A Unique Gift

Pop had the privilege of celebrating his 64th birthday this past Monday. It was a day marked with many cards, emails, and phone calls, but also a unique gift. As Pop swung his legs out of bed on Monday, he paused for a bit. This morning would be another conversation about the future of his treatment, and he would have to decide whether to resume chemo treatments again. He was tired. Reaching to the night-stand, he grabbed his glasses and slipped them on. "Well...no use in laying around," he quipped as he wobbled to his feet. A short-while later, Pop found himself sitting in the familiar territory of the Lancaster Cancer Center. His blood work had come back looking good, and he had even gained a few pounds! Pop shook his head and smiled as the nurses commented about how good he looked. Looking to the family he raised his eyebrows, "Not to bad for an old man I guess." Laughing, we made our way back to meet with the oncologist. The doctor was happy to see Pop doing so well, and quickly cut to the chase. "So, what are you thinking about resuming treatment," he asked. Pop looked at us and confidently said, "I'd like to resume treatment. I don't know what your recommendation would be, but that is my thought. Let's keep hammering away at this thing." The doctor got a smile on his face, and shook his head, "That's what I figured." "Now I do have a question," Pop continued. "If I start treatment this week, today, will I be able to have the fifth week of treatment off? That's hunting season, so...I'm going to need that week off." Peering through the top of his glasses, the doctor laughed, "Oh, you're going hunting, huh? Well, I guess I can't stop you. So, sure you can have that week off." Satisfied that his request had been met, Pop walked to the other end of the building and started treatment right away.
After a solid six hours of treatment, Pop was finally done for the day and ready to eat some supper. We all met at Longhorn Steakhouse, where Pop decided he wanted to celebrate his birthday. With his tastes changing almost daily, there are few foods that we can count on him liking. However, for the past few weeks, he has had a strange craving for Longhorn's pepper shrimp appetizer. Mom has stopped several times on her way home from work to pick it up, because Pop hasn't asked for anything specifically for a long time. It was another fun evening filled with old family stories being retold, and watching Emma terrorize the restaurant (no...seriously...she was throwing knives and running around out of control). Thankfully the waitstaff knew that it was Pop birthday, so they kindly overlooked the screaming child (who we love dearly). Once dinner was done, it was back to Mom and Pop's place for a movie. We all stayed up too late watching the film, so some of us spent the night. As Pop was heading to bed, he paused. "You know, few people can give themselves the gift of chemotherapy on their birthday," he chuckled out loud. We all sat back and laughed along with him. Growing misty-eyed, he looked around at us, "But really, I want to thank you kids for today. It was fun, and I'm glad that everyone could make it. I love you all."
We as a family want to extend that same thanks to all of you. Thank you for your outpouring of love for Pop on his birthday. It meant a lot to him, as well as all of us. Mom sat with Pop for over an hour just reading him cards and emails. They both shed many tears over the words spoken, the love shown, and the support that they felt. We love you all, and cannot thank you enough! You have been a source of strength for us.

Celebrating

Last Friday, October 15th, the family used the evening to celebrate. It was PJ's (Ken's son-in-law) birthday on the 18th, Mom's routine CAT scan came back clear of cancer, and Pop's bone scan had just arrived at the doctor's office and was read as 'clear of disease'. There was a lot to celebrate! As we walked into the local Carrabba's Italian Restaurant, we were hit with the boisterous atmosphere and allure of rich cuisine. Pop strolled through the front door looking like an in-style businessman (on a casual day), complete with the shiny bald head and mock turtleneck sweater. Finding us in the corner, Pop rolled his eyes and tugged at the neck of his shirt. Without saying a word us kids burst into laughter. Pop didn't need to say anything; we all heard him in our heads mumbling, "Look what your mother made me wear." We laughed and talked over supper, while Emma ran around the table making friends with other people and tried to trip the waiters. It was a moment where we as a family drifted to a different place. A place where big decisions lay far away, and peace and serenity overwhelm the senses. It is moments like this that we as a family sit-in-rest together. We don't need, or long, to stay in those moments, but God's placement of them at key times along this journey have been welcome oasis'.
It was welcome for Pop especially, as another week has come and gone with moderate signs of improvement. The 'clear' bone scan was a blessing, but the overall lack of energy has been disheartening. It is perhaps the simple fact that for 7 months his body has been put through trials that most people will not experience over a lifetime. No doubt his body is tired and worn, yet he wants to forge-on. With another week to gain strength, and a rising will, Pop is poising himself for whatever is next. It is through prayer and discernment that we'll talk about continuing treatment. As we have the conversations, and ask the hard questions, we ask that Christ would guide our feet on this journey. Psalm 119 says it best, and we pray, that Lord your word would be a lamp unto our feet, and a light unto our path.

Walking in Faith

Yesterday, as the sun slowly rose to shed its light, a newspaper lay at the end of the driveway, untouched. Minutes ticked away as dew began to form on the outside of the paper. The air was still and motionless without disruption. There was no sound of a screen-door closing, or the soft pattering of Livestrong sneakers making their way across the blacktop. Simply silence. Finally, a car emerged from the garage and stopped at the end of the driveway. The door opened up and a hand reached out to pick-up the damp paper. It is a change from the normal routine of the household; an indication that change is occurring.
The past week has slowly seen Pop having less and less energy. He hasn't said anything to insinuate that he is feeling worse, but it can been seen in his routine. Mornings have been tough for him to get out of bed, and the nausea has had a tightening grip. His activities are often short-lived, and the visits to the couch are more frequent and for longer stretches. He is often found lying on the couch, staring out the window, lost in thought. It is difficult to imagine the physical fight that he is waging so courageously, but sometimes I forget the mental battle that he silently endures too. On rare occasions we are reminded of it as we talk about Emma getting older, and Pop's eyes grow misty. As strong as he is, Pop's heart has a window to the world through his eyes. Those same eyes have grown tired this past week. As strong waves of nausea washed over him, he has been unable to eat or drink much. This has sapped much of the precious energy that Pop did have. To compound the situation, a strange pain has set into his right leg. Of course this was only discovered when Mom caught him in an episode of extreme pain. Not to any family members surprise, Pop has been dealing with this pain for a while. He simply endured the discomfort and forged ahead.
With his drop in health, we met with the oncologist yesterday. Sitting in the room, the doctor took a deep breath, "We're in uncharted water with you Ken. You've done great with what we have put you through, but you need to help me know how you feel. I want this to be something that we're in together." Mom gladly chimed-in that he has not done well this past week. She divulged the pain in his leg, the increase in nausea, and overall lack of energy. Pop sat-by rather disgusted that he had to admit that it was all true. With all the information, the doctor decided to stop chemotherapy for the next two weeks. "Let's see what effect the break gives you, and we can better determine how to move forward," he concluded. The difficultly in Pop's situation is the determination of where the symptoms are coming from. Are they an accumulation of the chemotherapy? Or, are they indicates of the cancer growing in aggression? The latter would be a hard pill to swallow. To help determine potential sources of the pain in Pop's leg, he has been scheduled for x-rays and a full body bone scan this week.
With the uncertainty high, we come with honest hearts before Christ. An hour of worrying will not add a single minute to anyone's life, so we lay down the burdens of this world at His feet. We pray for increased strength, energy, hope, and guidance. We also say thanks for family, friends, and neighbors. We choose to walk by faith, and to trust in the One who has proven ever loving.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEK071gUHHg