Continued stability

Susan has been doing well following her fourth dose of CCNU chemotherapy after waiting a week to see if her blood counts improved. They did, so she took her chemo pills at home on January 14. She was moderately more tired last week, but came through without nausea or vomiting. She takes Zofran for a couple of days after chemo to prevent nausea that seems to do its job well. The next side effect to watch will be in mid-February when she resumes weekly blood work prior to her next scheduled exam and chemo toward the end of the month. Drugs like CCNU tend to knock back the body's vital blood cells 4-6 weeks after having them; and each cumulative dose makes it harder to bounce back and raises the possibility of needing a transfusion. The complimentary alternative treatments she has three times each week with our chiropractor may be part of the reason she's holding up well so far. Dr Jim Augustine provides her with bio-cranial adjustments and electromagnetic pulse therapy; plus she takes daily supplements to support liver, brain, and digestive function.

We are grateful this continued period of stability. This week marks one year since Susan's brain hemorrhage and her last hospitalization.  This is by far the longest period of time without a hospital stay since she was diagnosed over two and a half years ago.  Having twelve months without a major medical event and its atrophy of inactivity has helped her gain vital strength. We also know many people continue to hold us up in prayer.  We are ever aware that God is keeping us in his care.
 
I chatted briefly with a patient I met at the chiropractor's office who apparently is familiar with Susan and asked me how she is doing. I said she's under continuing treatment for a brain tumor, but she's hanging tough and doing pretty well. At times like this I try to reflect the realistic optimism we've adopted. I do not choose to speak from gloom, that she has a malignant brain tumor with a two-year average life expectancy and a 100% eventual mortality rate. Nor do I choose to convey a false cheeriness that God will heal her since we know he can, but don't know if he will. That's a lot to blurt out, but it's contained in my response – yes, brain tumor; and yes, okay. But the kind man wanted to know more. How are WE doing?
 
I shared that we are doing okay, really. We are Christians and we trust the Lord. Yes, we trust the Lord he conceded, but what are we doing? I asked the kind man what he meant. He wanted to know if we're doing everything we can, pursuing every treatment – did we know about Dr Burzynski in Houston? I said I knew about Burzynski's claims and some of his successes and controversies. Ultimately, Susan was not eligible for his clinical trials since she'd already had surgery and radiation. The kind man wanted to know why surgery didn't fix it. I spoke of tendrils and aggressive brain cancer – it grows back. Then he said his wife had died of cancer eight years ago, and I understood. He couldn't fix it for his wife. He said you think you're ready for it, but you really can't be. The kind man still grieves.
 
I had to go help Susan from the treatment room, so I assured him we're pursuing every medical option available to us, and we also trust the Lord with our lives. We just do. Every day is a gift. Peter writes about living in "the tent of this body" (2 Peter 1:13) and receiving "a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ" (2 Peter 1:11). If we did not own that perspective, I'm pretty sure we'd be living in despair. So we continue to hope for the best, and in faith we are ready for anything. For now, God is keeping us and giving us his precious peace.