Chemo

Last Monday thru Wednesday I finished round 4 of chemo for my stage 3 t3n1 colon cancer. This therapy is supposed to kill any stray cancer cells in my body after they removed the tumor in my colon. It targets quickly multiplying cells in my body.  The unintended, but known, casualty of this treatment is it kills off blood/bone marrow cells too.  Because the cancer was in the lymph, I opted for the chemo, as the percent chance of the cancer coming back is significantly decreased.

 

Chemo is a cruel joke.  A promise of good with the cost of your quality of life.  For me the Sunday morning after round 3 (Monday-Wednesday), was a perfect example.  I woke up and I felt good!  Yay! I saw friends at church and said I’m feeling good, it’s not so tiring this time and halfway through the service, I felt bad. By the time it was over I was more than ready to go. I just got into the car and waited for my family. I slept and rested until dinner.  After dinner I was okay for a few hours. But then we took a walk and when we got home, I felt bad again.

 

One crazy thing about my chemo is that the doctor says this is like ‘chemo lite’ You won’t lose your hair. You may not have any side effects, but you might.  The nurses were more realistic about side effects and made sure I had medicine for nausea, diarrhea, and mouth sores. I chose to get the port the doctor recommended because everyone said it would protect my veins. But no one prepared me for the pain involved in getting a port and how uncomfortable it is.

 

What’s getting chemo like? Monday I go to the center. Before I leave home, I put a layer of numbing medicine on my port. They ‘access my port’ at the cancer center. That means the nurse puts a very large needle into the center of the quarter sided half sphere located under my right collar bone. They flush it with saline – you can taste it when they do. Weird right?  They draw blood from it. And that happens because from the port has a tube that goes over the collar bone and to my neck into the artery and to my heart.  They test the blood and check to make sure my levels are okay.  When the results come back, they start vitamins, steroids, anti-nausea medicine and finally the chemo medicine. I turn on my YouVersion Bible and listen to Psalms and fall asleep.  I wake and its almost time to go. They switch out the medicine and attach me to a portable pump about twice the size of a Walkman to take home for then next two days. 

I am tethered to this small pump that is constantly putting chemicals – chemo – poison into my body. It is supposed to target quickly dividing cells like cancer. Unfortunately, blood cells are also killed, and I feel weak. I feel sicker each day as it circulates in my body.  Wednesday I go back to the center and they remove the pump and take out the needle from the port.  Someone has to drive me because I do not feel well enough to drive.  I’m dizzy and can’t see well.  

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My meds                                                        Other bays

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        The portable pump

I feel worse through Thursday – tired, slightly nauseous, maybe diarrhea, sensitive to cold.  The cold is weird. I can’t put my hands in the fridge or under cold running water in the sink because it feels like ice. My feet go to sleep in the car when the ac blow on them. And cold drinks feel like knives in my throat.  The metallic taste makes everything taste wrong.  I only want salad, eggs, oatmeal, fruit and a little meat. Or maybe nothing sounds good.  Sugar and cookies taste bad. And that is probably good since sugar feeds cancer.  I eat anyway and it makes me feel a little better.

Friday I’m a bit better, but oh, so tired and then I feel worse!  Saturday and Sunday mornings were good the first 3 times, but not after round 4. By midmorning, I need to rest and then maybe I’m okay for a few hours in the evening.  I’m sort of hungry but nothing sounds like it would taste good. My muscles feel like I've exercised all of them and now they are spasming. Monday is better.  I feel more myself.  My head is better. I have more energy. I can empty the dishwasher.  I can talk about food. I might be able to drive a little bit.  I can call people on the phone. Tuesday is still better still. I’ll almost me! Food still tastes funny, but I can eat cold things again and the ac doesn’t hurt my feet anymore.  In fact, I’m hot when I sleep like normal instead of the cold the chemo makes me feel.

And from Wednesday on I’ve felt pretty good. But then I’m thinking about the next round and dreading it.  And I’m not really feeling 100% so I’m slightly grumpy and maybe a bit depressed. I don’t have that many things I can do and covid19 makes it worse.  But I’m such an extravert I really miss seeing people. 

Sometimes in all that, I have trouble sleeping. And then I’m really a wreck: weepy, hurting, blurry vision, not able to concentrate. I might be the day I get chemo or any night.  And it’s frustrating since being overtired makes it hard to go to sleep.

 

Last Monday before the nurse started the drip, I found out from the doctor that the difference between 3 and 6 months of this chemo for me makes about 3% difference in the possibility that the cancer could come back.  I now know that that amount of difference is not worth it!  This means I’ll only have 2 more rounds and be done with it at the end of September if all goes well (meaning my blood tests show my body can take it).  YAY!!  So thankful!  I’m 2/3 of the way done! Please pray that the chemo will have killed any lasting cancer cells in my body and not done any lasting damage to the rest of me!

 

It’s taken a long three weeks to write this because I’ve felt so bad most of the time. I didn’t want to reread because that made me feel nauseous. 

A friend sent a present last week with a note. She’s had chemo and knows.  She said,” One of my struggles was that I wanted to be “brave” and have a faith that was strong, but some days it was hard for me to even read my Bible.”  I have those days.  I have days that the only prayer I can get out is “God! I hate feeling this way!” But I knows he understands, and I know there is a sea of people praying for me. Jesus saying on the cross, “My God! Why have you forsaken me?” has a whole new meaning now: that desperate place of lonely despair.

And I know I have it good: Only 3 months of misery; people who’ve prayed and made meals and given gifts. Family who loves and supports me (teens are moody, but they’ve been great most of the time). Husband who cooks and works and drives me and takes care of things while my muscles feel like they’ve been worked as hard as they can and now are shaking.  Friends and family who visit or take me places or call or text to check on me. But cancer is lonely.  It’s better to be somewhat isolated to protect from germs while your system is dealing with so much other stuff. But it is lonely. I wonder again and again how people do this without God and without a good support system. Even though I feel that way sometimes, I am believing I Peter 5:10 "The God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast." I trust that the Bible is true.  It is real. God's love never fails, never ends, never changes. 

 

My motto is CHOOSE JOY.  It is not an easy choice and I don’t succeed every day.  But God is here with me and I choose him. Everyday. Always and forever.  Because he chose me first. And I know he will help me to focus on the good. Philippians 4:8 reminds me "Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things." That command makes a difference. I want to be that for my kids and my husband and for myself. I pray God will help me! I'm glad heaven is my true home where there will be no more pain or tears.  

Thanks for reading this craziness. Thanks for praying, supporting, loving.  Tell your loved ones you love them and seize the day.  You only get it once.

And get your checkups - colonoscopy and mammogram and whatever else there is. Live well.  Love God.  Do good.  See beauty in the every day.

Flowers from a friend

  

Covid and Cancer

My home. I'm home still and still not at home.

We’ll be in the States for an undetermined time.  Covid19 is making returning to Cameroon unpredictable. Flights are just starting to go back and forth in the last few days.  But Wycliffe isn't ready to send anyone back to where there are limited medical facilities yet, even though we still have people there.

But now there’s Cancer. My cancer.  I have stage three colon cancer.  And like Covid 19, I keep thinking all of this is a bad dream and I'll wake up sometime.
But it's real.

Here’s the timeline so far:

May 28 I had my, ‘I just turned 50’ colonoscopy. It was originally scheduled for March 31 but was postponed due to Covid.  I had no symptoms. But Dr Musana found a large tumor.

May 29 I met the surgeon, Dr. Beverly.  He’s going to do a right Hemicolectomy.  Remove everything from the appendix up to the top of the colon and reattach the small intestines to the colon. 

June 4 CT Scan.  Cancer does not appear to have spread. They will recheck my lungs.

June 9 CT Scan. Lungs look good

            Pre-op visit   Instructions before surgery, blood draw, EKG

            CoVId19 test.   Just to check before surgery

June 15 Surgery. Dr. cut out 16 cm or so of colon and the appendix and reattached the parts. It went well.

June 18 Home. Waiting for Pathology results

June 22. Results.  Not what we wanted. Cancer in one of the 28 lymph nodes.  That makes it Stage 3 colon cancer. T3 N1a moderately differentiated.

            This changes everything.

June 30 Oncology appointment with Dr. Gorsch. He recommends 6 months of Chemo, followed by checkups every 3 months for a year, then every 6 months, then every year until 5 years post treatments.

He said this chemo doesn't usually have bad side effects and I shouldn't lose my hair. But he also prescribed 3 nausea medications, said to get immodium, and prepare a mouth rinse with water, salt and baking soda for mouth sores, and be prepared for extreme sensitivity to cold.

July 10 A port installed under my collarbone just under the skin that connects a tube into my upper vena cava for easy connection for chemo, blood draw, IVs etc. 

It hurts to move my neck when I get home. The incisions hurt. Why didn't anyone tell me how much this would hurt?

So what does all of this mean for me right now?

My theme in all of this is to choose joy.  That does not mean I feel joyful every moment, but I am trying to find beautiful and funny things every day.  To have joy and enjoy something in each day. I know that I am in the palm of His hand.  I am covered in prayer and so is my family.  I am not alone.  

I’m still recovering from the surgery.  I’m not able to be very active for very long but every day I can do more.  I get tired really quickly.  I can’t sit for very long, folded up. My belly is just uncomfortable after sitting.  I haven’t left the house very much and I haven’t cared. And if you know me, that’s just weird. 

But I am getting stronger every day. I'm beginning to want to go and do.  Getting the port slowed me down to a halt. But I'm getting better again.

So what does all this say about my home? I am thankful my true home is in heaven and though I've never been, I've read about it and believe it will be better than I can imagine.  If I die, rather when I die, it will be my forever home. 

So what am I afraid of? Mostly I'm afraid of how my family will be effected by all of this.  I'm afraid of being really sick too. Pray for my family! Pray that I can be light and salt where ever I am.

Our friends and family and the church have been fantastic to us.  We've had meals, cards, gift certificates, phone calls and emails, and most importantly prayers.  I've felt surrounded by a sea of prayers and love by so many.  I've felt peace and joy that passes understanding as a gift from God.

But I've also felt pain, fear, loneliness, and abundant sadness. And that's okay.  It's okay to feel.

How do people do this without Jesus?  How do they make it through each hard thing, every uncertainty, not knowing God is there and he loves us?


For God so loved the world that he gave-
For me. For you.

I believe.  I don't know what chemo will do to me. Hopefully it will kill any stray cancer cells and leave the rest of me alone. Regardless of what it does, I know He loves me. I am surrounded by an army of witnesses of His love. I am, have been, and will be surrounded by loving family and friends and even by the kindness of strangers, but most importantly, by His Spirit. 

Thanks for reading and praying for me, for my family, and for Cameroon.


Here's what it looked like the first 2 weeks of June, trying to get in as much exercise, family time, and fun things before surgery.  

 And some not as fun:

Getting ready-

An EKG

Hospital 'food'

The oncologist 

 But still some nice things:

My chef preparing breakfast

My first outing - returning books at the library

a few weeks later, strong enough to go to the mall

4th of July with friends including this stranded fellow missionary to Cameroon on his birthday

 Getting the Port

One of these is now just under my collar bone.
The tube goes into a vein and then to the upper vena cava

The port means no more of these for a long time

CoVid19 Home

It’s been almost a year since I wrote about transitioning back to the US!  The first half of the year was crazy busy getting settled, visiting family, friends, and churches. I was also working with Wycliffe to recruit teachers to work overseas with Wycliffe in schools for missionary kids. Chris is almost finished with a Master’s Degree in World Arts.  Noah started his freshman year at Liberty University and Kristin and Ben attended Jefferson Forest High School.  I still volunteered at their school in the library and attended women’s Bible study. 

Graduation from RFIS

At the top of the tower at Liberty University

Working with Chrissy at the library

Grand Canyon University 

But like all of you we are staying mostly at ‘home’ right now, leaving for exercise, food, and medical appointments. 

Last week our family started a video blog (vlog). And although I don’t usually connect work stuff with this blog, I’m going to make an exception!

We are all well and trying to figure out how to not drive each other crazy in the tiny apartment space that is our home for the year.  I have to get out and get some exercise and sunlight everyday.  Chris and I often take walks (sometimes playing Pokémon-go) and I also go to the grocery or play tennis with Ben. 

My Bible study is now through zoom.
Ben made the Tennis team yay! But everything was cancelled just after the first match. 

Kristin takes Ballet and Modern dance, now online through zoom. 

The kids are all taking their classes online.

Yes to the dress for the recital, but it's cancelled

It is a strange, strange world we live in right now. I’m often feeling fine.  BUT, I have felt more anxious, unsure, unsteady, out of sorts, and just off, quite a bit.  When I take my eyes off the Lord and put them onto problems and uncertainties, it is worse.  I know God knew about this crazy virus before the beginning of time.  I know He’s got this, and you and me, just as he always has. I know that worrying doesn’t add a hair to my head nor make things change, but prayer and meditation on God’s word bring peace.

I miss my family and I’m not allowed to go visit.  I miss my friends overseas and here in town! I’m feeling lonely sometimes.  But this is not my home. It is just a place to stay for now.

Spring has brought beauty in the every day.  I’ve missed the great variety of spring colors, just like I’ve missed snow (maybe next time we are in the States it will snow?).

I feel like this is a very wondering post, but, that’s another sign of the times. 

You can see pictures of this year if you look for the hashtag #ayearinlynchburg on Instagram or Facebook.

Thanks for reading.  Thanks for praying as our family hopes to return to Cameroon in July. That home is calling.

*Pray for Cameroon – the virus is just getting started there with 650 cases so far (April 6), meanwhile the North West and South West regions are still experiencing unrest. Pray for revival and safety.

Selling all Cameroon items on the streets of Yaoundé

Treasures from a recent outing to a State Park
These are Fairy Stones!

Ben I trying to catch up to his brother in height

Transitions....

It’s time to transition again. We leave this home in a month.  I’ve loved this space. Great living room for parties.  Awesome kitchen and stove/oven.  Nice breezes and good views from the balconies.  Fantastic.  But also, sometimes isolating.  Just 2 blocks from the missionary compound.  But that means not that many women just to hang out with.  It means being stuck at home after dark or when Chris travels because we only have one car and because I’m afraid to drive here.  Not just because of the stick shift on hills, no, it’s the motorcycles weaving in and out and the pedestrians unaware of you on the road. It’s small children walking to school and taxis overflowing with goods navigating the merging, meandering, me-first, traffic.  My sweet Chris doesn’t understand my startle reflex that is SO strong.  But he did tell me that if I ever drive here, I couldn’t close my eyes! 

So, I’m looking forward to driving in a place where I understand the rules, and I’m good at it.  I’m looking forward to the freedom of buying butter and chocolate chips any time of the night or day. And to eating cereal for breakfast that I didn’t have to make.  I’m yearning for fresh milk and blueberries.

And at the same time, I’ll be missing mangoes, and avocados, and pineapples and papayas and the close knit missionary community where everyone knows everyone and you just do life together.  Sometimes awesome and sometimes hard, the people here are wonderful and my friends are extraordinary people.  But they move away or go on furlough or leave the field, and sometimes the suffer breakdowns, or just cry and are so raw and real but other times they are so distant and guarded, quiet and perhaps homesick. It is so hot sometimes, well, actually almost all the time it’s hot and I sweat SO much. And every once in a long while, I want a blanket at night. The birds are fantastic!  But there are no cardinals here, nor robins.  We have passion fruit, but no strawberries. There is always a trying to BE where I am, enjoying and appreciating it, but also there is the longing for what I am missing.

One month from leaving. I’m finishing up my jobs at the library; packing up the house into trunks and plastic tubs; trying to find special moments with special people.  It’s all come too fast and not fast enough. 

That’s it: transitions are goodbyes to the bad and hellos to the good and goodbyes to the wonderful and hellos to the worst.  It’s leaving wonderful people to be with wonderful people and your heart is torn between the places and people and things. And I am longing for heaven so we can know no goodbyes again!

And in all this God has answered so many prayers.  There is an opening in the apartments just next to the high school.  A good friend has donated money to help buy a car. Noah has a scholarship to Liberty University that will pay his tuition all four years if he keeps a B average and we continue to be missionaries.  Wow! God is gracious and good. But even if he didn't choose to do those things, He is still good.

And so as my life begins to spiral in the last 30 days before we say goodbye for now, my hope and belonging and peace come from the One who never changes, who is always good, who loves me, and who promises to never leave me. 

Archery at RFIS carnival. My son is a good teacher!

Party for Kristin's small group Bible study 

Our annual conference and celebrating 50 years in Cameroon!

Some Scripture produced in Cameroonian languages

A green mamba killed outside the MK elementary school (the Greenhouse School)

Dolls for sale

How do you buy your shoes?  Pairs separated to make the harder to steal?

Roadside market

Prayer before soccer tournament awards

The winning team!

Thank yous for the team from the US/JAARS who served the kids during our annual conferences

Book displays from the library at RFIS

Duck mouse 

Easter:

Play prep-

Before

and after the beard - ready for the play!

My actors

Waiting - early to get good seats.

The play, 'Hope and Heartache Diner' was a success

Spent $3 to see the new Marvel movie with friends and the kids in a hot theater at the French Institute. 

Ben found this rhinoceros beetle.

Driving lessons

Welcome!

The best skies in the city are during the rainy season

How do you peel an orange?

Velvet Ashes Retreat at Mbalmayo.  SO good to be out of the city and enjoy nature!

Thanks for praying for me and for our family as we transition back to the USA for a year while Noah begins college, and Chris finishes another degree.  I’ll be mom, homemaker, and also actively recruiting for teachers, librarians, and a principal for our missions schools.  There are HUGE needs for teachers – math, science, English, languages, ELL/ESL, support services, history, PreK, K, 1-2, middle school, art, pe, music… We need experienced, Christian teachers willing to raise support to serve missionary kids. That’s right, no pay, in fact you pay for the van ride to school, for housing, food, immunizations, visa, and flights.  Chris will be recruiting for Ethno Arts.  So many opportunities to serve here!

We are also in process of renting an apartment, we still need a car we can take traveling long distances, and this will be the first time I've ever lived in VA with no family in town.  Thanks for praying!