Pre Christmas Update

On Sunday morning, the 25th of November, I was too weak to lead worship service at New Friendship Church.  My symptoms were very flu-like on Saturday evening, so I called in a dear friend who agreed to preach for me.  Thank you, Marty Bean.

It is difficult to know if these symptoms are from the chemo or from the cancer.  We will know by January.  Lack of strength, decreased mental acuity, stomach problems...  these have become my companions.

On Sunday morning, December 2, I was still weak but determined to lead worship.  A friend at church picked me up and off to church I went.  I don't like admitting it but I was dreading the service;  not because of the worship, but because of the way I was looking and the weakness my body was showing.

After the service I felt God's encouragement.  He let me know that the worship was all His and that New Friendship Church was able to pitch in and assist.

I had a diagnostic CT last week and met with my oncologist yesterday to review the results.  Not terrifying news, but not good either. We will be changing chemotherapy treatments to a drug that I will take once every two weeks.  The last drug I took was ineffective. 

There is some wonderful news.  I have the month of December to recharge my system.  No Chemo In December.  Yay!

There are times when everyone needs to conserve their energy for the most important tasks.  When you are sick conservation becomes doubly important.  I have a link listed here.  The site has a wonderful modern parable explaining how an ill person needs to conserve energy.

The writer is a Lupus sufferer and definitely has a way with words.  She tells a simple story and when she is done you have a new understanding about needing to conserve energy.  Take a look.  I think you will like it.

Merry Christmas to You

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

*********
Diagnosis:                                           Esophageal Cancer,  adeno-carcinoma at the junction  in July 18, 2011
Staged:                                                at 4a just a couple of days later
Chemo Port Installed:                         July 31, 2011  
Began radiation and chemotherapy:   early August 2011 
Esophagus removed:                           Jan. 19, 2012
Surgery Approach:                              Large belly incision to allow access to gall bladder, lymph 
                                                             nodes, esophageal junction with stomach, etc.  Large back 
                                                             incision to allow access to the upper esophagus and lymph  
                                                             nodes through the ribs.   
Hospital Stay:                                      10 days
Feeding tube removed:                       end of Feb/first of March
Life changes:                                       Type 2 diabetes disappeared.      Current weight <200 lbs. (This 
                                                              is a HUGE loss for me.)   Very little stomach remains.  Small 
                                                              meals and many meals.   Dumping Syndrome remains.  (Look 
                                                              it up.)   Weakness.  Some depression.  I have received love I 
                                                              didn't know I had.  God has emptied His blessing bucket on 
                                                              me many times since diagnosis.   

TIME With Esophageal Cancer (or without)

Time... the most precious commodity on our balance sheet. It is given to everyone in the same amounts. Some of us use it wisely. Some of us do not. We get it one moment at a time and our goal is to live best and most within that particular moment.

Father God, this Thanksgiving I thank you for the time you have given me with my family and loved ones. To spend Thanksgiving with them was a gift within a gift.  On Black Friday, I will spend time with even more family and loved ones.

I am not simply thankful. I am thanking you as the Giver of Time for your gift to me.

None of us knows the total time we have, but we know the moment in which we live. I choose to live within that moment and enjoy the time I know.

Thank you, Papa.

*********

Diagnosis:                                           Esophageal Cancer,  adeno-carcinoma at the junction  in July 18, 2011
Staged:                                                at 4a just a couple of days later
Chemo Port Installed:                         July 31, 2011  
Began radiation and chemotherapy:   early August 2011 
Esophagus removed:                           Jan. 19, 2012
Surgery Approach:                              Large belly incision to allow access to gall bladder, lymph 
                                                             nodes, esophageal junction with stomach, etc.  Large back 
                                                             incision to allow access to the upper esophagus and lymph  
                                                             nodes through the ribs.   
Hospital Stay:                                      10 days
Feeding tube removed:                       end of Feb/first of March
Life changes:                                       Type 2 diabetes disappeared.      Current weight <200 lbs. (This 
                                                              is a HUGE loss for me.)   Very little stomach remains.  Small 
                                                              meals and many meals.   Dumping Syndrome remains.  (Look 
                                                              it up.)   Weakness.  Some depression.  I have received love I 
                                                              didn't know I had.  God has emptied His blessing bucket on 
                                                              me many times since diagnosis.   

A Thanksgiving Week Update

They gave me a unit of blood the other day.  I have been anemic since beginning therapy and lately I have had no strength and no energy.  It feels like I am wearing a suit made of iron.  Heavy, weighing me down, making movement an effort.  The blood infusion was to give me a bit more energy.  Evidently, there is life in the blood.

This is the first time I have taken blood.  Months ago, when the doctor mentioned the possibility of needing some, I did not know what to think.  To tell you the truth, I was hesitant.  But when the medical team told me this would strengthen me I wanted to do it.  I need more strength.  The treatment improved my mental acuity, but has not yet helped with my energy level.  It appears that exercise is the answer.  Oh well, looks like I'll have to do it the hard way.

The doctor wanted to schedule my next scan for just before Christmas.  The scan will see how this chemo regimen is working.  I asked him to wait just a couple more weeks and do it after the first of the year.  We can celebrate Christmas without the threat of a test hanging over our head.

For now, I take chemo once a week at my infusion clinic.  The drugs are not too bad, but they have a sleepy effect on me.  Thursday's seem to be my worst day.  Oh my, that means Thanksgiving Day will be tough.  But Susan and I get to see our children, grandkids, and my mom on Thursday.   I will not lose that blessing.

My teaching yesterday was that Thankfulness is not the same as Thanksgiving.  Thankfulness is a feeling or an emotion.  Thanksgiving requires you to give thanks to someone.  Leading up to Thursday we will be thanking God because...      We'll do this each morning to remind us that God is the source of all the blessings in our life.   We are also going to give some thought on what to give thanks for at the table on Thursday.

I have to thank God.  I have to give him thanks.  Otherwise, I have lapsed from purposeful Thanksgiving to simple thankfulness.  I shouldn't do that; not on such an important day.
********
Diagnosis:                                           July 18, 2011
Staged:                                                at 4a just a couple of days later
Chemo Port Installed:                         July 31, 2011  
Began radiation and chemotherapy:   early August 2011 
Esophagus removed:                           Jan. 19, 2012
Surgery Approach:                              Large belly incision to allow access to gall bladder, lymph 
                                                             nodes, esophageal junction with stomach, etc.  Large back 
                                                             incision to allow access to the upper esophagus and lymph  
                                                             nodes through the ribs.   
Hospital Stay:                                      10 days
Feeding tube removed:                       end of Feb/first of March
Life changes:                                       Type 2 diabetes disappeared.      Current weight <200 lbs. (This 
                                                              is a HUGE loss for me.)   Very little stomach remains.  Small 
                                                              meals and many meals.   Dumping Syndrome remains.  (Look 
                                                              it up.)   Weakness.  Some depression.  I have received love I 
                                                              didn't know I had.  God has emptied His blessing bucket on 
                                                              me many times since diagnosis.  

Rear View Mirror

A friend said to me the other day, "You ain't got no butt."  (Can a preacher say "butt"?  Is that worse than "bottom", "backside", or "sitter"?)

His comment raised my curiosity and I rushed home to check it out.  I got home, went into the bathroom, and grabbed my rear view mirror to have a look at the aforementioned, once ample,  section of anatomy.  I discovered that while I do indeed have a bottom, it seems to have dropped out of sight.

Gravity has struck again.

A silly, but true, story to illustrate an important point.  Many of us fighting cancer lose a lot of weight.  I have been hovering at 195 lbs for a couple of months.  I have not been at this weight since I was in my 20's.  Before my diagnosis, I lost 40 lbs through proper diet and exercise.  After chemotherapy and radiation began I lost more, and have continued to lose since the surgery.  I have lost a total of 145 lbs so far, and may lose some more in  the near future.

This is not bragging.  It actually is troubling.  Cancer eats away at the body.  Chemotherapy and radiation make you too sick to eat.  There often is a surgery that inhibits eating.  Every time I look in a mirror I am reminded of the battle going on inside me.  I am forced to consider my new reality and totally different self image.

These extreme body changes can do a number on the cancer patient's psyche. It is no wonder that despondency and depression are so common among Cancer Warriors.  Cancer Warriors include patients, caregivers, family, and loved ones.   If you  are a Cancer Warrior and you feel depressed, despondent, blue, blah, or yucky, I want to encourage you to seek help.  You need someone to walk beside you.  Do not be ashamed to seek out a professional.  You have moved out of the Present Moment into a place of shadowy maybe's.  Another person's objective viewpoint will help you to regain a proper perspective. 

If you are watching a friend lose weight to cancer, remember their body is also losing strength.  Muscle mass is shrinking.  Your kind offers of physical chores might be appreciated.  Car washes, oil changes, gutter clean outs, etc might be just the thing to brighten someone's day and to express your love.

When you express your love and brighten someone's day you become a Street Light.  Cancer Warriors need Street Lights.  The Street Lights keep us straight.  Thank you for caring.

********

Diagnosis:                                           July 18, 2011
Staged:                                                at 4a just a couple of days later
Chemo Port Installed:                         July 31, 2011  
Began radiation and chemotherapy:   early August 2011 
Esophagus removed:                           Jan. 19, 2012
Surgery Approach:                              Large belly incision to allow access to gall bladder, lymph 
                                                             nodes, esophageal junction with stomach, etc.  Large back 
                                                             incision to allow access to the upper esophagus and lymph  
                                                             nodes through the ribs.   
Hospital Stay:                                      10 days
Feeding tube removed:                       end of Feb/first of March
Life changes:                                       Type 2 diabetes disappeared.      Current weight <200 lbs. (This 
                                                              is a HUGE loss for me.)   Very little stomach remains.  Small 
                                                              meals and many meals.   Dumping Syndrome remains.  (Look 
                                                              it up.)   Weakness.  Some depression.  I have received love I 
                                                              didn't know I had.  God has emptied His blessing bucket on 
                                                              me many times since diagnosis.  

Good News and Bad News

I took a chemo treatment on Monday the 1st.  I also saw my oncologist.  It seems my CAT scan from the last week in September shows the cancer has returned in the form of metastasis on the liver.  This is the bad news.  But it is not the most terrible news.

Esophageal cancer almost always finds a way to come back. Each time, we have to beat it back into remission/submission.  My upper endosocopy beat it back.   My surgery beat it back.  Now we change chemo tactics and beat it back again.  I have friends that have been through this and are still fighting at 5 and 6 years out.  I am 1 year 4 months out from diagnosis.  There are many who never made it to where I am now.

My new chemo treatments will begin on Monday the 15th.   I will go in every three weeks for an infusion.  I no longer have to wear the pump that I used between treatments.  It pumped a special concoction called FU5, a particularly nasty cocktail.  The new treatment will probably be easier on me but I will most likely lose my eyebrows. (It would be nice if I lost the ear hair and nose hair as well. Why does getting old mean getting hairy?)

Here's the good news.  I'm not kicking up my heels, but I am not bummed-out.  It was not totally unexpected and I continue to be blessed.  I have a supportive, praying wife, a prayer warrior for a mama, praying friends, a God who answers prayers, and the promise of eternal life without cancer.  I am actually quite well and secure, thank you.

I have children who know my Lord and their love surrounds me.  I have a church who supports me and shows me their love.  I have the readers of this blog who keep up with Susan's and my journey.  I suspect that by the end of October there will have been over 7,000 hits on this site.  You are sunbeams, breaking through weakness in the clouds.

What can you do?  The same thing you have been doing.  Continue the prayers.  Continue the support.  Continue the love.

May God richly bless each and every one of you.
JM  and SM
********

Diagnosis:                                           July 18, 2011
Staged:                                                at 4a just a couple of days later
Chemo Port Installed:                         July 31, 2011  
Began radiation and chemotherapy:   early August 2011 
Esophagus removed:                           Jan. 19, 2012
Surgery Approach:                              Large belly incision to allow access to gall bladder, lymph 
                                                             nodes, esophageal junction with stomach, etc.  Large back 
                                                             incision to allow access to the upper esophagus and lymph  
                                                             nodes through the ribs.   
Hospital Stay:                                      10 days
Feeding tube removed:                       end of Feb/first of March
Life changes:                                       Type 2 diabetes disappeared.      Current weight <200 lbs. (This 
                                                              is a HUGE loss for me.)   Very little stomach remains.  Small 
                                                              meals and many meals.   Dumping Syndrome remains.  (Look 
                                                              it up.)   Weakness.  Some depression.  I have received love I 
                                                              didn't know I had.  God has emptied His blessing bucket on 
                                                              me many times since diagnosis. 

September Emphasis on Cancer

Are you a white man older than 60?  Are you or have you ever been overweight?  Have you suffered from heartburn, GERD, or gastric reflux?  If so, you are at risk for Esophageal Cancer?

Lots of emphasis on Cancer Research this month.  Lots of fundraising going on.  But regardless of the influx of cash for cancer research there is still much to be done.  I am not a cancer expert but I can speak to my own particular beast, Esophageal Cancer.

A key to surviving cancer is early detection, but early detection of esophageal cancer is almost always accidental.  In my case, it was not detected until I had trouble swallowing.  My doctor referred me to a GI Doctor for an upper endoscopy.  I was expecting to hear that I had some bands in my esophagus needed expanding.  Instead, my gastroenterologist was forced to say those awful words, "John, you have cancer."  This was July 18, 2011.  A few days later I was staged 4a.  My tumor was already 3 1/2 inches long.

Unfortunately, the only way to detect EC is biopsy or sight and this means an upper endoscopy.  Early detection almost always happens with an examination for an unrelated symptom.  The reason EC is so awful is because it is generally diagnosed too late.  The majority of the folks I talk to were not diagnosed until they were stage 3 or 4.  Upper endoscopy's are relatively inexpensive, but insurance companies are less than willing to allow them as diagnostic tools. For one reason, EC is relatively rare.

What if a blood marker for EC were discovered?  How about a mixture you could swallow that would point to the presence of EC?  I guess a CAT scan does this, but let's look for a less expensive test.  Could we make biopsies part of the protocol on every upper endoscopy?  This would early detect many EC's.   These are a couple of examples of EC research into early detection.

A cure for EC is in the future but early detection can be now.  Your donations into cancer research are helping to make early detection a reality.

Here is an article about EC and early detection.  It is from the website linked here:   http://www.kjonline.com
********

September 12

Esophageal cancer can be difficult to diagnose

Letter to the Editor

In 2006, Gov. John Baldacci proclaimed Sept. 13 Maine's Esophageal Cancer Awareness Day.

Since then, many Mainers have taken positive steps to ensure their good health by educating themselves about this horrific form of cancer.
Esophageal cancer is still regarded as rare, even though it has grown 800 percent since the late 1980s. It is more common in men than women in this country, and is more common in men older than 65.
The American Cancer Association estimates that this year 17,460 new cases will be diagnosed and 15,070 people with the disease will die. This statistic is sickening.
Because of a lack of clear symptoms, it is usually difficult to diagnose esophageal cancer.
The most common symptoms are gastroesophageal reflux disease, chest pain unrelated to eating, weight loss, vomiting blood, and difficulty swallowing liquids or solids. By the time swallowing problems arise, the cancer usually is in stage 3 or 4.
This was the case with my late husband, John. He lived only four months after his diagnosis.
Much has been learned since 2006 about esophageal cancer, its treatment and results; however, much more research is needed.
If you, or anyone you know, has experienced the above symptoms, please contact your physician.
A few simple tests can save lives.
Connie Corrigan
Former board member, Esophageal Cancer Awareness Association
Wells

Jackson and Abby: Good Things in Small Packages

This is Jackson and his little sister, Abby.  They and their families are my heroes, my Street Lights.  Today I'll share about Jackson.  Later, I'll share about Abby.  From them I learned to keep on keeping on.

Jackson is a full of life 4 year old who has come through a fight with cancer.  As a baby he was diagnosed with Neuro-Blastoma.  This is bad stuff.  Today I share a post written by his mother to show you a little of the hell on earth that their family experienced.   And yet, God walked with them all the way.

Photo 3: On Everett's birthday, we met with Jackson's oncologist, nurse and social worker, along with both of our parents, to discuss Jackson's treatment plan. It was then that we discovered Jackson had Stage 3, n-myc amplified high risk Neuroblastoma. We were told his treatment would last around a year in length and were given a 30-40% chance of overall survival. 

In that meeting, I just felt myself getting madder and madder at what the doctor had to say. My child was not a statistic...they could take those numbers and shove them. 

The first thing on the treatment plan was 6 rounds of chemotherapy and we were admitted immediately following that meeting to hydrate and begin the next day. This picture is taken during Jackson's first round of chemo; we were sitting on the floor with my mom and a couple other people, playing with stuffed animals as the chemo went through Jackson's CVL. 

I've always looked at his face in this picture...having a blast eating goldfish and playing. Today, I looked at the picture and saw my own face and I realized I was trying very hard not to cry. Jackson could power through anything, and I needed to learn to follow his lead.

So Great Is The Love

40-60% suffer from clinical depression

They experience anger,anxiety, sadness, isolation, exhaustion- 

and then have guilt for experiencing these feelings

It is common for them to feel stressed and overwhelmed

Grief and loneliness are common feelings

85% report feelings of resentment

70% say their families are not working well together

54% report they are visiting friends and family less often

35% say they are overwhelmed

46% report inadequate financial resources

These are not the cancer patients.  They are the Caregivers.  Most often they are spouses, children, or siblings.  For many, this is not the first time they have been thrust into this role.  Actually, they are not thrust.  They choose this role.  They do more than feel love.  Caregivers exhibit love.

At the beginning of this blog I promised I would focus on my own experiences.  However, I have no experience as a caregiver.  Susan is my Caregiver.  She drives me to chemotherapy.   She goes with me to the oncologist.  She is there when I am infused with deadly poison and reminds me it is really Pac-Men eating my cancer ghosts.  She kicks my ass when I don't do what the doctor orders.  She loves me unquestionably.  

I need this kind of love.  It is essential to my recovery.  I thank God for Susan's love.

A friend of mine from a support group did not have a Caregiver.  Here is what she says.  "The bottom line,

because I went through this without a partner, is that it's not easy for me to have a lot of empathy for those who did have a partner.  What I'm trying to say is that going through this pretty much alone is tough.  

"Had I had a partner, my four months in the hospital following surgery very likely would've been a couple of weeks instead.  It makes me wonder if people with EC fully appreciate what their journey would be like without a journey mate.  

"Perhaps this is a cancer that no one should endure unless he/she has a partner with whom to face it?"

Caregivers, you are needed.  Susan, I need you.  I love you.  I appreciate you.

I have some advice to give.  You Caregivers are important to us.

To Caregivers:
Take care of yourself.
Sleep, physical exercise, proper nutrition are important.  You will have to excuse yourself from Caregiver duties from time to time to accomplish this.  Have someone you can call in to cover when you feel ready to explode, and go get some exercise.  

Find someone you can talk to, share with, dump on.  Do not go this alone.  If you feel despondency or depression coming on find professional help in addition to your sharing partner.  

Tell the one for whom you are caring how to respond to you when your emotions get the best of you.

There will be times when I do not seem appreciative.  This is not the case.  Remember that sometimes it will be the disease or the chemo talking.  What I say will not always be a reflection of my heart.  While I'm at it, please know I am sorry for failing to show my appreciation and love.  I am sorry I hurt you.

To Others Who Want To Help:
The Caregiver needs as much of your love as the victim.  Be a friend.
Take them out to lunch or to a movie.
Arrange a girl's night out or a guy's night.
If they open up to you keep everything in confidence.
Accept that they may not open up to you.
Grass cutting, gutter cleaning, car washing, occasional meals, oil changes are all appropriate expressions of your support.  Be creative.
Don't wait to be asked.  Be proactive.  Caregivers most often are reluctant to ask for help.
Be someone the Caregiver can call in to cover.
Keep the Caregiver as well as the victim in your prayers.

I end this post with a poem written by a medical professional about a Caregiver.  Caregivers are wonderful.  The author of this poem understands this.

"Doctor, May I Whisper In My Son's Ear?"  

by NAVEEN PEMMARAJU, MD...

He was a champion
In the marathon-sprint of life

A seasoned warrior

Whose last days will be fought in the hospital

Whose last breaths will be made by the machine

The family descended on the floor

And surrounded their son

A twenty-something boy actively dying from metastatic germ cell tumor

As if protecting him from us

The patient's every last crushing harsh breath

His agony, his pain, his misery so evident

Rendering it impossible for his mother to watch any longer

The firm handshake of his tough, dignified father

Who was doing everything in his power to hold his emotions back

The fading smile of his tired mother

The hug of his grandmother

I remember my conversations with his family so well

On the eve of this boy's passing

The day before his cancer would get the best of him

His rugged father pulled me aside, flowing past his son

And asked, “doctor, may I whisper in my son's ears?”

To give him permission to leave this earth

You see, his frail mother had run dry from days of bitter hot tears

I thought about this profound question for a bit

I resolutely, purposefully turned to the stately father

And slowly nodded “yes”

His satisfied smile and sublime look were not as moving to me

As the one small, silent, recalcitrant tear that trickled down his left cheek

Submissions are welcome from oncologists, oncology nurses, and other cancer caregivers. E-mail only, please, to: OT@LWWNY.com, and include affiliation/title, address, and phone number, along with a photo, if available.

© 2010 Lippincott Williams & Wilkins, Inc.

Pac-Man To The Rescue

Oxaliplatin, Levoleucovorin, FU-5, Cisplatin...  These are my libations, my potions, my tie to the apothecary art.   Some enjoy a martini, a beer, or a sippin' whisky; for me it's, "Bartender, a shot of FU-5, please, with an Oxaliplatin mixer."                                         You may recognize these names as chemo-therapy drugs.  If you have fought or are fighting cancer the mere sight of these names may bring a nauseating roll to your insides.  If you are a caretaker, you may grimace as you think about the way this therapy racks your loved one's body.

I have heard many refer to these drugs as dreadful poisons.  I have heard the hateful disdain in the voices of caretakers and cancer patients as they referred to their chemo drugs.  I have felt that way.  And when I am knocked off my feet by the effects of chemo-therapy, I still have trouble thinking kindly about these drugs.  However, the fact is, these drugs are effective at fighting cancer. 

I have a friend whose 19 year old son was diagnosed with lymphoma.   As this young man received his chemo-therapy he used to imagine the chemo was Pac-Man eating away at his cancer ghosts.  What a great analogy!  (This young man is now years older.  Chemo-therapy and a bone marrow transplant brought remission from his lymphoma.)

Anti cancer drugs have hateful side effects.  Some cancer patients have mouths full of sores and heads with patchy hair.  Caretakers look at their weakened, nauseated, loved ones and not only hate the cancer, but also hate the drugs that fight it.  I'm fighting cancer and I have wondered why I felt worse from the drugs than I did from the cancer.

I forget the cancer was stopped before it could hurt and kill me.

I absolutely believe there comes a time when the cancer patient is justified in saying, "Enough.  I've had enough.  It's time to give up the fight."

But that time is  far down the road for most of us.  For many, that day will never come because of remission or cure.  Every one of us needs to stay in our NOW.  We need to receive the blessings of each day as they are given.  In the words of King David, the Psalmist, we need to "taste and see that the Lord is good."

For now, I'm going to be thankful for the little bitty Pac-Men in my system that are eating any cancer ghosts they might find.  I'm also going to pray that cancer treatments might progress beyond the point of oncologists using potent poisons to eradicate cancer cells.

Won't you join me?  Be thankful that Pac-Man is more than just a computer game, that Pac-Man has joined with modern oncology.  Be thankful that oncology has progressed to the point where we have drugs effective against cancer.  This progress has not ceased.  Cancer treatments will continue to improve.  One day we will have cancer-cell-specific treatments for every form of cancer.

Until then, it is Pac-Man to the Rescue.

The Power of Forgiveness

• "I wish to have my family and friends know that I love them.
• I wish to be forgiven for the times I have hurt my family, friends, and others.
• I wish for my family, friends and others know that I forgive them for when they have hurt me in my life.
• I wish my family and friends to know that I do not fear death itself.  I think it is not the end but a new beginning for me.
• I wish for all my family members to make peace with each other before my death, if they can."

(From Five Wishes, a Living Will available from Aging With Dignity. page 9;  A read-only copy can be viewed at   http://www.agingwithdignity.org/forms/5wishes.pdf)

*********

My wife and I have Living Wills listing our preferences for end stage treatments.  We like the 5 Wishes format.  I was re-reading the 5 Wishes and noticed the bullets listed above.  Do you see the emphasis given to forgiveness?

Why should I wait until the end to forgive and be forgiven?  Why should my loved ones delay forgiveness and reconciliation until I am end stage?  I believe I should begin today to facilitate the spread of forgiveness.

Forgiveness is powerful.  Forgiveness brings peace.  Forgiveness trumps regrets.  There are times when I will not receive forgiveness; I can't do anything about that, but shame on me if I am too stubborn to forgive.

I plan on being around for many more years. I feel like I've been given some extra time. There is no reason for me to expect to be going into end stage anytime soon.    Now that I have this extra time, I will begin right now to forgive, to seek forgiveness, and to encourage others to do the same, especially my friends and loved ones.  

It is a worthy goal to assist someone to forgive.  It is wonderful to watch as someone is forgiven.  It is almost as much fun as when I forgive and am forgiven.  The length of our life is unknown and often is too short.  Life is too precious for me to be all bound up in an unforgiving attitude.

How about you?  Are you withholding forgiveness toward someone?  Will you continue to put off asking forgiveness for offenses you have made?

It does not matter who you are or what are the circumstances of your life.  Forgiveness is essential to your psychological and spiritual well being.  The sooner you forgive, the sooner you ask for forgiveness, the sooner you will begin to enjoy the peace and power of forgiveness.

Today I Begin My 2nd Year As A Survivor

It was one year ago today that I was told I have cancer.  At that time my personal knowledge of Esophageal Cancer was sketchy.  In fact, everyone I knew who had it had died of it quickly.  Soon, I found out my cancer was Stage 4a Squamous Cell Carcinoma.  Wow, that was encouraging news! (Not)

I was in radiation/chemo therapy within a couple of weeks and the therapy worked.  It killed my tumor.  I had surgery in January 2012 to remove most of the esophagus and after the surgery I was declared NED, No Evidence of Disease.

It has been a tough year.  But I want tell you there is life after a cancer diagnosis.  Good life.  Abundant life.  Life that is not taken for granted.  Life that is given one day at a time.  Days that come with special blessings. Blessings from which we can drink deeply.

I just realized that this is the beginning of my 2nd year as a survivor.  That's a great big blessing.  I think this is  one that I will drink from deeply.

In fact, please excuse me while I get a glass and some ice.  I'll post again soon, but for now I have some life to live.

The "Little" Things in Life

The "Little" Things in life are not little.  They are quite large and very important.  I don't know why we call them little.  It is probably our skewed perception.  It's skewed because we perceive the big things in life as being power, prestige, influence, and assets.

If you had all of that but could never receive the first smile of your grandson, would you be truly happy?  Is a baby's smile a little thing or a big thing?

This is Kramer.  He was our good friend for 14 years.   We loved him and he loved us unconditionally.  We had to say "goodbye" to him a couple of months before I was diagnosed with cancer.  During those 14 years I got countless kisses and infinite tail wags and I had a friend who was always glad to see me.  Let me ask you, is this a little thing or a big thing?  It's not big...  It's huge!

This is Boomer.  We rescued him on Thursday (07/12/12).  He  is a gift from God.  Honestly, he is.  I have been looking for a little guy like him for 6 months.  His mommy was not able to keep him and  wanted him in a good home.  She contacted RescueMe.org.  They contacted me.  And that is how God put us together.  He is healthy.  Well tempered.  1 1/2 yrs old.  And about 15 lbs, but after he is groomed I expect that to drop significantly.  

He has already given us joy and we are looking forward to a loving relationship with him.  So Boomer has brought us hope, hope in a tomorrow, hope in a loving God, hope that each and every day will bring a gift.  May God grant me the vision to recognize those gifts.

Some of you are battling cancer.  Do not lose hope.  Look to those little/large things in life to bring you joy and hope.  With us, each day is a gift.   Don't move out into the future with your own expectations of what the future will bring.  Instead, live in the present.  And look for each day to bring you  the gift of hope.

Those "Little" Things in Life are Street Lights sent to light our way through the darkness.

A Healing Place

Yesterday was July 4th.  Susan and I decided to carry our chairs down to a little beach here on the Northern Neck of Virginia.  This beach is all of 200 yards long, but it is special.  Sitting on this beach you look across the mouth of the Potomac River and can see directly into the Chesapeake Bay.  We've been here three years and this was the first time we set up the umbrella and chairs.

We expected the beach to be crowded, but there were just two other families there.  For the first hour it felt like we owned the place.  The sun was hot, but a breeze blowing off the water and our umbrella made for a more than comfortable afternoon.  Waves lapped the shore in a divinely set rhythm.  Shore birds called out to us.  Salt water aroma ministered to more than nose and palate as it assimilated into the spirit.

This was more than peaceful; it was Peace.

After a while, two families arrived.  Soon, there were a dozen children playing in the water.  Added to our Peace was the sound of kids having fun.  And it was good.

A mother came with her two daughters.  One girl was loving the water.  The other was timid.  In the end, Mom was playing with both girls in the cool water.

There was a little three year old.  Spider-man skiv-ees were his swim trunks.  He was loving the beach,  trying to do headstands in 6 inches of water and falling over laughing and blowing water every time.

One family brought their Yorkshire Terrier.  This 6 months old pup was running everywhere.  Greeting everyone.  Hopping in the water like a goat.  First, this way down the beach at full speed.  Next, that way down the beach.  In the water. In the sand.  Poor little thing looked like a drowned rat, but she was having fun.  We got the biggest kick out of watching her.

We arrived home after 3 hours at the beach.  I realized just how relaxed I was.  I was quietly smiling. Susan and I had been given a special peace.  And with that peace came healing for our ragged spirits.  The beach had become a healing place for us.

God has sent us another street light.

Advice to You Who Have A Loved One Battling Cancer

Hello!   It is good to see you.  We sincerely appreciate your interest in us and our fight against Esophageal Cancer.  Please consider leaving us a comment.  It is always good to hear from you and gives us an idea of who is following the blog.

Just to let you  know there have been  over 5,000 hits on the blog since we began it.  Thank you for following.

Many of you know that we stopped my post surgery chemotherapy because it was wreaking havoc with me.  It was designed to seek out and destroy any remaining unseen cancer cells.  You should know that I am back on chemo.  My oncologist wants me back on it.  I will stay on this therapy for the next three months until my next scheduled scans.  Then, we will reevaluate and go from there.

This particular regimen is easier than before.  Every two weeks I go in for infusion and come home with a pump for 46 hours.  Pump comes off until the next treatment.  I tolerated the first round well (except for the day the pump came off) and feel this is very doable.  My next treatment is July 10.

That is pretty much where my treatment is right now.  Fighting cancer is tough.  Sometimes the side effects of the treatment are rugged.  Other times the waiting can wreck you emotionally.  Every scan is a new chance to find the cancer has returned.  Most often there is a delay after a test before you learn the results.  While waiting, you think to yourself, "Is it back?  Am I still ok?"

Sometimes the thoughts are darker. "Can I really beat this thing?  Will my grandchildren remember me?  Has my life made any difference?"

Listen to me.  These darker thoughts come to everyone in this fight.  They do not stay permanently.  Instead, they creep up on us and yell "BOO" in the night.  We have to deal with them and Street Lights shine their special light and illuminate the lies and deceptions of the the dark thoughts.

We need time to process each new disclosure about our cancer.  The processing is not intellectual.  Instead, it is often highly emotional. Sometimes the process time is short.  Sometimes it takes longer.  If you love someone in a fight against cancer I have some advice for you.

There will be times when your loved one will not be giving you a lot of information.  This does not mean they have gone secretive about their condition.  It is simply a sign that they need some time to process something. Please do not press.  Honor your loved one's wishes.  Remain supportive.  Continue to pray for them.  And be a Street Light.  Your loving actions will shine a strong light against the Darkness.

The Street Lights Are for Everyone

In the midst of the darkness, God will shine a light that cannot be ignored.  Joh 1:5  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. 


The story I am sharing this morning is not a Christian, preacher kind of illustration.  It is about a person who was in the middle of the DARK and saw a street light shining.  Although the letter is a pitch for a particular event, the story still inspires me.

My prayer is that somehow it will also lift you up.

God bless you.  Don't forget to comment, even if you do not like the post.  It's like getting an "Amen" during a sermon.  It lets me know someone is listening.

Look to the street lights.

John
****************

Dear John,
I ran my first Team LIVESTRONG event after I’d lost my left leg and left lung to cancer.

And to this day, every time I hit the pavement with Team LIVESTRONG and see the crowds of supporters and cancer survivors coming together to defy this disease, it puts a huge smile on my face.

These events are more than races. They’re something special and powerful. And you have the chance to lead one off the starting line next to Lance Armstrong.

And I mean literally next to Lance. You’ll be close enough for a fist bump.

Register for any Team LIVESTRONG event today, and you and a friend will get a chance to ride with Lance at the Austin Challenge:    LIVESTRONG.org/JoinTheTeam

If you register for any Team LIVESTRONG event today, you’ll automatically be entered for a chance to line up next to Lance in the biggest bike event LIVESTRONG’s ever organized, and Austin’s ever seen. And I can tell you from personal experience—an event of this scale can be life-changing.

Take my story. When my cancer recurred and they had to remove my lung, I only had a 10% chance of surviving. I couldn’t handle it, so I didn’t. I buried the pain and hid my illness from the world.

It took a decade for post-traumatic stress syndrome to catch up with me. But I found a life-raft in that darkness: running. It led me to a community of support and an inner drive I never knew I had.
I went from local 5Ks to Olympic triathlons with Team USA. Cancer may have ravaged my body, but running saved my life.

Every Team LIVESTRONG event has the power to awaken a cancer survivor’s fight like this. But the Austin Challenge will be unforgettable. And you have the chance to be there, side-by-side with Lance.
Sign up for a Team LIVESTRONG event near you to be automatically entered for your chance to ride with Lance.

Good luck!
   Amy Dodson
   Cancer Survivor
   Paratriathlon Olympian

Living on the Roller Coaster

This is not The Rebel Yell

In those days Kings Dominion was subtitled "Lion Country Safari".  Their wooden coaster, The Rebel Yell, was extremely popular, just like it is today.  We rode The Rebel Yell and saw a team of people who never got off the ride.  They stayed aboard and rode again, and again, and again.  This team was trying to set a world's record for continually riding a  roller coaster.

I thought to myself at the time, "I love roller coasters, but I would never like to live on one."

30 years or so later I find myself doing exactly that, and roller coaster life exacts a price.

I call it roller coaster life because in the 11 months since I was diagnosed I have had tremendous lows, followed by rapid highs, followed by high speed direction changes, and then more highs and lows.  This has been constant.

One doctor says, "You might have some bands that need stretching in the esophagus.  Let's get it checked out."

A few days later another doctor says, "John, you have cancer."

One doctor says, "You have pneumonia.  We will put you on antibiotics."

A few days later another doctor says, "This is not pneumonia.  You have a blood clot in your lung and it is life threatening."

After my Sunday morning run to the emergency room the Doctor said, "The blockage and blood in your esophagus was from your tumor.  It had died and was swelling up as it decayed.  But I was able to remove it and you are now slick as a whistle."

It was not long after that another doctor said, "It appears you have another lymph node affected.  If it is cancer we will not be able to proceed with the surgery."

A few days later still another doctor said, "The biopsy was negative.  The lymph node was not cancerous."

Do you begin to understand life on the roller coaster?

Now add to that the constant visits to doctors, the side effects of the chemo, the changes in my body, and having to re-learn something as simple as eating.  Before my cancer I had never had an operation; I still have my tonsils and appendix.  In the last 11 months I have had 4 or 5 surgeries.  (Yes, you can lose track.)  Every post-operative scan is another opportunity to find out my cancer has re-occurred.

Even when called a survivor, this kind of living will mess with your head.  Your emotions never have a chance to come to grips with the new reality.  It is uncomfortable and, to be honest, it hurts.

I am in a position to be an encouragement to others.  I have been given a special opportunity by God.  However, I often feel like I am unable to accomplish my mission.  I am not the only person in my situation to feel this way.  Writing of his desire to offer encouragement after his cancer treatments, Craig McConnell shares these thoughts.  "(It would be) Evidence that "I'm back… a contributor, a participant, a valued or needed/appreciated "producer". It would’ve been an honest and vulnerable inspiration, a vehicle for God to call His people to fuller consecration and deeper worship.

I can’t do it. It can’t be done. I’m fried.

It is hard being weak, limited… on the bench… non-productive, beached (or is it “Shipwrecked”?)."   By Craig McConnell from http://www.ransomedheart.com/blogs/craig/limitations

These are not uncommon reactions to cancer treatment.  Even cancer survivors can go through periods of depression.

My words today are for those in cancer treatment.  Your feelings are common.  Your own roller coaster life exacts a price.  Find someone to talk to and do not be afraid to seek out professional help.

My words today are for those who are close to someone in cancer treatment.  You may not totally understand all that is going on in their head, but you can now appreciate their struggle with their new reality.  Cut them a little slack.  Pray for them regularly.  Be a friend.

Today's post has been difficult to write.  It has called for an uncomfortable amount of openness.  I do not like being uncomfortable.  However, if people are to be helped and encouraged by my journey, I must be open and honest.  My prayer is that someone, somewhere will be helped in a small way by these words.

JRM

********

From www.livestrong.org   An article lists many changes to your life that can be difficult to accept.

Cancer can bring many changes to your life that can be difficult to accept such as the following:

• Changes in physical abilities
• Changes in appearance or body image
• Changes in self-esteem
• Fear of death
• Fear of your cancer coming back
• Interruption of future plans
• Financial problems
• Problems with relationships
• Fear of having to depend on others

*********

From www.livestrong.org an article lists reasons why some cancer survivors experience grief because of loss.

Physical losses:

• A body function
• Changes in the ability to have sex
• Lessened strength or energy
• An ability or skill to perform certain activities
• Physical comfort
• Fertility
• Bodily changes such as a scar or amputation

Emotional losses:

• Sense of security and predictability such as in health and in the future
• Sense of control or independence
• Self-esteem or sense of identity
• Self-confidence
• Body image
• Goals, hopes or dreams
• Faith or spirituality
• Habits, such as changes in daily routines, or life “the way it used to be”

Social and relationship losses:

• Relationships with friends, family members or co-workers
• Sexual relationships
• Ability to have own biological child
• Loss of certain roles such as providing for the family
• Loss of other cancer survivors

Financial losses:

• Career or job opportunities
• Financial security
• Insurance
• Ability to work