil thing into our lives”.  I am already experiencing some of the benefits of His sovereign and omnipotent ability to turn evil to good.  Obviously, that feeling/understanding comes and goes, but I’ll take it when I can get it.  Thank you for all your prayers and many demonstrations of love!!

Groping through some ancient ideas, July 19, 2011

So much has happened and yet nothing has happened except maybe at the molecular levels of my cells.  We are continually amazed at the numbers of people and their friends and relatives praying for us. Rick expressed this well in an email to ones praying for us,” It is powerful to see how God works through his people, but it is quite humbling to be the recipient of His mercy acted out through you. “Still we are very grateful and overwhelmed, realizing God is hearing and answering your prayers even as you voice them.

            We sat for the second drip of chemotherapy on Thursday, week before last. That was July 7. Whee-doggies!  After this round, I experienced greater lethargy and malaise. Think slug.  “Quality of life is reduced” (per the American Cancer Society) as a result of dry mouth and bad taste, low appetite, and remarkable grumpiness.  This explains the lack of writing last week.  No, dear extroverted friends- a good laugh out loud girl night is not the thing.  That would be like inviting your friends over the week you have the flu or mono. Mercies attending those complaints include no nausea or vomiting, no mouth sores, no real pain (!) and the bad stuff is going away.  Another mercy is that chemo probably is working. The next two weeks will focus on 6 (six) small, full plates a day, taking Every Single supplement on time, reading, writing and doing yoga per Wii and restorative techniques with sunning to increase vitamin D levels and tan. Believe it or not, that’s a busy day.

            Now, deeper things.  Once before I wrote about crying.  That blog entry elicited many responses and led me to think more about sorrow, about Our response to tragic, horrible, frightening or unwanted things.  Meanwhile, my friend gave us a copy of Michael Card’s A Sacred Sorrow, which is very well written about the lost art of lamenting.  For a brief look at the idea, read Psalm 13. (Go on, look it up.) Rick put the word “cancer” in where psalmist had written “enemy”.  The piece shattered off the page at me as Rick read it aloud one morning.  That writer cries out to God.  How long will I be in sorrow all day? How long will You hide your face from me?  In essence, I’m suffering! He writes other hard questions that the sophisticated modern American Christian is hardly allowing herself to ask or admit thinking.

            It occurred to me that as kind and well meaning as the cheerup cards and “stay positive” encouragements are; they may be off the mark. This is not a soccer game, where you just have to keep your chin up.  Jesus wept and wept and wept until he bled. and then died.  Actually.  He saw (sees) and knew (knows) about very bad, very sad things.  Chemo, cancer and the threat of life’s end are fairly public game so the person gets hugs, cards in the mail, meals and kindnesses of every description.  However, many (most?) suffer privately and deeply without these comforts and ministrations.  (This is inequitable.)

            Anyway, Jesus suffered through these frightful, evil, horrible things without the comfort of God’s face shining upon Him.  The believers whom I admire and in whom is found a deep, steady peace are those, I think, who have followed Him and clung to Him through suffering.  They have been sorrowful and have lamented in their art, work, writing, silent tears late at night. all nights or primal screams in the shower or commute.  There is something to this!  He is marked by unmistakable joy; His followers through Valley of the shadow of death are more fearless and deeply joyful.  It’s enough to make you want to be like them.  (Sort of.)

            This is an early effort at idea sorting.  Could it be? Our don’t-worry-be-happy culture is cheating us out of the truth of living well? How is lamenting opposite depression!? What might biblical Lamentation do to depression? Why is Jesus most acquainted with sorrow and most known by His joy?  What about that famous heavenly idea of tears being dried?  Don’t you have to cry first?  To my first Cry blog, some did not want to see me sad.  These were the best mothers and kindest, gentlest men among us.  Others wrote back with knowingness. (sorry, editor: “knowledge” don’t work there.)

            So- just thinking over here in my cool back porch space with the comforts of your emails and such, a remarkably dumb cat who is learning to snuggle me two years after my bodyguard dog died, great starbucks coffee and all the water I can drink.  Underneath, this is a seriously joyful experience. Besides, my mama got that glam wig for me!  Thank you, Mother! 

            We are enjoying your blog responses.  To the extent you can make your remarks public, please do so.  There is strength and wisdom in many counselors and you see, I am groping my way through some ancient ideas.

(love!  ellen)

 

July 17, 2011

This is a newsy post.  It is day 10 since Ellen’s second chemo treatment, and it takes about that long for the worst of the side effects (fatigue) to ease up.  Gratefully, the fatigue, chemo-mouth and a not-so-good appetite are the only serious side effects with which she is dealing.  While the fatigue is frustrating, the appetite and low weight becomes more of a real concern. We have our second appointment with her Naturopath tomorrow to talk about diet, the supplements and a look at tumor marker tests as well.

After two rounds of chemo the question is “Is it doing anything?”.  To answer that question she has a CT scan of her chest  on Thursday afternoon.  They will be comparing the metastases to the previous scan to see if they have reduced in size.  Somehow it seems presumptuous or unrealistic to hope that they might be completely gone, but … that’s exactly what we want and are praying for.  The results of that test will determine the path from here: additional chemo cycle(s), or move on to hormone treatment, etc.  Those results and resulting plan will be given to us on Tuesday, July 26th.  We will try to post the news here as well as consult a second opinion if we don’t love the ideas we are shown.

Andrew comes home from China on Saturday, July 30th and will only be here until August 6.  (He is returning to OU for RA duties and training and whatnot.)  Clearly, Ellen does not want to be in the doldrums of the chemo round during his only summer week home and we must fete his birthday since he will miss being home for that.  (Gluten free people?  A GOOD birthday cake without flour or sugar or crisco? No? well. ok.)

Rick (with editions from Ellen)