Five Weeks of Treatment Down

GRACE WRITES:

Prior to Andrew's radiation and chemo treatments, he had a full body PET scan. Despite Dr. Yueh expecting the cancer to have spread, we are so grateful that cancer did not show up in any other parts of Andrew's body. As I read each page of the PET scan report, my heart felt full, overflowing with worship and praise towards God, who so clearly is the One who holds all things in His hands.

As you have probably gathered, Andrew decided he wanted to go through with radiation and chemo, despite the misery and toxicity it would cause him. He would have to do radiation for six weeks and chemo - Cetuximab (also called Erbitux) and Taxotere. The radiation is from Monday through Friday and takes about a half hour. It is increasingly like having a horrendous sunburn that blisters and bleeds constantly. Chemo takes a few hours through IV, every Monday.

Week 1 of Treatment
The first week we went back and forth whether it was worth it to continue. We wanted to speak with our radiation doctor, but she had been on vacation for the past few weeks. Another radiation doctor met with us and showed us a study that, according to her, showed that some people who did a second course of radiation with oral cancer managed to survive after 5 years (5 years of survival is considered cure). However, it was only 9% who were still living. Andrew wanted to know if 9% would have still been living if they had done nothing anyway. Obviously they had no studies to give us on that. We felt really reluctant that the benefits of this treatment were really worth the misery Andrew was going to have to undergo. Nonetheless, our resident, Dr. McAfee, convinced us to wait until our doctor, Dr. Lee, returned from her vacation in Italy.

Week 2 of Treatment
On Thursday, Dr. Lee met with us. She said that according to her experience, based on the way in which the cancer had travelled down Andrew's throat coupled with the new information that there was no evidence that the cancer had spread anywhere else in Andrew's body, she believed that the cancer returned so quickly (quick means within a year of last year's treatment) not because the cancer was so aggressive or because Andrew is radiation-resistant, but because there was probably still tumor left behind after Andrew's first surgery last year in Seattle. Andrew had not had a PET scan after surgery last year, because they try to minimize PET scans to every 6 months and Andrew had just had one prior to surgery. Plus, a PET scan usually only picks up tumors larger than a centimeter, so our Seattle doctor last year had assumed it wouldn't pick up anything anyway.

If there was still tumor left behind in 2007, radiation and chemo couldn't have gotten get rid of an actual tumor in this region of the body. It can only get rid of microscopic cancer, which they know to be the case this year.

In English, this means that if it is true that our Seattle doctor had unsuccessfully removed the tumor last year, Andrew's prognosis is not as hopeless. This means that the cancer is not as aggressive as initially thought and not radiation-resistant. Andrew has a 60% chance of getting local control over the cancer. Of course, there is no way to verify if this is the case.

The reason Dr. Lee's hypothesis doesn't sound crazy or unlikely to us is because Andrew had said the very same thing to me a few months ago. He had said, "Grace, I just have this feeling that the doctor super screwed up last year. I've always had this feeling that there was still a tumor at the base of my tongue." Nobody had considered this before because our doctor was supposed to be one of the top 3 surgeons for this in the world. But when I had recently described to Dr. Yueh how the 2007 Seattle surgery involved cutting the tumor out, then another cut, and then a third cut to get a clean margin of no cancerous cells, he blurted, "Then I would say that was a really bad surgery." Then he caught himself and said, "But every surgeon has a bad surgery like that, even the best."

Dr. Lee explained to us that the reason you have to get a clean margin around a tumor the first cut, especially in the tongue, is because the natural reflex of a muscle when it is cut is to immediately retract. Thus, if there was still cancerous tumor left in the tongue, the muscle fibers can retract so deeply into the tongue that the doctor would have had to cut much much more than he should have had he gotten it out the first cut, and then there was no telling how much to cut. It's such a difficult judgment call in the mouth, because even millimeters are high real estate, so the doctor is trying to balance doing as little damage as possible with making sure to get a clean cut around the tumor.

If it is true that the 2007 surgery in Seattle was a complete blunder, we do not feel angry towards our doctor. We know that the Lord had the surgeon's hands in His own Hands that day. It only proves that we can't place our hope in doctors, no matter how great he may be, but God alone. The life of a man is in God's hands, and nothing can thwart His sovereign will. Nothing can mess up where one molecule should be for one millisecond in all of God's creation.

Dr. Lee said that we need to get local control of the cancer, because you don't want to die of oral cancer. It's very awful. Aside from not being able to swallow or talk, it can make breathing very difficult. She said even if it spreads somewhere else, you don't want it to be oral cancer that kills you. Andrew said, "So it would be better to die of liver cancer than oral cancer?"

"Yes," she said. But then she explained that we should not worry that only 9% were living after five years, because they might have died due to cancer in other parts of their body. And those people are usually much older and in general bad health. If we get local control, she said, and there's no evidence that the cancer has spread, then maybe it won't spread somewhere else and we can cure you."

So Dr. Lee had convinced us to stick with radiation. She told us we were thinking too much. She said Andrew should just watch funny cartoons with our kids, as studies show a positive attitude tends to increase the rate of success for the treatments and that we should continue giving him good nutrition, as studies also support its effectiveness. I said what we needed was a trip to Italy.

They also pointed out the acne breaking out on Andrew's face was a sign that the Erbitux was working.

The Thursday we decided to fully commit to these treatments was two days after my end of the rope day that I wrote about. I told Andrew I felt like I really needed a vacation. So I asked him if we could go away over the weekend. He said he didn't want to go far and for only one night, otherwise it's more work than restful. So we went to the newly renovated Hyatt Place in Eden Prairie, the town we live in. We left our house on Friday afternoon with Andrew saying he was feeling well. But when we arrived at Costco to look for a funny DVD series to buy with a gift card some people sent us, Andrew said, "I suddenly feel so tired," just before we left the car. I told him I could go in by myself. He said he really wanted to choose, too, though. So he walked with me into Costco and we sat him down in one of their wheel chairs.

Now, before Andrew had his stomach tube inserted, he used to have a feeding tube that went in through his nose. There was this one day between doctor consultations that we walked down the street outside of the hospital at the University of Minnesota. When Andrew wasn't injecting food into his nose tube, he would wrap it over the top of his ear, and tape it there, like the nurse had taught him, so it hung from his nose to his ear, and wasn't falling down out of his nose to eventually pull out. All the college students kept turning their head to stare at him. Andrew also had a grey hood on on a sunny day, trying to keep shaded, because otherwise the sun prevents a healing scar from disappearing. He was bowing his head forward, because his neck muscles were tight from always having to sleep sitting up in the hospital so that his incisions could heal.

Not one person who passed us pretended not to stare. Neither of us really cared. I actually found it really interesting and began watching them. When I tired of flipping my head as I watched each of them pass, I turned my head towards the windows of the shops. There, I saw the reflection of their turning heads, and past that, the turning, staring heads of the people sitting at the tables next to the window inside the restaurants. I thought Andrew looked practically normal, especially compared to how he looked in the hospital. I laughed. "We should put a chain next to your nose tube and hang earings off of it. Then they'll think it's on purpose."

But as I pushed Andrew in his wheelchair in Costco, even though no one was turning their heads - I guess they knew better than to stare at a person in a wheel chair - I felt bothered. I thought, This isn't cool. "I am going to do everything I possibly can to keep you from ever getting to the point where you will truly need this," I thought out loud.

"I don't want to talk about that right now," Andrew said.

"Oh sorry."

When we arrived at the lobby of the Hyatt, the style was very contemporary, which we love, and it was different than your typical hotel. The check-in counter is in the middle of the room and is shaped like a crescent. On the other side of the desk is a Starbucks coffee bar. So the person who checks you in can also serve you drinks and food. The rest of the lobby has tables, chairs, and couches set up like a giant coffee shop that people like to hang out at.

Upstairs, our room had it's own living room. We vegged on the couch and put in the first season of Saturday Night Live from the 1970s that we had purchased. Within a half-hour of watching that, Andrew fell asleep. He was passed out through all Saturday Night Live plus all of the movie we rented. He slept through all my trips out of the room, including when I went back home to spend a few minutes with my mom before she returned to New Jersey the next morning. He slept through me going down to breakfast the next day. I packed our things up and Andrew finally began to revive. "Wow, I really like this place," Andrew said. "We should come here every week."

Even though Andrew probably only saw the Hyatt when he blinked a couple of times, I think the change of scenery did us both a ton of good. Andrew doesn't get out much. Getting out of the house is going to the hospital for treatment. If he starts to feel better, we go to the park near our house. We're the type that like to go out a lot and in the past that was often to restaurants. Now, restaurants with all its yummy smells of food and crowds of people enjoying chewing what's in their perfect mouths is a place of torture for Andrew. Most of the time in our house, he spends sleeping or dozing in our bedroom. He doesn't like to rest in the living room, because he doesn't like to be in the center of things or the noise of the children. Imagine spending hundreds, more than a thousand, of hours only in your bedroom. It would become the stale cancer bedroom.

"Going to a hotel will give us something to look forward to each week," Andrew said.

I felt so relaxed after vegging at the Hyatt, sleeping in, and not having to wake up with anything to do.

Since the Hyatt is in Eden Prairie, it was so cheap, half of what it would cost 20 minutes away in Minneapolis. Plus, if you sign up for their Rewards, you get your third visit free. That means between the two of us, we get two free visits.

Since Andrew was passed out all of Friday and Saturday, I assumed it was because of the chemo. I thought, How can it be this bad after only two weeks? Andrew didn't sleep this much until the last dose of chemo last year. How will we manage if it's only going to get worse than this? How can it possibly get worse? But the next morning, Sunday, when Andrew woke up, he said, "I'm feeling better now. Let's go to church."

He later explained to me that it wasn't because of the chemo that he was so tired. It was because he was fighting off a cold. So by Monday, he was healed and okay to do chemo again. This is a huge praise that he healed so quickly, because usually doctors are afraid with a compromised immune system that it will turn into pneumonia. Last year, when Andrew got a cold, chemo was postponed a week. Instead, this year, Andrew recovered more quickly than a normal person without cancer.

Each week we go to the Hyatt Place, I feel a little more rehabilitated after the stress of Andrew's surgery and the subsequent weeks. But with each week that I feel more and more human, Andrew feels less and less human. While he gets more miserable, I must feel better, lest I end up collapsing on the bed beside him and he starts asking me how he can help me.

Week 3 of Treatment
This week was a week from heaven for me. We no longer had to consult with doctors about decisions, so now my mother-in-law was taking Andrew to radiation, so I could be with the kids. It had been two months that I had been away from them most of every day between being at the hospital and all our doctor consultations.

I was home with the kids now and the sun was calling us outside. And I can never resist its call. The leaves had finally blossomed on the trees and the path to the park had become woods that could have been miles thick, it was so full. The trail leads to a pond and we watched a family of 6 turtles sunning on a log. When we took a step off the path onto the grass, each of the turtles plopped into the water, except for the two largest ones. I said they were the grandma and grandpa and knew better that People never go into the pond and won't hurt them. The turtles kept clicking and clicking. We said it was the little ones saying, "Come on Grandma! Come on Grandpa! Before the People get you." But as we passed, Grandma and Grandpa Turtle said, "You see. I told you. We've been here years. We know. The People won't bother us. Plus my limbs are aching too much to keep jumping in and out of the water."

Now that the grass was growing and everything was flowering, often we never made it past the pond and the trail that leads to the playground, because we got too caught up picking dandelions and watching the different birds that we had never seen in the previous states we had lived in. There was a small black bird with fire engine, red shoulders. There were birds that were so little and moved so quickly on the ground, I almost wondered if I was seeing baby chipmunks. And then it flew off. We even saw a big...well, I don't know what it was...it was brown and big like a porcupine but without the sharp pines, and it hung off a tree with it's tail trying to get at something.

Week 4 of Treatment
Each week is a rollercoaster. The first two weeks, Andrew was pretty miserable. Then, by the third week, it was as if his body got used to the chemo and tolerated it better. The pattern became that he was administered chemo on Monday, it kicked in Tuesday night, he slept constantly from then until Friday. Then Friday or Saturday morning, he'd suddenly arrive in the kitchen, feed himself, and say, "I'm feeling better. I think I'll get some exercise and go for a bike ride." I stand there gaping and praising God, surprised that each week a day like that still arrives.

It has continued like this with each week getting worse, the length of his bad days increasing, and his good days being less energetic than the previous week. On the bad days, I continually go back and forth between Andrew and the kids. I often have to drop the kids mid-sentence on grandma if Andrew suddenly needs me.

During the kids' naps, when I normally might get a little break and catch up on other things, instead it's my opportunity to return again to Andrew. There was one day last week where from the moment we woke up until 11:30 at night, I literally did not have one second by myself. When I was putting the kids to bed, I was like, "A.J., I don't know, you'll have to figure out how to get your sleeper on yourself. I'm just so exhausted." After I finally put the kids to bed, I went to my room to collapse on my own bed early. But then I realized, it was time to feed Andrew again. I must say, though, that God's grace has been sufficent. The Lord provided a second wind. When I finished injecting his anti-nausea drugs and then afterwards his meal, I then sat with him the next 45 minutes as he vomitted his anti-nausea meds and food.

Week 5 of Treatment
Andrew had began throwing up a few times on his worst days around week 4. In Week 5 the throwing up increased, despite that he is on three anti-nausea drugs now, while he had started out only on one, Zofran. His saliva from day one has gotten thicker and thicker and more viscous, so that he is constantly spitting, unable to swallow his own saliva. And now the spit is bloody from all the burns the radiation is causing in his mouth.

He often wakes up throughout the night, and I often wake up with him. Many nights this week one or the other of us has been unable to return to sleep for a few hours.

On Monday, before the chemotherapy misery had kicked in again and I was walking with Andrew and the kids, a neighbor down the street introduced herself to me. She said, "I always see lots of cars outside your house."

Andrew was standing beside me. Man, all of you who know him, if you saw him now, would think he looks awful. Last year cancer was a trip to the park compared to this year. He's boney, has acne, his neck still tight so that his head bows and his shoulders raised, his face redish tan, and he's always hacking spit into paper cups he carries around with him.

I wonder if he looks older. When Andrew first changed out of his hospital gown into a t-shirt at the end of his hospital stay in April, the nurse said, "There you go. Takes 10 years off just by changing your clothes." It didn't occur to me that it was possible for him to look outside of his twenties.

I wonder what he looks like to strangers who have no memory of how handsome he is, and if he just looks like a tan, skinny guy with bad posture. They are probably confused, and wonder if that's a tired, in-pain look that might be evidence that something is strange. I replied to our neighbor, "My husband is going through cancer treatments right now. So people from our church are always coming over to help us out."

For one thing, every Tuesday evening our living room fills with people who come to pray for Andrew. And then there's the team of four who clean our house every other week. And then there are the times our small group met at our house so that we didn't have to go to them. Also, every Monday night people from Motorola visit Andrew. They all live in Eden Prairie, because up until last summer their office had been located in town. Andrew hadn't even transferred from the Seattle project yet (he had been working on it remotely from here) to the Minnesota group, so he had hardly spent time with them before this happened, yet they are still so kind to care. Andrew loves that they visit him. So there's probably one to three times a week it looks like we're having a party at our house.

Plus, they must wonder why the Grout Doctor van always shows up whenever our lawn is being mowed (Allen mows our lawn and he's the Grout Doctor). And if Andrew doesn't feel well enough to make it to prayer meeting at church on Wednesday nights, guys come to our house to pray with him. And then there are people that sign up for his visitation slots to encourage him.

I am really grateful for all the people that visit Andrew and try to encourage him. Splitting my brain between caring for Andrew and taking care of two toddlers who were starved of my attention for two months and still are starved of their father, I usually don't even know how to encourage Andrew. When Andrew says to me, "Grace, I don't know if I'm going to make it through these treatments," for once, I am at a loss for words. I don't feel like I'm outside the situation, seeing everything so clearly and knowing what to do. I'm right there next to him, perplexed.

Andrew says that every word he says is a sacrifice, so I try not to ask too many questions. His voice is hoarse and he can't speak very loudly. The doctors had said, though, that this should be temporary and vocal chords usually do well recovering from radiation. I suppose it's not just his vocal chords but the burns in his mouth that make it diffcult to talk. On our Tuesday prayer nights, I get my detailed update along with everyone else. He makes a special effort that night. Andrew usually only says things to me if he needs something or he feels something strongly. For the latter, this means it is usually one of two things that he says: "Grace, I don't know how I'm going to make it through this," or "I'm feeling good today. I'm going to get some exercise and go for a bike ride."

People ask me what it means that he feels sick. I say, "I'm not really sure." I know it means he's amazingly tired and nauseated. I don't know if it's more complicated.

The distress he feels in his heart is a mystery to me. This is what is hardest for me. And now that it's been months since I've had a real conversation with my husband, one that he contributes to, this feeling has sneaked up on me. Have I always felt like Andrew is a complete mystery to me, the deepest part of who he is untouchable, so far from me as if in a black abyss? I have always wanted to know what it's like behind Andrew's eyes, but I am not even a man and never will be. Do colors look brighter or paler behind his eyes? Does the wind feel colder or sharper against his skin than against mine? I will never stand behind his eyes, but I will always wish I could.

What is God teaching him? Will he even remember what his thoughts were when he has energy and voice enough to express them? Sometimes I look at him and I think I see the faint glimmers of angelicness flickering from one side of his face and body like an old T.V. who's reception fuzzes then sharpens then fuzzes again. Is God completely transforming him into a different, heavenly creature without me even knowing? Will he still be able to relate to an earthly creature like me once this is over? I think, I can't lose my husband, because he's still a mystery to me. I mentioned this to Andrew. He squeezed my hand silently. I felt so loved by him. And that made me happy.

We have just completed the fifth week. We had thought the treatments were only 6 weeks long, but it's actually an additional half week. So instead of finishing this Friday, the 13th, he'll be finishing Thursday, the 19th. A total of 33 radiation treatments and 7 chemo treatments. Then the effects are supposed to get worse for two weeks after the treatments end.

Still Surprises

Despite all the misery Andrew is enduring, there are still surprising praises. He still can swallow food when it looks so appetizing that he can't resist. The other day he swallowed a spoonful of pasta. Today he had a spoonful of brown rice. He says it's not really eating, since he uses a lot of water flushes and lets it slide down his throat by tilting his head up, but I tell him that no one expected him to be able to consume anything through his mouth, especially this late into his treatments.

And up until a week ago, he was able to taste. The radiation is supposed to only temporarily destroy your ability to taste.

Andrew also drinks one cup of ice water with a hint of apple juice every day. He coughs, gags, and spits some of it out, but most of it eventually makes it down.

Dr. Yueh had told us that Andrew would completely lose his ability to swallow from the radiation. If Andrew is able to do this much with only nine of 33 treatments left, I feel that his speech therapy exercises that by God's grace he still does each day will only cause him to improve once this is all over. Besides, most of the people the doctors observe are three times Andrew's age. I imagine he'll have have a lot more energy, determination, and time to rehabilitate.

Also, they take Andrew's blood every week right before they administer the chemo. His blood counts, vitamins, etc. are doing really well. The few things that are a little low, is usually only by a point or two. When they handed me his most recent tests, I thought, How could he be doing so well? As I silently continued to process, suddenly, my heart gushed with exultation. My thoughts broke out into worship and praise to God for His grace on Andrew's body.

Prayer Requests
We continue to be so grateful for all your prayers, encouragement, and help.

Please continue to bring before the Lord our PLEES:

PRESERVE Andrew from the ill effects of these treatments as well as heal Andrew completely. That he would be healthier and better than even before cancer.

LEARN from these trials what the Lord wants all of us to learn from them.

Encouragement and the

Endurance to complete these treatments.

Strength for me to be able to take care of, help, and encourage Andrew, as well as be a mom to the kids. I love them so much.

Would You Like to Encourage Andrew?

Hi everyone, you guys have been such an encouragement to us. We are so grateful that you care enough to read our blogs. While many of you express wishing you could do something but don't know what you could do, please know that even saying that is a blessing to us. So even if you think you're not doing anything, I think your expressions of love and concern either through emails, comments, cards, verbally encouraging us through your words or physically helping us, each contribute to Andrew's health. Studies have actually shown that a positive attitude makes a big difference in one's ability to survive cancer. Your expressions of love and concern often protect or help fish Andrew out of dark feelings, and thus are helping Andrew in his fight against cancer.

I would really like to encourage Andrew, as sometimes he feels so low in the thick of these treatments right now. I know that he loves to find out who is reading our blogs as well as read about memories (as do I) with people. We keep hearing about people who are reading our blogs, but who have not left a comment. So here is another request for comments:

Please leave your:
* First and last name (or at least initial)
* What state you live in
* How you found our blog

* a memory with us (if applicable)

- Please leave a comment if you have no relation at all to us and have never met us before. We love to hear when random people are reading are blogs, especially if it's in a different state or country.

- we are particularly wondering why few pre-college people have left a comment, so if you knew us in high school or as kids or are related to us in any way at all (mom, you do still read this, right?), please leave a comment and memory! Andrew will love this. And me too.

- please leave a comment if you are only acquainted with us

- please leave a comment if you are shy person

- please leave a comment if you never have before

- please leave a comment if you already have left a comment but just feel like writing about memories

- have I left anyone out? If I have, please leave a comment

We check our comments entirely too much throughout the day.

A Legitimate Son

ANDREW WRITES:

I've had 3 weeks of radiation and 4 weeks of chemo. The first week of radiation was not terrible, but after that things went downhill quickly. I really look forward to the weekends because I have no doctors appointments, no radiation, and my chemotherapy usually wears off by Saturday so I can enjoy a quick break before I poison myself again the following Monday morning.

The chemo side effects surprisingly are not as bad as last year, but it just makes me much more tired. The radiation, on the other hand is much much worse than last year. The blistering and soreness and discomfort of my mouth and throat after the last 3 weeks of treatments is already worse than the worst I ever experienced last year. My muscles have really tightened up and it is just so difficult to do exercises when each movement causes pain and bleeding. My voice is raspy and my mouth cannot articulate clear speech anymore. Please pray for endurance for me and that I would not let my mind dwell on the future pain and suffering, but that I would stay focused on making it through today. Please also pray for relief from the pain, and that my speech would return in the future. The pain medications work to a certain degree, but there is only so much you can take.

On the bright side I've been able to maintain some of my swallowing abilities that I got back before radiation started. As you know, I was able to get a few bites of food down with lots of water flushes before radiation. Now, I can't get food down, but I can still drink some water! I practice swallowing a few times a day with an ice cold glass of water mixed with a few table spoons of apple juice (too much juice burns my mouth from the acid). Although I cough and gag quite a bit, the water is so satisfying to my burning mouth and throat and my hungry stomach.

Anyhow, praise God for ice cold water, and that the effects of chemo have not been as bad last week. Other than being extremely tired, I felt pretty good. I think I only threw up once.

So, physically I'm having a hard time, but spiritually I'm feeling more encouraged this week. I have made some breakthroughs in my understanding of trails and God's character this week after meditating on the scriptures and listening to our worship pastor, David Ward's, sermon yesterday. David's sermon reminded me of the difference between God's punitive discipline verses his formative discipline (click here to download). Sometimes I think of trials as being punitive discipline as if I'm being punished for what I've done in the past. We often think of discipline that way, even with our kids. The thing is, God's discipline is not that way towards me as a christian. If I was actually getting what I deserved, it would be much worse than cancer, in fact infinitely worse than the worst pain imaginable. God's punitive discipline would be the full force of His wrath against me as a punishment for my sins.

Instead, God's discipline is formative, meaning it is meant to shape me or train me (and others) to be more complete. This is an act of love, not punishment. Praise God for His Son Jesus, who took that punitive discipline to the cross in my place! As a result of Christ's work, I am a legitimate son of the living God and instead of being punished I am being trained in holiness and virtue through my trails. This is reason to rejoice in our sufferings!

Heb 12:5-11
MY SON, DO NOT REGARD LIGHTLY THE DISCIPLINE OF THE LORD,
NOR FAINT WHEN YOU ARE REPROVED BY HIM;
FOR THOSE WHOM THE LORD LOVES HE DISCIPLINES,
AND HE SCOURGES EVERY SON WHOM HE RECEIVES."
It is for discipline that you endure; God deals with you as with sons; for what son is there whom his father does not discipline?
But if you are without discipline, of which all have become partakers, then you are illegitimate children and not sons.
Furthermore, we had earthly fathers to discipline us, and we respected them; shall we not much rather be subject to the Father of spirits, and live?
For they disciplined us for a short time as seemed best to them, but He disciplines us for our good, so that we may share His holiness.
All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness.

Isaac Romeo!

Praise God that little Isaac Romeo Glenn was born tonight! He is just under 2 lbs. My sister was able to deliver the baby normally without a C-section. Mom and baby seem to be doing well. Please pray for continued health for the both of them, especially Isaac, who will be in the hospital until he is 34 weeks old, which is eight weeks from now.

Update on Prayer for My Sister

Gayle is still experiencing labor and the doctors have said that she will have the baby today. My sister typically has ridiculously short labors like me, but since the baby is so premature, they said she would probably have a long labor.

Gayle has been having contractions every 4 minutes since 6:00 am but her cervix is not dilating. The doctors have said that if it does not dilate by 5pm then she will have to take the baby out by performing a c-section. Please pray that Gayle's cervix will dilate so that she can have the baby vaginally.

Pray that she and Bob would really have God's peace and comfort through this day.

MY SISTER NEEDS PRAYER!

Gayle went into labor around 8am this morning. Please pray for the Lord to stop the labor and keep their baby in the womb for at least two more weeks or if His plan is to allow the baby to come today that there would be no complications and that neither he/she nor Gayle would be in any danger. Also pray that God would give Bob and Gayle faith to trust Him in this trial.

Please Pray for My Sister

GRACE WRITES:

On Saturday night in the late evening I went to my sister's, because my cousin, Amanda, was visiting from Wisconsin. The next morning at church I found out that right after I left, my sister's water broke. She is 25 weeks pregnant. She has 15 weeks until she is full-term.

Gayle is in the hospital right now in Minneapolis. Both she and baby are stable and she and her family are in good spirits. This will be their fourth child and the one everyone has been praying for for the past seven years. Gayle has always gone early with her children, but not this early. She was at very high risk for this happening but they said they would monitor her to prevent this from happening. The last time they had checked her, she had looked fine.

Right now they have her on anti-labor drugs, and they don't want her to deliver at least until 28 weeks. So Gayle could go into labor anytime between now or who knows how long. Either way the baby has to stay in the hospital until 34 weeks, nine weeks from now. Please pray that Gayle and the baby would continue to be healthy.

As you can imagine, I was really worried about my sister when I first heard about this. But I was able to go with her family to see her after church. Even though they were telling me she was fine and doing well, I knew I wouldn't believe it until I saw her myself. But she was smiling and sweet and happy. She said today that she's not even bored. She enjoyed sleeping in, has always loved hospital food and their big breakfasts, and when people aren't visiting, she gets to read.

She will be taken off the anti-labor drugs at 4:00 am Wednesday; pray that she won’t go into labor.

What's at the End of the Rope

GRACE WRITES:

Sometimes I feel like Frodo in the Lord of the Rings. Andrew is the ring, only rather than being evil, he is simply, "the Precious." And rather than deliver the ring to the Chambers of Fire, our pursuit is Andrew's health. Oh, the journey persists on and on, discouragement, exhaustion, feelings of wanting to give up, and the ever black cancer always pursuing us. Like Frodo, we have a team of warriors to help us safely to our goal. There are Andrew's parents, who are with us most of the time, his mom taking up residency in our house more than in her own home. There is Sam, my right-hand (wo)man, who organizes the church to meet all our needs for childcare, research help, food, any way she can think of to lighten the burden and free us up to focus on fighting the cancer, there's Bob, who accompanies us to decisive appointments and is shepherding us along with our whole church through this overwhelming quest, and there is my sister, who's doorstep I sometimes slump onto late at night, weak, having lost my appetite for all food. Gayle is the beautiful Erowyn who gathers me onto her horse half-dead and brings me back to her people. She and her daughters tend to me like Cinderella's mice and feed me and feed me and feed me. She and Bob speak gentle words of life, while pouring hot tea into my cup to drink. This close team of warriors are the ones who keep carrying us towards the destination when we have no more strength to walk ourselves and are not sure we can make it to the Chambers of Restored Health.

As this trial has worn on and on and on, I keep thinking I'm at the end of my rope, but the next day arrives and off to the doctor's again. How does one get further and further at the end of a rope if there is no more rope? I wonder if any of you saw me during the day to day if you would think I was anything but a waif of a little girl who lost her way in the forest and just wants to find her way back to the familiarity of home, where a warm fire is burning and nothing ever goes wrong.

Yesterday, after a full night of sleep, I woke up still tired. It was an end of my rope morning where I was like a bubbling cauldron about to explode at any moment. Just-(grunt) need-(grunt)-to-get-alone-at-the-park - (grunt) and-have-my-grapple-with-God-time (grunt).

But I had already overslept and it was time to juice for Andrew. And then the kids were up. Since we didn't need to consult with any doctors for questions, I got to take care of the kids, while my mom took Andrew to radiation. I miss the kids so much. Many weeks of meeting with doctor after doctor trying to make informed decisions, sometimes leaving the house at 8am and not returning until after 6 in the evening, it's as if I have a full-time job that the kids did not sign up for.

If what was going on on the inside were going on outside, I imagine it would look like my hand falling off on Monday. Then by Tuesday, my arm had fallen off. Wednesday my foot fell off. Thursday my leg was gone. And by Friday my neck along with my head stayed in bed while the rest of what was left of me hobbled out and made juice for Andrew.

After Andrew and my mom returned from radiation, I said I really needed some caffeine. (I know, I know. Andrew really wants me to get off caffeine and so I go on and off it, but occasions like cancer keep coming back into my life necessitating it. Yes, it is necessary). My mom and the kids came to Caribou Coffee. There is a little table, chalk board, and a little nook with a box full of toys for kids to play at. I can't remember what it was but for some reason Gracie started throwing a fit. And she has such a loud voice she could be a professional singer. Then the two ladies at the table behind us left, of course. Now Gracie kept wanting to sit on my lap. Finally, I found an American Idol toy that sang some song and made Gracie happy. A.J. showed her how it worked. I tried to take a few deep breaths and relax a little. I spilled the scaulding coffee on my hand. "Ahhhhh!!!!" Grumble, grumble, grumble.

The cauldron in my heart was bubbling over.

I went into the bathroom to wash my hands and clean off my pants. When I finished I turned off the water and threw the paper towel out. I found myself not wanting to walk out of the bathroom. I stood in front of the sink.

"Where's mama? Where's mama?" I heard Gracie's voice crying outside the door. Suddenly the door was swinging open and Gracie was making her way in. The one time I had not locked the door.

"No!" I said.

My mom pulled her back out.

"Where's my mama?! Where's my mama!" I hear Gracie crying still outside the door.

"I think she's in there," a man's voice says. Not my mother's.

I swing the door open. My mom is standing a few feet away where she can watch both Gracie and A.J., who is still sitting at his little table. But my cover is blown, and I cannot return to the bathroom.

Later, when we were back home, I found myself escaping to the bathroom again. I had my head in the corner between the two walls. Now, only Andrew and the kids were home. The kids were banging on the door. I began to sob in a way that I had never heard myself do before. It was like an animal in the forest that a tree had fallen on and it couldn't escape to save it's life. I howled long and loud almost like singing, as if every wail were a phrase communicating in some language that I could never articulate in words.

Thus my heart was grieved,
And I was vexed in my mind.
I was so foolish and ignorant;
I was like a beast before You.
Nevertheless I am continually with You;
You hold me by my right hand.
(psalm 73:21-23)

When I finally opened the door of the bathroom, the kids, who still were waiting at the door, fell at my legs. We all went upstairs, I put on some black pants and buttoned the black cardigan I was already wearing. The four of us got in the van, pulled out into the overcast afternoon, and drove to Ann Sweet, a beloved elder's wife's memorial service. She had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer this past January.

When we turned onto the street leading to the church, it was lined with so many cars, I could hardly drive down it. I turned my face away from everyone, concealed my face with my hand, and quietly began sobbing again. Everyone loved Ann Sweet, even people like us, who hardly knew her. I dropped the children and Andrew off at the church. The three parking lots were full as well as the streets. I had to park two blocks away. She was 73 years old, but like most of the older people at church, I hardly thought of her as old. They are all so vibrant, engaging, and warm, they make you believe the 1950s was only as far away as my own college days (which I am convinced really wasn't that long ago).

I remember when we were at Bob and Gayle's the weekend before Andrew's surgery. Ann and Doug, her husband, sat at the table with us for dinner. They told us how a few days earlier, Doug's mom had taken them out to eat at Wilfire, a steakhouse. It had been raining.

"But Doug got the car and picked you guys up from the restaurant, right?" Bob asked.

"Well of course!" Ann said. "His mom is ninety-five years old and his wife is DIE-ing!"

Somehow she could make you laugh about anything, even if she herself was struggling.

When I arrived at the church, I entered through the downstairs fellowship hall. Bright pink tablecloths covered the tables with friendly, yellow flowers in clear vases. I glanced into the kitchen as I passed. As usual, a bunch of ladies were inside finishing setting up. I found myself half-expecting to see Ann Sweet among them, as she always was one of those ladies bringing food and helping some way. Even though Ann's passing felt real, she still seemed so present through all her works. She and her husband were one of the founding members forty years ago. Her fingerprints were everywhere in our church.

Upstairs, I found myself unwilling to enter the sanctuary, though I could see Andrew sitting at the back with the kids and they had saved a seat for me. Instead, I made my way into the baby cry room where they had a window into the sanctuary. I sat in a seat in the back corner where I was mostly concealed in shadow. I couldn't stop crying. I stood up, went to the bathroom in the same room, found a roll of unopened toilet paper and took it with me back to my seat. I needed a lot of tissues. I cried and cried and cried.

And yet, the memorial service ministered so much to my heart. Each one of her three sons and nine grandchildren were able to get up, talk about how they loved her so much, and made it through their speeches without being overcome with sobbing. There was such a strong sense that though they deeply mourned the loss of their beloved mother and grandmother, they were rejoicing even more that she is with her Savior.

I picture the other believers and angels in heaven saying, "Have you seen the new girl, Ann? She is just the sweetest!"

One son told of how during her last day they all were at her bedside in the hospital. They kept asking Doug if he wanted to be alone with her. They had just celebrated their fiftieth anniversary over the winter. He said, "No, no." And then in the late afternoon, all of a sudden, he said he needed to be alone with her. He had the strongest sense that angels were in the room and as if the Lord was letting him know they had come to take her now. Everyone cleared out, he shared his last moment with her, and then, she was gone.

Doug and Ann had insisted many times in the past to Bob that he absolutely must present a bold gospel message at their memorial services. He faithfully did so, despite it taking everything out of him to keep from weeping for the woman who had been as a second mom to him. Tonight, at prayer meeting an older woman at the church praised God for the message and said, "You know, pastor, I would like you to preach the same message at my memorial service." We all laughed. It made me wonder if a lot of people felt like me, that I hope my memorial service one day will be just like hers. She lived a rich and full life serving her beloved Savior.

"A good name is better than fine perfume,
and the day of death better than the day of birth.

It is better to go to a house of mourning
than to go to a house of feasting,
for death is the destiny of every man;
the living should take this to heart."
(Ecclessiastes 7:1-2)

Death makes you take life more seriously. It makes you contemplate what you want your life to have meant. It makes you want to not waste it.

I thought, well, in the end, if I want to have lived my life for Jesus, well, trials make you more like Jesus. And being more and more like Jesus is the only way to glorify Him. I felt my heart timidly, softly whispering, what it always comes back to saying, Well, okay then, Lord. I suppose I submit if my life must be one marked by trials. Living for you is the only life worth living, I suppose.

"Whom have I in heaven but You?
And there is none upon earth that I desire besides You.
My flesh and my heart fail;
But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
For indeed, those who are far from You shall perish;
You have destroyed all those who desert You for harlotry.
But it is good for me to draw near to God;
I have put my trust in the Lord GOD,
That I may declare all Your works."
(Psalm 73:25-28)

One night a couple of weeks ago, when Andrew and I were talking to Bob and Gayle at their house, I said I feel like that Judas character in the Matrix. The one who wanted to go back into the Matrix and return to life within it, even though he knew it wasn't real. Sometimes I wish it were possible to go back to life being carefree and pretending death wasn't the one thing in life that was inevitable.

But you know what this trial has done? It has stripped me of all the things I really really wanted to place my hope in other than God. I remember the Wednesday we went to the Mayo Clinic a few weeks ago, and Dr. Moore said we needed to have surgery again and basically remove Andrew's head. I nearly fainted and the nurse had to bring me to another room and lay down. When we finished our appointment, she asked me if I wanted her to get me a wheelchair. The kids and my mother-in-law were in the waiting room. I thought, Oh great what a sight that'll make. The patient Andrew, walking beside me in a wheelchair! Lot a hope that'll give his mom and the kids. "Uh, I think I just need to walk around and get some fresh air," I said.

The next day we didn't have any appointments at all and someone was already planning on taking the kids for the day. We set aside the morning simply to meet alone with God and pray for wisdom. As I drove down our street to pray at Starbucks, I began talking to God about Andrew, and burst out crying at the thought of losing him. I never made it to Starbucks. Instead, I drove around it looking for an empty parking lot to continue praying and crying in my car. I found myself at Hoolihans. Oh, I didn't know this was where it was. I didn't think I had been there in five years, since Andrew first visited me a month after we started dating. I remembered the picture Bob took in the booth of us while we were waiting for our food. We were sitting awkwardly next to each other. Bob said, "Come on! You can at least put your arm around her for the picture!" After that Andrew kept putting his arm around me every time we sat down.

It was so vivid and felt so recent, I looked at the entrance and could almost see us walking in.

Before I was married, Jesus' presence had been so real to me that this life and the next seemed only to be separated by a thin veil. I had no fear of death and the thought of seeing my Jesus face to face was so exciting to me. I never expected to live a long life and always expected it would be me in the very position Andrew is in right now.

And then beloved showed up. My beloved. The day we were married, suddenly I became so anchored to this earth. I must live and he must live for we must live for each other. My pendulum swung the opposite way. And now I feared death more than anyone and was terrified anytime I stepped into my car.

As I prayed for Andrew in the car at Hoolihans, what came to mind was all the suffering that was going on for so many people. Ann Sweet had terminal lung cancer. All kinds of people were physically suffering as well as in many other ways at our church. It made me long for the day when I would see my Jesus face to face and all the tears would be wiped away and death and misery and fear and pain and suffering would all be done away with and finally we would be free to worship Him as those who love Him long to do and finally be unhindered by that corpse of sin we carry rotting on our back.

When I returned home Andrew and I sat together and talked. I told him I was no longer afraid of death again, and felt a sense of what Paul had said:

"For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain...But I am hard-pressed from both directions, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is very much better; yet to remain on in the flesh is more necessary for your sake."

(Philippians 1:21, 23-24)

Then I said, "And if I'm not afraid of death, then I'm not afraid of death for you. Then if we see death as the Bible sees it, then it's not disappointing if you die at a young age, because it's not your death. It is the beginning of you being able to fully do what we were created for - to worship Jesus with all our hearts and without sin."

I often wonder if life is like an infant in a mother's womb. Maybe she fights and fights coming out, terribly fearful that exiting is her end. But in actuality, it is her birth. But if she realized how much more colorful and real life outside the womb is, she would see how silly it would be for her to remain in the womb forever.

There are other things the Lord settled with me in my heart that morning. There are so many excuses I gave to God about my hope being in other things than Him. Come on, God, who isn't afraid of death? Come on, God, who wants to lose their husband? You're the One who gave Him to me. Come on, God, how can you give me such a sweet gift just to hurt me and take him away? Come on, God, I will die without him. He is my lifeblood. Come on, God, what will happen to the kids if they don't have a father? I can't teach them about You on my own. Oh no, their eternal destiny is at stake, oh, I can't even go there right now. A.J. needs a man to learn how to become a man from. Come on, God, You've allowed us to build a life together sustainable only together. How will I be able to take care of our family without him? But here is the truth I didn't want to hear and I wasn't sure I believed anymore. But He changed my heart and convinced me of it: "My grace is sufficient."

What about our kids, Lord? I don't want them to have to long for a father and be like that kid, Wesley, from Star Trek the Next Generation, who only had a hologram of his father delivering a message, and he seemed so real he could touch him, but then the program ended.

Come on, God, I don't want them to not even remember him or know how much he loved them - My grace is sufficient. You know I will take care of you.

How will I take care of them? You know I will take care of you.

How will I live without him? You know I will take care of you.

After I told Andrew about all the things that came to mind during my prayer time, we prayed together for the next hour. When I didn't have the words to say anymore, I turned to the Psalms and began praying through them.

In the end, I feel in my heart that we are going to get through this and that Andrew is going to live and survive this. Who knows, maybe the Lord will bless our prayers and make Andrew as good as new on this side of eternity. Who knows, maybe he will even grow to old old age.

This morning I woke up after yesterday's end-of-the-rope day. And you know what I found? I found what God has been showing me the past couple of weeks - every day is a new day and his mercies are new every morning. Yesterday I woke up feeling at the end of my rope. This morning I woke up feeling like this isn't that bad. And it was a beautiful sunny day and I got to have my time with the Lord at the park and the children and I got to spend time together outside and moments together feel like a celebration. Andrew wasn't feeling well, but Hale, Sam's husband, dropped by to sit with him during his lunch hour. Then a couple of men came over tonight to clean our gutters and fix some things. Afterwards, since Andrew felt too tired to go to prayer meeting, while we went ahead, these men sang and prayed with Andrew just like they were at church. Yes, God's grace is sufficient. And though I doubted it many times recently, He has shown me that He is truly faithful, just as He said.

Happy Birthday Grace!

Today is Grace's 28th birthday. This afternoon we had a surprise party at our house for her and it just so happened that her mom flew in today to help us out for a week so she got to celebrate with us as well. We got Grace an Ipod for her birthday so she can continue to sing and dance around the house without having to change CD's (if anybody wants to get her an I-tunes gift card or anything else I'm sure she would not be opposed)!

In addition to it being Grace's birthday this is a special day for us because 5 years ago I came and visited Grace here in Eden Prairie just after we had started dating. In April of 2003 Grace came back from her 6 month stay in the Phillipines and visited Los Angeles for 10 days before moving to Minnesota to live with her sister, Gayle, and family. Grace and I had known each other for about 1.5 years and I decided to ask her to date me during her 10 day stay in Los Angeles. About a month later I decided that I wanted to visit her for her birthday and flew to Minnesota for a few days and stayed in Bob and Gayle's basement. Grace and I had such a great time that weekend as always and we would take walks in the rain around Round Lake Park, which was down the street from the Bob and Gayle's house. I couldn't get enough of her dancing around the puddles on the wooded trail telling me everything about everything. I also remember one afternoon we sat on a small bench at the end of the trail that leads into the park right in front of the lake and it just seemed like everything was so perfect. Every time I walk by that bench I think of it as the "love bench". Those memories are still so vivid in my mind. It was that weekend that I knew I wanted to marry Grace.

So this year we have come full circle and we are back in Eden Prairie for Grace's birthday, but now we live 4 houses down from the entrance to Round Lake Park where we shared some of our first memories together.

Thanks for your responses

Grace and I had a blast reading your comments. Thanks for taking part in our blog. We'll have to keep doing this. Sometimes if feels like I write blogs and I'm speaking into outer space. I'd love to hear what you all are learning and feeling in your own lives as well.

It seems like most of the 40 comments so far are from California and Washington. We did grow up in NJ. Perhaps people there don't read blogs on from Saturday to Tuesday.... =)

KEEP posting comments to the blog below. We want to hear from you all. Can we shoot for 150-200 comments??

I can't respond to all the comments, but I wanted to randomly say a few things in response. I will write more as I have time.,..

Bo, Tawny and Kenny - Yes, that big refrigerator. I think I pulled something in my chest that day and I was inexcrutiating pain when I breathed for a few days. Its funny that we both forgot Kenny there, but we remember the weird old man who lived in Africa and roamed the world. Of course, all Kenny remembers is having an ice cold Heineken after working so hard as our cheerleader! =)

Sharon and Stu - I miss you and everybody else at Motorola. I don't think there is a more fun place to work than there. I have tons of memories with Motorola from California, to Seattle, even some here in Minnesota. Thanks for the encouraging words about my life not being irrelevant. I'm so glad to hear that you guys are learning with me!

Jason and Amy Lewis - Its funny how you used to watch us because we used to watch you guys from the window in our apartment across the street. I used to see 5, 6, 7, or 8 kids out playing on the side of your house. I would keep telling Grace, "I want to know those people." They always look so happy. Since we had just moved to Washington we didn't have many friends yet, especially in the tiny farm town of Snohomish so we would take lots of walks around the area and see the beatiful victorian homes. The way you described our entrance into each other's lives was pretty accurate. I stopped in front of your gate and motioned to open it, Grace, being shy that day, kept walking. I grabbed her hand, said we're going to meet them now, and dragged her through the gate. And that day changed our lives. We're so glad to know you guys. We don't spend much time together, but when we do its so rich. I still very clearly remember the day after my first diagnosis when Jason didn't even call first but came over and gave me a huge hug and let me cry on his shoulder. I will cherish that memory for the rest of my life. Love you guys.

Derrick and Paika - Grace and I were just thinking of you and how you sent me that old picture last year of you, Kiley and I dressed alike and posing like models. I think you might be the person who has known me the longest of all the people who posted thus far. I met you I think just before 5th grade which was a few years after moving to NJ. We've drifted in and out of touch since we began high school, but you've seen me change through the years. I'm glad you are still in my life, even from a distance.

Thank you!

Thank you all so much for you for prayers, letters, emails, care packages, and gifts. We have been so busy that we have not been able to respond to hardly any of you, but please know that your care for us is so appreciated!

We are also curious who reads our blogs and thought it would be fun to find out. We'd love it if you could take a moment to leave a comment listing:

- your first/last name (or at least last initial)

- where you're from (city, state, and if different than U.S., country)

- either how you know us or who sent you our blog. Please be as specific as possible.

- a fun detail about yourself, us, a memory with one of us, or some random funny thing you want to say just to get us to laugh

Update:
If some of you are shy and only want to email us, take a chance and post anyway! So far, the comments left have been so fun to hear and left us in some much needed laughter. Laughter is the best medicine, so we want to hear from as many of you as possible. (But no pressure to be funny). There's been 100 hits to our website since we first posted this blog and only 4 comments so far. Let's try to get it to 100% =)

Thanks!

Crap Shoot

On Wednesday, we took my brother-in-law/pastor, Bob, and Jason Dailey, another elder from our church, to see our surgeon, Dr. Yueh, with some more questions. Dr. Yueh was able to clarify a lot of things for us. He said we had almost convinced him last week that we should do surgery, but his best friend, Dr. Futran, our surgeon last year, said, "No way. I absolutely would not do the surgery. No way."

Before we went to see Dr. Yueh, we had pretty much concluded that we were not going to go with surgery. So we were very thankful that he was confirming our feelings.

Bob said if chemotherapy was a 1 in terms of helping Andrew, would surgery be another 1, and then 1 + 1 = 2? Dr. Yueh said, "No, if chemotherapy was a 1, then chemotherapy with surgery would be 1.00001." These cancer cells were moving in a wild, unpredictable way when he had looked at them under the microscope after cutting them out. His concern was that it was spreading throughout the body, and surgery would just postpone the chemotherapy, the very thing that has any hope of saving Andrew in his opinion.

Dr. Yueh had cut out all the gross tumor, which chemotherapy cannot take out. Chemotherapy is only effective against cancer still at the cellular level, at least as far as oral cancer goes. So the key is to use it before the cancer grows.

Radiation would be helpful because it enhances the effectiveness of chemotherapy. So radiation, though ineffective last time, with this new drug Erbitux (also called Cetuximab), may give the new chemotherapy drug a little helpful punch.

Nonetheless, both Andrew and I are feeling uneasy about doing a second round of radiation. For one thing, you're not supposed to do it more than once to the same area. He will likely lose his ability to swallow, despite the bit of progress he's beginning to make in that area, but will hopefully still be able to speak.

Before Andrew's surgery in March, I used to tell the doctors that "quality of life" was nothing and was nearly offended that they would even bring it up. That Andrew has to stay with us. But after that horrible Mayo visit where their surgeon proposed surgery again, and the image of Andrew having to breathe out of a hole in his neck for the rest of his life flashed through my mind, and after seeing all that Andrew has gone through, I cannot ask him to suffer any more.

I told Andrew that I felt incapable of making any of these decisions and that I do not trust my judgment right now. I know that if I feel strongly about something, it heavily influences Andrew, and so I'm guarding my mouth. I'm researching with him and keeping him aware of all his options, but not trying to sway him one way or any others. I just keep reminding him that no matter what choice he makes, I am going to support him.

This doesn't mean that I'm giving up on him at all. I believe that God can heal him. I just don't necessarily trust hospitals or anything related after all that I've seen. I am willing to fight for his life, but sometimes I feel the options doled out to us may be the very things that could kill him. It's a crap shoot. We want to believe there's a textbook answer, but there isn't. If there were, there would be a cure for cancer.

Andrew had a PET scan today. Dr. Yueh says he's afraid to see what may show up. Pray that the cancer has not spread to other parts of his body.

I'm hoping that the 6-8 cups that I juice for him a day has got to be doing something, if nothing more than making up for all the depletion done to him in the hospital. I mean all the carrots, beets, ginger, garlic, celery, mushrooms, leafy greens, etc. have got to do something good.

If nothing else, it's better than the formula junk they give him. Formula makes your sugar levels shoot through the roof so much that in the hospital they were giving him insulin until his body got used to the sugar. Cancer eats sugar. Why one would feed a cancer patient sugar, I cannot tell you. Sugar also shuts off the immune system, yet the immune system is the very thing one needs to fight off cancer.

The main ingredients in the formula are corn syrup and canola oil. Yes they do add vitamins to it, but synthetic vitamins will never come close to real food. You'd think that if someone didn't already have cancer, he'd certainly have it after several months of eating that junk. Thankfully, Andrew's new tube in his stomach, though excruciating, allows me to Vitamix things. (A Vitamix is a heavy duty blender like the ones you see at Jamba Juice). With his old tube that went through his nose, I juiced, but Andrew still drank his formula for more calories and to make him feel fuller. Now the Vitamix allows me give him more substantial, healthy meals in addition to the juicing.

Please continue to pray:

- for Andrew's complete healing
- for clarity about all of our decisions
- for wisdom for me as I give Andrew his nutrition

All Day Long

Decisions, decision...postponed

We still haven't made any decisions yet.

On Friday, Andrew had his feeding tube put into his stomach. Last second, despite giving him all kinds of relaxants and pain meds, they decided given Andrew's history of complications, it would be safer to use anesthesia on him. And since it's not advisable to mix anesthesia with Erbitux, one of the chemo drugs that Andrew was supposed to get a loading dose of afterwards, Erbitux was postponed until tomorrow (Tuesday). Since radiation can't start for a few days after Erbitux, we are not scheduled to start radiation until next Monday, May 5th.

Of course, there were complications during his surgery. So instead of getting out of the operating room at 9am and going to the clinic next door to get his 11am chemo, we got out of the hospital at 5pm without any chemo.

Cancer, cancer, cancer...
Last week was jam-packed with hospital visits. Originally, we only had doctor appointments for Tuesday. But since Andrew is still an out-patient, we find ourselves still subject to the doctor's schedules just like when we were in the hospital. We were at the doctors' all day each day except Thursday, either for additional questions or concerns. Then this weekend was very busy too. I found myself feeling incredibly frustrated and anxious. I kept going to the Lord about it, knowing no one could fix our problems and no one could provide relief or peace except for Him. Throughout this whole situation, I know that I am at the end of myself, but this weekend I felt even past the end of myself.

Today, I was going crazy. Every day we spend so much time talking to doctors, consulting, asking questions, either in person, or making phone calls, attempting to get in touch with people (to no avail) who specialize in young people who get oral cancer, such as at M.D. Anderson in Texas or Sloan Kettering in New York. We usually are on speaker phone when it's a phone call with one of our many doctors so that both of us can hear. I never go over in minutes until nowadays. Cancer cancer cancer. It felt like all that ever came out of my mouth or into my ears was cancer. And I missed my husband. His new pain med for his excruciating feeding tube has made him so tired and distracted by his pain. I can't even hug him because there's nowhere to hug him. All I want is my husband and to be with him, yet, even though he is right in front of me, cancer is in our way.

I called up my friend Sam, who is in our small group at church and also lives a few blocks away. She is my right-hand (wo)man. She anticipates any of our needs before we realize it's a need, or occasionally I will tell her of a need, and she will delegate it to one of her teams for childcare, house-cleaning, or whatever other team she has. In the process of her always inquiring and planning about our needs, I have come to rely upon her as a confidante as well. Any time I'm incredibly discouraged and can't find my way out of it on my own, I feel safe calling her. She lets me cry and doesn't try to find the right words to say to me. She says things like, "I wish there were magical words to say to you to make things better," or "Every day I wake up wondering, 'What must it feel like to be Grace today?' but I know I just can't even begin to imagine." And so instead of trying to give me a pep talk, which would probably feel like a knife in my abdomen, she prays for me. And the Lord always answers and helps me.

This day, when I called her, aside from crying, I wanted to ask her if she could get some coffee with me, but I knew her kids were already home from school, and I didn't want to bother her. So I prayed that if it was the Lord's will that she would ask me instead. While we were on the phone, her daughter wrote a note to her asking if she and her brother could go over their neighbor's house to play. Then, after Sam prayed for me, she asked me if we could meet for coffee.

I think it was just what I needed. I needed to get out of the house and laugh and talk with someone about something other than cancer. I think the reason why Sam is able to minister to me so effectively, even when I feel so raw anything would hurt me, is because she doesn't rely upon herself to do it. I think it's because she answers everything with prayer. I feel like I can breathe again, and I am so thankful that the Lord takes care of us through so many different means. Sometimes, it's just through His Word alone with Him, sometimes it's through a message that's preached, sometimes it's through another sister in the Lord. We need the brethren so much and we can't make it through life, let alone this without them.

Drinks
For the past few weeks, I juice all day long for Andrew to supplement his liquid feedings, and I absolutely love it. Somehow, God has given me so much enjoyment in all the different aspects of being Andrew's nurse. As I went to the store today to pick up more veggies for Andrew, I was so amazed at all the different vegetables God has made and with so many nutrients and healing properties. Today, the new vegetable I introduced to Andrew's tummy was red chard. It's a really large, green leaf with red veins. It is super-rich in Vitamins K, A, C, magnesium, manganese, potassium, iron, vitamin E, and dietary fiber, among many other things. I stand amazed at the God who made it all so beautiful with such creativity and variety, and such kindness to nourish us with it.

Please pray:

- That Andrew wouldn't have any side-effects from the Erbitux, long or short-term

- Complete healing

I just don't know...

Our family is faced with the toughest decision yet. The docs at Mayo and my radiation oncologists think that my best chances of survival are to do another surgery and remove everything - remaining part of tongue, voice box, epiglotis, etc. That would mean that I would not be able to talk, eat, or smell, and I would breathe out of a hole in my neck. The radiation oncologists at Mayo and UMN think that this cancer is radiation resistant because it didn't die with last year's radiation so they don't think radiation will work this year.

It is believed that a massive surgery would increase my chances of cure, but not by very much. We had asked Dr. Yueh to do whatever it took during my surgery in March to remove the cancer, even if I could never eat or talk again but he opted not to cut it all out at that time because seeing the aggressiveness if my tumor and how it was scattered rather than in a single mass, it was unlikely that removing everything would get it all anyways. Dr. Moore at the Mayo Clinic thinks there might be a slightly better chance of survival if I was willing to do the surgery. The only thing is that Dr. Moore at Mayo wasn't the one who operated on me, so he didn't see how the tumor was behaving firsthand. On the other hand Dr. Yueh was able to see exactly how the tumor was behaving and made a decision in the operating room based on his extensive experience.

So I have 3 options:
1) A second course of radiation and chemotherapy
2) A third surgery plus a second course of radiation and chemo
3) Seek alternative therapies such a immunotherapy, nutrition, etc.

At this time there is not enough evidence that shows that a major surgery will greatly increase my chances of survival. If it was clear that I would survive, or perhaps have a decent chance at survival, then I would definately do it. Otherwise, I'm not so sure it is worth it because of is would greatly affect the quality of life that I have left. Besides, after having 2 surgeries, radiation and chemotherapy, a third surgery could have life threatening complications.

Please pray for claritiy in this decision, and that God would heal me of this disease and allow me to be a husband to my wife and a father to my children for years to come.

I am going to start chemotherapy tomorrow anyways, and radiation starts next Monday. So I have until the end of this week to decide. I am trying to get an opinion from Sloan Kettering and MD Anderson, and asking more questions of Dr. Yueh and Dr. Moore this week. Pray that those meetings will bring clarity to the decision.

What I Haven't Told You

I praise God everyday that Andrew has a voicebox.

On the day of the surgery, in the evening the nurse said we were free to leave and have dinner.

Nonetheless, while we were at dinner, the doctor called me, unsure if he should remove Andrew’s voicebox. The music was playing loud in the restaurant and I was having trouble hearing him. They hadn't originally anticipated the cancer being this far down his throat. He said he didn’t want to do it without Andrew knowing it.

I was trying to convince the doctor that he must remove Andrew’s voicebox if it meant saving his life. I was breathing hard. I said, “I know that Andrew would rather lose his voicebox than his life.”

The doctor was trying to explain how based on what he could see, it didn't appear to him that it was the right thing to do.

“Andrew told me when he was trying to think of possible scenarios of decisions I might have to make that if it turns out the tumor is actually encasing his carotid artery,” I could feel my breath getting colder with each inhale; its coldness reaching deeper and deeper into my throat. I wasn’t sure if the doctor would care to hear this, since the carotid, a major artery, had nothing to do with the voicebox. “He said. He said,” I was trying to breath.

“Yes, he said…?” the doctor asked.

I took another breath. “He said if there is a chance of him dying on the table if they try to remove it, or if he will only live a month afterwards if they don’t remove it, then he wanted them to try to remove the cancer.”

“He said that?”

“Yes,” I said. I was on the verge of hyperventilating. I was scanning the room, looking for an answer to the question of how to keep myself from fainting. “Listen, I can’t make this decision right now. I brought my father-in-law with me to help me make any major decisions. Can I have a few minutes to talk with him and I’ll tell you back at the hospital?”

“Yes,” he said.

As my sister and my father-in-law and I rushed around the corner to the hospital, I had my sister call the church to get everyone to pray. Then, the three of us prayed that God would make clear to us what decision to make and that the doctors would be able to clearly explain to us the actual situation. We prayed that God would save Andrew’s voicebox but most of all his life.

When we returned to the hospital and Dr. Yueh came out of the operating room to talk to me, I was prepared with a vengeance to convince him to remove my husband’s voicebox. It was no use saving it if we were going to lose it along with the rest of him a short time later. But in the time that we had between talking on the phone and talking in person, Dr. Yueh had continued working in the operating room. He had removed the hyoid bone, the bone on top of the voice box. When they examined the bone, they found that the tumor had gone right up against the hyoid bone, but it had not reached the other side of it that touched the voice box. There was no decision to be made. There was no tumor on the voicebox.

Now that I have been able to hear Andrew's voice again - I wasn't sure if I ever would - I have been savoring it for the past few weeks. It is hard for me to imagine ever being so desperate to get his voice box out of him now that he is not on an operating table with only moments to make a decision.

Nonetheless, the surgeon explained to me that while they had removed the cancerous mass, the gross tumor, from Andrew’s body, when they put it under the microscope, they saw that there were scattered cancerous cells in the margin around the cancer. I will do my best to explain what he said, but it's extremely confusing and even perplexing for the doctors, so I'm not sure you'll understand it. The cancer was jumping around in an abnormal, unpredictable way, which can happen if a tumor returns to an area that's already been treated with surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. They felt that there was no way to tell how far the cells had scattered, and for all they knew there could be a random cancer cell in Andrew’s big toe. They couldn’t keep cutting because they may never stop. Yet, because the cells were not in a mass, they could not be picked up in scans (scans only pick up things larger than a centimeter) and could only be seen when cut out of the body and put under a microscope. For this reason, our only option for treatment is radiation and chemotherapy. If this doesn’t work, the surgeon doesn’t think there is anything else he can do for him, as Andrew had an incredibly extensive surgery that they do not do for most people. They say this surgery is probably around the top three most extensive surgeries, open heart surgery being first.


Treatment

Early next week Andrew will be starting his 6 weeks of radiation and cancer treatments at either the University of Minnesota or the Mayo Clinic. He will do radiation 5 days a week, which takes about a half hour each time, and chemotherapy, which is given through an IV, once a week.

Short-term side-effects include a weak immune system, nausea, incredible exhaustion, severe burns and blistering in mouth and neck, acne, an ichy rash... Long-term there is a chance of destroying Andrew’s vocal chords, risk of radiation-induced cancer in 5 to 10 years, burning out any of the saliva glands Andrew has left, and destroying any chances Andrew has of swallowing again to name a few. We really don’t even know if we are doing more harm than good, but we don’t have any treatment options left.

As far as radiation goes, you’re only supposed to have it done once in the same area. This is Andrew’s second time. They will radiate the mouth and neck, all the areas that Andrew was operated on. They will not be treating his spinal chord, which is in that vicinity and had been radiated last time, because if you over-radiate it and destroy it, then he will be paralyzed from the neck down.

As for chemotherapy, in general, it cannot destroy a tumor for this type of cancer by itself. It is only used to enhance the effects of the radiation. We are still deciding whether to use two chemotherapy drugs or three – carboplatin, taxol, and maybe erbitux.

To sum up, this session of radiation and chemotherapy is the last chance the doctors have at saving Andrew’s life. A couple of our doctors slip that this is a “last ditch effort.”

All we know is that God is good and that He is in control, not the doctors, not us, not anything else.

Please pray for:

1. COMPLETE HEALING AND RESTORATION.
- That the treatments would be effective and that God would completely eradicate the cancer in

Andrew’s body.
- That Andrew would be able to swallow and taste one day again.

2. Wisdom and skill for the doctors and us as we finalize our treatment plans.

3. That there would be minimal to no side-effects while Andrew is in treatment nor long-term
side-effects.

Praises:

1. Praise that Andrew has been feeling physically better and more encouraged each day. Andrew says he has been encouraged by the Word, the brethren, and the preaching on Sundays.

2. That God answered Diane Dailey’s prayer that the kids would still be able to be children yet understand way beyond anything we could expect so that they could be a help to us rather than an additional difficulty. Since she prayed that at our weekly prayer for Andrew’s healing in our house, A.J. says all the time: “I will take care of you and Papa. And the way I will take care of you is to obey you. I love to obey you. I love to take care of you.” And he has been trying with all of his might to do so. He really has been such a blessing and a help in that way.

It's not fair!

ANDREW WRITES:

One of the hardest parts of the day is to sit with my family and eat breakfast, lunch and dinner with them. An abundance of my favorite foods are strewn out across the table and my nostrils are filled with rich aromas of garlic, and breads, and pasta and sauces. I suddenly feel envious of others who get to taste and eat rather than having to inject medical formula directly into their stomach with a syringe. My mouth waters as I cherish vivid memories of being satisfied with a hearty meal after a long workout at the gym. Then I cringe in fear of not being able to experience that ever again. To be hungry for the rest of my life.

Can there be anything on God's good earth that is more satisfying than my wife's lentil soup or my mom's chinese cooking? Food is a wonderful thing and it used to bring me so much joy and satisfaction, but can I still have joy without it?

I struggle all day long to answer yes to that question. People often express their deep sympathy to me and say, "its just not fair that you would have to go through this. That really sucks". I often struggle in my mind thinking the same thing. The truth is that it isn't fair. My life just isn't fair.

Lets look at just a few of the facts of my unfair life.

1) Born 9/11/81 to loving parents, David and Joyce Mark.
2) My parents loved me.
3) My parents loved me so much that they never gave up on me despite my disrespect and rebellion. They always supported me.
4) I got to go to UCLA for college and experience so many things in life.
5) I became a Christian at the age of 20 and got to go to John Macarthur's church and learn so much about God through the bible.
6) I miraculously landed a job at Motorola, which I absolutely love. Going to work for me was exciting and fun.
7) I married the most amazing, beautiful, bright, caring person, aka Grace Uriarte.
8) We had AJ - the coolest kid on the block.
9) Then we got to have Gracie, sweet little Gracie.
10) Then I had cancer, but God restored me to complete health after that.
11) We got to move to Minnesota and we absolutely love it here.
12) I got cancer again and survived a very complicated surgery.

Its just not fair that I got to live richly for this long, while others die young. Its just not fair that God would sacrifice His only Son so that I could be forgiven of my sins and receive life everlasting rather than perish in hell where there will be weeping and knashing of teeth forever. What is fair is that sinners be punished for their sin. God is the perfect and Holy Creator of the universe. Offending Him is no small thing to be overlooked. What isn't fair is that God would punish His own Son instead of me and instead consider me sinless.

2 Cor 5:21 "For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.

My life is unfair, because I have much more than I deserve.

Deut 8:3 says about the Israelites, "He humbled you and let you be hungry, and fed you with manna which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that He might make you understand that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by everything that proceeds out of the mouth of the LORD."

When God rained manna down on the Israelites when they were starving they could only collect enough for the given day. God satisfied their hunger for a day, but He didn't provide for tomorrow's hunger until tomorrow. Its true that cancer sucks because it could rob me of tomorrow. But it sure can't take away today. Joy is not found in tomorrow, it's found in today. Today I can find my nourishment in God who is my daily bread. God is making me hungry so that I might look to Him to satisfy me. Today I can rejoice because knowing God is so much more satisfying than the finest of foods.

Psalm 63:1 says, "O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; My soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You, In a dry and weary land where there is no water."

The true hunger of a human being is not for food, it is for God. And only God can satisfy the hungry soul.

Our Little Blessings

Last night a bunch of people from church came over to sing and pray for Andrew, while all the children went outside and played. Diane prayed that A.J., our 3 year-old, and Gracie, our two year-old, would still be able to be children, yet at the same time, understand way beyond anything we could ever expect, so that they could make this situation easier for us rather than more difficult.

This morning when we awoke, I told A.J. and Gracie that Mama and Papa had to leave for the doctor's and would be gone all day, but we would see them at dinner time. I expected them to get upset, as they often do before our numerous doctor's visits, but A.J. said happily, "Okay, Mama, so I have to obey grandma."

I knelt to his eye-level and squeezed him. "Yes, A.J.! That's right!" I usually have to make a big emphasis about that before we leave, but instead, A.J. surprised me by initiating it.

At six in the evening that night, upon hearing us enter through the door, A.J. and Gracie screamed in excitement, running to us, hugging and kissing us as their normal greeting, Gracie so strong, always almost knocking me over.

"Shoe off. Shoe off," Gracie said, grabbing at my heels as I was taking too long to put down all my bags.

"Thank you, Gracie," I said. "Yes, I will take my shoes off. I'm not leaving you. I'm staying."

Then A.J. threw in: "Mama, I obeyed grandma today! I obeyed grandma today!"

"You did? I'm so proud of you, A.J," I said.

Later, I asked my mother-in-law if the children had obeyed her. After thinking through the day a moment, she agreed that they had. The rest of the night both of the children were exceptionally obedient.

As I put their pajamas on before bed, A.J. said, "Mama, I shouldn't touch this."

I was putting his leg into his sleeper. I looked up to see what he was talking about. He was dangling his hand near the chord of his light.

"No, you probably shouldn't touch the light, A.J." I pulled up the zipper on his sleeper.

He put his hand down. Then, he said as he often has the past few weeks, "Mama, I will take care of you." But what he said afterwards was new: "I will take care of Papa. I will take care of you, Mama. And the way I will take care of you is to obey you."

I put my hand on his soft face. "Thank you, A.J. That's so sweet," I said.

And then he said, "I love to take care of you, Mama. I love to obey you."

I pulled him into my arms. I had never taught him these things or to say any of these things. Since Diane prayed for the children at our house, though the children had not heard her, it is as if A.J. is a new person. I no longer have to compel him to obey us. When we ask him to do something, he is quick to do it and so happy to do as we ask. And if he accidentally displeases us, he breaks into tears, as if he is so broken-hearted that he didn't take care of us. I have never seen A.J. like this before. He is only three years-old. We have always had to give him the motivation to obey us. Now, it as if his heart has changed and he is self-motivated to help us in any way he can by eagerly obeying us.

When they were ready for bed, I put Gracie in her crib and sat next to A.J. on his bed. Andrew came in and sat beside us. Before we could say much, A.J. said, "Dear Lord, I pray you would heal Papa. Please help me to obey Mama and Papa and Grandma. Amen."

Gracie made a sound.

"Mama, let Gracie pray for Papa. Gracie needs to pray for Papa," A.J. said.

I picked Gracie back up out of her crib and placed her on the bed between A.J. and Andrew. Gracie, not very articulate, didn't even want to try to pray.

"Dear Lord," A.J. said again, "Please heal Papa."

We sat silently on the bed for a minute. A.J. was looking over at Andrew. He pointed to Andrew's forearm, where they had taken the chunk to make new tongue, in a splint. "That's Papa's ow-ie?" he said.

"Yes," I said.

"We shouldn't touch it?"

"No," I said. "It hurts him more if we touch it."

He pointed to the top of Andrew's right leg, where they had taken a layer of skin to cover his forearm. The wound was concealed by Andrew's blue running pants, yet somehow A.J. knew this was the leg. A.J. said, "And that's Papa's ow-ie too?"

"Yes," I said.

He walked over to Andrew's other side and embraced his left leg, the way Andrew had showed him he could do when Andrew had been standing up-right one day. A.J. curved his back, hugging only the designated left upper leg, as if cautious not to hit anything else that might be injured.

I showed A.J. how he could sit down next to Andrew and give him a real hug on his left side too. A.J. climbed back onto his bed on Andrew's left side and nestled under Andrew's arm. "Dear Lord," A.J. said again. "Please heal Papa." When he finished praying he said, "Papa will be better tomorrow after you get back from the doctor's."

"We won't be going to the doctor's tomorrow, sweetheart," I said. Then automatically, "We don't know if the Lord will heal Papa or when."

A.J. slid out of Andrew's arm and crawled towards me.

"Let's pray," I said. "Dear Lord, please answer A.J's prayer and all our prayers and heal Papa completely. We love him so much."

A heart of wisdom

ANDREW WRITES:

Ps. 90:11-14
Who understands the power of Your anger
And Your fury, according to the fear that is due You?
So teach us to number our days,
That we may present to You a heart of wisdom.
Do return, O LORD; how long will it be?
And be sorry for Your servants.
O satisfy us in the morning with Your lovingkindness,
That we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.


One of my biggest struggles right now is fearing the future. It is so easy to worry about tomorrow and all the millions of combinations of things that could happen in the future. I guess before I had cancer I didn't worry that much about the future because I just assumed that I was young and everything would work out just fine. Then when I got cancer last year I was crushed because I realized for the first time my life was completely out of my control (you can read the blog "Sideswiped by the news of cancer" from Jan 2007). After consulting with so many doctors and doing all the most aggressive treatments last year we were so hopeful because the doctors were so hopeful. This year, none of the doctors are as hopeful for a cure to my disease. In some ways this is a blessing in disguise. God has shown us from our experiences last year that you can't trust in doctors or technology to save us. We had one of the best surgeons in the world and did all the additional treatments that we were supposed to do, and the cancer still came back. This time we're left with little confidence that surgery, radiation and chemotherapy will work because my cancer has proven resistant to them. So instead, we are forced to cling to the One who can and wants to heal sicknesses, Jesus Christ. Jesus ministry on earth was full of compassion for the sick and dying and He went around healing people everywhere He went. Here is a great sermon that my brother-in-law, Bob, preached the week before my surgery on healing.

I remember Dr. Steve Lawson preaching on Psalm 90 when I was in college. At the time I really didn't understand it. To a 21 year old college student learning to number my days meant that there were too many to count so why bother. I just assumed that I had a lot of life ahead of me. I didn't really think about the inevitable end, or even the imminent return of Christ. But now that I have had to face the fact that life can end at any time I see life so differently. My days are numbered just as everybody else's is. It is so proud and presumptuous to assume that I am in control of my life, and that I will live for a long time. It is foolish to presume that there will be air for me to breath my next breath. To gain a heart of wisdom is to live today as if it was my last. Jesus commands me not to worry about tomorrow, but to focus on today's trouble in Matthew 6:34. Surely tomorrow will be trouble, but God has not yet provided the grace to handle tomorrow's trouble. So please pray for me that I would not waste any more time worrying about the future, but that I would by God's grace live each individual day to its fullest. Praise God that I am slowly improving in this area but I still have a long way to go. Praise God also that He is healing me even now, as my health is improving and I am getting a little stronger each day.

Here's the update on my treatment:
I'm planning on doing radiation and chemotherapy at the same time just as we did last year. The doctors at the University of MN are planning on giving me about the same amount of radiation as last year, another 6000 rads, which will about put me close to double what is considered a safe lifetime limit. I'll also be taking a cocktail of chemotherapy drugs, Taxol, Carboplatin, and maybe Erbitux as well during radiation treatment which is planned to start around April 30th. We have not found any other clinically proven alternative treatments that are less toxic so far (perhaps the Mayo Clinic will say something different when we meet with them next week). If God can create a universe out of nothing, surely he can spare my body from damage due to radiation and chemotherapy. We're going to go through the treatments, but I'm not banking on them healing me. If God chooses, He will heal me. We beg of God to have mercy on me and my family by healing me and restoring my health, that His name might be vindicated as the all powerful God.

Child-like

ANDREW WRITES:

I'm back at home now. I actually got back last Friday night but we've been so busy that we havn't been able to blog. Plus I didn't pay our internet bill while in the hospital so we got it up and running again today. I can kind of type now. They changed out my cast on my right arm for a splint so I have some motion with my fingers. By the way, for the record... I didn't know I had 4 surgeries. I thought I only had 3. Grace informed the the other day that it was 4. Apparently I was so drugged up that I was in and out of the operating room before I got over the previous surgery. I really only remember surgeries 1 and 4. I do remember bleeding a whole lot somewhere in between. though.

The past few weeks have been the darkest thus far in my life. I've really struggled to believe the goodness that lies in our suffering, and to find hope amidst disappointing news. I woke up this morning crying out to God for help to face the day. It seems as if each day I'm crying out with all of my might for help to face the battle which is today. I am convicted that it takes intense suffering for me to cry out to God to face the daily battle, when this battle always existed but when I was healthy I was numbed to it. Reliant upon myself and my own capabilities. The devil prowls around like a roaring lion seeking ones to devour. He'll devour us when we are not watchful, numbed by the comforts of this world.

The surgeons had to remove much more of my tongue and floor of mouth than we initially thought. Thankfully they saved my vocal cords and a sliver of my tongue so that I can speak some. I cannot swallow anything at all right now, so please pray that I would miraculously be able to swallow and eat again.

Unfortunately, even with such a large removal effort, there is still microscopic cancer in my body. The pathology shows that the cancer was actually skipping around and not just in one solid mass. The doctors say I should do radiation and chemotherapy again even though you are supposed to only be able to radiate a single area of your body once in a lifetime. Radiating twice comes with great risks to the healthy tissue that is left. But I suppose I have no other options.

I've been feeling like a little child lately. I could relate to my son who sometimes whines or throws a fit. Thats how I've been feeling about this trial. Like a little child kicking and screaming, not wanting to do what I'm supposed to. I know that this if my service of worship to God, and that I have so much to be thankful for. God spared my life through my teenage years until I became a Christian and received the forgiveness of my sins through the blood of Jesus Christ shed on the cross. I was watching the news and saw that a bunch of teenagers had been killed in a bus accident. At that moment I felt so ashamed to be complaining in my heart to God. What if that had been me on a bus when I was 17 years old? Not only would I have perished without the forgiveness of my sins and gone to hell forever, which is infinately worse than dying of cancer. But I also would have missed out on the past 9 years which have been so rich and wonderful. Even if I suffer for the rest of my life, and perhaps die at a young age, I am so thankful for the past several years that I got to have. This past year after my first bout with cancer was the richest of them all. Why should I believe that God does not have a rich future ahead of me either on earth or in heaven?

Last night I got to go to church for a night of singing and although I can't sing much I mostly listened. It brought tears to my eyes for the first half hour of the night because I was just so happy to be reminded that this is so much bigger than me. This is about God and His divine purposes. Not about Andrew Mark and his family's comfort. Grace told me today that when she gets to heaven she's going to feel so stupid for leaving earth kicking and screaming trying to hold on to the comforts that we have here.

We used to pray that God would teach us to trust Him fully and that we wouldn't waste our lives. Then we would gulp because we had a feeling that it would be answered through suffering. And it was. This is my service of worship to God. I don't know what the future holds, but I know that today if I don't have the ability to accomplish anything but change my wound dressings, get 8 cans of formula through my feeding tube, take my various medicines, and take a shower I've accomplished much for God. This is how God has called me to serve Him now. Like a child, I fuss about it, but who am I to complain? I have much to be thankful for.

Please pray:
1) That God would heal me of cancer. We are going to do research on treatment options, but ultimately God is that one who can heal me of the remaining cancer.
2) That I would be able to swallow, eat and speak normally again.
3) For courage for my family to face each day through the strength that God provides.

Here is one of my favorite songs that I hope to one day sing again:

Alas, and Did my Savior Bleed
Bob Kauflin / Isaac Watts

Verse 1:
Alas, and did my Savior bleed
and did my Sov'reign die?
Would he devote that sacred head
for such a worm as I?
Was it for sins that I had done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity, grace unknown
and love beyond degree.

Chorus:
My God, why would you shed your blood
so pure and undefiled
To make a sinful one like me
your chosen precious child?

Verse 2:
Well might the sun in darkness hide
and shut his glories in
When Christ, the mighty Maker died
for man the creature's sin.
Thus might I hide my blushing face
while his dear cross appears.
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness
and melt my eyes to tears.

Can It Be?

Today, on my way down to surprise Andrew after I had been at home with a cold all weekend not wanting to give it to him, guess who I got a phone call from?

Andrew Mark.

Yes, my husband.

Now, was it silence on the other end that I was supposed to automatically sing to like this weekend? Oh no. It was my husband talking to me. And it was not just noises he was making with his voice. He was understandable. He was articulating words.

Everyone is shocked, including Dr. Yueh. We will have to get audio up tomorrow on our blog of him.

So what is the difference between today and yesterday? Other than he got out of ICU last night and all his tubes were removed praise the Lord, he was sitting in a chair, can get good rest and is so happy now? Well, they lowered the balloon that was around his trache (plastic tube down his airway that allows him to breathe despite all the swelling). The balloon had blocked his voice box, making sound impossible. When they removed it, they were expecting him to make some sound with his voice and then over a long period of time and speech therapy he might become increasingly understandable. Well, he's quite understandable even now.

Andrew was chattering all evening, making up for the past two weeks. I just stared the whole time, trying to absorb the shocking change. One minute he's laying on a bed, silent, hardly able to move. Now, he's sitting on a chair as energetic as A.J., moving all around. It seemed so abnormal, him moving his arms, legs, reaching here and there for this and that, I almost would have jumped up and told him to stop and rest, if he hadn't looked so comfortable and natural doing it.

What encouragement this brings us. God has answered so many of our prayers, particularly Andrew's silent ones last night, I can't wait till his right arm heals and he can type it all out to tell you himself. Truly God is faithful even when we are faithless (2Tim. 2:13).

Well, please continue to pray for Andrew's complete healing and for no more cancer.