my heart aches, it physically hurts. i feel as though there is a weight sitting on my chest. it's hard to breathe. it's hard to stand. it's hard to formulate a thought. i'm really at a loss for words.
yesterday - 2 years and 5 days from the initial diagnosis, we found out matt's cancer has returned. stage 4. again. he was in remission for 13 months. 13 months! 13 months of excitement. 13 months of extra innings of life. we had the best 13 months. we learned what it meant to live. to love. to be intentional. to be spontaneous. we laughed. we were busy. we were exhausted.
and suddenly, without warning, the plans for the remaining part of the year have been cancelled. the magnetic dry erase calendar on our fridge was wiped clean. it has been filled with doctor appointments. scans. chemo. radiation. biopsies. laughter has been replaced with tears.
oh we trust God. we know He has a plan. but we don't understand it. at all. i can't seem to wrap my head around why. why matt, the one everyone LOVES is sick. again. why, when he was so faithful in round 1 is now in round 2? why do we have to do this again. why is the one with the recurrence of the "rare and aggressive" cancer the glue holding us all together? matt is the one who prays when we don't have the words nor the strength. he's the one who listens to bible studies to and from work and can't wait to tell us everything he has learned. he's the one who calls and says you're going to love what you read in the one year bible babe. he's the matt we love.
in some ways it feels like round 2 is harder than round 1. perhaps because we know what to expect? perhaps because we've done it before, all too recently and we remember it too well. we know the long days. the nausea. the fatigue. the endless scans and doctor appointments. in other ways it's easier because we know what to expect, we've done it before and we remember it well.
as of yesterday, we've begun a new hope pile - we still have the pile from the previous round. but we're starting fresh. our friends and family have so graciously started a website to provide meals and donate financially towards the upcoming medical bills. we've become the recipients of so much grace and love and understanding and prayer. oh the prayer, it's so welcome. our hearts are at peace. sad and broken but at peace. we are often found speechless because of the outpouring of support we've received. we're just in awe.
as i thought about this round, i was reminded of the israelites in the old testament who walked in the wilderness for 40 years. their food was provided daily. as they needed it. they had a cloud of protection by day; fire by night. their shoes never wore out. they experienced God's faithfulness and quickly forgot and start complaining. for 40 years they walked. finally - they made it to the promised land. we don't know how long we'll walk. we know God provides what we need when we need it - spiritually and physically. we know we've been surrounded by many who walk with us. we know the promised land is coming. we know that we must keep walking and we must keep remembering what He has done.
in the next few weeks matt will meet with a pulmonologist, he'll have a ct scan to determine the sizes of the cancerous lymph nodes in the bronchial. he'll have a biopsy to confirm what they are already sure of. we'll meet with a radiation oncologist to get that plan in motion. my matty will have chemo and radiation simultaneously. again. the same stuff he had before. it will knock him. we'll get back up. it will knock him harder. we'll get back up. he'll do this 3 days in a row every three weeks for several rounds. our prayer is that the cancer will be gone and matt will go into remission once again.
though we don't know why. we do know God has created us for His pleasure. we know He desires to be glorified in and through our lives. we know He loves us with an unending, unfailing love. we hold tightly to His promises and they are our every breath. we know we will get to experience Him so deeply and so intimately and that is one thing i am looking forward to.
thank you for walking with us again. thank you for loving us. thank you for continuing to pray for us and with us.
Friday, September 4, 2015
Thursday, January 29, 2015
cancerschmancer - what is "routine" anyway and what is "normal"
the past few weeks things have been good. learning a new normal. the new normal is life after cancer. after treatment. after surgery. it includes many follow up appointments. it's wondering if this feeling is "right" - it's not how matt used to feel. is it normal? or is something wrong? should he be this tired? was that lump always there? we're learning what the new normal feels like.
matt has been in remission since july 2014, that came exactly 11 months after being diagnosed with a rare and aggressive cancer. one that didn't have a great long term prognosis and not enough data to know what "normal" looks like. it's now January 2015 and we're experiencing life again. loving every minute. not taking it for granted. learning to live intentionally. accepting more doctor appointments, fatigue, lumps and bumps, all as the new normal. it's hard. but compared to a year ago? it's glorious. because he's here.
today we had a "routine" appointment with the surgeon. it's been 10 weeks since he has scoped and scraped matt's nose. we've had other appointments, scans, endoscopies and biopsies in that time off, but we haven't seen our surgeon, dr. b. he told us at our last appointment that if all looks good, we'll start seeing him every three to four months. yay! just think of the co-pays we'll save! so we went into today's appointment somewhat nervous because there are so many unknowns and horrible statistics, but hopeful because we've seen God defy odds and do miraculous things. plus we had no reason to believe anything was wrong. matt's been feeling great - considering it's a new "normal."
we walked in to the surgeon's office and the receptionists immediately smiled. they remember matt. they remember the first time we walked in. scared. and we walked out sobbing. they remember he wasn't given a great prognosis. they remember all of my urgent calls. they remember the doctor giving us priority. they remember Jarrett means STAT. they remember matt falling asleep in the waiting room. and they remember matt's infectious smile. the sparkle in his eyes. they remember how he used the parking validation stamp on my face when he validated the ticket. they remember his bald head and cold hands and young faces and young children. they remember him at his worst and loved seeing him today. they remember him.
as we waited to be called back, the door opened and we saw a nurse who we met early on - he's a sweet, young, brother in the Lord. shortly after matt's surgery, he began working for another doctor and we haven't seen him much since. but today he came back to our room and the two men caught up. he said he's been hoping we'd come in so he could talk to matt. he told matt that he really looks up to him. he said i've watched you matt. i see what you are going through, i'm going through hard things too and i see how you handle it. i see how much you love Jesus. i want that joy and peace. he said, you've been through so much but you always smile. he shared some things with matt and the two men hugged. matt asked him if he could pray. the nurse, our friend agreed.
meanwhile, i just sat with my eyes tearing up, in awe. thanking God for allowing us the privilege of walking this cancer road because if it wasn't for cancer, the two men wouldn't have met. after they prayed, they hugged, talked a bit more and made a plan to grab coffee sometime soon.
shortly after, a resident came in. he scoped and talked to us. he asked about our trip to baton rouge. he remembered how last time we came in we had a bunch of kids. we laughed and called it a homeschool field trip. then asked us to excuse him while he went to talk to the dr. he said he'd be back in a few minutes, they needed to review the most recent scan we brought in, even though it was two months old.
dr b came in and shook our hands, asked how matt is doing and asked if we had a more recent scan. he asked when the next one would be and how often in between. we answered his questions and he began looking up there with the camera. he continued looking as he talked to the resident and answered my questions about what's this and that. he sucked stuff out. then he said he saw something that wasn't there before. he has told us before and said it again today, he'd most likely see "something" before it showed up in a scan. he was looking with his eye, the scan detects through layers. makes sense. in all of the times he said it, it didn't bother us, we never actually expected he'd see anything.
he put the camera up matt's nose again to his "living room" - the space created when they removed everything in surgery and he showed me. i asked if was normal, he said no. he said nothing about matt is normal. no truer statements have ever been said. and i'm not talking about the cancer - but i digress.
matts case isn't normal because he's younger than the average person with this. he's withstood treatment. another rarity. and after a year, he's alive. they don't have much data on this cancer at all, let alone on someone who is healthy and young. our surgeon is a top ent surgeon who specializes in skull base tumors, he's known in the industry and consults with the dr who writes the medical journals on this stuff. yet our surgeon hasn't seen this particular rare, aggressive cancer in this place. so what is "normal"?
he said he'd like to remove this newly discovered mass and send it to the lab to be biopsied. he didn't say the word cancer, he didn't have to. he did say he didn't know if it was fast growing or slow growing. he didn't think it was on the scan from 2 months ago. he wanted another scan right away. i asked if it could be post surgery healing and he said no. matt is completely healed up from surgery. so with his chompers, a grabber looking tool with sharp "teeth" he grabbed a chunk off, dropped it in the fluid and then grabbed another chunk. the bottle was labeled matthew jarrett.
i asked how long it would take to get biopsy results. he said up to five business days. i asked if he could call us. he said yes, do you want me to call with results...no matter what they are...? i said yes. please don't call us and say come to uci i need to talk to you. just tell us what you find. he agreed. he didn't joke. he didn't small talk like he has at previous "good" appointments. he shook our hands and asked that we come back to see him in four weeks. we're seeing him sooner, not later.
i don't know what God has for us in the days ahead. the weeks ahead. the months ahead or the years ahead. i don't understand His plan. but i do know He has a plan. and i know it's perfect. i know He gave us a sweet kiss by allowing us to talk with and pray for a nurse who is hurting. i know that wouldn't have happened if matt didn't have cancer. i know we wouldn't have gone to baton rouge and met our dear friends if matt didn't have cancer. i know we wouldn't understand the power of prayer and greatness of God if he didn't have cancer.
i do know that i read today in the one year bible that God spared pharaoh because He had a purpose and that was to show His power and spread His fame throughout the earth. i know He works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose as it says in romans 8:28. i know our momentary, light afflictions produce for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison because it says so in 2 cor 4:17. i know a good cry and worship all alone in the office revive the soul and refocus my eyes. i know my God went to prepare a place for me, a mansion actually, He has all of eternity waiting for me and this time on earth is but a short span. i know He's with me in my deepest of valleys and is ever present when i cry out to him. i know He is good. and i'm undeserving of His grace.
i focus on what i do know rather than what i don't know.
and i know i'll go to sleep tonight with my head on matt's chest listening to his heart beat. i'll hold his hand tighter and i'll sit closer. i know i won't miss an opportunity to tell him i love him.
matt has been in remission since july 2014, that came exactly 11 months after being diagnosed with a rare and aggressive cancer. one that didn't have a great long term prognosis and not enough data to know what "normal" looks like. it's now January 2015 and we're experiencing life again. loving every minute. not taking it for granted. learning to live intentionally. accepting more doctor appointments, fatigue, lumps and bumps, all as the new normal. it's hard. but compared to a year ago? it's glorious. because he's here.
today we had a "routine" appointment with the surgeon. it's been 10 weeks since he has scoped and scraped matt's nose. we've had other appointments, scans, endoscopies and biopsies in that time off, but we haven't seen our surgeon, dr. b. he told us at our last appointment that if all looks good, we'll start seeing him every three to four months. yay! just think of the co-pays we'll save! so we went into today's appointment somewhat nervous because there are so many unknowns and horrible statistics, but hopeful because we've seen God defy odds and do miraculous things. plus we had no reason to believe anything was wrong. matt's been feeling great - considering it's a new "normal."
we walked in to the surgeon's office and the receptionists immediately smiled. they remember matt. they remember the first time we walked in. scared. and we walked out sobbing. they remember he wasn't given a great prognosis. they remember all of my urgent calls. they remember the doctor giving us priority. they remember Jarrett means STAT. they remember matt falling asleep in the waiting room. and they remember matt's infectious smile. the sparkle in his eyes. they remember how he used the parking validation stamp on my face when he validated the ticket. they remember his bald head and cold hands and young faces and young children. they remember him at his worst and loved seeing him today. they remember him.
as we waited to be called back, the door opened and we saw a nurse who we met early on - he's a sweet, young, brother in the Lord. shortly after matt's surgery, he began working for another doctor and we haven't seen him much since. but today he came back to our room and the two men caught up. he said he's been hoping we'd come in so he could talk to matt. he told matt that he really looks up to him. he said i've watched you matt. i see what you are going through, i'm going through hard things too and i see how you handle it. i see how much you love Jesus. i want that joy and peace. he said, you've been through so much but you always smile. he shared some things with matt and the two men hugged. matt asked him if he could pray. the nurse, our friend agreed.
meanwhile, i just sat with my eyes tearing up, in awe. thanking God for allowing us the privilege of walking this cancer road because if it wasn't for cancer, the two men wouldn't have met. after they prayed, they hugged, talked a bit more and made a plan to grab coffee sometime soon.
shortly after, a resident came in. he scoped and talked to us. he asked about our trip to baton rouge. he remembered how last time we came in we had a bunch of kids. we laughed and called it a homeschool field trip. then asked us to excuse him while he went to talk to the dr. he said he'd be back in a few minutes, they needed to review the most recent scan we brought in, even though it was two months old.
dr b came in and shook our hands, asked how matt is doing and asked if we had a more recent scan. he asked when the next one would be and how often in between. we answered his questions and he began looking up there with the camera. he continued looking as he talked to the resident and answered my questions about what's this and that. he sucked stuff out. then he said he saw something that wasn't there before. he has told us before and said it again today, he'd most likely see "something" before it showed up in a scan. he was looking with his eye, the scan detects through layers. makes sense. in all of the times he said it, it didn't bother us, we never actually expected he'd see anything.
he put the camera up matt's nose again to his "living room" - the space created when they removed everything in surgery and he showed me. i asked if was normal, he said no. he said nothing about matt is normal. no truer statements have ever been said. and i'm not talking about the cancer - but i digress.
matts case isn't normal because he's younger than the average person with this. he's withstood treatment. another rarity. and after a year, he's alive. they don't have much data on this cancer at all, let alone on someone who is healthy and young. our surgeon is a top ent surgeon who specializes in skull base tumors, he's known in the industry and consults with the dr who writes the medical journals on this stuff. yet our surgeon hasn't seen this particular rare, aggressive cancer in this place. so what is "normal"?
he said he'd like to remove this newly discovered mass and send it to the lab to be biopsied. he didn't say the word cancer, he didn't have to. he did say he didn't know if it was fast growing or slow growing. he didn't think it was on the scan from 2 months ago. he wanted another scan right away. i asked if it could be post surgery healing and he said no. matt is completely healed up from surgery. so with his chompers, a grabber looking tool with sharp "teeth" he grabbed a chunk off, dropped it in the fluid and then grabbed another chunk. the bottle was labeled matthew jarrett.
i asked how long it would take to get biopsy results. he said up to five business days. i asked if he could call us. he said yes, do you want me to call with results...no matter what they are...? i said yes. please don't call us and say come to uci i need to talk to you. just tell us what you find. he agreed. he didn't joke. he didn't small talk like he has at previous "good" appointments. he shook our hands and asked that we come back to see him in four weeks. we're seeing him sooner, not later.
i don't know what God has for us in the days ahead. the weeks ahead. the months ahead or the years ahead. i don't understand His plan. but i do know He has a plan. and i know it's perfect. i know He gave us a sweet kiss by allowing us to talk with and pray for a nurse who is hurting. i know that wouldn't have happened if matt didn't have cancer. i know we wouldn't have gone to baton rouge and met our dear friends if matt didn't have cancer. i know we wouldn't understand the power of prayer and greatness of God if he didn't have cancer.
i do know that i read today in the one year bible that God spared pharaoh because He had a purpose and that was to show His power and spread His fame throughout the earth. i know He works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose as it says in romans 8:28. i know our momentary, light afflictions produce for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison because it says so in 2 cor 4:17. i know a good cry and worship all alone in the office revive the soul and refocus my eyes. i know my God went to prepare a place for me, a mansion actually, He has all of eternity waiting for me and this time on earth is but a short span. i know He's with me in my deepest of valleys and is ever present when i cry out to him. i know He is good. and i'm undeserving of His grace.
i focus on what i do know rather than what i don't know.
and i know i'll go to sleep tonight with my head on matt's chest listening to his heart beat. i'll hold his hand tighter and i'll sit closer. i know i won't miss an opportunity to tell him i love him.
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