Paranoia is Good For You

One thing I have been exceedingly thankful for through this whole process has been the excellence of my doctors.  I was reminded of this last week when I went to see my gastroenterologist.  (This is a source of amusement for me.  While most people my age probably barely even have a primary care physician, I have a gastroenterologist, two colorectal surgeons, and an oncologist.)  While many doctors, even specialists, would say “F-A-what?” my gastroenterologist is well acquainted with FAP and is a great source of help and information.  He has agreed to be my long-term “FAP doctor” and will do my annual scopes and blood tests.

We also talked about what kind of testing we should do with Evie and when.  We have decided to do some early genetic testing with Evie, probably a little bit after she turns one.  The reason for this is because there is a small risk of hepatoblastoma associated with FAP.  That’s an extremely rare childhood cancer of the liver.  Even with FAP individuals, the odds of having hepatoblastoma are supposedly between 0.82% and 1.5%.  What’s scary is that the onset of it is usually around five years of age.  If Evie tests positive for FAP, we’ll have regular sonograms done of her liver to be safe, probably until about age 10.  This is terrifying to me, but I am once again left with prayer being my best recourse.  There are the numbers: 1 in 2 chance of having FAP, and about a 1 in 100 chance of having hepatoblastoma if she’s FAP positive.  We are doing everything we can do medically to be on top of this.  It is tempting to say, “All we can do is pray”, and while yes, that is true, it makes prayer sound like a last resort.  It should be our first.  Would we say, “All we can do is make our requests known to the Almighty Lord and Creator of all who loves us fiercely and has made all things according to His good and pleasing purpose”?  If that’s all we can do, then we’re doing pretty well.  I sure would appreciate you praying with me as Evie grows.

My gastroenterologist and I had a discussion about the regular medical tests that I should have from here on out, and he said something about how it may seem a bit paranoid.  We agreed, though, that when you are 27 and have already had cancer, a bit of paranoia seems in order.  The fact that I had cancer is still surreal to me.  According to the research I’ve done, the mean age of colon cancer diagnosis in untreated FAP individuals is 39 years with a range of 34 to 43.  It is amazing to me how aggressive my case was and that we caught it in time, especially since I don’t have a family history of it.

This brings me to something I’ve been wanting to write about for a while.  Until just a few months ago, I felt young and indestructible.  Well, I still feel young, but you get the point.  When I was in high school, I started having some bowel issues, namely diarrhea with some blood.  I went to a doctor who sent me to the hospital to give a stool sample.  After some time, the hospital got back to us and said that yes, there was blood in my stool, but they couldn’t find any parasites or bacteria that could be causing it.  I was told to take antibiotics and then went on my merry way.  I figured that since they couldn’t find anything wrong, this was just something I could and should live with.  So I did, for ten years.  Several times I looked my symptoms up on WebMD and thought, hmm, maybe I should get a colonoscopy sometime, but I was convinced that I couldn’t have anything so serious as the search results suggested.  What finally got me to a colorectal surgeon wasn’t even this.  It was something completely unrelated, something caused by my pregnancy with Evie.  While I was in the appointment, though, I just figured I’d mention the chronic diarrhea to the doctor and see if she had any ideas.  That’s what finally got me into the hospital on December 13th having a colonoscopy.  That’s what probably saved my life.

So this is my point, my fellow young and indestructible friends: If something is up with your body, don’t ignore it.  I’m not an advocate of hyperchondria by any means.  I am exceedingly slow to go to the doctor.  Ten years slow, apparently.  But you know your body.  You know what’s normal and what’s not.  Most times, it probably isn’t anything serious.  But sometimes, it is.  Sometimes, you can’t wait it out.  One reason I hate going to the doctor is because of the cost.  I was very close to canceling my colonoscopy just because of how expensive it was going to be.  But when it comes to your health and your life, don’t let money cloud your judgment.  You will find a way to pay the bills.  People will help you out if it comes to that.  Money can be made much more easily than a disease can be undone.  And don’t feel foolish if it turns out to be nothing.  You will feel much more foolish if you’ve waited too long and are past the point of no return.  So this is my request to you, my friends: If you suspect something’s up, go to the doctor.  Sure, it might be nothing.  But it might be, oh, a crazy genetic disease that’s giving you cancer.  You won’t know until you go.

Speaking of cancer, I have a PET scan on Wednesday to make sure mine didn’t decide to hitchhike anywhere.  I sure would appreciate your prayers that it stayed put in my colon.  My oncologist feels pretty confident that I don’t have anything to worry about, but again: a bit of paranoia seems in order.  Thank you all for your encouragement and prayers.  I am blessed.  May God continue to bless you and your neighbor through you!

Short-Sighted

Yesterday, I had what I think was my first post-surgery meltdown.  First, a little background.  My temporary ileostomy has been an issue for me since I was in the hospital where I had problems with my ostomy bags leaking.  So, I’ve been experimenting.  I tried out a new kind of bag a few days ago and just changed it yesterday.  One bag is supposed to last three to five days, and if you take it off before then, man, does it hurt.  They have a pretty strong adhesive on them that wears away over time, so if it hasn’t been on you for at least three days, it’s murder on a post-surgery belly to peel it off.  After putting this new bag on, I noticed more pain than usual.  I talked to my ostomy nurse and my home care nurse and the consensus was that I just need to give myself time to heal.  As my home care nurse said, that area around my stoma is “raw meat”, so some pain is to be expected.  Well, yesterday was three days with this new kind of bag, and when I changed it I found that it had just chewed me up around my stoma.  The skin at my stitches had bubbled up into blisters, and there was more blood than I’ve ever had changing the bag.  As you can imagine, the last thing you want to do with a blistered, bleeding wound is to stick something to it, but with a stoma, that’s pretty much what you have to do.  So with shaky hands and quite a few tears, I dealt with it.  Taylor came to check on me, and that’s when my meltdown happened.  I’m fine now, and I’m back to the old bag type which, while a nuisance, doesn’t seem to be as hard on my stoma.  But now one of the biggest thoughts bouncing around in my mind is how much I am looking forward to my second surgery after which I will no longer have to deal with an ileostomy.

I suppose this is progress.  This past New Years, it was hard for me to look forward to anything.  I kept remembering the New Years before when we were looking forward to the birth of our daughter and all the craziness and joy that would come with her.  But this New Years, all I could think about was this surgery with all the pain and frustration it would bring.  I couldn’t see past it.  In my mind, 2011 equaled joy. 2012 equaled dread.  Now that I am past the first hurdle of this more major of the two surgeries, I have hope again.  Hope for a smooth second surgery.  Hope for the reversal of my ileostomy.  Hope for slowly returning to something close to normalcy.

It was wrong for me, though, to not have hope before.  I am a short-sighted person.  If it’s not next on the agenda, it might as well not exist.  The only things of significance are those right on the horizon.  But today, our assistant pastor spoke on Revelation chapters 21 and 22, and I was reminded of the very real hope we do have.  It may a be a distant hope on a far horizon, but its significance should make all our present sufferings pale in comparison.  I just forget to look that far.  Here is our hope:

¹ Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. ² I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. ³ And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ⁴ ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

 ⁵ He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

 ⁶ He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. ⁷ Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children.  Revelation 21: 1-7

²² I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. ²³ The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. ²⁴ The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. ²⁵ On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. ²⁶ The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. ²⁷ Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life.  Revelation 21:22-27

It is not wrong for me to look forward to this next surgery and a completed recovery, nor to hope for good doctors and a healthy future.  But it is wrong for these things to be the extent of my hope, and it is wrong for me to despair when these things disappoint.  For “our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18).  I am guilty of losing the eternal in the temporary, the significant in the mundane.  I have let my present dread steal my everlasting joy.  Surely, they are not worth comparing.

I don’t know what you face right now, but I know it is nothing compared to seeing His face.  Our current suffering is real.  Blisters hurt.  Surgeries suck.  Pain is pain, and loss is loss.  These are things to be grappled and wrestled with.  But there is a hope greater than just getting past these things.  There is a hope in the One who is coming to make all things new and who will wipe every tear from our eyes.

We sang this song by Andrew Peterson today, and I think the lyrics are worth a read:

After the last tear falls
After the last secret’s told
After the last bullet tears through flesh and bone
After the last child starves
And the last girl walks the boulevard
After the last year that’s just too hard

There is love, love, love, love
There is love, love, love, love
There is love

After the last disgrace
After the last lie to save some face
After the last brutal jab from a poison tongue
After the last dirty politician
After the last meal down at the mission
After the last lonely night in prison

There is love, love, love, love
There is love, love, love, love
There is love

And in the end, the end is
Oceans and oceans
Of love and love again
We’ll see how the tears that have fallen
Were caught in the palms
Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all
And we’ll look back on these tears as old tales

‘Cause after the last plan fails
After the last siren wails
After the last young husband sails off to join the war
After the last “this marriage is over”
After the last young girl’s innocence is stolen
After the last years of silence that won’t let a heart open

There is love, love, love, love
There is love

And in the end, the end is
Oceans and oceans
Of love and love again
We’ll see how the tears that have fallen
Were caught in the palms
Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all
And we’ll look back on these tears as old tales

‘Cause after the last tear falls
There is love

May God bless you and your neighbor through you, and may we all get better at taking the long view.

He who testifies to these things says, “Yes, I am coming soon.”

 Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

FAP

Familial adenomatous polyposis.  Try saying that ten times fast.  My genetic testing results came back yesterday, and that is the official diagnosis.  It’s what I suspected but not necessarily what I hoped.  FAP is the most aggressive of the diseases that were on the table and is also the most likely to be passed on.  It’s an autosomal dominant trait, so that makes Evie’s chances of having the same disease 50/50.  FAP results in colorectal cancer 100% of the time, with the only treatment being the surgery I just had.  Right now, there’s really nothing we can do.  My gastroenterologist just said that Evie and any other kids we may have will have to start getting scopes done around age 10.

It’s hard knowing that Evie’s risk of having this is so high, and it’s certainly hard to think about having other kids.  I so badly want to, and I think we probably will.  There is treatment for this, and as I have just seen, it’s not the end of the world.  But I do imagine the anxiety I will have leading up to each of Evie’s colonoscopies, hoping and praying that she does not have any polyps.  I know the answer to this: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Philippians 4:6).  We all, I suppose, have our traits, whether genetic or otherwise, that we hope our children do not acquire from us.  So as any mother would, I will just pray for my child’s health and that God would give her the grace to persevere through whatever challenges her life will hold.  I will also pray that God would continue to give doctors the wisdom and creativity to find new treatments or even preventative measures for this, so that if Evie ever does have to deal with this, her journey will be even easier than mine.  Just a few years ago, it was impossible for them to do this surgery laparoscopically.  Imagine what they can do in ten, fifteen, twenty years?  Usually these polyps start to show up when an individual is in their teens, so there’s a lot of time for medical technology to march forward.  I sure would appreciate your prayers, however, that Evie would be free of this genetic mutation.

Tomorrow marks one week out of the hospital, and I have to say I’m doing pretty well.  I get tired easily, but that makes for a great excuse to take a two hour nap after lunch everyday.  My restricted diet is a bit of a challenge and dealing with my ileostomy bag is, well, different, but the blessings I have experienced far outweigh the trials.  My mom is being a wonderful help with Evie and is taking great care of me while Taylor’s at work.  Evie continues to be a joy and does not seem too upset by my inability to pick her up.  It’s amazing how easily she smiles.  Bad genes or not, I’m so glad we have her.  I’m also extremely thankful that I’ve successfully been able to pick back up with nursing her.  It would have broken my heart if I had lost that ability during my time in the hospital.  I actually had several friends donate breastmilk for Evie to have while I was in the hospital (sorry if that’s weird to you), and I am so thankful for them.  I have been so blessed.  I honestly can not complain.  We have experienced such encouragement and generosity during this time.  God is good all the time, and I will praise Him.

Thank you for your continued prayers.  I have a followup appointment with my surgeon on Thursday, so hopefully I will learn more then about when I can resume some more normal activities (I want to drive!) and when my second surgery will be.  May God continue to bless you and your neighbor through you!

Me and my best buddy, in sickness and in health.

Evie knows what to do with a medical bill.

Dodged Bullet

I just had a visit from Dr. Simmang a little while ago, and he said I am cleared to get out of this place.  However, I’m having some ileostomy bag seal issues that need to be figured out before I can really leave, and since it’s the weekend none of the ostomy nurses are working.  I don’t want to go home leaking body fluids, but I also don’t want to wait around until Monday just because of a leaky bag.  I just called the nurse’s station to see if I can get an extra bag kit, and I’m going to see if I can MacGyver this thing onto me so I can get out of here.  I figure all I need to do is make it through the weekend, and then hopefully I can get this thing sorted out.  All they’re doing here is taping gauze onto me, and I can do that at home.  Let’s see if this works.

While I wait for my nurse, here’s the other news from Dr. Simmang.  He sent tissue from my colon, rectum, and lymph nodes to the lab for testing, and that pathology report came back today.  It turns out that in three of the larger polyps, there were indeed small cancer tumors; two in my colon, one in my rectum.  Dr. Simmang says that this is the earliest stage, most superficial cancer we could hope for, and it looks like nothing spread to my lymph nodes or anywhere else.  I shouldn’t require any other treatment, but he does want me to meet regularly with an oncologist from here on out so I can continue to get screened for any other issues.

It’s very surreal to realize I actually had colon cancer.  This whole time I’ve been operating under the information that this was to prevent cancer, but now it turns out that it actually removed it.  As Taylor said, “You dodged the bullet, but not without it grazing your ear.”  This brings into a whole new light the miracle that we caught this in time.  If we had waited even a year longer, we might have been in big trouble.  I had been having symptoms of something being wrong with my insides for the last ten years, and I had been told all I needed was a high fiber diet and probiotics.  Praise God I finally went to a doctor who took my symptoms seriously and convinced me to get a colonoscopy!

Update: My nurse brought me a new ileostomy bag kit and told me that if it is leak-free for the next hour, I can go home.  If it leaks before then, I’m staying until Monday.  This may be my strangest prayer request ever, but please pray that my ileostomy bag would not leak before 4:30pm Central time!

Post-Op

Well, I am colon-less and doing well!  It is so evident that I have been prayed for.  My surgery actually went better than normal.  Standard procedure for this surgery is that they would do three small laparoscopic cuts and one larger incision to remove the colon and rectum through.  If they had difficulties, they would make that incision larger for a hand assist or would have to do a large ribs-to-pelvis incision.  In my case, I have no large incisions!  They did the entire thing laparoscopically!  My surgeon hadn’t even mentioned that to me beforehand as a possibility.  But he said that because I’m young and in good shape, they were able to do it.  My anesthesiologist said that my surgery was one of the technically best he had ever seen.  Praise God!  Dr. Clifford Simmang is now akin to Superman in my eyes.  I hope you never need to have any of your guts removed, but if you do, go to him!

Also, my recovery is going very well.  Apparently it usually takes a couple of days for your digestive system to get functioning again after surgery like this, so my nurses were surprised when my ileostomy was up and running just a few hours after my surgery.  My nurse yesterday said I’m doing a great job of getting up by myself, and a home healthcare representative came by and said that I might be discharged earlier than expected.  Yesterday, my anesthesiologist asked if I had been able to eat anything and keep it down, such as Jell-o.  When I told him I had actually had a pork chop and mashed sweet potatoes for lunch, he was amazed.  For such a hard thing, everything is going better than I could have hoped for.  Is God good, or what?

I have been so blessed by my visitors, and several extra chairs have had to be pulled into my room to accommodate.  A couple of times my nurses have come in to take my vitals and have commented that it looked like I was having a party in here.  God has been so good to me in this.  I was worried that since I was having my surgery in Dallas it would be harder for people to come visit, so I am extremely thankful that so many friends are making the effort to come here and see me.  My wonderful husband has been at my side constantly and has not complained once about the many things I have asked him to help me with.  Also, Evie seems to be having a wonderful time with my mom at a nearby hotel.  I was so encouraged when I got to visit with her yesterday at one of the sitting areas here.  She was laughing and smiling and crawling all over the place.  Praise God that my absence has not been too hard on her!

Of course, there are some hard things.  I am in pain, yes, but it is manageable.  I had one rather embarrassing exploding ileostomy bag incident while I was taking one of my victory laps around the floor, and I am very done with being woken up at 3:30am to have my blood drawn.  Nurses are hit or miss.  I actually got so frustrated waiting around for one of my nurses to come and empty my ileostomy bag that I just started doing it myself.  They were a bit surprised, but they’re okay with me doing it as long as I record the volume of my output.  I feel like it’s one of my few ways to be a little feisty, so I’m doing it.  Every time I do something for myself that they haven’t actually given me permission to do yet, there’s this tiny feeling of sticking it to the man.  I like it.

The next three months with my ileostomy will require some adjustment, but it’s not too bad.  An ostomy nurse came by yesterday and talked to me, and as she said, I didn’t want one, I never expected to have one, but it saved my life.  It’s a little weird looking at my belly and seeing part of my small intestine sticking out, but it helps to know that this is just a temporary thing until I have my second surgery.  Even if I had to have it the rest of my life, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

I so appreciate all of your prayers, and I ask that you continue to pray for my recovery and my adjustment period as I get back to life at home sometime in the next few days.  I know some things will be very hard, but God is gracious.  He has gotten me through this far, and His mercies are new every morning.  May God continue to bless you and your neighbor through you!

Tomorrow

Well, here I am.  I’m sitting in our hotel room close to the hospital and just got off the phone with my anesthesiologist who gave me the rundown of what’s going to happen tomorrow morning.  I’m feeling a little queasy from the bowel prep I had to drink, but I’m starting to feel like a pro at this.  By the way, if you ever want to feel like a daredevil, drive from Denton to Dallas while drinking about two weeks worth of laxative.  Dangerous!

I’ve been overwhelmed by everyone’s generosity and encouragement during this time.  We are blessed beyond measure.  I really just want to thank all of you who have been praying for me faithfully.  There have certainly been some rough times emotionally, especially this last week.  But yesterday, my church family gathered around me and prayed for me, and I truly felt more at peace than I have in probably a month.  Sometimes prayer changes the situation, but I think more often it changes us.  That, perhaps, is the greater miracle.  This has been a hard time, and I suspect that at times I have truly been depressed.  Sometimes it’s been hard to look forward with anything other than dread.  But God has never stopped being good to me.  Thank you for being an instrument of his blessing to me.

I’ll leave you with some lyrics by one of my favorite songwriters, Sara Groves:

I believe in a blessing I don’t understand
I’ve seen rain fall on wicked and the just
Rain is no measure of his faithfulness
He withholds no good thing from us
No good thing from us, no good thing from us

I believe in a peace that flows deeper than pain
That broken find healing in love
Pain is no measure of his faithfulness
He withholds no good thing from us
No good thing from us, no good thing from us

I will open my hands, will open my heart
I will open my hands, will open my heart
I am nodding my head an emphatic yes
To all that You have for me

I believe in a fountain that will never dry
Though I’ve thirsted and didn’t have enough
Thirst is no measure of his faithfulness
He withholds no good thing from us
No good thing from us, no good thing from us

I will open my hands, will open my heart
I will open my hands, will open my heart
I am nodding my head an emphatic yes
To all that You have for me

January 24th

January 24th: The day I say bye-bye to my colon.  This past week, I struggled to make a decision regarding what surgery to have, and now it is decided and on the calendar.  Here is the best analogy I have come up with for making this decision: There are two extremely unsavory meal options before you.  Let’s say, oh, live worms and something unidentifiable and moldy.  You could say, thank you very much, but I’m not hungry, except for the fact that there’s a man holding a gun to your head who will shoot you if you don’t eat one.  So, both options are better than being shot.  You just have to decide which one is the lesser evil.  Since you’re going to have to eat one of them, you start to calculate the nutritional value of both.  You might as well be objective about this.  That’s what the last week has been like.  I have made my decision, though, and now it just comes down to eating the stuff.  Or, in my case, having surgery to form the lower part of my small intestines into what they call a J-pouch, having a temporary ileostomy, and then going back in for another surgery in about three months to reconnect the plumbing, so to speak.  This seems like the best option for me, but it is not without downsides and risks.  What’s hard is that I feel fine now, and this surgery will mean feeling far from fine for quite some time.  Sometimes I feel a bit in denial about needing this at all.  As one of my doctors put it, though, there is a “silent killer” inside me, and I need to get it out.  That would be the man with the gun.

A few other updates: I got my CT scan results back, and everything looks clear.  Praise God!  The biopsy results came back from my GI tract scope as well, and they were slightly less clear.  There were some polyps in my stomach, which is pretty normal, but the pathology report came back saying that there has been some cell change in those polyps.  So while they are not cancerous yet, they may not be as benign as previously thought.  Instead of having another GI scope in five years, they want me to have another in just one year.  So while it is a matter of some concern, it isn’t of “we need to do surgery on your stomach immediately” concern.  That’s nice.  I think one such organ is quite enough for right now.

The last couple of days have been a bit hard emotionally as I’ve had to face the reality that this surgery is going to happen.  I think one of the hardest things is knowing that my time in the hospital and recuperating is going to be hard on our daughter, who is just hitting the clingy I-need-Mommy stage.  I keep reminding myself, though, that by being away from her for a little while now, I have a much better shot at being there for her and any other children God gives us for the long run.  It’s either surgery now or cancer later.  As hard as it is, I’ll take the surgery.

Thank you so much for your prayers.  Those prayers and the grace of God give me my greatest hope of getting through all of this safe, sound, and sane.  I was recently reminded that we do not only come to God as our lord, but also as our father.  Not only is He in control, but He cares.  He listens, and He is for us.  He hates disease and illness; it is one of the things that He will make right in the end.  He is ever our greatest hope.  May God, our Father, bless you and your neighbor through you today!

Answered Prayers

Praise God!  The results of my upper GI tract scope this morning were the best we could have hoped for.  Though my doctor took a few biopsies, he said that he didn’t see any reasons for alarm in that area of my body.  In fact, it looked downright normal!  This is a huge praise, as some of the possible genetic diseases that are up for consideration would also cause cancer in the upper GI tract.  My gastroenterologist thinks I should get regularly scoped (about every five years), but at this point I look in the clear.  My CT scan results should be in on Monday, and hopefully that will confirm that the only real issue right now is my colon.  The colon is enough; it would be amazing to not require surgery or treatment anywhere else at this point!

Once again, Martha proved to be a friend extroadinaire, showing up at our house at 4:30am to accompany us and help out with Evie.  She then stuck around our house afterward to cook us dinner.  If you know Martha, feel blessed.  She is amazing.  My good friend Rachael was also a godsend today, letting us crash at her house in Arlington between tests and hooking me up with some of the tools I will need to continue breastfeeding Evie through all of this craziness.  We also returned home to find a bag with a loaf of pretty amazing homemade bread hanging on our front door from an unknown benefactor.  You know who you are.  Thank you.

Low point of the day would definitely be the prep drink for the CT scan.  It tasted alright on the way down, but not so much on the way back up.  All three times.  In the car.  At 60 mph.  Generous amounts of Lysol and some go-overs with a garden hose are definitely in my car’s very near future.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and Taylor and I are looking forward to a weekend of no doctor appointments and no tests.  I’m sure there will be enough to worry about come Monday, but for now, I am more than ready to celebrate our Savior’s birth and enjoy our first Christmas with Evie.  As one Christmas carol states:

“And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!”

I hope you also find rest in our Lord.  Merry Christmas, and may God bless you and your neighbor through you!

Prayers and Praise

Here is a brief update before I go to bed in preparation of a very early start of the day tomorrow.  At my appointment this morning, my doctor went over the results of the colonoscopy, including the fact that the many biopsies she took all came back as precancerous.  Yes, that means that if left alone, they will become cancer, but they are not yet!  Praise God!  From what we know so far, it looks like we have caught this in the nick of time.  Because they are so close to becoming cancerous, however, she told us she wanted to move fast with my treatment.  In fact, she had made an appointment for me to meet with a gastroenterologist in Grapevine that afternoon.  So after we left her office, we picked up Evie, had lunch, and then headed to Grapevine.  There we met with a great gastroenterologist who I feel very good about.  He has experience diagnosing these sorts of genetic diseases and knew what steps we needed to take next.  So after being poked and prodded, my blood is on its way to be tested for exactly what genetic disorder I have (there are a few related possibilities) and I am scheduled for an upper GI tract scope tomorrow morning at 7am (have to be there at 6am) and a CT scan directly following.  Here are a few points I would love your prayer for:

- That the scope and CT scan tomorrow would reveal that my genetic disorder has not caused dangerous growths anywhere else in my body.

- That we would have wisdom to make the right decisions regarding my treatment.  There are a few different options for my surgery, and we need to spend some time weighing out the pros and cons.

- That God would be gracious to us in the area of future children.  One thing I was not expecting today was how often the issue of fertility would come up.  My fertility is definitely at risk.  With the surgery comes substantial risk of damage to my ovaries and fallopian tubes, and depending on the genetic results, there’s a good chance I will need a complete hysterectomy with ovary removal sooner rather than later as I am at extremely high risk of developing cancer in those areas.  This has probably caused me the most emotional distress today.  I praise God, though, for giving us Evie.  What a blessing to have been able to have her before all of this started!  It does seem like our conversation about adoption may be expedited by all of this.

A few blessings from today and great evidence of all of your prayers:

- My good friend Martha was able to come with us to the appointment this morning and then came along with us to Grapevine to help out with Evie while I was getting tests done.  She is also going with us tomorrow for the scope and CT scan.  What a gift to have friends like this, who don’t mind having their entire day hijacked to hang out in doctor’s offices and hospitals!

- Evie is a wonderful baby.  She was not fussy at all today and was the darling of the Grapevine office’s waiting area.  All of the nurses were taking turns holding her, and I overheard them talking about her in the halls while I was getting tests done.  I praise God that she has such an easy temperament and sleeps well on the move.  This whole process would be so much harder otherwise!

- We were very, very late for my appointment in Grapevine due to construction and traffic, and we were unable to reach anyone in the doctor’s office to tell them we were on our way.  The doctor, however, put off going Christmas shopping for his wife to wait around forty-five minutes for us to show up.  He was five minutes away from leaving when we finally reached his office.  Praise God that he waited and was so gracious with us!

- They did not find cancer!  Hallelujah!

Well, I said this would be brief, but alas, it is not.  It is most certainly bedtime, and I am exhausted.  Thank you so much for all of your prayers!  Please keep them coming.  They are not in vain.  May God bless you and your neighbor through you!

Even If He Does Not

My appointment is at 10:40am tomorrow, so shortly I should know a bit more about what the future holds.  In the meantime, though, I have been blown away by the sheer number of people praying for me.  As my father put it tonight (approximately), “I don’t know how these things work, but if quantity of prayer matters, I think you’re covered.”  Indeed!  Scripture says that where two or three are gathered in the Lord’s name, He is there with them (Matthew 18:20).  Tonight, six of my friends gathered to pray in my house, and I know many, many more have been praying elsewhere.  I’ve been told I’m on prayer lists at churches whose names I have never even heard.  There is no doubt that God is here.

As I wait for my appointment tomorrow, this passage comes to mind:

¹⁶ Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to him, “King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. ¹⁷ If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. ¹⁸ But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”  Daniel 3:16-18

“Even if he does not.”  That is what I find so impressive about those three men.  They knew God was able.  They just didn’t know if He would.  But they were not going to let the circumstances, no matter how grim, steal their faith.  I told my husband tonight that I feel like I have wrapped my mind around the idea of the surgery, and I’m okay with it.  A cancer diagnosis, however, would be a pretty hard hit.  So now I find myself staring into my own furnace, knowing that God is able but not knowing if He will.  I know He can deliver me.  But even if He does not, may I still trust Him as fully as I ever have and more.

The Lord has commanded us to pray, and He would not command us to do something that was a waste of time.  I do not know how God is moving, but I know He is.  Our prayers are not futile; our labor in the Lord is not in vain.  I thank you from the depths of my heart for laboring on my behalf.  The Lord listens, and He is here.  Praise the Lord!

May God continue to bless you and your neighbor through you, for you have certainly blessed me!