A Very Meaningful Anniversary

 Five years ago today, I received my diagnosis of multiple myeloma. This is a particularly meaningful anniversary because what I was told at time of diagnosis was:

• You have multiple myeloma, a cancer of the bone marrow.
• We can treat it to keep it down as much as we can, but we can’t cure it.
• We have no idea how long it is going to take for this cancer to kill you, but our best guess is 5 years.

So, here I am at 5 years, their best-guess prediction for survival, and still going. I was on chemotherapy for 2½ years, and then took a break to allow my body to recover so we could fight the cancer some (I say “we” because I am not certainly in this fight alone; I have cancer, Carol has cancer-in-law). I was hoping for a 6 month break from the chemo, and the break has lasted for 2½ years as I go in for bi-monthly checkups to keep an eye on where the cancer level is. My “best guess” is that chemo will need to resume in early 2013.

Anyway, what a great 5 years this has been! During these past five years, I have been blessed to see three grandchildren born into the family and one granddaughter added by special delivery from Guatemala.  In May of 2010, I saw my youngest son marry a wonderful young lady. A few months later, three years and one day to the day from diagnosis, I walked my youngest child and only daughter down the aisle to marry the wonderful young man of her dreams. God has been good to me. I have lived to see all of my children marry godly individuals and doing well in life, and have lived to see (and enjoy) seven children of my children. 

All of this is in addition to many blessings of ministry and family both here and abroad, and I have been able to maintain more than full-time employment.

At the outset, I realized that the cancer was no random occurrence in the universe, but came to me from the hand of a heavenly Father whose love for me goes far beyond my ability to comprehend. As a result, several hymns became very meaningful to me.  There are “Children of the Heavenly Father,” and “Be Still My Soul.” Each line of the aforementioned songs is my personal testimony during this time. But the most meaningful hymn, from the start, has been “All the Way My Savior Leads Me,” by Fanny Crosby.  Again, each stanza means a lot to me, but here is just the first verse:

All the way my Savior leads me;

What have I to ask beside?

Can I doubt His tender mercy,

who through life has been my guide?

Heavenly peace, divinest comfort,

Here by faith in Him to dwell!

For I know, whatever befalls me,

Jesus doeth all things well!

PS -during the past five years, I have become very offended by commercials that give the impression that if you have the “right, fighting attitude” and some particular hospital, you can beat cancer.  I have seen people with really good attitudes go down with this disease, and a good attitude can’t beat cancer any more than it can beat a bullet to the heart. Our lives are completely in the hands of God. There is no place I would rather it to be.

Update June 2012

Results of a blood sample taken last week indicate that the cancer M-spike increased this two-month period from 1.2 to 1.6.  If viewed as an isolated data point, 33% could be viewed as a substantial increase. Given the range of the accuracy of the test, however, it is possible that the past few readings, when things seemed to be stable or even decreasing, may have been on the low side of the test's accuracy, and this time's may be read a little on the high side.  It can vary quite a bit simply by who is reading the test results.  Cancer patients (hopefully) learn to not get too excited one way or the other by results of a single test, be it good or bad.  Regardless, this is precisely the level at which I expected to now be when I was making my own, personal projections last November or December.  If this is the case, resumption of chemotherapy early in 2013 remains likely.

Again, no change in the course of action for now.  We will sample and test again in August to see if this is the beginning of a significantly increasing trend, or if the overall gradual increase is continuing at its anticipated rate, or if this is just a aberrant data point and things are staying stable.  We are still safely below the trigger point that Carol, the doc and I set a year ago for resuming chemotherapy.

Thanks to all for love, prayers, encouragment and concern.

Two years and counting

Today makes two years that I have been off of chemotherapy. I was hoping for a break of at least 6 months, and am very glad it has lasted, and is lasting, this long.

Two Items of Good News

I got a couple of pieces of good news within the past week. Today, I went to see the cancer doc. Results from the blood sample taken last week showed a decrease in the amount of cancer - a slight decrease, but a decrease nonetheless. It is the first decrease since discontinuing chemotherapy almost two years ago, after a lot of slight increases or no increases. For now, we stay the course at just monitoring. I will get my blood sampled again in two months, but won't go back to see the cancer doc until 4 months from now.

The other piece of good news is that I had that horribly unmentionable and wonderfully life-saving procedure called a colonoscopy done last week. Several years ago, we stayed less than a half-step ahead of cancer on a big ugly tumor found on one of these routine procedures. Get it done if your doc says it's time. It could literally save your life, it did mine. Anyway, these results came back clear, and I was very glad. I did not want to have to fight cancer on two fronts (or would that be one front and one rear?) simultaneously.

Thanks for the friendship, love, prayers and concern.

Update, Feb. 2012

I got results back on the most recent blood sample, and there has been no increase (or decrease) in the cancer since the last sampling two months ago. The cancer doc was real chipper about it when I saw him today. For now, it is stay the course and continue to monitor. Thanks to all for prayers, love and support.

"I have been, and will always be, your friend."

This morning I got to have breakfast with my best pal from high school days, Guy Ray. He went to Messick High and I went to White Station, but we met and got to be pals at church. He reminded me of Spock's quote that is the title of this blog, and the same is said by both of us in regard to the other.


Here is a picture of us at church camp one summer sometime in the 1960's. Guy always was the cool one of this duo. I don't think we've changed that much, do you?

Cancer Update, Dec. 2011

I had my regular visit with the cancer doc this afternoon. The cancer is continuing to show the same rate of very slow, but consistent, growth that it has demonstrated since discontinuing chemotherapy 18 months ago. The doctor knows and concurs with my treatment goals - to stay on my feet and working for as long as possible - so the visit was fairly short and amicable.

This approach of treating, but not attempting to eradicate, the cancer and then allowing the body to recuperate before fighting the cancer again, runs counter to literature published by pharmaceutical companies, but is hailed by some doctors and by many patients with myeloma and other forms of incurable cancer. Attending the funeral last week of a friend who died from myeloma was a somber, but not daunting, reminder of the high stakes being played here.

At current rate of cancer increase, my assessment (not the doc's) is that I should be able to continue to stay off of chemotherapy throughout 2012, but may likely have to resume at the start of 2013.

Thanks for your friendship, caring, encouragement and prayers. To say they mean a lot is a tremendous understatement.