Tomorrow I'll be in New York City for an ultrasound of my stomach. The last set of scans came back somewhat inconclusive, and it seems I have a buildup of fluid in my abdomen. We'll know more tomorrow, but the plan is to drain it, a simple procedure compared to everything else I've had done. The scans also highlighted two spots of interest, both at the bottom of my lungs, likely inflammation from radiation, but we won't know with much certainty until I have more scans in a month. For now, we continue to live scan-to-scan, waiting and hoping for conclusively cancer-free results.
It seems fitting that we spend this Advent season waiting for good news, news that will usher in a brighter future. Advent is, after all, about waiting for the arrival of the Messiah, the deliverer who will establish God's kingdom here on Earth. Waiting for a God who enters
into the messiness and uncertainty of this world, and looking for a tomorrow
made better by God’s presence in it, seem especially fitting activities as I wait for definitively clear scans, whether or not I ever get them.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Monday, December 14, 2015
December 14th, 2015
When we got the diagnosis over a year ago now, I took the news much
better than a lot of other people. Better than anyone, honestly. While, as I have talked about before, some of this is due to my generally carefree nature, I attribute a good part of this that to the fact that I,
not someone I love, would have to go through it all. It would be far worse to have to watch someone else I care about enduring round after round of chemo, surgery followed by surgery, followed by still more surgeries, and truly nasty radiation treatment. On the other side of the coin, several people have expressed to me that they wish it was them, not me, going through it all. It is, I think, a natural reaction when we see people we care about suffering. We want to take it from them, to carry their burden and give them some respite from their trials. I would never let someone I care about take my cancer from me, even if that were possible.
In so many ways, I am grateful that it is me, not other people I know and love, going through this. For one, my body seems to handle craziness well, and to look at me now you would likely never guess what I've gone through this past year. My hair and beard are back, and I look rather fit and healthy, on the whole. I know that not everyone is so robust or able to handle such stress--mental and physical--without it taking a more serious toll on their bodies and their baseline level of health. I may be down about 50 pounds from where I was before this whole ordeal began, but it just makes me look like a runner, rather than a...whatever I looked like before. Couch potato, maybe? I haven't had any serious or trying long-term effects from my treatment this past year. That just isn't true for a lot of people going through this type of treatment, for various reasons. One of those reasons must be that, for whatever reason, I heal quickly. For that, I am immensely grateful.
But my thankfulness that it is me and not my wife, or brother, or sisters, or any number of other people going through this extends well beyond the practicality of how my body has handled it all and come out as unscathed as possible. The mental anguish that others must have handled this past year is not something I would care to deal with. I really doubt I would have remained half so calm and happy as I've been this past year were it my wife, not me, going through all the miserable treatments. That's why when people have expressed to me that they wish they could have this instead of me, I think 'well, that's really sweet, but I'd never let you.' Cancer treatment is not something I'd ever let someone I care about deal with, if I had the ability to go through it on their behalf.
Perhaps that’s how God feels. Perhaps for God it was so unbearable to see people muddling through their own mistakes that God came down to go through it all for us, giving us a way to be free from our wrongdoings and the suffering they can bring. Much like the people who have expressed that they wished they could take my cancer from me and go through the treatments themselves, God looked at humanity and could not help but become incarnate as a person, to go through the human experience of life, to endure the consequences of sin on our behalf. While it's impossible, of course, for any of us to actually take someone else's disease and go through their misery for them, it's comforting to have a God who can do much the same thing, and in fact already did.
In so many ways, I am grateful that it is me, not other people I know and love, going through this. For one, my body seems to handle craziness well, and to look at me now you would likely never guess what I've gone through this past year. My hair and beard are back, and I look rather fit and healthy, on the whole. I know that not everyone is so robust or able to handle such stress--mental and physical--without it taking a more serious toll on their bodies and their baseline level of health. I may be down about 50 pounds from where I was before this whole ordeal began, but it just makes me look like a runner, rather than a...whatever I looked like before. Couch potato, maybe? I haven't had any serious or trying long-term effects from my treatment this past year. That just isn't true for a lot of people going through this type of treatment, for various reasons. One of those reasons must be that, for whatever reason, I heal quickly. For that, I am immensely grateful.
But my thankfulness that it is me and not my wife, or brother, or sisters, or any number of other people going through this extends well beyond the practicality of how my body has handled it all and come out as unscathed as possible. The mental anguish that others must have handled this past year is not something I would care to deal with. I really doubt I would have remained half so calm and happy as I've been this past year were it my wife, not me, going through all the miserable treatments. That's why when people have expressed to me that they wish they could have this instead of me, I think 'well, that's really sweet, but I'd never let you.' Cancer treatment is not something I'd ever let someone I care about deal with, if I had the ability to go through it on their behalf.
Perhaps that’s how God feels. Perhaps for God it was so unbearable to see people muddling through their own mistakes that God came down to go through it all for us, giving us a way to be free from our wrongdoings and the suffering they can bring. Much like the people who have expressed that they wished they could take my cancer from me and go through the treatments themselves, God looked at humanity and could not help but become incarnate as a person, to go through the human experience of life, to endure the consequences of sin on our behalf. While it's impossible, of course, for any of us to actually take someone else's disease and go through their misery for them, it's comforting to have a God who can do much the same thing, and in fact already did.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
December 6th, 2015
let's talk about thoughts and prayers. Personally, I think they're great. I want your thoughts and prayers. Just today someone told me they'd be thinking about me and praying for me. Cool! One of the ways we've made it through this past year is by the prayers, thoughts, and considerate deeds of others. Most people really aren't in a position to do much more than think of us and pray for us, and that already is more than I would ask of anyone. So there's nothing at all wrong with offering solidarity, thoughts, prayers, good vibes, or whatever other intangibles one wants to direct at another, whatever their situation. And I don't think anyone is making the argument that people shouldn't think of or pray for unfortunate circumstances, though it seems plenty of others believe this. The problem arises when thoughts and prayers are all people offer. But that's not quite right either. More specifically, the trouble comes when people who are in a position to offer more give only thoughts and prayers.
let me explain what I mean by this. This last spring, I didn't want you (unless you're reading this, Doctors Heaton and LaQuaglia) to do my surgeries. I did want you to remember that I was having surgery, and pray for it to go well. That's because you (probably) are not a surgeon. You aren't in a position to do more than think of and pray for me. But if my surgeons had said "we're thinking of you and praying for you," and then decided that was enough, and not to even try surgery, I would have been upset, and justifiably so. They at least should try something, right? There may not be a huge chance that the surgeries would be successful, and as I'm writing this we really don't know if there is any cancer left in me or not. Time will tell. We're thinking and praying for the best. But at least my surgeons tried in earnest to solve the problem, to use their talents, intellect, training, and station in life to keep cancer from killing me.
And that's the issue here in the U.S. regarding gun-related deaths. Too many people in places of political power who have the ability to do something, anything, to work towards decreasing the number of people killed every year are doing nothing, while offering thoughts and prayers as if that will solve it. It saddens me that nothing is being done in this area. I like to think everyone should be able to agree that we have too many gun-related deaths in this country, and we should do something about it. Between shootings and accidents, way too many lives are lost because of guns. It shouldn't be a radical sentiment to want to work towards solutions that prevent these unnecessary killings.
I really don't care what you think the right course of action is, and honestly I'm not here to argue one way or another about gun control, background checks, or any of that. The point I want to make is that we ought to hold a more honest, open-minded, and constructive discussion about what we can do. We need to acknowledge as a country that we have a serious problem, on a scale far greater than that in similar nations around the world. There must be something we can come up with, agree upon, or at least compromise on that can reduce the number of people killed by guns every year.
Too many people die of cancer too. If the powers that be only offered us their thoughts, prayers, and wishes for good health, there would be public outcry, and rightfully so. Instead, cancer research happens through a combination of funding from the government, individual donors, nonprofits, and pharmaceutical companies alike. Numerous hospitals, societies, organizations, companies, and associations are working on improving treatment options. Something is at least being done about cancer. It's high time we do something about gun-related deaths too.
Thoughts and prayers are fine, but not if that's all we get from people who should be doing more. After all, Jesus didn't say "I was naked and you thought about how cold that would be, and prayed that I would find clothes. I was hungry and you thought about how glad you were your own stomach was full, and prayed I'd find some food from that nearby dumpster. I was in jail and you thought about how hard it must be in prison, felt bad for me, and prayed I'd have visitors." It's pretty obvious to me that our politicians, at least those who profess to follow Jesus, need to do more than think and pray about gun violence. The truly uncomfortable part of this for me is that really, all of us can probably do more than think of and pray for someone in some situation somewhere. We need to be open to the ways we can and should help others. It might not be popular or easy to think like that, but it's what following Jesus requires. And it's something I'm sure I fail at every single day.
let me explain what I mean by this. This last spring, I didn't want you (unless you're reading this, Doctors Heaton and LaQuaglia) to do my surgeries. I did want you to remember that I was having surgery, and pray for it to go well. That's because you (probably) are not a surgeon. You aren't in a position to do more than think of and pray for me. But if my surgeons had said "we're thinking of you and praying for you," and then decided that was enough, and not to even try surgery, I would have been upset, and justifiably so. They at least should try something, right? There may not be a huge chance that the surgeries would be successful, and as I'm writing this we really don't know if there is any cancer left in me or not. Time will tell. We're thinking and praying for the best. But at least my surgeons tried in earnest to solve the problem, to use their talents, intellect, training, and station in life to keep cancer from killing me.
And that's the issue here in the U.S. regarding gun-related deaths. Too many people in places of political power who have the ability to do something, anything, to work towards decreasing the number of people killed every year are doing nothing, while offering thoughts and prayers as if that will solve it. It saddens me that nothing is being done in this area. I like to think everyone should be able to agree that we have too many gun-related deaths in this country, and we should do something about it. Between shootings and accidents, way too many lives are lost because of guns. It shouldn't be a radical sentiment to want to work towards solutions that prevent these unnecessary killings.
I really don't care what you think the right course of action is, and honestly I'm not here to argue one way or another about gun control, background checks, or any of that. The point I want to make is that we ought to hold a more honest, open-minded, and constructive discussion about what we can do. We need to acknowledge as a country that we have a serious problem, on a scale far greater than that in similar nations around the world. There must be something we can come up with, agree upon, or at least compromise on that can reduce the number of people killed by guns every year.
Too many people die of cancer too. If the powers that be only offered us their thoughts, prayers, and wishes for good health, there would be public outcry, and rightfully so. Instead, cancer research happens through a combination of funding from the government, individual donors, nonprofits, and pharmaceutical companies alike. Numerous hospitals, societies, organizations, companies, and associations are working on improving treatment options. Something is at least being done about cancer. It's high time we do something about gun-related deaths too.
Thoughts and prayers are fine, but not if that's all we get from people who should be doing more. After all, Jesus didn't say "I was naked and you thought about how cold that would be, and prayed that I would find clothes. I was hungry and you thought about how glad you were your own stomach was full, and prayed I'd find some food from that nearby dumpster. I was in jail and you thought about how hard it must be in prison, felt bad for me, and prayed I'd have visitors." It's pretty obvious to me that our politicians, at least those who profess to follow Jesus, need to do more than think and pray about gun violence. The truly uncomfortable part of this for me is that really, all of us can probably do more than think of and pray for someone in some situation somewhere. We need to be open to the ways we can and should help others. It might not be popular or easy to think like that, but it's what following Jesus requires. And it's something I'm sure I fail at every single day.
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