February has been busy around here. And tomorrow, being Presidents' Day, I get a day off from school. I really love what I do but sometimes, well, it consumes my time and then I drop into bed and sleep very well. I have 4 drafts of blog update, in long hand, that I plan to translate, hopefully tomorrow.
Tomorrow also marks 3.
3 years ago, 2/20/09, was the day that Mike first checked into the ER at our local hospital, feeling that something was amiss. Within 6 weeks, we had our diagnosis and the surgeon's data-guided prognosis.
"Get your affairs in order. Statistically, this will take your life in 6 - 8 months."
Well wishers love to spout aphorisms like "Doctors don't know everything." And although that's true, OUR doctor understood that Mike operated a very busy law firm and cared for 1000+ clients. He had employees. He had legal obligations. OUR doctor's advice was purposed and helpful.
Within 2 months, the office was closed successfully and Mike and I prepared, as best we could, to untangle the rest of our daily lives. We held each other close and outlined whatever else we thought needed to be done.
As we say, often, how weird it is, to be living like this, living and having shelved all those POST-Mike agendas.
So many of you continue to stand with us. We thank you. We pray that God's purposes will continue to be done in us and through us.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
No, we haven't fallen off the edge of the planet...
It's been a busy two weeks here. I have updates but for now, let me call on you to remember us in prayer during this next week.
Monday, Mike will get his next chemo treatment and then return to the week of oral chemo. During the last two cycles, this wiped him out for much of the week.
Although we really do love each other, we're good if Valentine's Day involves naps and cuddles.
But, Mike is putting the finishing touches on his next talk: he'll be speaking at The Kokomo Huddle on Wednesday. I'm taking 1/2 day off so I can attend.
Then, he continues to practice as he will be joining the band at Oakbrook Church next Sunday.
So, while you await all the other news, please pray for us this week.
Monday, Mike will get his next chemo treatment and then return to the week of oral chemo. During the last two cycles, this wiped him out for much of the week.
Although we really do love each other, we're good if Valentine's Day involves naps and cuddles.
But, Mike is putting the finishing touches on his next talk: he'll be speaking at The Kokomo Huddle on Wednesday. I'm taking 1/2 day off so I can attend.
Then, he continues to practice as he will be joining the band at Oakbrook Church next Sunday.
So, while you await all the other news, please pray for us this week.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Here we go again
So this week, Mike is back to the chemo place for treatment. In addition to that, he takes the 6 horse pills for 8 days. He finds that these treatments hit him harder as the number rises. So far, he says it's worth it.
I mentioned that it seemed to me that Good Days/Bad Days are about even. He says that no, the Bad Days are more numerous. But it's not time to give up. There's a kayak that's almost finished. There's the dream of another summer at the lake.
The treatment is Monday. Then, on Friday, we drive back to University Hospital for the 5th ERCP. Quite a week.
Central Indiana is a buzz. Next Sunday, it's SUPERBOWL Sunday in Indianapolis. Our papers and new shows are wall-to-wall stories about what's going on, what's going to go on, and how to the action. This is especially important for all those fans who can't pony up the ticket price but want to 'be close to the action.'
Superbowl Sunday has not been on our calendar. But I realized today that our route to the hospital is the northern boundary of Superbowl Traffic patterns. I'm assuming that the hospital will restrict its parking; otherwise Friday morning will be interesting for us.
Routines help. Scheduled events help. Expected agendas help. But more than anything, our greatest help comes from the Lord. And, dear friends, when you pray for us, you call upon that help. So thanks.
We are surrounded by His protection and by your spiritual care. I know that I get down sometimes, but God is quick to remind me of His presence. And, He needs to prod me a bit because I have such a short memory.
As 2011 began, I laid a specific request (for me) on my Heavenly Father. A really special friend of mine -- funny, bright, attractive, employed -- had had not so much success in our local dating scene. And although she was probably ok with that, I decided that it was time for her to meet a nice young man. Not Mr. Right, necessarily but Mr. Nice Guy. I sealed my request by sharing it with a Christian friend. Soon after, Mike's cancer returned and I forgot about it.
But guess what? She met Mr. Nice Guy. When I heard about it, well, it wasn't who I might have chosen, for no specific reasons. She was enjoying Mr. Nice Guy when he became Mr. Right. Yup. In love. Engaged. Date set. Woooo hooooo.
When I mentioned the engagement to my Christian prayer friend, she reminded me. "That's what we've been praying for, don't you remember??"
Hm. Well, no it had slipped my mind. But God honored my weakly presented case anyway.
I'm so thankful that God included those Bible stories about the forgetful Israelites. I used to think, "Wow. They forgot how God had taken care of them. Wouldn't you think that after watching the Red Sea part, after eating the manna, after drinking from the rock in the desert, they'd remember?"
But, no, about the time they wiped their mouths, they forgot.
I hope I'm not ungrateful but I DO forget. God answers my prayers faithfully and then often sends in one of His saints to 'knock me upside the hay-id' to recall that I had asked Him for this and that.
I don't know if this is the modus for all, but in our case, a terminal diagnosis jerked a knot in the tail, made us turn around, reorder, and come up with what's really important. In our case, we have been able to live with that understanding.
Powerful Truths: The God who made heaven and earth: take your request to Him, the Father. He knows what you need. He will supply all of your needs.
In our circle of praying friends, we join together to pray for a baby who was born with many needs. He's 5 months old now; his parents, grandparents, and friends are traveling with their arms around The Father.
Our sweet sister-in-law, Janelle, received the dire diagnosis in August: glioblastoma. No one wishes for a brain tumor but this one would be last on your shopping list. Initial treatment seemed to have no effect. But Janelle and Ken, along with so many friends, prayed for and continue to pray for healing. At her last report, the doctor told her that the tumor had shrunk 40 % and was less inflamed. Janelle has been able to reduce her steroid medication and concentrates on enjoying life.
At my school, our prayer circle continues to pray for so many with physical needs. God continues to flex His muscles and beat back fear.
Here at our casa, we will continue to live our lives, staying open to God's leading. Mike has been asked to speak to The Kokomo Huddle again. He will be playing with the church band in mid February. I am about to drag yet another group of high school juniors through my favorite book, The Scarlet Letter.
Much joy here. And peace. And hope.
I mentioned that it seemed to me that Good Days/Bad Days are about even. He says that no, the Bad Days are more numerous. But it's not time to give up. There's a kayak that's almost finished. There's the dream of another summer at the lake.
The treatment is Monday. Then, on Friday, we drive back to University Hospital for the 5th ERCP. Quite a week.
Central Indiana is a buzz. Next Sunday, it's SUPERBOWL Sunday in Indianapolis. Our papers and new shows are wall-to-wall stories about what's going on, what's going to go on, and how to the action. This is especially important for all those fans who can't pony up the ticket price but want to 'be close to the action.'
Superbowl Sunday has not been on our calendar. But I realized today that our route to the hospital is the northern boundary of Superbowl Traffic patterns. I'm assuming that the hospital will restrict its parking; otherwise Friday morning will be interesting for us.
Routines help. Scheduled events help. Expected agendas help. But more than anything, our greatest help comes from the Lord. And, dear friends, when you pray for us, you call upon that help. So thanks.
We are surrounded by His protection and by your spiritual care. I know that I get down sometimes, but God is quick to remind me of His presence. And, He needs to prod me a bit because I have such a short memory.
As 2011 began, I laid a specific request (for me) on my Heavenly Father. A really special friend of mine -- funny, bright, attractive, employed -- had had not so much success in our local dating scene. And although she was probably ok with that, I decided that it was time for her to meet a nice young man. Not Mr. Right, necessarily but Mr. Nice Guy. I sealed my request by sharing it with a Christian friend. Soon after, Mike's cancer returned and I forgot about it.
But guess what? She met Mr. Nice Guy. When I heard about it, well, it wasn't who I might have chosen, for no specific reasons. She was enjoying Mr. Nice Guy when he became Mr. Right. Yup. In love. Engaged. Date set. Woooo hooooo.
When I mentioned the engagement to my Christian prayer friend, she reminded me. "That's what we've been praying for, don't you remember??"
Hm. Well, no it had slipped my mind. But God honored my weakly presented case anyway.
I'm so thankful that God included those Bible stories about the forgetful Israelites. I used to think, "Wow. They forgot how God had taken care of them. Wouldn't you think that after watching the Red Sea part, after eating the manna, after drinking from the rock in the desert, they'd remember?"
But, no, about the time they wiped their mouths, they forgot.
I hope I'm not ungrateful but I DO forget. God answers my prayers faithfully and then often sends in one of His saints to 'knock me upside the hay-id' to recall that I had asked Him for this and that.
I don't know if this is the modus for all, but in our case, a terminal diagnosis jerked a knot in the tail, made us turn around, reorder, and come up with what's really important. In our case, we have been able to live with that understanding.
Powerful Truths: The God who made heaven and earth: take your request to Him, the Father. He knows what you need. He will supply all of your needs.
In our circle of praying friends, we join together to pray for a baby who was born with many needs. He's 5 months old now; his parents, grandparents, and friends are traveling with their arms around The Father.
Our sweet sister-in-law, Janelle, received the dire diagnosis in August: glioblastoma. No one wishes for a brain tumor but this one would be last on your shopping list. Initial treatment seemed to have no effect. But Janelle and Ken, along with so many friends, prayed for and continue to pray for healing. At her last report, the doctor told her that the tumor had shrunk 40 % and was less inflamed. Janelle has been able to reduce her steroid medication and concentrates on enjoying life.
At my school, our prayer circle continues to pray for so many with physical needs. God continues to flex His muscles and beat back fear.
Here at our casa, we will continue to live our lives, staying open to God's leading. Mike has been asked to speak to The Kokomo Huddle again. He will be playing with the church band in mid February. I am about to drag yet another group of high school juniors through my favorite book, The Scarlet Letter.
Much joy here. And peace. And hope.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Arming the Knight for Battle
Many of you who read this blog knew my father. If you knew Dad you probably know my mother. They were married for 46 years, which is quite an accomplishment in this day. Now that the evil Lynne and I have passed 38 years of marriage, making us scarred veterans of the marital wars, I sometimes think about how my parent’s marriage worked and compare theirs to mine.
Most long term couples evolve ways to get along with each other and to help the other person with shortcomings or inabilities. (For a lengthy and comprehensive list of my marital inadequacies please feel free to consult the evil Lynne. Make sure you have at least a couple of hours.) This was certainly true in my parent’s marriage. Most of you know that my father was a lawyer and was always impeccably dressed for work. What you probably did not know is that the man never dressed himself even once in his married life.
Dad did not have a clue about how to dress. When it came to colors, patterns and styles of clothing, he was hopeless. He knew it, too, which was good, because my Mom, while not a “clothes horse,” has a very refined sense of fashion and color.
So every night before my parents drifted off to sleep, my mother laid out what my Dad was to wear the next day, down to socks and underwear, as well as his suit, shirt, tie, belt, shoes, tie tack, cuff links, watch and handkerchief. Mom left nothing to chance. All Dad had to do each morning was to take his shower and put on whatever Mom had laid out. This is why he always looked so professional.
Every morning my parents each had roles to play in two long-standing rituals. The first ritual began when Dad was finished with breakfast. He would head to the door to go to work. Mom would say, “Let’s see what you look like.” Dad would stop and wait to be inspected. Mom would walk around him, adjusting his tie or collar, maybe straightening his lapels, or pulling out his cuffs to check the cuff links. When she was satisfied, she would say, “You look good.”
Then their second marital ritual would play out.
Heading toward the door, Dad would say, oftentimes mimicking the voice of a very, very bad Shakespearean actor, “I am going forth to slay the dragon.” This would be followed by Mom's response, “You are my hero. My knight in shining armor.” And out the door he would go.
At 6 o’clock my Dad would come home from work to a formal dinner in the dining room. The table would always be set with crystal, china, linen tablecloth and napkins, and the chandelier would be dimmed or the room lit with gold candelabras. This was a nightly event in their house. Dad would sit at the head of the table with Mom at the other end, us children on the sides. After the prayer, my Mom would inquire, “Owen, did you slay the dragon today?” Dad would respond saying, “I got in a couple of solid hits, but he got away, again.” Mom would follow his response by counseling, “Well, there is always tomorrow. You can slay him then. You are still my hero.” And the dinner would proceed.
I loved writing this piece, because it brought back memories about my parents and my childhood. Their marriage wasn’t perfect. They had their ups and downs, like all marriages do. Somehow they made the decision to stay together because the relationship was worth it.
These two schmaltzy rituals seem quaint and outdated to me. Yet my heart is warmed when I recall them. If nothing else, my Mom dressing my Dad, inspecting him before he walked out the door, and the “slaying the dragon” skit offered some regularity and solidity to the marriage. Good for them. But there is more to it than merely accommodating or adapting to each other. My Mom knew what is maybe the most important thing a wife can know about her husband.
All good wives know that their man, perhaps above all else, wants to be a hero…their hero. I think God wired men that way. Every man wants to be known by those that he values as being courageous and brave, because that is what makes a hero. Courage and bravery. And you know what else? The hero does not always have to win, either. The true hero has but to try his best.
As I was writing this, the evil Lynne reminded me of what Harper Lee wrote in To Kill a Mockingbird. She said that true courage was present when you knew you were beat before you started, but you took up the fight anyway, because it was the right thing to do. That is what knights in shining armor do, you know.
Mike out.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
The New Normal
I just checked a calendar. It's been 35 months since Mike first became ill. It was two months later when we received the realistic diagnosis: that Mike's cancer had spread, that it was incurable and inoperable, and that statistically he faced a quick death.
A long 35 months. We know we are living within the protective dome of so many prayers; we know that God has purposed to keep Mike here, rather than escort him to his "Arts and Crafts cabin by the lake," along the silver sea; we know that God continues to give us gifts tangible and intangible, to help us day to day.
How can we not be joyous, almost 24 hours a day? Well, let me tell you:
Chronic illness supplies its own stresses. Will we have a good day or a bad day? Will Mike have energy and inclination to work on the kayak, go out to lunch, teach his class, attend The Huddle, practice his guitar? Or will he need to rest, sleep, roam around the house in the middle of the night?
On those good days, and there are plenty, Mike acts and talks so much like Old Mike. He might let himself get perturbed by his wife. He will joke. He will call us, "Hurry, come running!" to watch something inane on television. And we can be perturbed back.
Then, it flips. He crashes. He gets blue. Really blue. And he hurts. Hurts a lot. Gets cold. Can't get warm. Needs to sleep. Deep sleep in the afternoon.
There's not always a way to anticipate but we assume that it's connected to the chemo.
This new regime involves a trip to infusion room and then 6 horse pills for 8 days. Then, a week off. Then, back again. When we began, Infusion Day was just the drive out and back. Day Two was a crash day. By Day Three, Old Mike was emerging.
Mike tells me that this treatment's effects are cumulative...they build on each other. So, in our case, his down time is growing. And few things make him more blue than having to lie down and rest for prolonged times. This last week has been particularly difficult.
Me? Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. I want to do what he needs me to do for him. It's not always so clear. I get weary.
It's my own little battle against the Amalekites. In Exodus 17, Moses sent Joshua to lead the Israelites against barbarians in the Promised Land. God's guys were outnumbered but advanced bravely. Moses, up on a hill, raised his arms and as long as those arms were up, Joshua prevailed. When Moses lowered his arms, the Israelites began to fail.
Quite a task for Moses. He grew weary. So, his brother Aaron and a guy named Hur climbed up next to him and held up his arms for him.
Joshua won.
(Exodus 17
8 The Amalekites came and attacked the Israelites at Rephidim. 9 Moses said to Joshua, “Choose some of our men and go out to fight the Amalekites. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hands.” 10 So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. 11 As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning.
12 When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. 13 So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword.
I'm not Moses. Mike's not Joshua. But, we need some strength here, some angelic arm raising.
That's what we'll ask for as we go into a Non-Chemo Week. Hopefully, God will give Mike a strength infusion and give me wisdom to help him.
A long 35 months. We know we are living within the protective dome of so many prayers; we know that God has purposed to keep Mike here, rather than escort him to his "Arts and Crafts cabin by the lake," along the silver sea; we know that God continues to give us gifts tangible and intangible, to help us day to day.
How can we not be joyous, almost 24 hours a day? Well, let me tell you:
Chronic illness supplies its own stresses. Will we have a good day or a bad day? Will Mike have energy and inclination to work on the kayak, go out to lunch, teach his class, attend The Huddle, practice his guitar? Or will he need to rest, sleep, roam around the house in the middle of the night?
On those good days, and there are plenty, Mike acts and talks so much like Old Mike. He might let himself get perturbed by his wife. He will joke. He will call us, "Hurry, come running!" to watch something inane on television. And we can be perturbed back.
Then, it flips. He crashes. He gets blue. Really blue. And he hurts. Hurts a lot. Gets cold. Can't get warm. Needs to sleep. Deep sleep in the afternoon.
There's not always a way to anticipate but we assume that it's connected to the chemo.
This new regime involves a trip to infusion room and then 6 horse pills for 8 days. Then, a week off. Then, back again. When we began, Infusion Day was just the drive out and back. Day Two was a crash day. By Day Three, Old Mike was emerging.
Mike tells me that this treatment's effects are cumulative...they build on each other. So, in our case, his down time is growing. And few things make him more blue than having to lie down and rest for prolonged times. This last week has been particularly difficult.
Me? Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. I want to do what he needs me to do for him. It's not always so clear. I get weary.
It's my own little battle against the Amalekites. In Exodus 17, Moses sent Joshua to lead the Israelites against barbarians in the Promised Land. God's guys were outnumbered but advanced bravely. Moses, up on a hill, raised his arms and as long as those arms were up, Joshua prevailed. When Moses lowered his arms, the Israelites began to fail.
Quite a task for Moses. He grew weary. So, his brother Aaron and a guy named Hur climbed up next to him and held up his arms for him.
Joshua won.
(Exodus 17
8 The Amalekites came and attacked the Israelites at Rephidim. 9 Moses said to Joshua, “Choose some of our men and go out to fight the Amalekites. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hands.” 10 So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. 11 As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning.
12 When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. 13 So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword.
I'm not Moses. Mike's not Joshua. But, we need some strength here, some angelic arm raising.
That's what we'll ask for as we go into a Non-Chemo Week. Hopefully, God will give Mike a strength infusion and give me wisdom to help him.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Emerging Kayak in the Basement
Little by little
with some assistance from whomever he can grab
the kayak is coming together.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Requesting Your Prayers Again.
Tomorrow, the hub goes back to the Oncology Department and into that nice, soft, beige lounger. He'll get hooked up and his nurse will administer some targeted poison. Then, he's back on a week of the special pills: 6 a day for 7 days.
These treatments are supposed to buy us time. So far, that's exactly what's happening. Mike's doctor says the therapy continues until he decides to stop. Or when his disease overtakes the benefits.
Right now, Mike's in the living room, playing the blues on his guitar, one of his favorite pastimes. Earlier, I assisted as he glued some sort of support to some sort of piece of wood that should form a side of the kayak. And that's our life on a chilly Sunday night.
What is it about me that I need reminders of God's attention to the details in our lives?
Right now, we continue to live in the glow of a miracle. We have some sort of yen that there's more for Mike to do. From the sidelines, I am witness to how God is using him in the lives of some of his friends, some of his former colleagues, even some of my students who have seen the video of his testimony.
He'll drive himself out to the hospital in the morning and when it's over, he'll drive himself back. Then, there will be a nap. A deep nap.
So, while I enjoy a day off from school, when God brings us to mind, please pray for us on Monday.
These treatments are supposed to buy us time. So far, that's exactly what's happening. Mike's doctor says the therapy continues until he decides to stop. Or when his disease overtakes the benefits.
Right now, Mike's in the living room, playing the blues on his guitar, one of his favorite pastimes. Earlier, I assisted as he glued some sort of support to some sort of piece of wood that should form a side of the kayak. And that's our life on a chilly Sunday night.
What is it about me that I need reminders of God's attention to the details in our lives?
Right now, we continue to live in the glow of a miracle. We have some sort of yen that there's more for Mike to do. From the sidelines, I am witness to how God is using him in the lives of some of his friends, some of his former colleagues, even some of my students who have seen the video of his testimony.
He'll drive himself out to the hospital in the morning and when it's over, he'll drive himself back. Then, there will be a nap. A deep nap.
So, while I enjoy a day off from school, when God brings us to mind, please pray for us on Monday.
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