January 31st, 2016

It's past time to talk about hair and cancer. 

Last year I lost my hair. Got it back. Lost it. Got it back. I think I lost it again? Now I have it back. Before my ordeal with cancer, I assumed that people undergoing cancer treatment did not have hair, and that their hair coming back meant they were cured. Now though I know there really is no such thing as "cured" with regards to cancer, and that you cannot judge someone's treatment progress by their (lack of) hair. Even so, it can be hard to remember.

For the first few rounds of chemo--now amazingly over a year ago--I kept my hair. I shaved it off preemptively, thinking that I'd lose it right away when treatment began. Then we arrived in NYC and found out it wouldn't go anywhere until later rounds of more intense chemo. So there I was with my hair buzzed short, but not even starting to fall out. When it did finally go, it was surprisingly quick to come back, often making valiant efforts between rounds of chemo. In July I had a full head of hair and a weirdly soft black beard. I looked pretty swarthy and dashing. People often assumed I was done with treatment, though in truth I had another surgery, chemo, and two kinds of radiation treatments yet to go. As annoying as it might have been to have people I assume I was done, I really couldn't blame them. It's terribly confusing.

I too have made assumptions on the progress of others' treatment based on their hair. I can clearly remember being so glad last spring to see that one of the young patients we had gotten to know had her hair again. She must just be back for a follow up appointment, I stupidly assumed. Sadly my assumption based on her appearance was horribly wrong. She was merely between treatments, and her cancer had in fact returned, and to a terrible extent. Her situation has been and continues to be for me the most heart-wrenching part of this past year. Please, please pray for D.

That experience highlighted for me just how shallow we too often are. Western culture at least emphasizes physical appearance so much that we quickly evaluate and make assumptions based on looks alone. Cancer provides a great example of this. We see someone bald and thin and assume they have cancer; when we see their hair has come back, we presume they're all better now. Without knowing a person well, and taking the time to really understand their situation, we can easily draw wrong conclusions, even if we have lived through the same situation as them, even if we have found ourselves on their end of those false assumptions. How great it is then to love and serve a God who knows us for who we are inside, and does not judge on outward appearances.

1/24/2016

Weekly blog posts will resume next week! Stay tuned...

January 10th, 2016

The uncertainties and questions surrounding the end of cancer treatment feel unsatisfying and cause confusion. Several times this past year, when I still had surgeries and more rounds of Chemo ahead, people assumed I was completely finished with treatment and totally cancer-free simply because my hair had begun to grow back. Honestly it seemed at times like others were downright obsessed with my hair, but that's another topic for another time. It was interesting though to see how people often thought of cancer as something that either is being treated or has been cured, as if those were the only two possible options.

It seems--in American culture especially--that we like to have two simple options. Things are either true or false, good or bad, or some other simple dichotomy. We often see black and white when a full spectrum of colors lies in between, and we fail to appreciate ranges of possibilities like we should. I could go on and on about this and I likely will sometime later, but for now I'll limit this to how people seem to view cancer treatment. I have had a hard time explaining to others that I don't know If I am done or not with treatment. I've barely even tried to explain to others that my oncologists would have preferred to keep me on chemo another year or more, but that they ultimately left that decision up to me, and I chose not to bother with maintenance chemo. Cancer treatment is a complicated and messy process. For many people, such as me, there is no single definite end point.

I finished my planned course of treatment back in October, with my last day of radiation therapy. Since then I've had scans, an ultrasound, and an abdominal drain installed and then removed. I still take a handful of pills daily, to combat the toll treatment has taken on my immune system. Who knows what else I may have done in the future, or if it will really be considered treatment or not. In large part, the scans I will have in early February will determine what comes next. And I am certainly not alone in having this type of experience. A friend of mine had surgery just this past week, to replace the titanium femur he had received last year. The first prosthetic femur worked itself loose somehow, so needless to say this was a very necessary surgery. While I wouldn't exactly consider his surgery a part of 'cancer treatment' itself, it is only because he had osteosarcoma in his leg that most of his femur had to be replaced with a titanium bone instead. This was, then, in many ways a part of his cancer treatment, even though he has been declared to have No Evidence of Disease. For many of us, cancer treatment becomes very uncertain once the planned course of treatment ends. Achieving NED can happen multiple times, with recurrences interrupting everything and wreaking havoc on the comfortable categories of cancer patient and cancer survivor. When dealing with aggressive cancers, it is nearly impossible to find an exact end point to treatment. Treatment just sort of slowly ends without any fanfare.

Given what I had seen of cancer prior to 2015, I would never have dreamed that the waters would be so murky at the end of planned treatment. Videos of patients dancing on their last day of chemo or ringing a bell to declare themselves cured are far more palatable and therefore popular than the unsatisfying kind of end to treatment I had. Add to that the fact that the weeks immediately after my last day of radiation were far worse than the weeks leading up to them, and it's no wonder people don't hear much about this kind of experience with finishing cancer treatment. We like closure. We like to mark the moment when one has moved from being in treatment to being cured. We like simple options, not the complex decisions and uncertainties than many of us with difficult cancers face.

In some ways, I am still getting treatment. As I mentioned above, I take pills daily as a result of my cancer. But I am also not actively receiving any medical care that actually combats cancer. It is a strange, in-between, waiting phase filled with uncertainties. We haven't bothered to make any definite plans for any time after my next scans. Once we have the results, we'll figure out what comes next. It is, to say the least, a rather odd way of living, one that defies attempts to label and place it in one category or the other. I may not be in treatment right now, but cancer still has a lot of sway in my life's course. In the midst of all the uncertainty, it is comforting to remember that God excels at bringing order from chaos.

January 6th, 2016

Hello! I just wanted to take a quick moment and let everyone know that an essay I wrote for BioLogos is now posted. You can read it at the link below, if you are interested. That is all!

http://biologos.org/blogs/jim-stump-faith-and-science-seeking-understanding/thank-god-for-cancer

January 3rd, 2016

Happy New Year!

I've never made any resolutions for the new year. I've always thought it a little weird to use an arbitrary date on a calendar to make changes in my life. That and I've probably never spent enough time reflecting and thinking about changes I may need to make. But this year I'm going to give it a go. Without further ado, I resolve to:

 - Be more friendly, loving, and gracious. I've learned this past year that you never know what someone might be going through. Any interaction with anyone could be a chance to brighten their day, to share God's love, to brighten what could be a dark time for them. Christina and I have been blessed many times this past year by simple gestures of kindness, even from complete strangers. I hope to pass that on this year.

 - Enjoy every moment for what it's worth. You truly never know what the future holds, and how much more time you have left. I want to enjoy every moment like it's the last one I have, and I want to be more present and invested in the time I have and the people I'm with.

 - Gain weight. I hear it's normal in American culture to have a resolution regarding weight. So, I'm going to try to gain weight and get in shape. I'm planning on eating and exercising a lot. Obviously this resolution is conditional upon my health; if I have to go back into treatment for cancer then I don't see myself gaining weight, but I will still try.

 - Finish at least one book, hopefully two. I have a few projects going on (see the "book announcements" section on this blog), but my main project is a follow-up series to the Tamyth Trilogy. The quickest way to describe it is to say it's sort of what 'The Lord of the Rings' is to 'The Hobbit'. I'm about halfway done with the first book, and hope to finish it and pursue a traditional course of publishing for it. Anyone know any literary agents? :)

 - Love God and my neighbor better. These are the two essential teachings of my religion, and two mandates at which I fail daily. This is not so much a resolution for the year but one I need to make every day, and reflect upon regularly.

There are probably other resolutions I need to make (such as see 'The Force Awakens' at least three more times) but this short list will have to suffice for now.