Update 6 (J) It's the 21st of December. The winter solstice. Four days before Christmas. It was exactly six months ago when we first found out something was wrong ... the 21st of June, the summer solstice. A few days later we had a diagnosis. Six months down the road things look a lot different than they did. At first there was nothing but terror and bad news ... and God. We've flowed from one routine to another. At first it was all chaos. Scrambling from one doctor to the next; from one scan to the next; from one bad report to the next. It was hard just to find our way through the maze to the doctor's office. The only thing that kept us going was believing God. We'd go to sleep at night praying. We'd wake up praying. It was the only comfort there was ... and still is. We worked our way through the different routines of treatment. First it was radiation. It was quick. It hardly took more than fifteen minutes. We'd whip in to the hospital late in the afternoon and barely have time to turn around. In and out. It was over in two weeks. Then her hair all fell out and she had to gradually get off of the steroids that kept her brain from swelling. She was weak and her joints ached as if she had arthritis. One doctor would say, "You need more steroids", another would say, "You need to get off the steroids", and yet another doctor would say, "That's just the way those steroids are". Then six weeks after that the chemotherapy started. Chemotherapy has a different rhythm. For Sis it started harsh and built to a crescendo of chemo rage. After having lost her hair to radiation she also lost her eyebrows and eyelashes and no longer needed to shave under her arms or her legs. We're told by our doctor that Sis' experience was "average". Some people have it much worse ... I can't imagine it. Where radiation has a "hit it and quit it" quality chemo has a lingering gathering of intensity. It just keeps building on itself. Every three weeks they'd pile on a little more. At first there were sores in the mouth and throat. Then there was a rash. A sore throat led to a cough that was worse because she was so dizzy she had fallen and bruised her ribs. The nose bleed that wouldn't stop; the numb hands and feet; the dangerously low potassium and magnesium levels, etc. None of this stuff seems to happen during office hours either. And yet there are the scans. So far we've had two. They've been glorious. A display of God at work! After just two chemo treatments Sis' primary tumor shrank by 70%. This was charecterized by Doctor Johnson, Sis' oncologist, as "As good as it gets!". In the last scan he said the treatment continues to work and the tumors show "significant shrinkage". Another scan is scheduled in two weeks and we're excited to see it. Through this whole experience the one constant is God. We go to sleep ... He's there. We wake up and He's there. He never leaves us. He's taking care of us. We pray; we read our bibles. We talk to Him; we talk about Him ... He talks to us. Every day fear and worry are just outside, trying to barge their way in. We resist ... We fight ... we stand. Our faith never wavers. "For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord " (Luke 2:11) "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men" (Luke 2:14) Merry Christmas all. Luke 8:50 Isaiah 53:5 I Peter 2:24 Matthew 8:16-17 Acts 10:38 II Timothy 1:7 I Peter 5:8-9 I John 4:18 <back