CBA - Cost versus Benefit Analysis!

Walla Walla, November 13, 2010, Overcast, 50+ degrees.

Dr. Press had Dr. Maloney call me yesterday with the latest news and recommendations from the Seatttle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA). They have concluded that none of my siblings are acceptable transplant donors. Due to age, prior medical history or current medical status, none of them appear viable at this time. The next step in the process is to have all four of our children tested to see which of them has the genetic markers that match mine which would be the strongest for long term recovery. Dr. Maloney noted that I seem to have a very complex DNA and that it would be unlikely that even the national or global donor bank would identify a perfect donor match. My wife, of course, said that she could have told them from the start that I am a very complex,( meaning sometimes difficult person to match with), individual and so she wasn't too surprised. She added, however, that it is one of the reasons she loves me so much. Nevertheless, we are once again at a crossroads of treatment options and major league decision making. Dr. Maloney acknowledged that using one of our children as a stem-cell donor is not the ideal. It multiplies the level of risk to a new level of lethality and he could not clearly recommend whether to even have the transplant or not. The one decision we made, was to have another R-Chop treatment on my three week cycle this coming Wednesday, November 17th. I was hoping to have finished that cycle, but it appears to be necessary to keep the cancer in as conplete a state of remission as possible. I can have up to six R-Chop treatments and this next one will be the fourth. Each treatment intensifies the length and severity of the side effects and time of recovery. So far, by the grace of God, I have tolerated those side effects surprisingly well and hope to continue that track record.

That leaves us with the responsibility of making the final decision about the course to follow. There is no clear medical path to choose on the way to long-term health. How I wish there was an Oz-like yellow brick road that we just had to follow and it would lead us to the Emerald City of health and strength. Ironically, Seattle is called the Emerald City. I don't consider that a definitive sign in this case, but it is worth taking into consideration. In that fanciful world, Dr. Press is the Wizard, Nurse Dot and PA Britta are the good witches and my wife and children take turns playing the roles of the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion. I will leave it up to them to identify themselves. I am loath to identify anyone as the wicked witches, but there are probably some volunteers for even those roles. The great message of the Wizard of Oz, for me, is that the only way they could ever reach their dream destination was to stick together and courageously overcome all the life-threatening obstacles that were thrown in their way. We owe a tremendous debt of appreciation to all of you who pray for us and overwhelm us with love and encouragement. By God's grace and all of your support, we are confident that we will be led to choose the right path; God's path, which is notoriously narrow, steep, dangerous and hard to navigate, but leads to the mountain meadows of life. We will probably await the results of our children's blood tests to make a final, final decision. I would envision an all-family consultation with Dr. Press when those results are known. That is how we started this process over 5 years ago and it is important to keep the continuity along the way, for my family's sake if for no other reason. Pray for all of us in the crucible of decision making. In the meantime, we will remain in Walla Walla until mid-December, most likely. We have some family coming out West for Thanksgiving and so we will welcome them and their support.

Emotionally, the delay and complications take an increasingly heavy toll. Just when we come to terms with one treatment option and all the related risks, it feels like it is jerked out from under our feet and we land on our keesters, bruised and uncertain. Like a boxer getting off of the canvas, you take your lumps and try to come up with a new game plan that will produce a better outcome. I have often quoted the words of the Apostle Paul in 2 Cor. 4 in this blog. I hate to be so repetitive, but I relate completely with these words: "Hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." The presence and power of God's Spirit available to all believers somehow miraculously keeps me moving forward, and seeking to know and serve Christ more fully every day. I had two funerals on Tuesday this week and have another one this afternoon. One of the best antidotes for self-pity is obedience. It would be easy to turn away from those in grief and mourning with the justification of my own medical problems and needs. My ministry is not a profession, but a vocation. I am called by Christ to love others as deeply and authentically as long and as fully as God has loved me. It is both healing and helpful to forget about myself and my situation, and beg God to use my meager and halting thoughts to reveal the hope of God's eternal love to those that God chooses to place in my path. If tears are grace, like my friend Frederick Buechner is oft to write, I have such an abundance of mercy in my life that it just keeps running out of my eyes in thanksgiving for God's all sufficient and efficacious grace. Walking the foreign halls of Dwight D. Eishenhower High School the Fall of 1968, I needed all of the grace and strength of God could provide to remain faithful to following and serving God in a new school.

Dwight D. Eishenhower High School, Yakima, WA Fall of 1968

Before I ever enrolled IKE I knew that I would be ineligible from playing basketball or tennis. I willingly accepted that as part of God's invitation to deny myself, take up my cross and follow Jesus to a new school. I also accepted the loss of my friends, position and stature God had given to me at Wapato High School and the Wapato community at large. It was inevitable that some of my peers at Wapato would tell me to my face that I was a traitor, stupid, thought I was better than them and an idiot, in general. It didn't make for a pleasant transition. I lived two blocks away from Wapato High School on Satus Avenue, and I drove by the school every day on my 20 mile pilgrimage to IKE. Students at IKE were less than welcoming. Word gets around very quickly in any school about "new kids" and I was no exception. I made the mistake of wearing my Wapato letterman's jacket to school one day and the IKE football coach shoved me into a corner and told me it wasn't acceptable to wear foreign letterman jackets in his school and he would tear it off of me if I ever wore it again. First amendment freedom of speach, obviously didn't exist in those hallowed halls. I decided discretion was better than valor, so I hung the jacket in the closet.

IKE was unlike any other High School in Eastern Washington. It was more of an elite Academy for College Preparation. You registered for classes each Trimester which lasted 12 weeks. Some classes only lasted for one Trimester and others like French or Math would continue the whole year, but you had to re-register every 12 weeks. It had a reputation for being an elitist school and it didn't help that you drove up Nob Hill Boulevard to 40th Avenue and turned right to get to school. It was often alluded to by other High Schools as the School near Snob Hill Boulevard and the student body actually lived out that identity. I was an unwelcome intruder in their superior world and they made me feel very unwelcome. I know God had some very good reasons for sending me there, I just couldn't see them through the tears I often shed walking alone in the hallways.

Because I wasn't elgible for athletics, I had lots of time to devote to other things. IKE was the perfect place to redefine your life and priorities. First Trimester I enrolled In English Litt which was manditory for almost all 500 Seniors in the Class of 1969. Lectures were given in the multi-purpose auditorium to all 500 of us at one time. All Lectures were taped, so if you were sick or absent, you could go to the Library after school and catch up. I decided that being the best student I could be, would be a valid reason for being at IKE. Even though I heard the Lecture the first time, I would take my class notes and re-listen to the Lecture to make sure that I didn't miss anything. I never left school without finishing my daily homework assignments. I signed up for both Band and Orchestra and quickly rose to first Trombone in both of them. I became friends with the second Trombone player right away and he turned out to be a dedicated christian brother. I could see God's hand beginning to open doors of friendship and fellowship within a couple of weeks.

Having time to spare because of no sports, I joined the Youth For Christ Club at IKE and attended the Young Life Club there and at Wapato High School, as well. I also returned to the Community Presbyterian Church in Wapato, much to my Mother's approval, and began teaching the 7th grade Sunday School Class on Sunday morning. I discovered very quickly the joy of Christian Service. You didn't have thousands of fans cheering for you like in sports, but there seemed to be a cloud of witnesses pulling for you, even if they were invisible to others. As a result of my decisions to follow Christ to IKE, I met my future wife at a Saturday Morning All Valley Prayer Meeting for Youth For Christ. It met at 6:30 am, once a month, and it was a real sacrifice of time and sleep to get there. Kids from High Schools all over the Upper and Lower Yakima Valleys attended. I can still remember the morning Kriss walked into that meeting, I was smitten from day one, but it would take years before we found God bringing us together.

In the Winter Trimester, I was connected to a Basketball League in Yakima and enjoyed playing again and staying in shape. One of the friends I made in French Class was a guy named Bobbi Di Pietro Jr. He was a gifted athlete, especially pitching in baseball, but he needed help academically from time to time and we became pretty good friends. He was only a Junior and I helped him alot with French Class. Every day after I had had a basketball game, he would quiz me on how many points I had scored. When I told him, he would tell me he would find a way to get me eligible to play for IKE. I told him why I was there and that it was OK if I didn't play intersholastically. He respected both my French knowledge and my spiritual commitment. In the Spring, I really missed playing tennis. IKE was a state powerhouse in tennis and over a 20+ year run, they never lost a dual tennis match. That string would come to an end when my own son, Amos, played for Walla Walla High School and his team beat IKE when he was a Sophomore. IKE's first singles player missed the team bus that morning, but drove to Richland, WA on his own and begged the coach to let him play. I have the greatest respect for that coach who clung to his rules and standards to not let people play who didn't ride the team bus. He got a lot of grief from the Yakima tennis community for his convictions.

God was faithful throughout that Senior Year. I was chosen to be a part of a Gifted Student Project with students from IKE and Davis High School. We had special lectures in Yakima and went to Seattle for several days for enrichment courses. I tried to be a witness for Christ in all aspects of my student life at IKE and I continued to visit the secretary who had inspired me to attend there from day one. As graduation day approached, I knew that the big decisions coming up about College and life would impact much of my future. Little did I know that the night of my graduation would reveal a new dimention to my life that was beyond anything I ever imagined.