I’ve taken my time writing this post as it is a shared journey…

First, some good news! My most recent CT scan was NEGATIVE for any metastatic cancer. And that pesky DVT (deep vein thrombosis) that developed during my chemotherapy earlier this year is completely resolved! This is no small thing, given the health challenges Ken and I have faced this year.

I continue to feel good, and even have redeveloped my ability to enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning. During the months of chemo and afterwards, my innards couldn’t handle the caffeine. Now it’s the delicious sensory overload and start to my morning that I missed for so many months.

Yes, my hair is slowly growing back… it is very fine, very grey, and showing signs of cowlicks and curls. There’s a little mullet action happening, but I’m loathe to trim it until I have a little more growth. Each little crazy curl is a reminder that I am continuing to heal and recover. The gifts of prayer, companionship, and helps to us as a family have contributed to my continued healing. If you’ve been a part of this journey, thank you.

The harder news is about Ken…

In July he had emergency spinal surgery to remove tumors that were pressing on his spinal column. The pain was intense and he was admitted through the ER. Through a comedy of errors, [sarcasm] he was discharged home with no medical equipment and no pain meds. Only the persistent care and intervention of his GP, especially his practice manager, did we get a hospital bed delivered, and an intervention of pain medication.

The purpose of the spinal surgery was to preserve his independence and mobility so that he could get further treatment for the cancer. Ken made it through 5 radiation treatments before calling a halt to treatments due to the side effects. His oncologist, our wonderful Dr F, noted some changes in Ken’s speech and movement, and ordered a brain MRI. And that showed… metastases in the occipital region of his brain.

Ken had already made up his mind that he was not going to pursue any further chemotherapy. When Dr F told us that the mets had spread to the brain… it was difficult news to hear, but it was also confirmation that Ken was listening to God’s leading AND, most especially, to the signals his body was giving him. Throughout ALL of this, he has had horrific pain, never completely smoothed out by what pain drugs he could be given. (It’s a tale for another time, but basically the medical community is hamstrung by regulations surrounding pain meds, and it is to the detriment of cancer patients everywhere.)

Wednesday (9/13) Ken was admitted to hospice. My co-workers are showing up with compassion and caring, just as I have witnessed them do over the years for so many other patients. I am grateful for their support and their commitment to Ken’s comfort.

Our wonderful daughters have both visited recently, and they will be back soon. Again, credit to Dr F and his staff for an instantaneous turn-around of their FMLA forms! They also both have supportive supervisors. We are grateful for small favors. It is hard for us to be apart… but their love is felt across the miles and they are amazing young women.

Everyone wonders “How much time??” …and there’s really no way to know. We will cherish what we are given, and count time in smaller increments than usual.

Recently I received a copy of a book, Unsung Heroes, by one of my favorite musicians, Michael Kelly Blanchard. In it, he has collections of poetry and short stories that have comfort and encourage me. In his poem Glimpses of God, he writes:

There are glimpses of God in the dying of things
The autumn of hearts, the fluttering of wings,
The face of farewell in the stares of suffering,
The falling of leaves such a long way from spring.
It’s all we’ll remember as angels applaud
The traces of tender, the glimpses of God.

Even in all of this heartache… God is there. I don’t know as I have a way to explain it other than grace. Abounding, unending grace…