Thoughts

“Come, all you who are thirsty,

come to the waters;

and you who have no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without cost.

2 Why spend money on what is not bread,

and your labor on what does not satisfy?

Cedars by Lydia

Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,

and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

3 Give ear and come to me;

hear me, that your soul may live.

I will make an everlasting covenant with you,

my faithful love promised to David.

4 See, I have made him a witness to the peoples,

a leader and commander of the peoples.

5 Surely you will summon nations you know not,

and nations that do not know you will hasten to you,

because of the Lord your God,

the Holy One of Israel,

for he has endowed you with splendor.”

6 Seek the Lord while he may be found;

call on him while he is near.

7 Let the wicked forsake his way

and the evil man his thoughts.

Mountains by Anna

Let him turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on him,

and to our God, for he will freely pardon.

8 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways,”

declares the Lord.

9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts.

10 As the rain and the snow

come down from heaven,

and do not return to it

without watering the earth

and making it bud and flourish,

so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

11 so is my word that goes out from my mouth:

It will not return to me empty,

but will accomplish what I desire

and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

12 You will go out in joy

and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and hills

will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field

will clap their hands.

13 Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree,

and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.

This will be for the Lord’s renown,

for an everlasting sign,

which will not be destroyed.”

Isaiah 55 above has long been a favorite, but has seemed particularly pertinent over the last couple of months.  From the very literal references to eating and drinking, of which we all have a new perspective, to the realization of spending money and labor on what does not satisfy as I've transitioned into a new (more satisfying) position at work, to the mountains and the hills busting forth in song after the rain (Washington is certainly the place to see this in action) even the verses talking about the thornbush and briers giving way to pine trees and myrtle has resonance in the yard work I've gotten a chance to do and the run/walk into some of the less developed neighborhoods that I've been venturing into.  As with all of scripture there is so much to glean from these words and they can strike fresh again and again as we journey through new seasons in our lives, can't they?
 
Today I was especially struck by verses 8 and 9.  "for my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways."  Throughout this journey we've been on over the past couple of months one of the most difficult things has been knowing when and how to make plans for things like flights and work hours and grocery trips not knowing how Dad may react to the drug or the broth or the riding mower, or how long it may take for him to gain back energy to drive, to work, to preach.

We were pleasantly surprised a couple of weeks ago to learn that rather than 6 rounds of chemo and 28 days of radiation as we originally thought was scheduled, Dad was given a stronger dosage of both that only required 5 rounds and 24 days.  Chemo was tough for dad leaving him nauseous some of the time and exhausted most of the time.  Radiation was not particularly taxing, but did require a 60-minute round trip to Everett each day. 

We are now in the rest and recovery section of Dad's treatment a few weeks to give his lungs time to recover their function and his blood time to recover their platelets and cell counts.  Dad has long been scheduled to have a pulmonary function test to see how those lungs are doing, and a PET scan to see where the cancer is at on August 7 and 8 at the University of Washington in Seattle. We think that Dr. Wood (the thoracic surgeon) will be able to schedule the big surgery based on the results of these tests.  While we don't know exactly how far out it will be scheduled for, we're thinking it will be the end of August or first part of September.  I would like to return to Rochester for a few weeks while Dad is waiting for surgery.  We were waiting to see how Dad was feeling before I made any definite plans. And he has been doing OK, but still tired.  He's not really eating anything both because he has no appetite and because it's been difficult to keep much down, although it does seem to go in spurts (no pun intended (OK, maybe a little intended)).  However, he seems to be getting stronger each day and I feel OK leaving them on their own. I feel a bit nervous leaving them on their own to drive and function during the tests in Seattle, but they feel OK getting to Seattle on their own for appointments, and you have to let them fly on their own at some point.  So, just yesterday I bought a ticket back to Rochester leaving Seattle at 5:30 on August 1 (Wednesday).

Then, today, in a definite "my ways are not your ways" kind of moment Mom and Dad received a call from Dr. Wood's office saying that Dr. Wood is going to be on vacation the week of August 6th, and wondering if they can reschedule the appointments for next week... Monday, Tuesday, and/or Wednesday. 

Not that I need to be here for these appointments, not that they couldn't get there and back without me, not that there aren't others to help out in case of emergency.  It was somewhat of a step of faith to make a decision to go back to Rochester and hearing this, being able to be here, Dad even being able to have the tests done earlier because of finishing radiation and chemo early feels like an affirmation that the steps and decisions we are making for little things like air plane tickets are the right ones.

We do not know what tomorrow brings, but because we have seen God's hand at work we can know that the words of Isaiah are true and can take comfort in the fact that while our thoughts are racing and muddled and most certainly not the right ones in our own power, we can rely on the One who says

“As the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts."

Good news

Mom and Dad went to Everett today for day 22 of radiation as per usual, and the techs who run the actual radiation mentioned that tomorrow was Dad's last day of radiation.  This after the chemo techs on Tuesday said that this week (round 5) was Dad's last of chemo.  Weird, right?  Well, they asked the PA on Tuesday, and the radiation oncologist today about this, and the PA said that it must just be a scheduling error and she showed him here next Tuesday for his last round.  The Radiation oncologist today at first said, "no, sorry, we've got another week to go" but then just as Mom and Dad were leaving stopped them and said that actually, tomorrow is the last day of radiation.  Turns out Dad's been on a more intensive regimen of chemo and radiation, and the protocol for this is only 23 days, not 28 as we've though all along.  So tomorrow is his last day of radiation.  We're hoping to talk to the oncologist this week to confirm whether or not Dad needs the 6th round of chemo or not.  So, potentially, tomorrow's radiation treatment might be it for a few weeks.  Good news for all of us!

Strawberries

Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?  On our way back from chemo and radiation, and a consult with the PA from oncology we stopped at a local place and picked up a half crate of the juiciest, ripest, sweetest strawberries I have seen in long time.  These babies are sooooo good, and not a bad one in the bunch. 

All of us were up early this morning (like 5:00 a.m. early).  Me to get a couple of hours of work in before going to Everett for appointments.  Mom and Dad to flush the j-tube which had been going all night.  Flushing consists of pushing water into the tube via a large syringe.  This both cleans the tube and provides an extra bit of fluids for Dad, keeping him hydrated.

Tuesday's are usually long days as Dad gets both chemo and radiation.  Today's treatment was fine.  His white and red blood cell counts are kind of low, his hematorcrit is kind of low, and his platelets are more than kind of low. Low enough that if they're not better next week or have gone down, he may forgo the last round of chemo.

We made a stop at Wendy's on the way back for the standard Frosty, and Dad asked to go in as he says he enjoys the smells of "real food".  Mom and I were happy to oblige.  I should probably do a whole post dedicated to Wendy's and their amazing Frostys.  They are just the right consistency.  Come in vanilla or chocolate (or the Carlson-preferred mixed option) and stay thick but smooth long enough to slowly eat the distance it takes from Smokey Point in Marysville to Olympic View Place in Stanwood.  Anyway, we've been looking for other places that serve a shake or malt that compare to Wendy's (the trials we go through :-) We've tried a few different places looking for the right consistency, a decent flavor for Dad's drug-addled taste buds, and most importantly no chunks, or big enough chunks that he can eat around them. So much fresh fruit is in season right now or will soon be ready and lots of places are advertising fresh strawberry shakes. Dad really, really wants a fresh strawberry shake, but unfortunately it's just not working for him.  However, this doesn't keep him from trying.  And Mom has pureed different stuff to put in a smoothy, serve over ice cream, or just freeze (the watermelon granita has been a special favorite.)  We picked up a "soft serve ice cream maker" yesterday and are hoping that we can add various flavors to that to keep Dad interested.

Anyway, we got back from our day and I, being me, proceeded directly to my room for a nap (5:00 a.m. people!).  I emerged from my room a couple of hours later to find out that Dad has been suffering one of the nastier side effects chemo and emptying the contents (however little it might be) of his stomach.  And Mom has been by his side for all of it.  Night's have been tough for Dad as when the j-tube is going for feedings, he can not lay down flat.  There's also been a learning curve for how much can go in at a time and the best ways to take care of the tube and all it's apparatus.  Tough for Dad, but maybe even tougher for Mom who is up with him through all of it, and working to try whatever to make it better, while still having to be the taskmaster to keep pushing fluids, and nutrients, and drugs, and trying to calculate how much has gone in and how much has stayed down.  And, not to complain, but tired/exhausted Dad without the outlet of his workbench, or garden is a cranky Dad, and Mom bears the burden of that more than anyone. 

I came out to the kitchen to find that in between the bouts of nausea in the bedroom (sorry, that sounds like T.M.I.) Mom has cleaned and hulled most of the berries we bought earlier.  Freezing some and mashing the rest... to make a sauce for Dad...  to try in his ice cream... but probably to end up the same place as today's frosty (definitely t.m.i.). 

I started this rather long rambling post asking if there was anything more beautiful than the cleaned and hulled fresh strawberries posted above, but I'm going to end with what, to me, is even more beautiful. 

The work of a tired and exhausted woman. Giving the largest portion of the treasure of strawberries.  Mashed in a bowl ready to be strained to get juice to make a sauce to go in a shake that may or may not go down and may or may not stay down. All in the hopes of giving some comfort.  A picture of love. 

Halfway point

My cousin  has been trying to convince me that walking/running is a good thing.  I'm not entirely sure I'm sold, but I have liked seeing the progress I've been able to make over the last few months, progressing from entirely walking, to partly running, and maybe some day in the far distant future, running an entire 5K.  I have an app on my phone (Nike +GPS) that tells me how fast I "run" and gives me some other statistics as I go.  If I set it for a certain distance, say 5K, it will give me periodic updates including telling me when I'm at the halfway point.  I like hearing that "half way point" in a mildly cheery, mostly optomistic, not judging you for your speed voice.  It usually means that the hardest part of run (actually getting started) is behind me. I'm warmed up and it's a good time to push myself a bit get a better over all time or faster mile, or whatever.

So, Dad is officially at his "halfway point" with chemo and radiation.  3 weeks in, 3 weeks to go.  14 days of radiation down, 14 to go.  3 rounds of chemo complete, 3 rounds to go.  3 boxes of Snapple Sorbet bars down, 10 more to go (come on, those things are good!). 

It also feels a bit like we're getting warmed up for the push to come.  We're figuring out what this drug does or doesn't do, we've learned that Frostys work and oyster stew doesn't, we know that everything works better when Dad is hydrated.  We know that crushed pills taste horrible and "hiding' it in pudding only goes so far.   We've been through two "mini" surgeries. One to place the port for chemo, and one to place the jejunostomy tube (hereafter called the j-tube) for feedings.  The port was a relatively simple procedure and Dad came home the same day. The j-tube was a bit more extensive as they put him under, went in laproscopically, and attached the j-tube to his jejunum.  He had the procedure Friday afternoon, and was in the hospital in Everett until today (Sunday).  Both procedures involved waiting rooms and anesthesia and hospital cafeteria coffee, and hyperawareness of every code called in the hospital. Both procedures involved a lot of "what if's" and "maybes".  Both procedures came with so much evidence of God's hand at work in Dad's life and in ours.

We have a strong hope that having learned what we have in the first half will make the second half go well.  The j-tube will allow Dad to get nutrients that he needs, keeping him hydrated and strong.  We also have hope that as radiation proceeds the tumor will shrink, and he'll be able to swallow more. The first half of this race has been full of encouragement in your words, prayers, gifts, phone calls, and letters.  Not only those directly to Dad but also the many words of encouragement and prayers for/to Mom, to me, and to Andy and Nathan as well.

We are pretty sure that the next half is going to be tough, in some of the same ways, and probably in new ways too.  We also know that the big hurdle of the surgery is still a ways out as there will be at least 4 weeks of recovery between the last radiation and the surgery to remove the esophagus. 

But we've heard the voice saying "half-way point" for this run, and today that voice is a comfort.