On a stable path

It’s been over three weeks since Susan came home. She’s more like her normal self than ever, for which we are thankful. Memory, awareness, and alertness have improved greatly; about to the point she was in February or March. For an idea of just how “with it” she’s become again, she probably could write this update herself. When she wants to confirm what day it is, she’s usually right. She’s remembering what activities our kids are up to, whom she talked to earlier in the day and things she did days or weeks ago. These things simply were not possible for her this past summer. It’s amazing what combined effect her back injury, hydrocephalus, anemia, and blood infection had on her, and it’s wonderful how far she’s come out of it. Susan continues to make progress physically also. When she came home, she needed a guiding hand from me and a firm grip on her walker to get around the house. Now the walker stands nearby since she needs only my hand or two to go short distances. Before, the only way she could leave the house was in the wheelchair through the back patio and out the side gate for transfer to the car. Now I can support her as she manages the front steps. Balance is still an issue; but her muscles are stronger. I think she’s ready for more aggressive rehab work and will contact the team who worked with her a year ago. Lord willing, she’ll have another good MRI this week and remain free of complications.

We’re getting great support from caregivers who help Susan from 7-4 on weekdays. Victoria is a freelance health aide who attends our church and is here Monday through Thursday. Cynthia is another aide from a home health company called Sheridan Care and is here each Friday. The help they provide is invaluable for companionship, safety, hygiene, and meals; and allows me to get in some decent hours at the office. My work providing financial advice is a challenge during the present economic and market crisis, so knowing Susan has competent care at home allows me to focus on the needs of our clients while I’m there.

Susan continues her chemotherapy regimen every two weeks at UCLA. Her liver enzymes have been elevated each of the last three visits since October, so she’s received only one of two drugs, Avastin. One of her daily drugs also expresses through the liver, so the CPT-11 only adds to the load. We’ll see what her blood tests reveal this week and whether she’ll resume with both IV meds. Aside from the 8-10 types of pills Susan swallows every day, we’ve also added twice-daily injections to our routine. I give her a Lovenox injection in her abdomen every morning and evening to prevent blood clots (deep vein thrombosis, or DVT). Dr Cloughesy informed me that developing blood clots is fairly common in brain tumor patients (for some reason). Susan already has an implanted IVC filter to prevent a clot from traveling to the heart; but the neuro-oncologist wants to prevent clots from forming – thus, the Lovenox. Susan dislikes getting stuck as much as I don’t like sticking her. But we do what we must.

I asked Susan out on a date Friday night. Lexie and the boys were at work and a football game respectively, so I contacted my wife’s social secretary, managed to clear her calendar, and asked her out on a date. She said “yes.” I was relieved because I couldn’t have handled the rejection. We went to Polly’s Pies for our first dinner date since May or June. She used the walker (not the wheelchair) in another point of progress. We had a terrific dinner and took home dessert to share. I think I’ll ask her out again.

We’ve been back to church together now for several Sundays. What a blessing. We’ve been greatly encouraged by expressions of care, prayers and reminders of prayers, hugs, tears, and well-wishes from our family in the Lord. Susan and I are continually aware of God’s greater purposes during our season of struggling with her brain cancer. We don’t know exactly what those purposes are, but we know God does, and we trust Him. Once again, it comes down to a profound mystery. We are not promised a life of ease or one that is free from threat, devoid of pain, or absent of calamity. But God does give us His presence and His peace during hardship – more than enough for us. The mystery is not just the fact of God’s hidden purposes during tough times – it’s that the circumstances do not need to be attended by the fear, worry and despair that naturally follow apart from God. That is a marvelous gift.

One other gift I’ve come to appreciate with our cancer journey has been the gift of intimacy with my wife. I think it’s the result of time spent. We’ve been together a lot over the past seventeen months, during periods ranging from uncertainty about death to lightness and joy. We laugh a lot. I tease Susan mercilessly, sometimes pushing past the obvious point of annoyance to prolong a manic moment. She’s usually ready to forgive me for that. We’ve had countless tender moments of sharing our deepest hearts with each other and professing our mutual love. We just enjoy being together. We genuinely never tire of each other – I guess that’s the mark of abiding love. We trust each other totally as our lives are more intertwined than they ever have been. Susan knows I’ll do anything for her. Anything. And she never forgets to express her appreciation. I often tell her I need to do a good job so she doesn’t fire me. I’m not surprised it took brain cancer to bring us to the finest point of our marriage, and I’m not even sorry for it. To rally together and grow closer during hard times is the way it should be.