Susan is doing about the best ever since her brain tumor was diagnosed. With well over 18 months since her last tumor progression, she’s continually stronger, more energetic and alert. When my brother Jon was in town from Colorado recently, he looked across the dinner table and pronounced he was looking at the normal Susan again. Yesterday at UCLA for labs and a CT scan to check her kidney stones, several oncology nurses who treated Susan during her worst days of 2008 were astounded to see her in clinic talkative and getting around without a wheelchair. Just as when her symptoms have worsened making it hard to pinpoint an exact cause, I can’t say exactly why she’s doing so well, aside from the obvious lack of tumor growth. I suspect Dr Jim’s alternative chiropractic treatments have been effective. Also, her endocrinologist’s recent prescription for L-Thyroxine seems to have revved up her slumping thyroid gland and boosted her metabolism. What matters is that she’s doing so well.
Yesterday after lunch at home, Susan sat in her automatic recliner holding its two-button remote control and asked how to turn the TV to channel 4. I’m used to greeting her requests with some suspicion since she so regularly gets muddled in words, thoughts and actions. She clearly was confusing the recliner and TV remotes and probably wanted to get up to use the restroom. But she looked at the clock that read 12:45 and said she really did want to watch channel 4. I checked the guide and was astounded myself – there were 15 minutes left on “Days of Our Lives.”
People experienced with brain trauma will appreciate what a big deal this was – Susan correctly read the clock, was aware of the time of day, remembered the program that came on during that hour, and knew what channel she needed to find it. It’s easy to take for granted this level of alertness and decision-making until it’s denied. It’s a mighty contrast to the mental malaise that’s dogged her so much of the past four years. So there I was, dumbfounded, welcoming such a normal act and greatly amused that really I don’t know every detail of Susan’s life. When did she start watching “Days” again? (She used to record it on our newlywed VCR and FFWD through the tape after work. She’d discuss its plot lines with another soap opera addict – er, fan in my life, my then 80-something grandmother. Susan even taught Grandma to program her own VCR so she could tape the show and maintain the busy life of an octogenarian.) Susan is back and is not to be trifled with.
This weekend brings to mind those four years ago on Memorial Day weekend when we saw the grip of Susan's brain tumor becoming stronger while we were yet unaware. We’d stopped for steering-wheel sized pancakes at the Guasti Café in Ontario along the way to Angelus Oaks. The joy of indulging our kids in an absurdly big breakfast was disrupted by mom’s intense headache that required her to cradle her forehead in her hands a few minutes after swallowing naproxen. Later at the cabin as I greeted our neighbor Barbara Gebb on the road, I explained Susan couldn’t come out and say hello since she wasn’t feeling well, had a headache and had been vomiting. I would recall that conversation with Barbara a year later, wishing I’d known what was wrong. Her darkening progression through June 2007 led to inconclusive doctor visits, more naproxen, writhing pain, an ER, and an ominous CT scan. The upheaval had begun.
Our perspective is so different now. Susan went from fair health to near death to vast improvement. We’ve seen a deadly disease overtake our lives in crisis and slowly migrate to manageable, chronic treatment. We’ve seen five friends die from brain tumors, three we knew from church and two we met through our brain tumor community. We've seen Hank Zavaleta pass away only last month and leave us inspired by his Godly faith, courage, and selflessness during his remarkable eight-year journey. We’ve seen our doctors give their best professionally while caring personally. We’ve seen friends and family give a sum of hours and dollars to sustain us that’s beyond counting.
More than anything, we have witnessed God’s faithfulness and the unfolding of his good purposes even in the hardest times. But why should we trust God when we don’t understand? How can we have peace when we’ve clearly lost any supposed guarantee that life would be smooth sailing? We trust him and have peace because we’ve learned more of God’s true nature than we knew before. We look back and can see him attending to our every need. We look around and are surrounded by his love and strengthened with his hope. We look ahead and take hold of his promises amid the working of his sovereign will as it plays out during our time on earth. This Memorial Day we remember how this journey started and how we’ve been carried through it. We will continue to see and speak of his mercies.
