Susan improved again after being burdened for a couple of weeks with greater fatigue and confusion most likely brought on by some combination of chemotherapy, a lower steroid dose, and a cold and cough. Her blood counts returned to normal ranges the week following last month’s oncology visit, so she was cleared to have her 5th dose of CCNU on March 4. She’s been understandably more tired, but again had no nausea or vomiting, thankfully. Her next series of blood tests will determine whether she’ll have her 6th and final dose of this chemo.
We visited UCLA again yesterday for an infectious disease follow-up with Dr Uslan, who tracks Susan’s progress from past complications like fungal meningitis and urinary tract infections and provides another set of eyes on her blood counts and liver function. We were glad to have an uneventful exam and extend her next visit to six months from now.
We celebrate Susan’s continued stability along with the gifts of life and our marriage as we approach our 25th anniversary on March 23rd. In the months following Susan’s diagnosis in 2007, a generous and anonymous friend gave us a gift certificate for the Surf & Sand Hotel in Laguna Beach. We were too consumed with crises to use it initially, but I thought of using it last March for an anniversary getaway since she was in pretty good shape. I faced the brain tumor quandary – do we seize the day and get to Laguna while we can, or do I gamble on Susan living another year so we can celebrate our 25th in style? With less than three months out from a life-threatening brain hemorrhage, would she have another? Would tumor growth or infection or something else interrupt? Would Susan yet become a GBM statistic for the 24-month average life span after diagnosis?
I had our silver anniversary in mind, but I was trying to answer just another form of the original question – how long will Susan survive? Since the answer is unknowable for us, I circled back to what we do know: our lives are in God’s hands. That resolved, I could go on faith that we’d get to our 25th together if it’s God’s will since he knows what’s best for us. It felt good to have such a goal. And it was strangely enjoyable to defy the beast of uncertainty made up of all the things that could go wrong over the next year. It’s kind of like I was flipping GBM the bird even though I’m not the bird-flipping type. Take that.
This whole brain tumor journey is stinking hard. It’s hard emotionally, spiritually, physically, and financially. It’s hard on Susan; it’s hard on me, on our kids, on our parents, on our family and friends. I wish I could say I’m unwavering in my strength, but one day recently I became upset under the stress of getting errands and things done at home when I had to take time to help Susan. Since I was obviously irritable, she apologized and said she’ll do anything she could to help. My thought came immediately and shocked me: “How about not getting a brain tumor?” I held my tongue.
A few months ago I concluded that with all of Susan’s deficits from vision to mobility to memory, I’m just glad to have her around. I told myself if this is as good as it gets, it's okay. We’re still together. After 25 years of marriage and nearly three years in brain tumor world, her weaknesses have exposed my own. Confronting my brokenness has been as hard as anything else we’ve been through. I believe it’s one of the great human challenges under any circumstances. I’m learning my strength will fail and even my resolve will waver. But I’m learning to trust the one who loves us incredibly and whose promises are enduring:
But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 2 Corinthians 12:9
Our 25th anniversary will be a special day for us. We're grateful to belong to each other for so long and thankful for someone's caring gift so we can celebrate so nicely. I’m so glad I met my Susan.
