Dealing with an Aggressive Cancer

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Standing up straight, I notice pulling inside my right abdomen.  These past couple of days, I see abnormal round protrusions, likely from the cancerous masses.  My endurance is significantly less than 2 months ago.  I can feel my muscles wasting away from lack of use.  *deep sigh*  Do I increase my activity and aggravate the internal discomfort?  Or do I take it easy and let my muscles atrophy?  I don't like either option.  

Father God, please guide today's appointment with the cancer specialist.  My body continues to break down.  My tumors continue to grow.  Father, not sure where my life is going, but things aren't looking so great.  

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

I have the results of my CT scan, taken yesterday, in my hands.  As expected, the tissue masses are larger.  Somehow, even as my brain processes the unchangeable facts, I feel heaviness in my chest.  Tears seep from the corner of my eyes.  Am I sad?  Scared?  I don't know anymore.  With over 50 tumors in my abdomen, surgery won't cure me.  Depending only on human medicine, I've now tried and failed 7 types of chemotherapy treatments.  My largest 4 tumors each grow about 1cm every month.  Like a ticking time bomb, my lifespan depends on how my tumors push against surrounding organs and the issues that will arise due to malfunction or organ failure.  

As I lay in bed, tears continue to roll out the corners of my eyes.  They won't stop.  My pillow is damp.  I throw my right arm across my face hoping that the pressure will slow the flow of moisture.  It's not working.  My arm is wet.  Swiping my left forearm across my face I find that now both arms are wet.  Great, this is just what I need, a self-made swimming pool. Wiping my arms across my shirt, I draw in a deep shuddering breath.  I need to stop crying. I need a distraction.

My eyes wander across the room; I see a pile of snacks on my bedside table, an accumulation of scrap papers on the floor, clothes thrown over my chair to put away sometime later.  I see the mess of my room everyday; frequently for hour after hour after endless hour on my worst days.  Meh.  My gaze falls onto my legs.  I glare at each bony protuberance.  I wince as I see skin that stretches taunt over protruding tendons, knobby joints, thighs almost the size of my calves... not quite the look I want to go for.  I see my body and cringe inside; this body is weak.  *shudder*

I hear the garage door rumble open.  Noel's home.  He left work after I emailed him and my entire family the CT scan results.

Thump.  Thump.  Thump.  Rolling my head to my right, I see the top of Noel's head as he ascends the stairs.  As his tired footsteps fall on each step, more of his body becomes visible.  Suddenly, I notice two plastic-covered items dangling from Noel's left hand.  Is that Kristy edible ice cream?  *drool*  Quickly, before Noel lifts his head to actually look at me, my hands fumble around.  Grasping a fistful of my shirt in each hand, I swipe the material across my face to erase the trail of tears.  Pasting a small smile on my face, I prepare to greet my tired and over-stressed husband.

Noel finally reaches the second floor and walks into our bedroom.  Looking up, his smile wavers at the edges.  "I stopped by Safeway to get you this ice cream."

Ahhhhhhh, my beloved Hub-chan, he loves me so much.  I can feel tears pooling against my bottom eyelid.  Blinking quickly, I pat the space next to me.  Diverting myself, I snuggle my right side against my husband and quietly focus on eating my dessert.  Silently, we gently munch at the chocolate and almond encrusted ice cream bar.

"I couldn't stay at work anymore.  After reading about your CT scan results, I couldn't focus.  As I was leaving work, a co-worker asked if I was okay and I started to cry."

Tilting my head up, I finally look at Noel's face, then his eyes; I can see the tears shimmering with reflected light.  Dang it!  I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes too.  I bury my face hard against Noel's left shoulder as he holds me tight.  We cry.  A deep ache twists and throbs inside my chest.  I don't want to die and leave my husband alone; this year will be our 10th year anniversary.  How much longer will I get to live?  What kind of life am I living now?

God, my options in you are limitless.  I believe you can do anything you choose to do.  I know my medical care is beyond the ability of human medicine; that's okay because even throughout my entire course of medical care, you show that you are present.  I don't know what you have up your sleeve, but I know you have something planned for this life of mine. Don't let me waste what time I have on this earth be it 1 year, 5 years, or even 100 more years!  Father God, I thank you for bringing Noel home so that we can comfort each other. Thank you for such loving family and friends.

Lord, in your presence, I take great joy, deep comfort, and relax in the hope of your unbroken promises.  This life is not useless.  Lord, I have you in my life.  Lord, I know you personally as I interact with you every day.  Lord, I see you come through over and over and over again.  You are my rock, my redeemer, my God.  To you, oh God, I lift my voice in praise.  In the name of Jesus Christ I pray for your will to be done, amen.

Noel and I playing with the camera at Stanford while waiting for my doctor appointment: