A little Peace

Grace and I hate going to the doctors nowadays because the news we get is usually unfavorable. Today, we had two appointments. The first was with our radiation doctor, Dr. Lee, and the second was with my surgeon, Dr. Yueh. Dr. Lee didn't have much to say other than that things seem to be healing slowly, and the tissue is very sensitive still so I can expect it to bleed easily. So coughing and spitting blood still shouldn't alarm me too much.

When we visited Dr. Yueh we told him that we've been having trouble getting an appointment with an oral surgeon to look at my jaw. It has been almost 3 weeks and they finally called us back yesterday to schedule an appointment with some other new doctor, because the experienced doctor we were referred to happens to be the University's director of oral surgery and was too busy. So Dr. Yueh said he would call the oral surgeons and take care of things for us. We just received a phone call from Dr. Yueh and he told us that he called the oral surgeons and the doctor that we were originally referred to is now going to make time to see me on Monday! Grace and I were just commenting on how we feel so taken care of by Dr. Yueh and his team, even though he is extremely busy as well being the director of the University's head and neck department. All the other doctors just kind of brush by us and aren't compassionate or very helpful. But Dr. Yueh and his team always bend over backwards, and they make everybody else bend over backwards as well to help us. It's so comforting to be under his care. It's not like his compassion and help are going to change my prognosis or make things less painful or difficult. It's just that there is something so comforting about knowing that somebody is looking out for you. So in the midst of difficulty one can find some peace.

This example today reminds me of how our heavenly father cares for us. In fact, one of the ways God is taking care of us and giving us peace amidst a storm is directly through Dr. Yueh. I always get worried and think of all the possiblities of things that could go wrong and worst possible scenarios. My worrying isn't going to change a thing. But then I think about how God has always taken care of us when we trust Him. Never has God said no to us and kicked us to the curb. Sometimes we have to wait, sometimes God answers in ways we didn't expect, but never have I felt like He doesn't care. Last year when I had cancer things were hard and not everything worked out the way we wanted it to, but in the end of that period of time things did work out well and I was good as new, and we even got to move to Minnesota! God placed it on our hearts to pray and beg for those very things and He answered. The fact that I know God is compassionate and looking out for my best interest is not necessarily going to change my prognosis, or make things less painful or difficult either, but there is peace knowing that God is watching out for me. Nothing can separate me from His love.


Romans 8:28, 38, 39

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose...

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Esther update

Esther went to be with the Lord on Saturday. She's not suffering anymore. Perhaps she's dancing at the feet of Jesus right now. If you can handle it, you must read their blog (http://www.xanga.com/rupandesther). Please pray for those whom she left behind who are mourning, especially Rupert, her husband. I feel like I got to know them through the blog though we've never met before. Perhaps now I know how some of you feel who don't know us and are reading our blog. As you know, blogs are usually highlight reels of people's lives. If you read Rupert's blog you'll see that it only takes him a few hours to come up with a highlight wereas it takes 3-7 days before something decent pops out of me =)

Rupert and Esther

Esther has a very advanced brain tumor. I was greatly encouraged by their blog, and their love for the same Jesus that I love. Rupert, Esther's husband, has been lovingly caring for his wife for years now. I'm amazed at his selfless, tender devotion to his bride.

They go to the same church that I went to as a child in NJ (RCCC). Please please pray for them. Read more here.

http://www.xanga.com/rupandesther

Some pictures

I'm gaining strength each day. The pain in my mouth, neck and throat area has gotten a little worse and is taking a very long time to heal. Part of it is my jaw, and perhaps part of it is that some nerves were numbed from surgery and radiation, but are now starting to rejuvenate. Also, my rehab exercises cause me plenty of pain and some bleeding, but I have to do them. It is encouraging to see progress in a positive direction again and it gives me hope. Below are some pictures from the past few months that a never had the strength to upload and post.

The big Tomotherapy machine. They scoot me inside this thing for about 25 mins 5 days per week for 7 weeks. That plastic mask is very tight and uncomfortable.

The kids and I a few weeks after surgery.

The kids and I the day before my surgery. This was my last meal that I ate which was a Horseradish encrusted filet mignon at Wildfire in Eden Prairie.

Grace's 28th Birthday Party (May 10, 2008)

More of Grace's Birthday

My right arm. This is where they took skin, muscles and blood vessels to reconstruct my mouth. My leg has similar wounds as well.

AJ and Gracie playing in the sand box in our backyard. They're best friends!

AJ and Gracie picking wild flowers at the park near our house.

The context

Take courage, life isn't all about fighting cancer. I know many people have begun reading our blogs recently and may not know about our life before cancer. If you havn't already taken the time to read our life stories and the previous blog posts, please do. The past several months is only a chapter within the context of a much more interesting story - God's story. We praise Him for each and every day that He has given me, and each day that He will give me. God has already "written" my story, and I pray that I will be excited to see what God reveals to me each day. His mercies are new every morning.

Psalm 139:14-16

"I will give thanks to You,

for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Wonderful are Your works,

And my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from You,

When I was made in secret,

And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;

Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;

And in Your book were all written

The days that were ordained for me,

When as yet there was not one of them.

Our life stories (http://www.graceandrew.com/ click "Our Life Stories")

Our other blog entries (2005 2006 2007 2008)

Motorola

Motorola's stock price is so low because I haven't been working for the past few months. When I get back to work we'll all see a jump in the price.

A bunch of people from my Motorola office here in MN came to visit me Monday. It was so nice to see them and how much they care about our family. They even brought be a big card with a check from a fundraiser BBQ they had at the office. That money will definately go to good use since I'm on a reduced monthly income with disability insurance. Praise God for insurance, I don't know what we would do without it!

Anyhow, after my friends from Motorola came over I was wondering why there was such a sense of warmth of relationship when they were here. It was weird. Almost like family, but not quite. I havn't lived here or worked here for that long, so I don't know many of them very well. Perhaps it was a combination of things. For one I've been starved for human interactions outside of my family since I don't go to work each day so it was nice to have a group of people from work visit. Additionally, I don't expect people to really care that much about me and I'm always surprised when they do. I am so amazed at the kindness that people express to our family. It puts me to shame because when I'm healthy and even most of the time when I'm sick all I can think about is myself, and caring for others falls by the wayside. God is continuing to teach me to be more selfless each day.

Anyhow, thank you all so much for all the ways many of you have cared for my family. From praying, to babysitting and meals, to sending gift cards and money, to notes of encouragement and more. The Lord really provides for us one day at a time. It is such an exercise to trust Him and not get ahead of ourselves and start worrying about tomorrow. I went out for a short bike ride the other day around the lake near our house and I noticed all the birds and the flowers and was reminded of Matthew 6:25-34

25"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?
28"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' 32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Please keep leaving comments or send me an email (address is at top of page). We love to hear from all of you.

Rough night

I was so tired last night that just laid down and fell asleep as Grace was putting the kids to bed. I didn't have energy to eat my last meal through my feeding tube, take my medications or do anything for my wounds. When I woke up a little before midnight i just felt so unmotivated, and cringed at the thought of dragging myself out of bed to do a whole list a things in my nighttime routine. I thought to myself, is this what life if going to be like? Constantly fighting pain and infections, and being hungry but dreading feeding yourself because it is so unsatisfying to eat through a tube in your stomach.

It didn't take long for my mind to spiral into a hellish cycle of worthless thoughts. Whats the point of fighting to live? Will life be satisfying ever again? Will I ever feel better? Will I ever eat or taste again? I'm a terrible, useless, husband and father...I just want to give up.

Thankfully Grace entered the room shortly after and I told her what I was thinking. She cried and said, "You can't give up, I need you. I need you! I married you so that we could grow old together. I need you, Andrew!" Grace then read to me from Romans 8 and I was reminded that this suffering is not about me, but about glorifying God. God has chosen me to suffer for His sake.

Rom 8:16-18
16The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God,
17and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.
18For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Grace then started going down the list of comments of our blog and reading them to me. I'm so amazed that our readers are encouraged by what we write. When others are edified through our suffering it gives me a sense of purpose. If we can help others be happier, especially happier in God then it is worth it. It doesn't make it easier, but it encourages me to fight on.

Please keep praying that there will be no more cancer in my body, that my jaw would miraculously heal and God would restore my speech and swallowing.

Turning the corner

It's Andrew again. During treatments I was too sick and unmotivated to blog, but now I'm doing a little better. Last week and the week before were my worst ever. I threw up every day and felt so sick and tired that I didn't eat much either. I ended up losing at least 5 lbs, maybe 9 depending on which scale you believe in just 1 week. Anyhow, praise God that I'm feeling much better this week, I gained back a few lbs!

This past weekend we decided to go to Grace's cousin Amanda's wedding in Wisconsin. I thought I would be too sick to attend the wedding, so I was just going to stay in the hotel room and rest. But on Saturday I felt so much better and was able to make it to the wedding and part of the reception! And praise God that I've been feeling a little better each day since then.

Just as I started to get some energy back and stopped throwing up all the time, the Lord provided a new challenge for us all.

It turns out that the radiation destroyed some of my teeth and most likely part of my jaw bone. This is called radio-osteonecrosis. They said I would have to do hyperbaric oxygen treatments and then pull some teeth. Most likely I'll additionally have to remove a portion of my jaw bone that we tried so hard to save during my last surgery.

Hyperbaric oxygen treatment is used to stimulate healing and increasing blood vessels. You sit in a high pressure chamber breathing pure oxygen for 1.5 hours five days a week for 6-8 weeks. You have to do a regimen before and after the teeth and/or jaw bone are removed.

If we do not remove the rotten tooth and anything else that might be infected, the infection will spread to the rest of my body and be another thing distracting my body from healing.

Some people question that if you stimulate blood vessle growth this close to cancer treatments, if there is still some cancer that hasn't finished dying yet, the blood vessels could provide more blood to the cancer, thus feeding it. Statistics do not show, though, that hyperbaric oxygen stimulates cancer growth and instead seems to only be beneficial.

If we end up doing all the treatments it would mean 12-16 weeks of hyperbaric oxygen and another major jaw/reconstructive surgery similar to what I did in March.

Currently, the doctor has given me penicillin and some antibiotic rinses to keep the infection at bay.

Please pray that God would heal my jaw and that the next scan will show that the bone has rejuvinated on its own (which may be a possibility) and that there are no infections. Please also pray for wisdom as to what treatments to do if any.

GRACE ADDS:
The good news:
- This new rotten tooth/possible dying-jaw condition is not life-threatening.
- Also, hyperbaric oxygen should not be toxic the way his previous treatments have been. There is a slight possibility that the hyperbaric treatment itself would heal his tooth and he wouldn't have to have anything else removed.

The bad news:
- We thought we were done with treatments and are very disappointed and totally burnt out to a crisp.
- If Andrew's jaw is dying, which we don't know yet, they would either have to replace it with a bone in his leg and some muscle in his chest. If we didn't want to do such a major surgery and just replaced his jaw with a metal one, he would be disfigured.

It would be horrible for him to go through another major surgery like that again and would be a major obstacle to his recovery. I feel like in order to get ahead of his cancer, we need to stop doing additional damage to his body.

Avalanche

About eight days ago, Andrew's mom left and returned to her home in New Jersey. It was our first week without her in a month and our first week after treatments ended. At first it seemed to be going well by God's grace. It felt like I was riding a wave, trying to breathe, and keep calm. Each day was a mad competition to stay ahead of the game, lest I fall one step behind and an avalanche collapse on me. Essentially, I function like a single mom of two toddlers/24-7 nurse.

Then Saturday Andrew took another dip into misery and utter exhaustion, and thus needed me even more. As a result, this week everything is clearly beyond me and everyone is a little neglected including Andrew.

One of the things that made a big difference when Andrew's mom was here was that if Andrew needed me, I could suddenly leave the kids and attend to him. Andrew had a special knock on the wall that he would do whenever he was calling me.

Now, if I suddenly need to attend to Andrew, the kids always happen to be eating one of their meals, and toddlers really can't be left alone while they are eating. If I run up to Andrew, something always happens so that Gracie always ends up screaming at the top of her lungs, which even from upstairs is ear-shattering and impossible to ignore. I am running up and down the stairs and nobody's getting the help they really need.

The worse off Andrew is, the more he sleeps, and thus the less he communicates. He is too exhausted to think about his needs, and so what he really needs me to do is constantly be contemplating what possibly could be his needs and how I can meet them. But anyone who has two toddlers knows that they are a totally distracting job from life, let alone distracting from someone who actually needs your 100% attention. I have always wished I could just sit at Andrew's bedside all day and just stare at him trying to scheme of ways I can not only help along his recovery, but be a comfort to him as well.

Please pray the Lord would provide the grace to take good care of Andrew. To have the wisdom and presence of mind to be able to keep track of what his constantly changing and fluctuating needs are, as well as the strength to stay on top of all the labor to meet his needs and the essential needs of our family.

Shockingly Soon

It has been just over one week since Andrew finished his treatments. Andrew was feeling pretty discouraged, as he said he felt worse than he had during all the treatments. He was very exhausted, sleeping a lot until Monday, making his moods very low too.

Worse than the exhaustion, though, was the area around his mouth. His voice each day has increasingly become more hoarse, making it harder and harder for him to talk. His saliva, thicker than any mucous, has been causing him to gag frequently and up until last Saturday was causing him to throw up. His skin has been peeling off his neck, yellow slime slicking around it. But his pain meds are so strong that there were times he would scratch himself and wouldn't realize he was making himself bleed.

At the same time, being on the outside, and not experiencing the physical suffering that he was, which I'm sure made the days seem excruciatingly long for him, I felt so hopeful. I could see his energy increasing with each day and we had all gone bike riding together again on Tuesday, which is always a good sign. From the outside, I had learned that despite the downward dips, Andrew eventually floated to the surface again.

Nonetheless, Andrew was still in the depths. Andrew didn't feel human, he's been through so much suffering, so different than the strong, exceptionally capable man he was. Seeing people in public made Andrew feel so different than them, handicapped. Andrew hadn't consumed anything through his mouth in weeks. And he feared this was his life.

Yet. Last night, I felt hungry just as I was about to go to sleep, so I brought up a bowl of food to my room, thinking Andrew was still asleep, as he had retired a few hours earlier. When I arrived there, though, he was awake. I figured he wouldn't mind me eating, though, because he always sits with us during our meals anyway. I had a bowl of Indian food, Palak Paneer, which is basically a thick spinach sauce with tomatoes and spices. I had added too much water to the new brand of brown rice we had, so it was really soft. On top of the Palak Paneer, I had put yogurt to tone down the spicyness.

"That smells so good," Andrew said.

"Oh!" Whoops. "Wanna have some?" Why did I just say that?

"Fine...I'll just try some." I handed him my bowl. He took a spoonful, put it in his mouth, and made the motions of chewing, slowly. I had never seen him chew since before his surgery. He finished a spoonful.

Apparently, the sauce, over-soft rice, and yogurt was perfect for making it easy for him to eat.

I began to tear up.

"Is there more downstairs?" he asked.

"You can just have the rest!" I said.

He ate the whole bowlful. "Mmmm. That was so enjoyable," he said.

"Babe, you ate an entire bowl!" I said. I was tearing up more and truly was shocked.

He said, "It was really only five tablespoons."

Five heaping tablespoons. "You haven't eaten one teaspoon of anything at all in weeks. You're not even supposed to be able to eat at all through your mouth. And you're supposed to be worse off than ever right now."

"I didn't really eat it, I flushed it down with a lot of water. Course it was the most amount of food I've eaten in weeks," he said.

Exactly.

We prayed together to thank God for answering my prayer request that he would be able to eat a meal shockingly soon! Thank you for praying!

"For this reason I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, from whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might through His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints [believers] what is the width and length and depth and height— to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen."

- Ephesians 3:14-21

The Aftermath

Andrew finished his last radiation last Thursday, and we are so grateful. They always say, though, that he's supposed to get worse until two weeks after the treatments end, which seems to be the case.

Please pray for Andrew as he is feeling terribly exhausted and has often felt nauseated. On Friday, he threw up his hospital formula.

Andrew always used to nap in the car on the way home from radiation and continue his nap in our backyard, so he could still get fresh air, whether he would have the strength to bike ride or walk later in the day or not. So today since Andrew was feeling so exhausted, instead of walking, I drove us all to the park, and Andrew took a nap on some grass in the shade, while the kids played in the lake and the playground. Now we are all going to my sister's so that while the kids nap there, Andrew can nap somewhere different or watch a movie there. Gotta go!

Bike Rides and Sorbet

GRACE WRITES:

Praise God that today (Tuesday) Andrew received his last chemo treatment! I feel so grateful to the Lord for getting us through the past 6.5 weeks. Only two more radiation treatments left! Praise the Lord!

I want to thank all of you for the comments you left. Andrew had not been keeping up with all the new ones for the past couple of weeks. Tonight, he read some of them. Afterwards, Andrew updated the group at our prayer-for-him at our house that he didn't realize how discouraged he had been feeling until he felt so encouraged by reading your comments tonight. He was deeply moved by the things you wrote, seeing how much God truly is at work.

So keep the comments coming!

I think, too, that many of you must have been praying for us after I wrote that update on "Five Weeks of Treatment Down." Because last week a lot of the things I had written that weren't going so great went well last week. For instance, Andrew didn't go through a Tuesday night dip into misery that normally lasts 3 or 4 days. He started feeling good on Sunday and it lasted until Saturday! As a result, he was able to go bike riding every day, which made him feel a lot better and also made his sleep much better. He said the biking relieved a lot of the soreness his muscles were feeling from sleeping so much, and it also stretched his neck because you have to look up when you're riding a bike. So even though he was up and about more, he felt like he was getting more rest than normal.

One day we went on a really long bike ride for a half hour (well, long relative to what Andrew can handle) together around one of the lakes near our house and then around the neighborhood. Later, I found out he would have gone faster [if not for me slowing him down=) (Hey, my default is to enjoy the scenery. It never occurs to me to be fast)]. Andrew had so much energy, he was talking so much, I can't even remember the last time he talked that much. Hearing from my Andrew made me feel like I had my old Andrew back.

When we were riding, he said, "Hey, let's take turns choosing which way to turn. Remember when we were dating and we were driving one night and we decided to take turns saying which way to turn?" We had had no destination that afternoon in California and figured our random turns would eventually take us somewhere fun. As we found ourselves at Dockweiler Beach, we decided our goal should be to make a bonfire without spending any money and without having to return home. So Andrew took me to a wood dumpster - which of course somehow he knew exactly where one was - outside a fenced building being constructed. Being that we were in Los Angeles and people are generally not outwardly rude, no one walking by made any indication of staring as we jumped in and out of a dumpster and loaded large slabs of wood into Andrew's car (It was very clean by the way. Only wood was in the dumpster).

Then Andrew took me to Seven Eleven to pick up some lighter fluid for $1 - okay we exceeded our zero budget - but it afforded us a free book of matches. Outside of Seven Eleven, Andrew grabbed a variety of free magazines to get the fire started. When we arrived at the beach, all the bonfire pits were taken, so we sat on the sand and watched an incredible sunset with pink and violet streaking the sky. Out of Andrew's mouth slipped that if someone asked him how things were going between us he would tell them how he had fallen madly in love. I didn't want him to tell me he loved me until he asked me to marry him, so I exclaimed, "What?" and he laughed, and said, "Oh just kidding."

Somehow me ruining the moment didn't ruin the moment at all. I think the New Jersey culture in us made us able to say really blunt or abrasive things or back and forth make fun of each other and it was all laugh-out-loud hilarious to us.

A few mintues later, a family finished their bonfire and waved us over to offer us their pit. That was so nice of them. And for $1 Andrew made us a giant bonfire.

Biking through our neighborhood of Eden Prairie also made me think about why we hadn't ridden bikes together in years. The last time had been a few days after I found out I was pregnant with A.J., and I was having a miserable first trimester. While we were biking, I had said, "I don't like bike riding. I don't want to do this anymore," which actually was news to me as it came out of my mouth.

And Andrew had said, "No, it's just because you're pregnant...And you're going uphill...And your tire is flat."

Yeah for some reason reason I rode my bike even though we both knew there was a hole in my tire.

When we returned home from biking last week, after dinner, Andrew said he felt like eating something soft like yogurt, but not yogurt. We just got this special juicer where on a certain setting if you put frozen blueberries in it, it comes out as sorbet. So I made some for Andrew and everyone, and not only was Andrew able to eat the whole bowlful, he said, "Mmmmm. That was so satisfying."

I was so excited and happy and praising God. Just that afternoon after a difficult attempt to eat an avocado, he had been feeling discouraged that he would never be able to enjoy food again, and yet here was a glimpse of hope.

In addition to biking together last week, feeling like I had access to my Andrew again, and him enjoying blueberry sorbet, Andrew never threw up those several days. Doesn't it sound like these surprises are the fruit of your prayers for us?

After last year's cancer, my aunt introduced me to a lot of books on nutrition. I skimmed them with a lot of skepticism. Then, Andrew's co-worker, who had oral cancer 25 years ago, told us about The China Study by Cornell professor and leading nutritional giant, Colin T. Campbell. This co-worker was diagnosed with radiation-induced cancer in his mouth shortly after Andrew completed his treatments last year, but this man's tumors began healing themselves simply by changing his diet a few months ago. No other types of treatment. Our ears were perked. This was no infomercial. This was someone Andrew actually knew in real life and accomplished what he claimed. And it was the type of cancer directly related to what Andrew was going through. So we read The China Study and it was an epiphany for the both of us. It was the scientific evidence I needed and became the framework through which I filtered all the books I read about nutrition. I read this book only weeks before Andrew's diagnosis.

And so, I went back to the books my aunt had given me and read them more carefully. My aunt has been really into nutrition for years and since her husband is a doctor, she also reads his medical journals. As a result of all I read, after Andrew returned home from the hospital in April, we started him on an intensive nutritional diet, including about 8 cups of fresh carrot juice with beat, ginger, garlic, leafy greens, etc. each day and homemade formula made from real, healthy foods that included the calories, fats, proteins, and fiber he needs. I love juicing for Andrew, feeling like every cupful is like what I thought medicine was as a child, rather than masking symptoms, it truly heals his body. Often, when I'm juicing I find my heart exulting in worship of God, who does all things excellently and mercifully created food that is so healing and nourishing to our bodies.

My hope is not in nutrition, just as it is not in doctors. My hope is in God and God alone. But I believe God usually works through means nowadays. When someone drives to work, God provided the means for him to get there - a car, a ride, etc. But it was the Lord who provided that car and it was the Lord who made the car work, and it was the Lord who got him safely to work. In the same way, I believe that if God provides the means, a doctor, nutrition, etc. to heal a person, it's because God has provided those means. Sometimes those means work, sometimes they don't. Sometimes God makes something not work when it should have, and sometimes God makes it work better than it should have. Sometimes He just plain miraculously does something that no one can explain. Either way, it's because God made it do what He chose to do. Either way praise God because He is sovereign and has dominion over all things and all things are from His hand.

I always run the nutritional things I'm doing by our radiation doctors. They have actually been very supportive and have encouraged us to continue to do it, saying it's supported by studies. Nonetheless, when Andrew and I committed to radiation and chemo, we agreed that to make it through, if Andrew couldn't tolerate the natural stuff I made for him anymore, he would have to resort to the hospital formula.

As the chemo further depleted him and things like his hematocrit would go down making him anemic, I would do things like add lots of spinach to his juices to compensate, and things like that were really working. But as he got sicker and sicker, more and more formula started to replace his normal foods. By week 5 of treatment, it got to the point where sometimes he even threw up the hospital formula.

I began feeling nervous about increasingly not being able to give Andrew fresh juices and homemade formula. I was concerned that as he got more and more nauseated, and thus had less and less of the nutrition I wanted to give him, he would continue in a downward spiral of sickness and worse and worse health.

Well, since he didn't feel nauseated last week, he was able to tolerate tons of juice, as well as the homemade formula. I made the juice much simpler than before and only put carrot juice with broccoli or celery. He said the fresh carrot juice soothed his stomach and gave him loads of energy, which then allowed him to exercise a lot. (Carrot juice gives you lots of energy, except unlike the lattes I so enjoy, it's extremely good for you and healing, even essential). So instead of a downward spiral, he went in an upward spiral of improvement. In fact, his lab results from yesterday show that for the first time since he started his treatments, he is not anemic, despite how after 7 weeks of treatment, he is supposed to be worse off than ever.

I went back today and looked at Andrew's lab results from last year, before we had read any of the books I had mentioned, and in August, two months after he had finished his course of treatments, he was still very anemic, more anemic than he had ever been this round of treatments.

Andrew for some reason felt nauseated this weekend. So this week I would really like to pray that the Lord would spare Andrew from nausea and that he would be able to get all the nourishment he needs.

I also really want to pray that he would be able to eat a full meal through his mouth shockingly soon.

Thanks so much for your encouragement and prayers. I don't think you all know just how much you help us through both of them.

Please continue to pray for our PLEES!

My Nephew, Isaac

GRACE WRITES:

Hi everyone, some of you may be wondering how my new nephew, Isaac, is doing. Here is an update from my brother-in-law that he wrote a few weeks ago:

Dear brothers and sisters,

Thank you so much for your outpouring of affection and concern for Gayle and Isaac. It is an encouragement to me beyond words that our church family would love us so much, and in such concrete ways. I thank you on behalf of all the Glennians!

Isaac Romeo Glenn was born at 2.0 lbs., 14.2 in., 14 weeks prematurely. He is therefore held up in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) at Children’s Hospital in Minneapolis. Depending on his course, he will be there till his due date (August 28). He cannot receive visitors, unless they are accompanied by Gayle or me. And even then, they are only permitted to see him for ten minutes between 9 am and 9 pm. Children are never permitted in the NICU, except for the siblings of the child. However, because there is a case of RSV in the hospital, not even our kids can see him right now. So although I’m sure you’d like to stop by to see how he’s doing, right now visiting him is a practical impossibility. In addition, we would ask that you not ask to visit him with us, as his condition is such that he needs all his energy for his continued development. We’ll certainly let you know when this changes...

Now to Isaac:

Two words have been used to describe him: “feisty” and “superstar.” He’s feisty because when he’s awake he’s flailing all over the place and because when he’s asleep he gets very irritated with anyone who wakes him! Gayle says this reminds her of someone. I’m not sure who.

He’s been called a superstar because of how well he is doing despite the precarious nature of the situation in which he finds himself. For example, in order to rule out an infection in his spinal fluid, he had to undergo a spinal tap yesterday morning. The procedure alone typically puts a good deal of stress on the baby, but Isaac lay on his side while he sucked a pacifier, and did extremely well. Our nurse said that he amazed everyone. We know this is the fruit of your prayers.

Currently, we’re awaiting results from a head ultrasound that will determine if he has any “bleeders” in his brain. Babies born 22-24 weeks are at the greatest risk for this complication, so Isaac is not in the worst position; however, he is still at risk. I asked the doctor what the medical course would be if Isaac were to have a bleeder: “Do you perform surgery?” “No, there’s nothing we can do. If he does have a bleeder, and if it’s small enough, his body may be able to reabsorb the blood. But if the bleeder is too large…” I interrupted, “It can be fatal?” “Yes, it can be fatal.” So please pray that Isaac’s head ultrasound would be clear.

Children at this age are also at risk for eye problems, as their retinas are not fully developed. An ophthalmologist will see Isaac toward the middle of next week to measure his progress. Pray that he would have no complications with his vision.

Finally, although there is a very high survival rate for babies born at 26 weeks, we cannot put our hope in all the wonderful medical ingenuity that God has given us by his providence. Although I am extremely thankful for the practices of neonatology and perinatology, our hope is in the Lord, and the Lord alone. Isaac is God’s, and He will have His way with him. Pray that we would continue to believe that God’s way is the best, most loving way in the universe.

We love you all, and thank you so much for your kindness and prayers.

Blessings, Pastor Bob
Zeph 3:17

As of today, June 15th, most of the above concerns are either resolved or are on it's way to being resolved. Isaac's tests and scans have come back without any problems. Nonetheless, Isaac is still just under 30 weeks old (if he were still in the womb). He is still developing, including his lungs, and still has lots of weight to gain. Next week, he will be moved out of NICU (neo-natal intensive care unit) and will be moved to a closer hospital, which he will remain in until his due date at 40 weeks. Sometimes he has sleep apnea, which is normal for his age, since his lungs are still developing, and they have to tap him on the back and remind him to breathe. Please continue to pray for Isaac's development and that he would be a thriving baby.

It's funny that my sister is going through such similar things as I am with Andrew. Blood transfusions (the baby loses a lot of blood from being pricked and checked so much, and Andrew received blood transfusions every day while he was in ICU), spending so much of her day making food for the baby (she has to pump milk every two hours, while I spend hours juicing and making Andrew's homemade formula - neither of them eat solid food), daily visits to the hospital, awaiting test results that could indicate life or death, and the list goes on. The Glenns are doing well, though, and as usual their spirits are up, they always make us laugh, and their family has a cheering effect on everyone they encounter.

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.