Please God
I just want to be well
Is that too much to ask
The pain in my chest and side and back
It worries me
I long for health
I hope for the future
I mourn too soon
Scans today
A look inside
Frightening and illuminating
There’s a fight going on
Chemo versus cancer
Short odds on the cancer
But I’m not a betting man
Please God
Draw me close
Lift my heart to you
Deepen my trust
Strengthen my spirit
Guide me in wisdom
Show me again the riches of your love
May your love change me
And those around me
Please God
Tag: cancer
Help me live
Help Me Live: 20 things people with cancer want you to know is a must read for anyone who seriously wants to support people with cancer. This book is a treasure chest. Lori Hope understood! She surveyed hundreds of people with cancer, read widely on the topic, spoken with doctors, patients, carers and therapists. Most significantly, she battled with cancer herself. The book is chocked full of wisdom, insights, anecdotes, humour and pathos. It shares the actual stories of so many who have personal experience in these areas. It’s an excellent resource. I’ve read it and I’ll be recommending it widely.
So if you’re an oncologist or work in oncology, then please get yourself a copy and read it! If your husband, wife, child, parent, relative, friend, neighbour, or colleague have cancer – and you want to support them – then please heed the wisdom in this book. If you know people with cancer, but you’re scared of saying or doing the wrong thing, then this book will equip you to help. If you’re the pastor of a church, a medical social worker, a general practitioner, a nurse, or simply want to better understand others, then this will open your mind to the needs of many. If you have cancer yourself, and want to feel supported and loved and understood, then I recommend reading this book and passing it around.
Many of the books I’ve read have been written from a specifically Christian perspective. This one isn’t, but it shows an empathy for people with a range of beliefs and doesn’t discount faith in God or the significance of prayer.
I’ve read Help Me Live through once and I anticipate dipping into it again and again in days to come. Some of the issues it raises are worth exploring more thoroughly and I’ve begun compiling a ‘further reading’ file to explore at some point. At a recent ‘Lung Cancer and Mesothelioma Support Group’ meeting I mentioned this resource and none of the medical staff, cancer support staff, carers or patients were aware of it’s existence. But then neither did I until the author wrote to me a few weeks back. So let me give you the gist of it with a few quotes and snippets from the book.
The 20 things people with cancer want you to know
1. It’s okay to say or do the ‘wrong’ thing.
“Doing nothing or holding back is worse to me than doing too much or saying the wrong thing.” (p20)
Six words in sequence that never fail: “I don’t know what to say.” (p18)
2. I need to know you’re here for me, but if you can’t be, you can still show you care.
“I know that my being sick scares you. It scares me, too. Don’t stay away from me because of this. We don’t have to talk about it. Just be here for me.” (p25)
3. I like to hear success stories, not horror stories.
“They spent the entire afternoon telling me about everyone they had known that had cancer, and telling me the details about how many of them had passed away. It made me feel terrified.” (p32)
4. I’m terrified and need to know you’ll forgive me if I snap at you or bite your head off.
“I just need them to understand that I was not at my best mentally and emotionally and to be patient with me.” (p42)
5. I need you to listen to me and let me cry.
“Sometimes someone would ask me how I was and when we started talking cancer, they changed the subject. That made me feel terrible.” (p50)
6. Asking my permission can spare me pain.
“I liked it when people would call and make an appointment to come over and see me and call an hour before to check that I was up for it.” (p62)
7. I need to laugh – or just forget about cancer for a while!
“I just needed someone to help take my mind off all the stuff going on. I didn’t want to think about the cancer. So just do things like watch a movie or go for a walk and just talk to them and treat them like you would if they didn’t have cancer.” (p69)
8. I need to feel hope, but telling me to think positively can make me feel worse.
“Just think positive … hooey! LOL … that’s it? That’s all it takes to cure my cancer? And hey, you try thinking positive after a round of chemo.” (p77)
9. I want you to respect my judgment and treatment decisions.
“He kept encouraging me to deny chemo, that it was poison. It didn’t help me at all. My choice wasn’t respected, and I was left with a sinking suspicion that I may be choosing to poison myself.” (p92)
10. I want you to give me an opening to talk about cancer and then take my lead.
“I just wanted it to be normal. My friend came and we played Scrabble and talked, and it helped. Sometimes we talked about cancer. Sometimes we did not. But we played Scrabble just as we had most of our friendship.” (p99)
11. I want compassion, not pity.
“Many words of heartfelt compassion without being condescending were said. ‘I love you’ meant a lot to hear, or ‘You mean so much to me’.” (p105)
12. Advice may not be what I need, and it may hurt more than help. Try comforting me instead.
“I don’t like it when anyone starts a sentence with ‘you have to’.” (p111)
13. I am still me; treat me kindly, not differently.
“People don’t change when they get cancer and suddenly stop wanting to be called smart, sexy, fun, funny, a good Christian, an excellent cook, singer, etc. or a total fashionista. People are more than their cancer.” (p118)
14. If you really want to help me, be specific about your offer, or just help without asking.
“Instead of asking can I do anything, just do something, don’t wait for me or my caregiver to ask, because we more than likely won’t.” (p123)
15. I love being held in your thoughts or prayers.
“A friend told me I was wrapped in her love and prayers. I’ve never forgotten those words, and years later when I had a health scare, I thanked her again and told her how much those words meant to me.” (p128)
16. Hearing platitudes or what’s good about cancer can minimize my feelings.
“Beginning a sentence with ‘At least…’, at best minimizes and at worst totally dismisses a concern or worry.” (p135)
17. I don’t know why I got cancer, and hearing your theory may add grave insult to injury.
“A few people act as if you might be contagious or had done something to deserve the disease. Now that really hurt, I suppose because of the little nagging voice inside that’s saying the same thing.” (p139)
18. Don’t take it personally if I don’t return your call or want to see you.
“I wanted people to understand that I was tired and couldn’t return all calls or emails.” (p146)
19. I need you to offer support to my caregiver, because that helps me, too.
“When friends called and said they were bringing meals over and asked whether Thursday or Friday would be best, I could cry. Not only was it a show of their love and support but also it relieved my wife of yet something else to deal with.” (p152)
20. I don’t know if I’m cured, and bringing up my health can bring me down.
“On the ‘Are you cured now?’ issue, every time they ask it, it drives home the point deep inside of you that you will never know.” (p162)
And a bonus, from the revised and expanded edition…
21. I am more grateful than I can say for your care, compassion, and support.
“Friends and school families came and took care of us. Took my daughter to school and sports. Set a website for meals and rides. Kept my dogs when I was in hospital. Kept my kid when I was in hospital! They saved my life, and I will be forever grateful.” (p166)
On that note, let me say again that I am so thankful to God and to so many for their prayers, love, encouragement, and practical support. I need you to help me live, too!
Thank you!
A temporary leave pass from Cancerland
A few weeks back I asked the kind staff at my hospital if I could put off having treatment for 10 days, so as to enjoy a brief holiday with my family. “Absolutely!” they said. “It’s so important to get some fun time with the family.” And they know. They spend time with hundreds of cancer patients.
We’ve just had a wonderful time away with all our family courtesy of some thoughtful and generous people. Good friends of ours won a holiday in an apartment on the Sunshine Coast, other friends helped out with our flights, still others offered cars, transport, surfboards and a place to stay on the way there and back. Wow! This kind of kindness puts a spring in the step and a sparkle in the eye. It’s lovely to be loved in such thoughtful, practical and generous ways.
It was great to escape the sub-zero mornings. Fiona and I swam each day in the warm waters of the ocean. The kids surfed. We walked through the national park and along the beaches. I found the best coffee available. I read newspapers, David Pocock’s biography, and a book on ‘social entrepreneurialism’. We watched the Wallabies scrape in against the Pumas on the Saturday and enjoyed our time with a very friendly local church on the Sunday.
On arriving back in Sydney, the kids headed home while Fiona and I stayed to attend a 2 day Refresh Conference at Milson’s Point, for husbands and wives involved in leading new churches. We had planned to be at this conference for some refreshment from the hard work of church-planting in Darwin, and at one stage I was going to be giving a couple of the talks. All that has changed, but it was still a great encouragement to spend time with other church-planting couples and find out more of what God is doing throughout Australia and New Zealand. It lived up to it’s name and we arrived home refreshed. I think the harbour views and the wonderful restaurant meals did their bit to help!
Fiona and I enjoyed taking ferries on the harbour, watching the city lights at night, and generally having some time to ourselves. We talked a little about the future and the possibilities for life and ministry. Though I sometimes found myself getting a bit uptight as we talked. It’s not easy not knowing what lies ahead (yes, I know we never do, but…) and some of the possibilities are hard to accept. We do need to make some decisions, but we probably need to ask God for a large dose of his grace and the strength to trust him – come what may – as we go about it. And we’d value your wisdom, thoughts and prayers as we plan.
Having some time away made it easier to forget about the cancer for a while. You can’t see it and the fun in the sun makes it seem so far away. I thank God for my temporary leave pass from Cancerland. I’m far more than someone who has cancer. ‘Cancer patient’ doesn’t define who I am, and I don’t need to be reminded of it 24/7. In the midst of all that’s serious, all that hurts, and all that produces worries and fears, escape is a good thing. And it’s not escape from reality. It’s more about prioritising other realities of life such as family, relationships, recreation, reflection.
There is hope
Don’t judge a book by its poorly photographed cover! There is hope: for those who are ill and those who care for them. That includes me, and my wife and children, my parents, my in-laws, our church, our friends, and so many more. There aren’t too many scarier diagnoses than lung cancer, especially once it reaches stage 4. Lung cancer kills more people than the next 3 cancers combined. So where is the hope? And are we talking about hope for a cure, hope for a better life, or hope for eternity?
Bob Hillman wrote this little book over 20 years ago, toward the end of his journey with ‘non-curable’ cancer. He had a long and difficult struggle over many years and was sometimes tempted to give up. However, the love from God and family and friends gave him reasons to continue and he left a powerful legacy in the lives of many. Friends gave me their copy of his book for my birthday, and it’s already made a difference in my life.
This book outlines different types of hope: 1) present hope that helps in everyday life, improving the quality and, sometimes, length of life; and 2) future hope for life beyond death, found in a relationship with God through Jesus Christ, and shaping the character of life here and now. It also warns against the dangers of false hope. When you’re seriously ill you can be tempted to expect too much from your therapy, depend too much on being cured, and fall prey to all sorts of claims and promises of miracle treatments and cures. I found this outline extremely helpful. While my hope lies ultimately in the God who raises the dead, hope remains essential to living today, tomorrow and the next. Without hope we have nothing to live for.
Bob is candid about his experiences in battling cancer and the things he found helpful. He recognised his limitations, but he was willing to work within them, and often push beyond them. He was patient with others who were sometimes unhelpful and occasionally cruel in their claims or advice. He’s a testimony to God’s grace and power at work through human frailty and weakness.
There’s a lot of talk these days (but often very little action) about multi-disciplinary healthcare and the need to understand and treat the whole person. Bob devotes a number of chapters to addressing emotional, relational, physical and spiritual factors that give present hope in dealing with cancer and other serious and chronic illnesses. It strikes me that these insights are just as important for the healthy as they are for the sick.
Psychological factors have a major impact on our health and general well-being and functioning. Bob described his battle with depression weighing on him more heavily than his terminal cancer. He encourages us to speak up about our struggles and to not be ashamed to seek help. Counselling may uncover issues contributing to our poor health and may provide better strategies for dealing with them. Anti-depressants could be the help we need to cope more effectively with the struggles of life. Perhaps we need to stop living on adrenaline, de-stress and remove the clutter in our lives. If we believe that we’re personally responsible to keep the world spinning, then maybe we should hand it over to God and enjoy the benefits of doing so!
Serious illness is a major wakeup call. Changes are forced upon us, and sometimes for the better! It’s not too late to change our diet, begin some exercise, increase our hours of sleep, enjoy some recreation, pick up a hobby, laugh a little more. The importance of good relationships with others is heightened. Maybe it’s time to resolve that grievance, offer him or her forgiveness, or seek reconciliation with the estranged friend. Time with family, having fun together, showing love and kindness, serving others – all valuable stuff and all so health promoting! Incidentally, I read an article in the Canberra Times yesterday that provided evidence that married people have much better outcomes than single people in dealing with cancer. Whether it’s a wife, a husband, a good friend, or an organised support group, relationships are so important. God has given us relationships to invest in and reap the dividends from. Don’t neglect them.
Bob Hillman’s hope is shaped by his knowledge of God. God’s word is the spiritual food we need to survive and we’re encouraged to set aside time to meditate on his word. God invites us to speak with him – to pray – and he takes all our calls. We’re urged to spend time with other followers of Jesus, to support one another, share each other’s burdens, celebrate one another’s joys, and point each other to our God and Saviour.
Shaping our present hope, is the confidence we have of an eternal hope in Jesus Christ. If this life is all we have, then I can understand people clinging on at all costs. I can appreciate the despair that comes when all the medical evidence is against us. But one day, whether by cancer or some other tragedy, each life will come to an end. We must face this reality with an open mind to God. The message of this book, and of God’s book, is that there is hope for eternity to be found in Jesus. The Apostle Paul prayed that others would know this hope, and this is my prayer also.
17 I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. 18 I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, 19 and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength 20 he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms. (Ephesians 1:17-20)
Listening, learning, laughing
Following my recent post on preventing foot in mouth disease, a friend suggested that I highlight words and actions that people with cancer would find encouraging or helpful. As a ‘newby’ to cancer I thought it’d be wise to seek feedback from others who’ve had the disease for some time. So I posted on a lung cancer survivors forum and asked for feedback. It’s hard to summarise the comments because everyone is different, but I’d like to highlight just few things that resonated with me:
Be willing to listen.
Seek to understand by asking questions.
Humour is a wonderful balm.
Most helpful was a reply I received from Lori Hope, who has Stage IV lung cancer like myself. She is an author and blogger who has written extensively on the experience of having cancer and caring for those who have the disease. I’ve just begun to work through her writings and have already found many wonderful insights. If this is something you’re keen to understand more fully, then I recommend you check out her website or blog. I’ve ordered a copy of her book, Help Me Live, and I anticipate drawing on her ideas for encouraging those around me. Here’s a taste of her wisdom in an acrostic that I grabbed from her website:
H ope – Keep it positive; no horror stories; highly suggestible.
E mpathy – Imagine what your friend is going through; don’t pity, which implies rank.
L isten – Your friend may need to talk; but don’t try to force them.
P ermission – Ask before giving advice, sharing info, visiting.
M ake it about them – It’s not about you, what you think they should do or feel.
E scape – Help them escape through humor, light media.
L ove – Say I love you if you do; what people with cancer said they most wanted to hear from family and friends.
I nitiate contact – Check in, leave messages saying you don’t need to call me back; send cards (#1 form of social support women said they wanted); visit (after asking permission).
V alidate their feelings – Say things like, “That must be difficult”; don’t minimize feelings by saying they just have to think positively; don’t deny their feelings by saying they shouldn’t feel sad/angry, etc.
E ducate yourself – Who is the person with cancer? Educate yourself about the disease; about what your friend enjoys and needs and wants, including their interests.
Physical inspiration
I’ve just returned from a walk/jog/walk/jog/walk… Week 1 Day 1 of C25K. The plan is to get from the couch to running 5 kilometres. It hurt! The body didn’t have a clue what I was trying to do! My lungs got their biggest workout in 8 months. The muscles were a bit stiff, the joints a bit creaky, and I had to hold my chest so it didn’t bounce around and cause pain! All I did was jog for 60 seconds, walk for 90 seconds, and keep repeating the cycle for 20 minutes. But I felt inspired to look ahead, set a plan, and achieve some fitness goals.
The inspiration came from a few places. Watching the Olympics might have had something to do with it. Marvelling at pensioners surfing on the Sunshine Coast helped. This morning I renewed my driver’s license until 2017 and I don’t want to waste the money! Research is showing that exercise plays an important role in fighting cancer.
… maintaining a healthy weight, getting adequate physical activity, and eating a healthy diet can reduce the chance of recurrence and increase the likelihood of disease-free survival after a diagnosis.
Last night I read about Paul Goebel. He’s my age and in January this year he was diagnosed with the same cancer of the lung. Admittedly, he was starting from a much higher baseline of physical fitness, but I was inspired that on June 23 this year he completed a marathon running at an 8.30 pace! Wow!
But the real inspiration is more personal. I want to be able to contribute to my family, enjoy activity, share with friends, return to work, get out and about. The disease and the treatment have a big impact on my capacity to do things, but I don’t want to give up. God has numbered my days and he calls me to use them for his glory. I have no idea how many days I have, nor does my oncologist, or anyone else. But I want to make the most of whatever days I have.
Journey with cancer 6 June 2012 – the good, the bad and the ugly
Dear family and friends
I’m sitting on my favourite bed, in my favourite room, writing to my favourite people! We’ve just got home from another visit to our oncologist. These are always anxious times and I tend to get fairly stressed around each visit. We were keen to learn about the results of my CT scan on Monday and to talk about what happens next. I’d been feeling more unwell than usual over the past week and we had a few questions to ask.
The good news is that the primary lung cancer has continued to reduce in size. This is a cause for rejoicing and I thank God for the positive benefits of the chemo. The shrinkage is unexpected, given that I’ve been on a maintenance chemo program and we were simply hoping to keep things in check. Six months ago the tumour was 26mm in diameter and it’s now shrunk to only 12mm. It makes me wonder if it can’t keep getting smaller until it vanishes altogether! However, the oncologist doesn’t see this happening and there are other factors involved. Seems bizarre to be held to ransom by something the size of a marble!
The bad news is that there is now clearer evidence of metastases. The cancer isn’t all in one place. Nothing new since the last scans, but evidence of the spread of cancer nonetheless. It would be so good if all the cancer was contained in the one tumour and all they needed to do was operate. Just cut it out! No more cancer! Clean bill of health! Sadly, this isn’t my story. Chemotherapy is designed to attack the cancer wherever it pops up, even in the places you can’t see, and thankfully it seems to have been doing it’s job pretty well.
This brings me to the ugly. Chemo has it’s side-effects and they can be pretty nasty. I’ve catalogued the various symptoms previously. Nausea, constipation, aching, skin rashes, lethargy, and so on, are all pretty standard. At least I’ve got my hair! But, I’ve begun to experience another effect that we need to take seriously… peripheral neuropathy. I get a burning sensation on the soles of my feet and palms of my hands, and it’s been getting worse in the last week or so. It’s a bit like pins and needles and makes my feet and hands feel tingly, hot and heavy. I walked into town the other day and had so much pain in my feet that I considered getting a taxi home. It’s been very concerning because walking is the easiest exercise for me to keep up.
While not a common side effect from my treatment, some patients do experience neuropathy in varying degrees. If ignored, it can leave severe and lasting damage. It’s resulted in some people becoming housebound or confined to a wheelchair.
Our oncologist is concerned by my symptoms and he’s recommended we cease the chemotherapy for a couple of cycles to see if the neuropathy improves. This will mean dropping Alimta, but continuing with the Avastin (which is not a chemo drug). I’m learning more and more that my treatment is a balancing act. You get wins in one area while accepting losses in another. I just want a lot more wins than losses! I’d love to keep charging on, bashing the cancer as hard as I can cope with, but it seems that I’ve found one of my limits already.
If you’re one who prays, then please speak to God about me over the next few weeks. We’d love the respite in chemo to clear up any symptoms of neuropathy AND we don’t want the cancer to grow or spread in this period. I hope this isn’t too much to ask for!
Thank you again for your support and for sharing this journey with us,
With love, Dave (and Fiona)
Counting my blessings
I’m about to preach to myself. In fact, I’m about to preach at myself. Every now and then I need a good talking to, and now is one of those times. Listen if you want. But if you don’t want to hear what I’m going to say to myself, then just stop reading!
I’m not happy. My breathing is uncomfortable. The pain in my chest cuts like a knife… especially when I cough or sneeze. Yawning hurts like crazy. My joints ache, my head hurts, my stomach complains, my skin flakes, my rashes burn, my nose bleeds, my mood changes, my patience runs thin, as does my hair, and yet, I am blessed!
How many people in our world or throughout history have had anything like the medical care that I take for granted? The drugs I’m given are the products of years of research, and millions of dollars of investment, from some of the smartest minds in the world. And they work. They attack the cancer, they shrink the tumours, and they destroy the bad cells. It hurts, and I hate it, but it’s a good thing. And I’m blessed to have such amazing treatment available!
I have specialists and GPs (one very special one!) and nurses who care for me. I have a family who loves me and watches over me. I have friends who call, write, visit, or support in practical ways. There must be so many who suffer alone, without care, without compassion and without hope. I do feel somewhat lonely and sad, but deep down I know that I’m blessed to experience the care and love of so many.
It might not seem like it, and I know that I can so easily forget it, but the reality is that I’m truly blessed. I have a hope that comes, not from anything medicine or people can offer, but from the trustworthy promises of God. In Jesus Christ, God has forgiven my selfish independence and accepted me as his own child. He has started my life over again, and assured me that nothing can separate me from his love. Nothing! As it says in Romans…
35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:35-39)
This is the reality of my blessing. It’s incomparable. It’s astonishing. It’s undeserved. And it’s available!
As I preach to myself, so I pray…
Heavenly Father,
Let me see things as they truly are.
Let me not be blinded by my selfishness.
Let me hold fast to the Your Word.
Let me count my blessings.
Amen
Teach us to number our days
Dear family and friends,
Thank you again for your ongoing support and encouragement. We continue to be buoyed by your prayers, visits, messages, gifts, and kindness. They matter just as much to us now as they did in the initial days of crisis.
After 6 cycles of chemo some of you have been asking, “How many have you got to go?” Our answer is simply, “We have no idea!” If the Alimta/Avastin chemo continues to shrink the tumour, or at least prevent it from growing, and if I can tolerate the toxic effects, then it could be a while. We’ve been viewing data that shows some patients with my specific gene mutation doing very well on Alimta for many months. This means that life may continue to be shaped by the ups and downs of chemo cycles for some time yet. We are still hoping to get access to the targeted drug, Crizotinib, once the chemo starts to fail, and we’re praying that the government or drug company will release this to us (ideally subsidised or free of charge).
I’m pleased that the two latest (maintenance) cycles have been easier to tolerate. This has meant that I’ve been able to do a bit more. Over recent days days I’ve even been spending time on the exercise bike, while watching episodes of iFish, and wishing I was somewhere in Northern Australia landing barra and GTs! I’m starting to do some light weights, situps, and a bit on the rowing machine too, under strict instruction from my youngest! Nothing too intense, but they say it all helps.
Over the next few weeks I have the opportunity to speak at church again. I’ll be giving a couple of talks based on Genesis chapters 3 to 9, God willing. These chapters of the Bible deal with the mess we make of our lives when we push God aside. They address issues of suffering and death, and consider God’s purposes in these things. I’m anticipating that I’ll feel their impact more intensely and personally than I have previously!
Let me say, one of the hardest things about this struggle with cancer is not knowing what the future holds. Silly really, because we have never known and we will never know… we just think we do! The daily reminder of my own mortality intensifies the urgency and importance of good decisions, making the most of my opportunities, and using my time wisely. I can’t simply put things off until tomorrow, or next year, or some time in the indefinite future. If they matter, really matter, then I need to get onto them now. I need to make them a priority. How much time gets frittered away doing nothing of lasting value? These words in the Psalm keep coming back to me:
12 Teach us to number our days carefully
so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts.
13 Lord—how long?
Turn and have compassion on Your servants.
14 Satisfy us in the morning with Your faithful love
so that we may shout with joy and be glad all our days.
15 Make us rejoice for as many days as You have humbled us,
for as many years as we have seen adversity. (Psalm 90:12-15)
I used to think I had all the time in the world, enough time to get around to anything and everything I wanted to do. But then we grow older and life speeds up. Time starts to slip away. They say a mid-life crisis is being confronted with the reality that you can’t and won’t do everything you had planned in life. If so, then a terminal illness is this plugged into an amplifier!
My prayer is that God will teach me to number my days, to make the most of each day he gives me, and that I will thank him for these days whatever they may hold. It’s very easy to dwell on the negatives, to get miserable, to become filled with self-pity. But it doesn’t help. All it does is distract me from the true source of satisfaction and joy. This Psalm offers me some sound advice: talk to God, let him know how I’m feeling, ask him to be compassionate with me, call on him to satisfy me with his faithful love and enable me to find real joy… every day and whatever my circumstances.
Let me encourage you also to consider these words, to take them to heart, and to ask God to teach you to number your days.
With love, Dave (and Fiona)
Rhythm
Five months have passed since I was first admitted to hospital and I’m now in my 5th cycle of chemo. Life is so different to what it once was. It’s not entirely predictable, but it’s begun to take on some rhythm and routine. My life currently revolves around three weekly cycles. I gear myself up for the next chemo and then prepare to go downhill over the following week or so. Days 5, 6, 7 are usually pretty tough. Aching joints, pains, nausea, constipation, fatigue, skin rashes, headaches have become the new normal! But then the side effects fade away and I rebuild. Sometimes in the third week I can even forget that I’m unwell.
The good news is that my new ‘maintenance’ chemo regime seems to be more tolerable. I haven’t had the same severity of symptoms. The roller coaster hasn’t dipped so low. I’ve even continued my daily coffees! My appetite hasn’t dropped – this has has created a new problem with me putting on too much weight. But there are still bad days, even really bad days, and I need to be prepared for these.
I’m learning to plan ahead and work with these rhythms. Some days are good for catching up with people, some not so. We’ve been able to arrange some days away as a family. I’ve been able to plan to preach on certain weekends. We’re looking forward to a few friends coming to visit on some (anticipated) good days ahead! Unfortunately, the Brumbies schedule hasn’t followed my routine. I haven’t been able to build consistency in my involvement with the team. I get to be at some games live at the stadium, and other times I’m stuck at home, grateful for Foxtel!
Though I still get frustrated and impatient with my limitations, I am learning to go with the flow a bit more. There are times to rest and times for activity. When the energy levels allow, then I’m keen to get out and about, to catch up with people, to talk. When I ache, or feel weak and unwell, then my goals are more limited. Perhaps, this is the time to reply to a few emails, make a phone call, read a chapter of a book, or write another post. My family know there are times when I can do things and times when I can’t. They’ve been very patient with me and shown great care and concern.
There are some areas where I haven’t adapted well to my new rhythms. It’s important to build gentle regular exercise into the routine, but it’s not really happening. I’m keen to be reading the Bible and praying regularly with Fiona, but we’re haphazard at best. We want to be spending more time talking things through with our children, reading and praying together, but we get distracted by all that’s going on.
I’ve been a ‘twice every Sunday’ church attender most of my life, but now I can’t even make it every week. And I’m often too exhausted to back up on a Sunday evening after going along in the morning. Preaching twice on a Sunday recently was a big challenge! But, I’ve discovered that I approach church a little differently now. Previously, I’ve been focused on my sermon, or the details of leading the church. Now that I preach only rarely, I find myself more relaxed at church. And because I’m not spending as much time mixing with people during the week, I look forward to Sunday interactions even more. I’m more conscious of wanting to make my time count with people and to talk about the stuff that really matters!
The shape of my ministry has certainly changed. I’ve spent years and years focused on the spoken word and now find myself spending more and more time on the written word. My desire remains for people to discover the joy of knowing God and to discover the difference that Jesus makes to life. It’s wonderful to hear when something I’ve written has been an encouragement to someone. I thank God that blogging has pushed some people to ask questions, to explore issues, and to begin conversations about the big issues of life (and death).
As I write this, I’m spending a couple of days away with our church staff team. It’s great to be a part of the conversations, the planning, the prayer, the brain storming. But it’s also a reminder of how much has changed. I’m not working hard these three days, pushing the agenda, pulling everything together, focusing on action plans and outcomes. I’m no longer the senior pastor! I’ve gone from a leading ministerial portfolio to being a backbencher! Last year I was captain coach and now I’m an interchange player! I don’t resent this. In fact, it’s a relief (especially given my health and resources) not currently having the buck stop with me. It’s important to have the freedom to be involved as I’m able, and to not be involved when I’m unable. And I thank God that our church is in good hands with our new senior pastor!
There are challenges ahead as I explore what I can and can’t do. Who am I now? For so long I’ve been the leader, my job description has been defined, my responsibilities have been clear, and I’ve known what I have to do. Now I find myself asking new questions. How do I fit in? How can I complement the others on the staff team? What can I do given my limitations? What will make the biggest impact? How can I keep serving, learning, growing? Are there things that God has in store for me, which would never have been possible except for this cancer? They’re difficult questions to answer, because I don’t know what the future holds? But then, who does? We make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.
Journey with cancer 18 Apr 2012
Dear family and friends,
This has been a heavy week. CT scans on Monday of chest, abdomen, pelvis, and brain. Maintenance chemo on Tuesday with Alimta and Avastin, no more Carboplatinum. Appointment with our oncologist this morning, to interpret scans, check how I’m going, and confirm plans looking ahead.
I say it’s been a heavy week, because it has been focused on the disease and it’s been a reality check. We’ve been able to (largely) forget the seriousness of the cancer in recent days, especially as we spent a lovely family time at the beach over the Easter week. But then, we come out of holiday land and back home to face facts. And some of the facts aren’t too good. We keep being reminded that the treatment is not considered curative and that the best we can hope for is to slow down the progress of the cancer, while seeking to minimise the bad effects of treatment. Of course, this is still good. I do thank God for the availability of quality medical care, access to good information, the support of others who understand all this stuff (especially my wife), and the hope that comes from the treatment available.
People often ask what they can pray for me. There are lots of things: patience, good use of my time, strategic ministry opportunities, the capacity to love and serve my wife and children, the strengthening of my (and my family’s) trust in God, availability of the targeted Crizotinib drug (currently only approved in the US, and made available in Australia within certain trials or after evidence of cancer progression from standard chemo), and other things. But high on the list I keep asking people to pray for complete healing. That God will, either by medical means or a complete miracle, free me from this disease. Many of us have been praying this for 4 months now, and I keep hoping that it will either keep shrinking every day, or that one day I will wake up and it’ll all be gone!
This week has been tough because we’ve been reminded that the cancer is still there. The CT shows a very small reduction in the primary tumour and no evidence of any new tumours or spread to the brain. However, it has highlighted a couple of nodes with evidence of cancer, and we are unclear as to whether this is new, whether they have increased in size since the last scan, or whether they were present earlier without being clearly detectable. I think I was hoping for a profound reduction in the cancer. Perhaps for them to say that it’d almost disappeared!
So far the new chemo regime seems like it will be more manageable. Although it is normally 2 or 3 days after treatment that the side effects start to get bad, and they can last for more than a week after that, so I shouldn’t make too many predictions here! My ‘muck in the lungs’ problem is still evident, but I’m about to take a fourth course of antibiotics and it does seem to be slowly getting better. Please pray that it gets completely cleared up.
I’ve been a bit miserable over the last few days. For some reason last night I was picturing my own funeral in my mind, with Fiona and the kids deeply saddened at my passing. This led to a few tears and me being rather melancholic today. My kids are too young for this, I thought. I want to enjoy more time with them yet. I need to make a priority of investing in my family, filling their minds with the promises of God, and depositing good investments into their memory banks. Of course this is true whether I have a months, years or decades. And I need to keep reminding myself that God will look after them. He is an expert at it, with or without my help!
And we’ve had some good times recently. The family escape to Broulee was nice. We spent time lazing in the sun, walking the beaches, the kids surfed each day, everyone but me swam in the ocean (I wimped out, blaming my chest infection and reduced immunity), we read books, watched Sherlock, completed a WASGIJ (a back-the-front jigsaw), and Marcus caught a couple of fish. It was especially nice to have Matt home with us for a week or so before returning to uni.
On Sunday I gave my second sermon for the year on Connecting with God and each other, based on Ephesians 2-3. It was exciting to be able to open God’s Word with the church again, though it left me exhausted after repeating the talk at night. We also had a wonderful time over lunch catching up with 3 families who are long term friends, including a special friend who became a Christian in the first year of our ministry here in Canberra. I hope to be speaking again in a few weeks, as we begin a series in Genesis.
The following prayer featured in my recent talk on Sunday. I am keen to be praying this myself, and I recommend it to each of you also.
14 For this reason I kneel before the Father, 15 from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. 16 I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the saints*, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. 20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. (Ephesians 3:14-21)
(* saints doesn’t refer to dead Christians who have done special things they’re remembered for – it refers to living Christians in this prayer)
Thank you again for your support. We are continually humbled to hear of people praying all over the world, some every day. We love getting messages of encouragement via cards, email, facebook, now twitter :), and especially in person. Please feel free to drop in and share a coffee!
With love,
Dave (and Fiona)
Body Image
Having cancer doesn’t do much for one’s body image. Shortly after coming home from hospital I visited a friend’s pool with my family. I’d undergone 2 surgeries and had some good looking scars where the tubes went between my ribs. I’d lost about 13 kilos, but without becoming trim and taut. It was like my muscles had melted and disappeared, and those that were left had slipped down my body and become fairly useless. I didn’t much like what I saw in the mirror. And neither did my youngest. Sitting beside the pool he said to me, “Just as well you’re married dad. Otherwise you’d never get anyone to marry you, looking like that!” Mmmm! 😦
And a strange thing happened on Saturday. We’d been out watching the Brumbies demolish the Rebels in an awesome game of rugby, and I came home planning to check out the highlights on the television. As I was watching the wrap up after the game, the camera showed one of the Rebels players speaking with a bloke wearing a Brumbies hoodie on the field. I looked closely trying to work out who it was. And then I realised… it was me! I didn’t recognise myself on the TV. A serious lack of hair. An unwanted increase in girth. And I seemed to have aged 10 years in 4 months.
Today I felt like a human pin cushion. One injection for blood tests. A cannula to pump radioactive fluid into my veins for CT scans to the torso and brain. A needle full of vitamin B12 to help me make blood cells. 29 acupuncture needles to strengthen my immune system and alleviate pain. Another 9 tiny needle tabs to continue the benefit of the acupuncture. All that in one day!
And the killer chemo drugs, the ‘weed killer’ they pump into my body. The steroids, anti-nauseals, antihistamines, pain killers, vitamins, iron tablets, herbal medicines, laxatives, reflux tablets, and more. My kitchen resembles a pharmacy. The only drug I enjoy is the one that comes out of the shiny machine in the corner!
It’s not just the treatments, or people’s comments, or looking at myself in the mirror. I know that things aren’t what they once were. Shortness of breath, aches and pains, muscular weakness, nanna naps during the day, waking up during the night to visit the toilet, and the list continues. I keep hoping things will get better, but they might not. Somethings improve, and others get worse. And I’m not going to reverse the ageing process. None of us are!
There are some things I can do. Eat less, or at least cut out some of the ‘comfort’ snacks. Exercise more, without compromising my capacity to recover from chemo and fight the cancer. Not get hung up about what I look like, although I am under instruction to have a shave every day!
Our culture makes things harder for us. We are obsessed with image. We idolise youth and we’re constantly being tempted by strategies to make ourselves look and feel younger. But, why can’t we face the reality? People get sick. People grow old. Bodies wear out. One day we’ll die. We don’t like it, and nor should we, but we can’t change it.
The Bible candidly reminds us of this reality. One day every one of us will die and meet our Maker. We’re called to live in the light of this reality, not to try to hide it or avoid it. The ageing process reminds us to consider God while we can, to enjoy God as we live this life. Not to ignore him, or put him off until it’s too late. As it says in the book of Ecclesiastes:
1 Remember your Creator
in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
and the years approach when you will say,
“I find no pleasure in them”—
2 before the sun and the light
and the moon and the stars grow dark,
and the clouds return after the rain;
3 when the keepers of the house tremble,
and the strong men stoop,
when the grinders cease because they are few,
and those looking through the windows grow dim;
4 when the doors to the street are closed
and the sound of grinding fades;
when men rise up at the sound of birds,
but all their songs grow faint;
5 when men are afraid of heights
and of dangers in the streets;
when the almond tree blossoms
and the grasshopper drags himself along
and desire no longer is stirred.
Then man goes to his eternal home
and mourners go about the streets.
6 Remember him—before the silver cord is severed,
or the golden bowl is broken;
before the pitcher is shattered at the spring,
or the wheel broken at the well,
7 and the dust returns to the ground it came from,
and the spirit returns to God who gave it.
(Ecclesiastes 12:1-7)
These words were written hundreds of years before Jesus. The author reflects on the meaningless emptiness he sees in life. Life’s experiences can be wonderful, they can be awful, but either way death bringing everything to a halt. We come and go so quickly, like a mist or a vapour. Death is the big full stop to life.
Jesus frees us from this depressing analysis. Life is no longer without meaning or purpose, because we see clearly that death is not the end. The resurrection of Jesus offers purpose and hope, both for this life and the life to come. We don’t have to panic and fight the decay of our bodies at all costs. This life matters deeply, but it’s not all there is.
The Apostle Paul speaks of our bodies as being like a tent, a temporary dwelling. He contrasts this with the image of a permanent home, a heavenly building, a resurrected body:
1 Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. 2 Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, 3 because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. 4 For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. 5 Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.
6 Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. 7 We live by faith, not by sight. 8 We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. (2 Corinthians 5:1-8)
Jesus can free us from being obsessed with how we appear, with trying to stay young at any price. He can lift us beyond the depressing observation that one day we will be dead and gone, and ultimately forgotten. More than this, he reminds us that life is not all about our self image or how others see us. What matters much more is how God sees us, and what God is doing in and through us. If we’re willing to put our trust in Jesus, then we can be confident that…
Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. (2 Corinthians 4:16)
Journey with cancer – Easter update
Dear family and friends,
This week marks 4 months since I was admitted to hospital with cancer and it’s certainly been quite a ride! We are so grateful for your ongoing prayers, support, encouragement and practical help from so many of you. It would be a very lonely experience without you.
I’ve just completed my fourth and final ‘full’ round of chemo – on carboplatinum, alimta and avastin. While this has knocked me round pretty seriously each time, I’ve been able to push on knowing that if it’s hurting me, then it should be hurting the cancer even more! Scans after the 2nd cycle showed that it was working, with the tumour shrinking substantially, and we are hoping for more of the same the next time around.
I go back for further scans on 16 April. They will do a CT of my chest and abdomen, so as to measure any reduction or growth of the tumour. They will also do a brain scan – just to check if I have one – so as to rule out any spread of the cancer! Please pray that the cancer will not have spread anywhere else in the body, and that the lung tumour will have shrunk even further.
The results of these scans will determine the best form of treatment to undergo next. Recent conversations with our oncologist suggest that they will simply drop out the carboplatinum and continue the other chemicals on a continued 3 weekly cycle. The idea is to try and keep the cancer from growing or spreading and, potentially God willing, to poison it out of existence. We don’t know how long this will continue, but we will have periodic scans to monitor what’s happening. Our hope and prayer is that these ‘maintenance cycles’ will have less severe side effects, and enable me to do a bit more.
On the family front, we continue to be encouraged. We thank God for our kids and continue to pray that God will help them to trust him through these events and circumstances. We’re all looking forward to a few days together at the south coast over the Easter week. A change of scenery, the beach, some surf, and some fish n chips, won’t do us any harm!
I’ve enjoyed getting back involved with some ministry at church and at the Brumbies. This has mainly involved meeting with people to encourage them, work through issues, or to discuss Christian beliefs. Ironically, having a life-threatening illness seems to open more doors than it closes. It has also been good to meet with some of the pastoral staff in a ‘mentor’ type capacity. After we get back from the coast I’m very excited to be giving my second talk for the year, on the topic of ‘Connecting’. You can tell I’m a frustrated preacher! Writing this blog is also becoming more and more enjoyable. Initially, I wasn’t keen to do it. In fact, I didn’t want to do it at all! But it’s been exciting to be able to encourage people, provoke their thinking, and support others in similar circumstances, through this medium.
Over the past few days, I’ve been involved in a few conversations about the heart of Christianity. Some have wanted to say that Christianity is just one religious phenomenon among others, that it’s not much more than good ethical teaching. Some have spoken of Jesus as an influential and important figure of history, but don’t believe we need to make anything more of him. I understand these perspectives are widespread and common, but I worry about these assessments. I don’t think it’s fair to Christianity (or Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, or any other religion) to put all ‘religions’ in a bucket and assume they are different expressions of the same reality. Nor do I think it takes Jesus seriously to consider him ‘just a good man’ or an amazing moral teacher. A closer look at the New Testament reveals Jesus making claims to be God and the only way for people to know God personally. If I was to make these type of claims for myself today, then I think people would rightly see me as either crazy or dangerous – certainly not the ultimate good man.
Yesterday, I was having lunch with a mate, enjoying the beautiful sunshine. He and I believe very different things about God and Christianity. But we agree on one thing especially – the importance of keeping an open mind and being open to persuasion. In fact, it is very refreshing to be able to have honest conversation without covering over our differences. Can I ask you this week, is your mind open to the possibility that there is a God? Would you be willing to take a fresh look at the evidence for Christianity, at the claims and teaching of Jesus? Would you have a think about why Christians bizarrely call the execution day of Jesus, Good Friday? Would you consider the importance of this early * Christian record describing the events and meaning of the first Easter?
3 For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, 4 that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, 5 and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve. 6 After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. 7 Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles, 8 and last of all he appeared to me also… (1 Corinthians 15:3-8)
* The creed of verses 3-5 is normally dated before the year AD 35 by Christian and non-Christian historians alike.
The truth or otherwise of Christianity is inextricably linked to events of history. It cannot be detached and left in the realm of ideas or philosophy. If Jesus died for our sins, and if he was raised on the third day, then it makes all the difference. But, if there was no resurrection, if the whole thing has been made up or misunderstood, then we need to take these words seriously:
13 If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. 14 And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. 15 More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead. But he did not raise him if in fact the dead are not raised. 16 For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either. 17 And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. 18 Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. 19 If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men. (1 Corinthians 15:13-19)
Christianity is based on verifiable events. Historians engage seriously with this stuff. They check out the sources, both Christian and and non-Christian sources. They assess the possible explanations, consider the impact of the events, and weigh up the evidence. I’m encouraged that world-class historians take the person of Jesus and the Gospel documents very seriously as facts of history. The question is, what do they mean and what difference does it make?
I believe the answer is as big as the difference between life and death for all eternity and something that big has to be worthy of serious investigation.
As I reflect on life and death this Easter, my prayer continues to be that God will take away my cancer – that I will be fully healed. But I want you to know that I thank God that he has already taken away something far worse than my cancer. He has healed me from my sin, from my selfish hostility to him. And while the price of chemotherapy is very high, the price of my spiritual cure is unbelievable – that Jesus should give his life for me, dying in my place, on that first Good Friday.
My prayer for you is that this will be the best Easter you have ever known.
Love from Dave
Beyond the darkness
I spent Tuesday in hospital getting my final ‘full-dose’ chemo treatment. Apparently, limiting this treatment to 4 cycles is the optimum and, if the cancer is not advancing, then they intend to keep me on a 3 weekly ‘maintenance’ chemo plan. This is supposed to reduce the impact of side effects, while preventing the cancer from growing or spreading further. The medical expectation is that the cancer will grow again at some point, and then I will be offered other options. We are hoping to be able to access a specially targeted drug, called Crizotinib, which is showing very good results in people with my specific cancer mutation. This should be available if there is evidence that the tumour is growing again – a bit of a Catch 22 really! But all this lies ahead of us.
This morning I received an email from a good friend overseas. In fact, he sent it three times, so I am guessing he really wanted me to take notice! This is part of what he wrote…
The comment you sent to me via Facebook about dark times and tears made me realize the deep personal struggle you are going through. Just wanted to encourage you to dip into that more as you write, because it counts for a lot. My feeling is that most people live in that realm, whether they have cancer or not. While the analogy doesn’t directly apply, I think it conveys the point: life is more Daily Telegraph than Sydney Morning Herald… or worse still!
I’ve been reflecting on this a bit. My desire is not to continually focus on myself as I write this blog. But I am seeking to be a blessing to others and that means being honest about the ups and downs. Not that everything needs to get said, and not that everything should be revealed in a public forum, but I will share a bit about the dark times.
On my first day in hospital, hearing that I likely had cancer a was huge thing. No one wants to hear the words tumour or cancer, and certainly not about themselves or someone they love. Tears welled up instantly, feelings of massive loss, fears for my kids, and my wife… they all flooded in. Seeing the tears in the eyes of my family and the friends who came to visit added to the pain. We were dealing with a bombshell and it was so hard.
My time in hospital was supposed to be pretty straightforward. Drain the fluid, be out in a few days. I even remember telling our church staff that I should be right to speak the following weekend! But it didn’t go to my plan. I got sicker and weaker. Instead of my health improving, I just seemed to go backwards. At times I couldn’t even walk to the bathroom, or adjust my posture in bed. It was an effort to breath, painful to yawn and cough (let alone sneeze), and hard to talk with people when hooked up to oxygen. My digestive organs decided to shut up shop and 10 days of constipation resulted in violent vomiting. Immediately after one vomiting episode I was taken for a chest x-ray (why it had to be right then I do not know!) where I collapsed, resulting in an emergency team rushing to my aid. I started to think I wasn’t going to make it out of hospital.
My ignorance of medical things also added to my fears. On one occasion I saw my chest x-rays while they were being processed. I only had one functioning lung – the other had collapsed! I honestly thought, this meant I didn’t have much hope. For some reason, I assumed that I needed two good lungs to be able to breathe. Fiona set me straight on this and also pushed me to work hard on breathing exercises to get the lung re-inflated!
On one occasion they changed my drugs and this led to hallucinations. I don’t think I’d experienced this before. Dreams that you can’t turn off, even with your eyes wide open. It was a long, lonely, scary night being faced with weird and frightening experiences coming one after another.
Perhaps, the hardest experience in hospital was my first contact with the oncologist and his team. Up until their visit, things had focused pretty much exclusively on the surgery and the chest drains, and I hadn’t had to think too much about the cancer. This changed dramatically, as I was quickly told that that my cancer was incurable. I didn’t understand why they weren’t offering me hope of a cure (or for that matter why I needed to be told this on a first consult and without Fiona present), but this news was devastating!
Being faced with my mortality has led to some very sad times. In my weakness, sometimes I have become sullen, grumpy, melancholic, perhaps even depressed. I’ve often grieved what I may never be able to do, the loss of time with family and friends, not being able to do a lot of the fun things people do with their kids, or thinking of life events I may never be a part of. There have been times when I’ve felt a burden and useless, and thoughts have turned to thinking people would be better off without me. I’ve been reduced to tears – uncontrollable sobbing, overwhelmed, sometimes crying out in agony, God please help me! Fiona has been fantastic at urging and helping me not to slide into self-obsession or depression. And I’ve asked a couple of friends to keep an eye on me too.
I don’t want to go on and on in this vein but I must say that there’ve been some times when the struggle has been deeply spiritual. God has seemed very remote. His plans and purposes for me have been very unclear. I’ve had days where I’ve seriously questioned his existence, or the truthfulness of the gospel message. Does God love me, care for me? Can I trust him with my life, my death, my future, my family? Isn’t it a bit weird to base my confidence on the Bible, written so many hundreds of years ago? Did Jesus live? Was he crucified? Did he actually rise again from the dead? Is he alive today? Such ideas can seem pretty weak and foolish, and not exactly a confident platform to stake my life on.
I’ve found myself going back to the Bible and reading things over again. I’ve looked at interviews with leading historians and Biblical scholars. I’ve weighed up some of the critiques and arguments of sceptics and naysayers. And I’ve searched my heart. And in doing this, I’ve been encouraged to keep trusting in God and his promises.
Over the years a few Bible verses have spoken to me in the midst my struggles and doubts. Let me share a couple. The first is the response of a father, hoping that Jesus can help his son, where he says in Mark 9:24, “I believe; help my unbelief!” I’ve often identified with this man. Those who’ve told me it’s the strength, or otherwise, of my faith that will determine whether God will act (or even can act) need to reread this verse and see Jesus’ compassion in response to the man’s wavering. It’s not my faith that compels God to act. Rather it is God’s faithfulness to his character and promises that leads me to keep trusting in him.
Another part of the Bible I’ve found helpful comes from an incident after the resurrection. Jesus had recently appeared to many of his followers, but Thomas wasn’t with them, and he was unpersuaded that Jesus had really been raised from the dead. We read of this in John 20:24-29.
24 Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”
26 Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them.Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said,“Peace be with you.” 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” 28 Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”
Hence, Thomas becomes the disciple famous for doubting. Maybe you can relate to this too. But it’s the next comment from Jesus that has always given me encouragement and hope. Jesus understood it was hard for Thomas to be persuaded, but he also acknowledged that it would be hard for all who came after him. We sometimes say seeing is believing, but when we’re dealing with history before cameras and video, it becomes more a case of reading or hearing is believing. This doesn’t make it less true, it just means that our evidence is in a different form to that offered to Thomas. We get it as a record from the first eye, ear and hand witnesses, that has been recorded and passed on to us. Just because I wasn’t there doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
29 Jesus said to him,“Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
I’ve also gone back over some of the Psalms from the Old Testament. Many of these are are open and honest accounts of people who are struggling to trust God in their difficult circumstances. Sometimes they question and challenge God. Sometimes they plead with God to do something about their circumstances. Sometimes they call for justice or mercy from God. What has struck me personally is that the writers are not afraid to let God know their thoughts and feelings, even when they are unhappy with God. They grapple with their struggles, but then they remind us of the way forward. Hope is not ultimately found in improving their condition or circumstances, but by resting in the trustworthy promises of God.
Soon after I became aware of my cancer a friend encouraged me to read over Psalm 62 again. I take heart from what this part of the Bible teaches us about God. It honestly shows the writer overwhelmed by how God appears to be standing back and allowing him to suffer, and yet it takes us back to the character of a God who can be trusted because he is both strong and loving. Have a read…
1 My soul finds rest in God alone;
my salvation comes from him.
2 He alone is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.3 How long will you assault a man?
Would all of you throw him down—
this leaning wall, this tottering fence?
4 They fully intend to topple him
from his lofty place;
they take delight in lies.
With their mouths they bless,
but in their hearts they curse.5 Find rest, O my soul, in God alone;
my hope comes from him.
6 He alone is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
7 My salvation and my honor depend on God;
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
8 Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge.9 Lowborn men are but a breath,
the highborn are but a lie;
if weighed on a balance, they are nothing;
together they are only a breath.
10 Do not trust in extortion
or take pride in stolen goods;
though your riches increase,
do not set your heart on them.11 One thing God has spoken,
two things have I heard:
that you, O God, are strong,
12 and that you, O Lord, are loving.
Surely you will reward each person
according to what he has done.
If God were strong but not loving, then he would be nothing less than a danger to everyone. If he were loving but not strong, then he could offer us sentiment but no help. The Bible affirms he is both strong and loving, infinitely so, and it is here that we find our true hope. I need look nowhere else. My experience of God is that he is both strong and loving. And I see this most clearly and persuasively in the death and resurrection of Jesus, where he paid the cost for my rebellion and offered me life for eternity.
Don’t waste your cancer
I mentioned to a friend at the Oxygen conference last year that my father had cancer and was receiving treatment. He then asked if I’d read a little booklet by John Piper called Don’t waste your cancer. I hadn’t heard of it and, to be honest, I found the idea of the book a bit too intense. Maybe he picked up on this because soon after the conference he made contact with me to apologise if he’d been insensitive in speaking of it.
What I didn’t realise at the time was that I also had cancer growing inside me. I don’t think I’d even begun to put myself into my father’s shoes, to understand what he was going through. ‘Cancer’ was just a word – mind you a scary word. If I’d got hold of Piper’s book and given it to my father back then, it would have been rather academic, simply passing on the ideas of someone else. Of course, things are very different now. I’ve read the book, and passed it on ‘carefully’ to one or two others, including my dad (who is now in remission).
This was the first book that I read after being released from hospital – helped by the fact that it is only 15 pages long! It crams 11 chapters into its tiny size, but each one packs a punch, and really needs to be considered slowly and carefully. I don’t think this is a book for everyone. It’s useful and true, but I think to make the most of this book, you need to have begun to experience something of the pain and tragedy that gives rise to it. This is a booklet for Christians with cancer or some other serious condition, for their families and carers, for Christian doctors or medical staff, for pastors, and for people who want to seriously encourage those struggling with their suffering in a context of faith.
Let me offer you a snapshot of the booklet by outlining the title of each chapter:
We waste our cancer…
- if we don’t hear in our groanings the hope-filled labor pains of a fallen world.
- if we do not believe it is designed for us by God.
- if we believe it is a curse and not a gift.
- if we seek comfort from our odds rather than from God.
- if we refuse to think about death.
- if we think that “beating” our cancer is staying alive rather than cherishing Christ.
- if we spend too much time reading about our cancer and not enough time reading about God
- if we let it drive us into solitude instead of deepen our relationships with manifest affection.
- if we grieve as those who have no hope.
- if we treat our sin as casually as before.
- if we fail to use it as a means of witness to the truth and the glory of Christ.
In some ways I’m not ready to review this book. I’m still working through each of the points. It’s one thing to give intellectual assent to an idea and another thing altogether to live it out. But I have come to appreciate the tough love in many of these reflections.
God has been pushing me to look forward to heaven. When life is so good here and now, it is hard to consider eternity with him as something better. He has been helping me to move through the pain and grief, to focus less on myself, and to appreciate him and all that he’s given me. God has been helping me to love what is good and hate what is evil, even as I see it in my own heart. I’m realising more and more that my hope lies not in medical advances, but in the death and resurrection of Jesus. I’m reminded that grief is normal, appropriate and healthy, but that I can grieve with a hope grounded in God’s promises.
Journey with cancer DV 20 Mar 2012
Dear family and friends,
Today is day 14 of my 3rd chemo cycle. The cycle starts with a day in hospital attached to a drip with nasty chemicals being pumped into the body. Then a roller coaster for the next 3 weeks, before you do it all over again. In theory, and based on previous cycles, I should be feeling pretty good and getting back into a semblance of normal life. But here is the problem – patterns, statistics, predictions, and even past experience, do not determine the future.
I ‘should’ be out and about, busy with work, and getting back into some gentle exercise. Instead, I’m lying in bed (with a laptop) trying to get rid of a chest infection and praying it doesn’t develop into anything worse. In fact, the past couple of days have made me rather fearful – fearful that I would end up in hospital again with pneumonia, fearful that I might compromise the chemo, fearful that something worse might happen.
Fiona reminded me last night that these things can often be two steps forward and one step back. Sometimes even the other way round for a while. I would do well to keep putting into practice the word of God that I believe:
6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)
We are being reminded again and again that only God knows what’s around the bend and he calls us to trust him. There is a Latin phrase, deo volente, or DV, which means ‘God willing’. In days gone by it was common for Christian people to use these words as they spoke of their plans. You don’t hear it much these days, but I’ve begun using it more and more as I appreciate that it is God who is working out his good plans and purposes. In fact, this whole experience of getting cancer has highlighted how much I am not in control of my life and circumstances.
Back in December everything pointed to us moving to Darwin to begin the second major chapter of our lives. We had people on board with us, support structures and finances in place, a house to move into, kids enrolled in schools, tenants for our house in Canberra, a successor in my role at church, belongings in transit, and excited about the future. And then… a visit to the hospital changed everything. These verses from the Bible came to mind very powerfully:
13 Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” 14 Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. 15 Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”
(James 4:13-15)
My life has been given to me by God. He calls me to make plans and to consider the circumstances and to do things wisely. But he also calls me to act with humility, to know that I belong to him, and that I can rely on him to do what is in my very best interests. Even when I would prefer things not to be happening! We’ve been learning this more and more.
But does this mean that all our preparations last year were going against God’s will, that somehow we were being disobedient and straying off the path? No, I don’t believe so. Our desire was to contribute to growing followers of Jesus in the Northern Territory. This desire was placed in our hearts by God and as we read the Bible we were reminded that this is pleasing to God. We sought wise council from many, and took years to come to our decision as a family. There was and is a big need, and we were drawn to respond. That need continues to exist and we pray that our passions to move north will be filled by others, or yet that I will be healed and one day serve God in that place, DV.
So is it possible to see the hand of God in what has happened? Absolutely. God has been at work in our hearts and minds, moving us to depend upon him more deeply than ever before. He has encouraged us, and literally thousands of others to pray. He has raised questions in the minds of friends that have nudged them to consider what we believe about God. He has deepened our empathy and love for people suffering under similar and worse circumstances. He has used our words to encourage others far and wide in their own struggles. He has caused us to appreciate our family and friends and church all the more. He has reminded us to number our days.
We can see God’s kindness in many of the details. My cancer was discovered because a doctor friend had the awareness to rush me to hospital when I complained of numbness and breathlessness. It was a time when all our family were at home. I had finished my final series of preaching at church. The church had already gone through a careful process of choosing my successor. It didn’t happen while we were on the road to Darwin. We still had our home in Canberra to move back into. Our friends have taken extraordinary care of us. Our church has continued to provide for us, and have welcomed my continued ministry among them. We’re receiving top shelf medical attention. I’m even allowed a tv in the bedroom! And there is so much more!
Let me tell you about the weekend just gone. It was a special time for our family (only we missed Matt). Fiona and Grace both entered large teams in the Cancer Council’s Relay for Life. They set up camp at the AIS athletics track and walked for 24 hours to raise money and awareness for cancer research and support. I wasn’t that keen to go – who wants to be surrounded by people with cancer? But the relay had a carnival vibe about it, with music, dancing, stalls, fancy dress, and lots of people having fun in the sunshine (& rain). Some ran lap after lap, others walked as best they could. I did a few laps at different times of the day, and must have been the slowest walker on the track each time.
The first lap was exclusively for people who had cancer (either now or previously) and for carers. I wore a sash saying ‘survivor’ and members of my family wore sashes saying ‘carer’. It seemed strange to wear the sash, as though I should’ve had to go into remission to ‘deserve’ it. But, I have cancer, I am alive – so I guess I’m a survivor! As we walked the lap it was very moving to be clapped by hundreds of people lining the track, including many friends in Grace and Fiona’s teams. I shed a few tears that I kept well hidden behind my sunglasses! I was glad that I’d gone along.
We joined in another event on Saturday – a commissioning for friends of ours, Klaus and 
Judith and family, who are heading overseas. As we were making our plans to plant a church in Darwin, they were planning further afield in Germany. It was a thrill to share with them as they count down the days to leaving. Klaus is German, and it is his great passion for his kin to know the good news of eternal life. As one friend reminded me on later, we had two celebrations over the weekend – one of life here and now, and the other of life for all eternity. Our prayer is that people will value their lives here and now, but not so much as to ignore God’s wonderful invitation of life forever with him. Some people seem to think that Christian faith is ‘life-denying’. Our experience is the exact opposite. Jesus came so that we might have life in all its fulness – now and forever.
Thank you again for your encouragement and support. The chemo roller coaster is a tough one, but made much easier in the knowledge that people are praying and helping us in so many ways. There is one cycle to go and we don’t know the plan after that. It could be more of the same, or part thereof. It could be something radically different. Our desire is for the treatment to completely destroy this cancer, and for us to be able to make new plans for a life beyond cancer, deo volente.
With love,
Dave (and Fiona)
Journey with cancer 13 Mar 2012
I just noticed that I have a problem! I’ve started to define myself as a cancer patient. Sometimes, with exotic pride… “I have a rare genetic mutation that is driving the cancer.” Sometimes, just the mundane… “I’m sick of being sick all the time.” Sometimes, in boring detail… “Let me tell you the latest side effects of the chemo!” Sometimes, in self pity… “Why is this happening to me?”
The truth is, this way of thinking is a lie and a trap. Always has been. I know that I’m not the sum total of my upbringing, career choices, sporting successes, travels, relationships, accumulated possessions or circumstances. My significance can’t be measured by wealth, or wisdom, or health, or the lack thereof. I believe God has made me for a purpose. Not to wallow in self-pity or be puffed up with pride, but to look outwards to others, to consider others more important than myself, and to put other’s needs before my own. God has shown me how to do that, in Jesus who had everything but incredibly sacrificed it all for you and me. It’s not easy, but please God, help me to remember that it’s not about me.
Dave
Journey with cancer 1 Mar 2012
Dear family and friends
Once again, it is with deep gratitude for your prayers and love that we start this letter. You’re prayers have been answered in 3 ways:
1. We are so aware that it is your prayers that are continuing to sustain us in relatively good spirits and in complete confidence in God.
Taking David to chemo was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done – like taking the kids for vaccination, but far worse. You know it’s good for them, but the pain inflicted! We understand those who go into denial. It would have been so much nicer to have stayed on holidays at Burrill Pines. We loved being there for our few days as we find it one of God’s most beautiful peaceful places on the south coast.
Taking him 3 weeks later for the second time was no easier, knowing from experience, not just fear, what lay ahead. It doesn’t sound that bad: he sits in a chair for five hours while they put bags of fluids into his arm. First time he watched movies, second time he had a chat with his neighbour. For the first 24 hours he feels okay. After that he starts feeling poisoned, which he has been. Without going into graphic detail, it messes up his stomach, gives him headaches, skin rashes, aches, fatigue and more, making him feel like he’s got a bad dose of the flu with trouble sleeping. By day 10 he’s starting to feel less toxic, and starts regaining the weight he’s lost.
Friends have been tempting him with all sorts of treats: ginger beer, coffee, chocolate slice, chinese herbs and acupuncture, ‘words with friends’, walks, books to read, movies to watch, sermons to listen to, good conversation. When he’s sick, we feel like we’re holding our breath, wondering if this poisoning is worth it. When he starts feeling better, and starts doing more, it’s hard to believe he’s got cancer, except when there’s an abrupt reminder because of pain, or blood test, scan due, visit to oncologist etc. Today he’s preparing a sermon for this Sunday – a commissioning service for Marcus that had been planned for December last year! But next Thursday preparing a sermon will be an impossibility, as the chemo cycle starts again.
Answer to prayer no 2:
Monday he had a progress scan. After 6 weeks of holding our breath – no wonder I was looking blue and feeling dizzy – the scan has shown that the tumour has shrunk from 26 mm to 18mm (such a small, little nasty).
After visiting our oncologist today, it means we continue with this particular course of standard chemotherapy (carboplatinum, alimpta, avastin for those who want to know – the latter two being current state of the art treatment) for another two cycles of one day on a drip every three weeks. We’ll then have another progress scan, and consider our maintenance options.
Our oncologist didn’t encourage us to breathe easy, so I guess we’ll be holding our breath again. However, praise God for His gracious answer thus far, and read on, for what gives us more hope…
Amazing answer to prayer no 3:
We asked you early on pray that David might have one of 2 receptors. The EGFR, which is now routinely tested for, was negative. It was always unlikely because it is most prevalent in younger Asian women. But we have discovered David is ALK positive! (And thank God we asked for this to be tested because it’s not routine to test). This is a rare (3-5%) genetic mutation that is the driver behind David’s cancer, ie. causing the cells to grow out of control. Just why this ALK gene has flipped itself upside down and fused where it shouldn’t have, is still not yet known.
This mutation was only discovered in 2007 and is still under investigation. There are new drugs, still being tested which aim to turn this driver off, which have been showing some very positive results since they first started trialling it in 2008. They’re up to phase 3 of the trials now, answering the very questions that we’re asking: which treatment is more effective? Unfortunately we were not able to be included in this trial, but our treatment is very similar and will allow us to, hopefully, use the new drug Crizotinib to kick the driver out when David’s cancer stops responding to the standard chemotherapy.
This new drug is not a cure either, but results seem to show that it can work more effectively and for longer before resistance builds up. This is also being studied, along with another even newer drug which is just starting to be trialled in the US and England (but not Australia, tho the director of the pharmaceutical company was just lovely when I emailed him.)
For those who want to understand more fully than this simple explanation see a link sent by a kind oncologist in Melbourne. He’s the Aussie speaking in the video.
http://www.oncologytube.com/index.php?page=videos§ion=view&vid_id=102199
And just praise God with us for scientists who are so clever! I’ve always agreed with whoever said that science was thinking God’s thoughts after Him. It must be so exciting to be on the cutting edge of science like this and hopeful for us being potentially on the cutting edge of new designer drugs.
All this means, God willing, that though not medically curable, David’s cancer might be able to be managed for significantly longer than we were previously given hope for. We’ve been inspired by stories on a cancer forum of the survival of those on Crizotinib and the more normal lifestyle that can be lived.
Praise God for this hope and pray it is realised: longer life for His glory, as described in Phil 1: 19-26 (and take note of the challenge to you, dear reader of verses 27-30.) We’ve enjoyed reading Philippians as a family recently. 1:21 points out the win/win situation we find ourselves in; 2: 1-11 has been the inspiration for my life; 2:14 is a great verse to quote to squabbling kids; Phil 3:7-14 is inspirational for our circumstances now; and 4:4-8 continues to be a great source of challenge and comfort. The peace I feel can only be the precious gift of God to me in this time, in answer to your prayers.
We’ve also enjoyed reading some good books: ‘Suffering Well’ by Paul Grimmond helps us reflect on where is God in all this, and ‘Naked God’ by Martin Ayers is a good read for sceptics.
But we also hurt for those around us who’re also suffering. There are a number of close friends with medical conditions, whom we pray for regularly. We’d like to encourage you to think about who you know that might be struggling with serious illness, and uphold them to God. Please also pray for David, for opportunities David has to share his faith and hope. Pray that we will continue to serve our church family in their grief and joys. And pray for me as I seek to care for my patients, in their sickness and the trials of life.
We are so thankful to our church, Crossroads, for their care for us. David had the opportunity to speak for 15 mins or so at a special church family meeting on Monday night. He shared his appreciation of being able to serve the church as senior pastor these past 16 year. He thanked many whom he’d worked with. He shared of the shock and heartache of being diagnosed with cancer, the time in hospital, the struggles, facing his own mortality and more. The pastoral staff and the elders specifically prayed for David to be healed and to honour God with his life.
David has also been welcomed to continue serving in ministry at Crossroads as he is able. He is excited to be able to speak this weekend. Obviously he is going through a bit of an identity crisis (not too badly!) as his life has been so focused on ministry leadership for so long. He has been thinking of writing a blog or something, but hasn’t got anything off the ground yet. [My letters are getting it launched for him!] The Brumbies have also welcomed David back as team chaplain. They have been very supportive of David and our family over the past 3 months, and it was great to be able to go to a game together again last week. Jake White has welcomed David’s involvement with the team and he is hoping to have a positive impact on the lives of many. He had the opportunity to share with the whole squad recently.
Our children continue to be an amazing source of joy and encouragement. Their visits and calls. The joy of conversation and praying together. Their sports, musicals, friends, youth group, activities, and their faith and struggles. Even organising a team of teenagers to raise money for cancer research through the Cancer Council “Relay for Life”.
Thank you all for your love, and remember God loves you more than you could ever imagine.
Love Fiona (and Dave)
Journey with cancer 19 Jan 2012
Dear family and friends
Thank you so much for all your prayers concerning David. We’ve felt so supported by your love and concern for us from all around the world. It’s just been amazing to see the world wide church in action. A great testimony at this time! We know your prayers have been answered as we’ve continued to deal calmly (well most of the time!) with all that’s been happening and have continued to trust God (not without tears) through it all. The frustration of last week has been overcome within a week (as opposed to the initial four we were quoted) as we’ve seen God at work through His people.
We are very grateful to God for the provision of a Christian oncologist, and friend of a friend, becoming our friend when we needed one most. He’s been amazingly kind and generous with his time and has been communicating on our behalf with specialists down here. We are also grateful to God for our Canberra oncologist. He’s a very intelligent man and knows his stuff.
Unfortunately, the receptor test has come back negative. I knew I wasn’t married to a 40 year old, non-smoking Asian female (the category of people who mainly have this receptor!) but it was worth asking God for. This means that we don’t get to use specific designer drugs, but are left with a more general approach. David will start chemotherapy next Wednesday, after boosting his red blood cells with a week of Vitamin B and folic acid. We’ll be using drugs that appear, from research, to give the best outcome, with least side effects and best quality of life. Praise God, that he has given people such intelligence, that they can research and come up with such drugs with great criteria like that!
Whilst this last week has been very hard, and yesterday it was suddenly very much all in our faces again, we have been so grateful to God for His provisions for our family and His amazing timing. Yesterday, in all the stress, a friend randomly dropped around a gluten free orange cake just half and hour before David’s mum, a celiac, dropped in. Just wonderful!
The other great news from the extended McDonald clan, was that David’s dad’s cancer has been declared to be in total remission after his 6 cycles of chemotherapy were completed just before Christmas. It was great to see him looking stronger yesterday, than when he was down for the ‘not the farewell prayer meeting’. Thank God with us, because Norman having cancer, had weighed heavily on us leaving to go north.
Our kids have returned home. Grace having had a wonderful time at summer school, and Marcus had a great time on beach mission (thanks Old Bar team) and holiday with our friends the Elkingtons. We’re now heading down the coast for a few days of brief holiday with our family and extended family before the chemo begins. Our church have got into the habit of coming with us to Burrill Pines. We can’t not share the most fabulous God-given peaceful place around!
Pray we’ll have good times with all our kids both this next week and into the future. Pray that despite the stress, team McDonald will work together well, loving and caring for each other, able to talk, laugh, share, cry, question together, but always trusting in God and his amazing love and care of us, and witnessing to that in our lives. Please pray for our kids as they have to grow up fast, and for us as we remember they’re still kids.
Whilst the battle ahead is daunting, it’s a relief to be finally doing something to fight the cancer.
Thank God for his armour (Ephesians 6) and pray we’ll be “putting it on” (as Colin Buchanan and my supa club kids sing so enthusiastically) every day. Sing the Dambusters hymn with us: Psalm 46. Please pray that David will have the energy, strength and trust in God to face what’s ahead, and that the side effects will be kept to a minimum and can be dealt with. Pray that we will finally have some routine, structure, clarity, as to what each day might hold, whilst being glad and rejoicing for each new day, praising God for his new mercies each morning, and being flexible so as to cope with all the unexpected things that will come our way. Pray for conversations with old friends, current friends and new friends as we head into a new world and join a new community, that we’ll continue to share with joy of the One who loves us and holds us in the palm of His hand.
Thank you for all your cards, texts, fb messages, emails, phonecalls, presents, and presence. Please keep them coming, as they are such an encouragement to us. David is someone who is energised by catching up with people. It doesn’t matter if you’re worried that you don’t know what to say, no one does! I cant say to David, “I know what you’re going through” because I DON’T and most of you probably don’t either. If you’re worried that you’ll wear him out, or that he’ll have too many visitors, then just pop in briefly – though sometimes David is up for ‘a chat’! He hasn’t gone back on coffee yet, but will happily make you one. You can always give a call before you come to check it’s ok.
Once again, we can’t thank you and God enough for all your support and encouragement.
Love and prayers
Fiona (and David)
Journey with cancer 11 Jan 2012
Dear friends and family,
As many of you were aware, we visited the oncologist today. Unfortunately the receptor test, that we were waiting the results for today, was inconclusive, so further samples have been sent off to try and obtain a definitive result. Again, it will be a 2-3 week wait. Please pray for patience as we wait (again). There is good cause to wait, as targeted chemo with specific designer drugs will give better outcomes, and works better if not used after general chemotherapy. In the meantime we live in limbo land, with our brains in suspended animation.
Well no, not really. It was very special to have David go to church on Christmas Day, although it exhausted him. We had a wonderful family lunch provided by friends in our beautiful backyard. It was special to be together and to remember that Jesus is truly with us. If you missed out on a good Christmas service then can I recommend the carols from St Andrew’s Cathedral. The message was awesome, as was the music. Hearing an old friend sing ‘Immanuel, Our God is with us’ had me in tears (& still does).
Our container of goods arrived back on Tuesday 3rd. Many wonderful friends helped unpack and reset up in a day. What took us 6 weeks to carefully pack, only took our friends 6 hours to get back in place! It was a bit bizarre to see the truck being unloaded by the same men who had loaded it 5 weeks before. I think our goods enjoyed the break! The dog was certainly confused but happy. The house is the same yet different, as we’ve taken the opportunity to repaint, and rearrange kids rooms and the studies. They say change is as good as a holiday.
Actually, after David’s PET scan, (where, no, they didn’t find any unwanted pets) we did escape for a holiday down at Moruya Heads to a flat belonging to good friends. David’s rehab program continued with good food, good rest, but now also the benefit of sun, sand, walks and fishing! Many small fish were kissed and thrown back. His swimming was excluded on basis of healing wounds, infection risk, and the wind-chill factor. It was a great relaxing, refreshing time alone together: 3rd honeymoon, as we felt too young to be empty-nesters just yet. The bizarreness of our life was contrasted with the bizarreness of Sam Tyler’s life as we enjoyed watching the BBC series ‘Life on Mars’.
We enjoyed the beauty of God’s creation, the great tastes of his creation and reading his word together: specifically 2 Corinthians, where we’re reminded of the temporary nature of this life compared to the wonders of eternity. David said he was beginning to grasp this contrast more strongly. 2 Corinthians 1:3-11 has always been a favourite with me.
We are also very grateful to friends for the lovely holidays our kids have enjoyed. Matt and Marcus had a great time at Old Bar beach mission, where both had great opportunities to share the gospel and encourage and be encouraged in their Christian faith. Grace is enjoying Summer school, and Luke and Sharon had a wonderful camping trip at Gerringong, before plunging back into summer swim schools this week.
There’s plenty to do in the meantime, with studies and books to be arranged, cards and letters to be answered, more rehab to increase David’s strength for the fight to come and perhaps even our annual holiday with our church family down at Burrill Pines. Who knows, there might even be a school of salmon passing through to inspire the recovery!
It has been bitter sweet to farewell and hear from those who’ve gone to Darwin without us. Please continue to pray for Northern Australia, and for beautiful feet to take the gospel to those who haven’t heard or responded yet and to encourage those who labour so hard in such isolated and hard areas.
If you’re inspired by the fact that it’s 100 yrs since people first walked to the South Pole, then please google ‘Humpty Dumpty South Pole Expedition’ to check out our friend Rob’s trek to the Pole, raising money for the Humpty Dumpty children’s foundation. It sounds even more scary than waiting for chemotherapy.
Thank you for your continued prayers in this waiting period. In part it feels like we’re just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, as we wait for the medical system to lumber forward. However, we know we have God who is able to do the impossible, with the improbable, and so we continue to trust in Him, because there’s nowhere and no one else to turn to.
Fiona (& Dave)
macarisms 