On Monday, August 8, I drove myself to an ER due to a stomach ache that just wouldn't quit. A few hours later, a doctor was saying things like "cancerous liver tumors," "active lymph node involvement," and "life-changing news." This was exactly one week before I was scheduled to start a new job as a psychologist for cancer patients at Moffitt Cancer Center here in Tampa.
In the following days, I underwent multiple tests - CT, MRI, PET, hida scanning, biopsies, blood draws, colonoscopy, endoscopy... The doctors were having trouble identifying the exact type and original source of the cancer. (Liver tumors often originate somewhere else and settle in the liver.) Neither pathology nor scanning seemed to provide the needed clues for a definitive diagnosis and a targeted treatment plan. At the same time, pain management became a huge issue. I transitioned to become a patient at Moffitt and thankfully their team was able to help me get better control of pain and sleep.
Based on some initial clues in the biopsies and my history of ulcerative colitis, the plan was to start me on a broad-spectrum chemotherapy while pathologists continued their investigation. Then, at the 11th hour, pathology made a diagnosis allowing for a more targeted form of chemotherapy to begin without delay.
I was able to begin chemo this Friday, September 1. Day one involves a four-hour drip of premeds and two types of chemo. Days two and three each involve a one-hour drip of one type of chemo. All three days involve ice cream. Then I recover for three weeks and the process repeats. The idea is that the chemo shrinks the tumors as much as it can, and then we turn to additional therapies to go to work from there.
Those were the medical facts. Now let's talk about the human experience. I've learned a lot along the way:
- Endurance is key. I've taken a lot of physical and psychological blows over the past month. Each day has brought frightening medical news, increasing visceral pain, deteriorating sleep, and painful tests and procedures. I have needed a mental strategy to organize all available energy and resources. The word God has provided is "endure." Learning to take the hits and radically endure, even when it seems beyond my limits, has become a significant area of focus in the path forward.
- Humans have a capacity for kindness I had never known. People have shown up for me in ways bold and quiet, subtle and grand, up close and from afar, gently and powerfully, carefully and recklessly. On my end, I am learning the complex layers involved in more fully opening myself up to receiving support and letting down walls.
- God's work has been clear. Blessings and miracles have been everywhere. Prayer has spread like wildfire. Pathology results arrived just in the nick of time to get the right chemotherapy started without delay. Complex insurance issues have worked out. The most compassionate nurse showed up during the most painful procedure. God is inviting me to lean further into faith, drawing me nearer to him in unexpected ways.
- Of all the wonderful verses, sources of inspiration, and words of comfort, II Corinthians 12:9 has resonated most deeply: "Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me." Yes, I am being strong. But I most frequently fret and worry, fear and doubt, cower and despair. These are the spaces where we will witness Christ's healing, where we have already seen it taking place. These are the dark corners where He has firmly planted you, my friends and family, to share faith, kindness, hope, and compassion. These are the gaps He has galvanized you to fill.
You may be wondering why we haven’t sent many recent updates. That’s because so far, the chemo has been working to keep the disease stable (i.e., to prevent the tumors from growing). Thank you God! This has meant Jordie has been living the chemo-recover-work-live a little-repeat cycle. He says it has been at times manageable, at times tiring, and always a real gift to be doing well. He notices he bounces back from chemo relatively quickly (e.g., in about 3-4 days, w a lot of improvement after about day 2).
But now we have an important update and prayer requests. Jordie has a scan this afternoon (at 3:50 pm). He says that’s the easy part (“you just lay in a tube a stop breathing”). It’s the waiting on results that is difficult. We ask that you please pray for:
-clear and helpful imaging
-continued disease stability (no tumor growth)
-peace beyond understanding while waiting results
-gratitude for all the positive scans already this year
-radical healing
As ways, thank you heaps for your support of Jordie. It means a lot to him.
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