Thursday, January 27, 2010--Seattle WA, 45 degrees mostly cloudy.
I was released this afternoon from the U of W Medical Center. I spent an entire fortnight,15 days, battling a host of complications from the stem cell infusion. The fever abated in three or four days and then digestive complications set in. My blood counts remained at zero for over a week and so I had to have platelets and red blood transfusions. It was and is a real battle to feel like eating anything. I've lost 20 lbs over the last 2 weeks, but it's not the kind of weight loss program anyone would voluntarily submit to. About 4 days ago I began to show signs of white blood cells and they have increased significantly every day. All of my other counts have begun to emerge and the Medical Team was delighted with my progress. I have been forcing myself to walk every day and that helps keep muscle tone and digestive health. The list of medications I have to take is overwhelming: Ropinirole; Cholecalciferol; Neupogen shots to boost white blood cell count; 1500 ml of normal saline for hydration; Potassium chloride and Magnesium sulfate as needed; Lorazepam, as needed; Diphenoxylate/atropine as needed; Tacrolimus to prevent Graft vs Host Disease; Mycophenolate to prevent GVHD; Acyclovir to prevent infections; Fluconazole to prevent fungal infections; Multivitamin without iron; Amiodipine to lower blood pressure caused by other meds; Pantoprazole to treat acid reflux; Ursodiol to prevent liver toxicity. The biggest problem I'm dealing with currently is large bone pain as a result of the Neupogen shots to boost white blood cell production. I can appreciate the pain Hanna went through during her Neupogen treatments to manufacture over 7,500,000 white blood cells. I don't know how long I will have to have the Neupogen shots, hopefully that will be over next week.
We continue to receive cards and communications from people all over the country. The power of prayer is so evident and we feel God's deliverance and protection. Time seems to slow down some days and fly by on others. Kriss flew home to Walla Walla on Monday to take care of some things at the church and on the farm. She will be back in Seattle tomorrow, Friday. Calving is going well with some great neighbors and friends doing a tremendous job. We have 14 calves on the ground and 10 more to go. The weather has been ideal for calving and everyone looks healthy and vigorous. We should have plenty of hay to get through the winter and into spring when the new grass comes on. Things continue to go smoothly at the church, thanks to a great staff and lay people who are so faithful to be the Body of Christ in action. My goal is to be done with my treatments here in Seattle by Easter. The Medical Team was so excited this morning when they could inform us that engraftment is fully in place and Hanna's stem-cells are working overtime to create a completely new immune system. Barring unforseen complications, God is using this amazing process to save my life and give me a sustainable immune system that can last for many years. I am physically very weak, but can feel the strength of all of your love and prayers.
Aix-en-Provence, France, January, 1972.
Moving into town and having a bigger and more private flat, made married life much more enjoyable. Our IAU Basketball Team began our good-will tour and we had exhibition games every weekend. For the most part, we were good ambassadors for the Institute for American Universities as well as the USA. We only had one unpleasant experience when we played a team that had a 7 footer who had played on the French National Team. He was unstoppable. One of the guys from Kalamazoo University said he would take care of Goliath, but we had no idea what he meant to do. The next time we lined up for a free throw, Goliath got the rebound, of course, as well as an intentional elbow down the middle of his back from our Kalamazoo Kid. Well, Goliath was enraged, appropriately so, and since he had the ball in his hand he decided to retaliate and proceeded to chase our guy around the court until he could bean him with the ball and threaten him within an inch of his life. Of course the referees only saw the second infraction and proceeded to kick Goliath out of the game. We decided it would be only fair to make our bad guy sit out the rest of the game. Without Goliath, their team didn't have a chance and everyone was reconciled by the end of the game. There was always a big party following the games and we enjoyed them immensely. Kriss and I were the only married couple on the team and when we were introduced, we immediately became the darlings of the party. I was the shortest player on either of our teams, but I played with such an intensity that they just loved to see the little guy do big guy things on the court. Kriss and I received toast after toast during the post-game parties, mostly having to do with a lifetime of love and lots of children. When they realized I could speak French fluently, my stock kept rising in their estimation and it was a blessing to build bridges between cultures.
Around the end of February, I was approached by the Director of Intercollegiate Athletics at the Universite. He had heard about the IAU All-Americans and wanted to know if the team would represent the Uiversite in the upcoming national collegiate tournament. All the guys were game and somehow the Director got them enrolled and we started the playoffs. We did very well the first three rounds. Our best game was the Southern Regional Championship in Montpelier. We all got medals for winning our Region and I still have it in the dresser in our bedroom. If we could win the next game, we would go to Paris to play in the Final Four. Tragically, almost one half of the team had firm commitments either to travel, or return to the States. We ran into a Sports Universite team which did nothing but prepare people for national teams. Being out manned, we didn't stand a chance and ended the game playing 5 against 4, due to people fouling out. I remembered giving up playing basketball in High School because I felt God calling me to go to another High School my senior year. I felt like God was giving back the opportunity to play basketball in France to make up for the sacrifice I had made a couple of years before.
We grew closer as a married couple during that winter and spring. We met some missionaries who worked with North African Missions, but had been banished from North Africa and did radio outreach across the Mediterranean Sea. They had a correspondence Bible course that believers could follow and God worked in powerful ways, in spite of human roadblocks. We went over to their homes on Sunday evening for a Bible study and encouragement. They had a telephone in their flat and Kriss was able to phone home and talk with her mother, which was a great blessing. God was guiding and blessing our lives and we felt a sincere call into ministry. There was a very scary night when all of those dreams could have been lost, I'll tell you about it in the next installment. Robin
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
NONNE DEO! FOR GOD ALONE MY SOUL WAITS!
U of W Medical Center, Seattle, WA, sunny 48 degrees.
I am learning to wait on the Lord. Patience is not a virtue that comes easily to me. I am used to being able to make decisions and get on with my life. Psalm 62 calls us to a life of patient waiting on God's timing. So much of my life is completely outside of my control right now. Maybe being in control is only an illusion the rest of the time as well. I am at day 12 of my transplant life. According to my medical team I am doing fantastic. If this is doing fantastic, I would hate to see what doing poorly looks like.Fever is under control. But the new meds I take to counteract Graft vs Host disease conspire with my hydration regime to send my blood pressure over the roof. So now I am taking high blood pressure medication to keep me from having a stroke or other related problem. It is still almost impossible to eat a normal diet without supreme effort. I work at it three times a day, but the list of things I feel like eating is very short. I tried some chicken noodle soup last night with disastrous and immediate regurgitation. I don't know if it was the smell or the spices, but it wasn't pretty. All the nurses and staff go out of their way to help out.
I will have to stay in the hospital until my blood counts begin to rebound. Typically that begins around day 14-17. I will also have to be able to take all of my meds orally before they release me. It is a major task just to swallow all the pills I am already taking. I take a walk around the unit daily. Today I got up to 6 laps. A woman we passed said that she wished her husband could get around as well as I was doing. Walking is one of the few things I can control that will make a positive contribution to my general improvement. We continue to be blessed by all your prayers, cards and expressions of love and concern. I would never be in the posiitive path I am on without all of you. Kriss is planning to fly back to Walla Walla tomorrow for a few days. There are a couple of things she wants to do, but I have lots of caregivers here in the hospital to meet my needs. Hanna will be back either Wednesday evening or Thursday morning. Kriss will return to Seattle on Friday so I will have her here when I get discharged.
It is good to be in the hospital when you need to be there. For now, I'm content to be here and know that God has put me here to receive the specialized care necessary. I am very weary and it takes great effort to write this short of a blog. I'll get back to our adventure in France in my next blog. We miss all of you and pray for your joy in Christ's service. Robin
I am learning to wait on the Lord. Patience is not a virtue that comes easily to me. I am used to being able to make decisions and get on with my life. Psalm 62 calls us to a life of patient waiting on God's timing. So much of my life is completely outside of my control right now. Maybe being in control is only an illusion the rest of the time as well. I am at day 12 of my transplant life. According to my medical team I am doing fantastic. If this is doing fantastic, I would hate to see what doing poorly looks like.Fever is under control. But the new meds I take to counteract Graft vs Host disease conspire with my hydration regime to send my blood pressure over the roof. So now I am taking high blood pressure medication to keep me from having a stroke or other related problem. It is still almost impossible to eat a normal diet without supreme effort. I work at it three times a day, but the list of things I feel like eating is very short. I tried some chicken noodle soup last night with disastrous and immediate regurgitation. I don't know if it was the smell or the spices, but it wasn't pretty. All the nurses and staff go out of their way to help out.
I will have to stay in the hospital until my blood counts begin to rebound. Typically that begins around day 14-17. I will also have to be able to take all of my meds orally before they release me. It is a major task just to swallow all the pills I am already taking. I take a walk around the unit daily. Today I got up to 6 laps. A woman we passed said that she wished her husband could get around as well as I was doing. Walking is one of the few things I can control that will make a positive contribution to my general improvement. We continue to be blessed by all your prayers, cards and expressions of love and concern. I would never be in the posiitive path I am on without all of you. Kriss is planning to fly back to Walla Walla tomorrow for a few days. There are a couple of things she wants to do, but I have lots of caregivers here in the hospital to meet my needs. Hanna will be back either Wednesday evening or Thursday morning. Kriss will return to Seattle on Friday so I will have her here when I get discharged.
It is good to be in the hospital when you need to be there. For now, I'm content to be here and know that God has put me here to receive the specialized care necessary. I am very weary and it takes great effort to write this short of a blog. I'll get back to our adventure in France in my next blog. We miss all of you and pray for your joy in Christ's service. Robin
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
BENEDICAM DOMINUM! BLESS THE LORD AT ALL TIMES!
Seattle, WA, U of W Medical Center, beautiful day, 60 degrees sunny and clear.
Psalm 34 calls us to a life of thanksgiving. Regardless of how difficult our circumstances may be, ponder just a few moments God's Goodness and you will have reason to praise the Lord. "I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall ever be in my mouth. I will glory in the Lord; let the humble hear and rejoice. Proclaim with me the greatness of the Lord; let us exalt his Name together. I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me out of all my terror. Look upon him and be radiant, and let not your faces be ashamed. I called in my affliction and the Lord heard me and saved me from all my troubles. The angel of the Lord encompassses those who fear him, and he will deliver them. Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed are they who trust in him!" Since entering the hospital exactly a week ago, today, I have experienced the deliverance of the Lord. The raging fever that got me admitted in the first place is completely gone. It was touch and go for a few days, they tried every possible treatment and it persisted. Slowly, hour by hour it began to recede and I have had a normal temp for 2 days. My intestinal rebellion persists. Fighting only one war at a time is much easier. Despite no appetite, I have been vigilant to force myself to eat as much and as often as I can bear it. Doesn't sound very typical for me, does it? I've lost 15 lbs in the last two weeks and they don't want me to lose too much body mass, so eat or get put on IV fluids. I managed an almost normal breakfast and the Medical team came in as I was eating, so they were very pleased.
Yesterday, my blood count actually showed an upward blip, but it is too early for the transplant to have that kind of impact, so they were pleased that it plummeted today. I am at day 8 of infusion and it will be closer to day 15 before they would expect real and lasting improvement. Exhaustion is the greatest obvious sign that I am still deep in the battle zone. I force myself to go out and do laps in the hallway every day. It's stunning to me that I just come back and fall into bed as if I'd run a marathon. I will never take having energy and strength for granted, ever again. Just the thought of going outside for a long walk seems like a fantasy, but it will happen in God's time. Being close to the nadir, or lowest point medically I will ever be again, I don't think about winning the race. I set realistic goals for each day and try to push myself a little more each time. As a result of this precarious medical state, I will probably remain hospitalized for another week - ten days. They don't want to take any chance of my picking up some infectious agent and losing all the ground we have won since the invasion. Those millions of stem cells from my daughter have used their built in GPS units and are gearing up for another big push. In fact, for the last three days I have been getting the same shot in my stomach area that they gave to Hanna to stimulate stem cell formation. She got a lot bigger dose than I am getting, but it hurts like anything when the drug enters into your body. Some nurses are much better than others at minimizing the pain. I will likely have to have those shots for a long time, so I better get used to it.
I can feel the angel of the Lord surrounding us and it appears others can as well. The Medical Team, nurses and tech people all comment about how different our room seems to them and they look forward to coming to see us. The thousands of prayers being said on our behalf from around the world keep holding us up even when we can't stand on our own. Kriss and I will never be able to thank all of you adequately for this sacrifice of love and concern. To help pass the time we watch movies we brought in or I watch the Australian Open Tennis Championships. Starting life over at 59 years of age isn't a piece of cake, neither was our married life living 6,000 miles away from friends and family.
Aix-en-Provence, France January, 1972
Kriss and I settled into our bedroom flat and I went back to classes and Kriss tried to cope with homesickness and a jerk of a husband the best she could. We were living on about a dollar a day US and so there wasn't a lot of stretch left in that food dollar. Our flat was about 45 minutes, walking briskly, from town, and Kriss had to walk alone during the day and that wasn't very pleasant. I thought she would learn French quicker by immersion, so I spoke to her in French much of the time. Needless to say, I had a lot to learn about being married. Regina and Cindy got word of this stupidity and gave me a much needed dressing down. They convinced me it was OK to speak English with my wife, or they would intervene again. They didn't have to. Just when we got the language thing resolved, our landlady, Yvette, asked us to find somewhere else to live. She figured out that we were getting such a deal that she now felt she could lease that room to two people and double her income. It was a big shock, but like all things, God's fingerprints were all over that situation. The housing office at the Institute for American Universities already had a real flat lined up for us and all we had to do was go by and meet the Concierge for both parties approval. It was smack dab in the middle of the Old City, close to everything. Kriss could take classes and we were surrounded by English speaking people that was a blessing. We moved what meager possessions we had and started over again. Now I had the long commute to the Faculte de Lettres at the Universite, but on my trusty used bicycle I could get there in no time. We prayed about what God would have us to do for Christian Fellowship and felt called to start a Bible study in our flat for anyone interested. We put up an announcement in the mailroom at IAU for the coming Friday evening. We thought it would be a good alternative to the other entertainment choices available to students. Word must have gotten out about it, because come Friday evening several students showed up and it became an essential lifeline for all of us.
You never know when people are going to change direction of their lives, but one day a large package arrived for us at the mailroom. It was from my mother, amazingly. Inside were two things worth more than their weight in gold, real American peanut butter and loose popcorn to insulate the peanut butter jars. You just couldn't find either of those two items in the French food supply chain. In addition, there was a card with a check for $100 American that my mother thought we needed, we did. She would send us the same package for the remainder of the Academic Year. God had obviously changed her heart and attitude towards Kriss and our marriage. Now, on Friday, we would close the meeting with real American popcorn, a small ration of peanut butter, or homemade cookies. Attendance increased instantly. I thought it might have been due to my stellar Bible teaching, but it probably was the rare chance to eat real popcorn that brought the crowds. We only had one room, packed (planchers a plafond) floor to ceiling with eager Bible students. It set the stage for a lifetime of Christian service which is what we felt God had brought us together for in the first place. The worst of the cultural shock was over for Kriss and she felt safe and made new friends to do things with. We even felt like we could afford a used bicycle for Kriss and got her one about the same vintage as mine. Studies were going well and we formed a Good Will Touring Basketball Team, dubbed the IAU All Americans. It was a pretty crazy group of guys, some of them legitimate Division I basketball talent from places like Dayton University and Kalamazoo. You won't believe where that pony show would take us in the coming months.
Psalm 34 calls us to a life of thanksgiving. Regardless of how difficult our circumstances may be, ponder just a few moments God's Goodness and you will have reason to praise the Lord. "I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall ever be in my mouth. I will glory in the Lord; let the humble hear and rejoice. Proclaim with me the greatness of the Lord; let us exalt his Name together. I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me out of all my terror. Look upon him and be radiant, and let not your faces be ashamed. I called in my affliction and the Lord heard me and saved me from all my troubles. The angel of the Lord encompassses those who fear him, and he will deliver them. Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed are they who trust in him!" Since entering the hospital exactly a week ago, today, I have experienced the deliverance of the Lord. The raging fever that got me admitted in the first place is completely gone. It was touch and go for a few days, they tried every possible treatment and it persisted. Slowly, hour by hour it began to recede and I have had a normal temp for 2 days. My intestinal rebellion persists. Fighting only one war at a time is much easier. Despite no appetite, I have been vigilant to force myself to eat as much and as often as I can bear it. Doesn't sound very typical for me, does it? I've lost 15 lbs in the last two weeks and they don't want me to lose too much body mass, so eat or get put on IV fluids. I managed an almost normal breakfast and the Medical team came in as I was eating, so they were very pleased.
Yesterday, my blood count actually showed an upward blip, but it is too early for the transplant to have that kind of impact, so they were pleased that it plummeted today. I am at day 8 of infusion and it will be closer to day 15 before they would expect real and lasting improvement. Exhaustion is the greatest obvious sign that I am still deep in the battle zone. I force myself to go out and do laps in the hallway every day. It's stunning to me that I just come back and fall into bed as if I'd run a marathon. I will never take having energy and strength for granted, ever again. Just the thought of going outside for a long walk seems like a fantasy, but it will happen in God's time. Being close to the nadir, or lowest point medically I will ever be again, I don't think about winning the race. I set realistic goals for each day and try to push myself a little more each time. As a result of this precarious medical state, I will probably remain hospitalized for another week - ten days. They don't want to take any chance of my picking up some infectious agent and losing all the ground we have won since the invasion. Those millions of stem cells from my daughter have used their built in GPS units and are gearing up for another big push. In fact, for the last three days I have been getting the same shot in my stomach area that they gave to Hanna to stimulate stem cell formation. She got a lot bigger dose than I am getting, but it hurts like anything when the drug enters into your body. Some nurses are much better than others at minimizing the pain. I will likely have to have those shots for a long time, so I better get used to it.
I can feel the angel of the Lord surrounding us and it appears others can as well. The Medical Team, nurses and tech people all comment about how different our room seems to them and they look forward to coming to see us. The thousands of prayers being said on our behalf from around the world keep holding us up even when we can't stand on our own. Kriss and I will never be able to thank all of you adequately for this sacrifice of love and concern. To help pass the time we watch movies we brought in or I watch the Australian Open Tennis Championships. Starting life over at 59 years of age isn't a piece of cake, neither was our married life living 6,000 miles away from friends and family.
Aix-en-Provence, France January, 1972
Kriss and I settled into our bedroom flat and I went back to classes and Kriss tried to cope with homesickness and a jerk of a husband the best she could. We were living on about a dollar a day US and so there wasn't a lot of stretch left in that food dollar. Our flat was about 45 minutes, walking briskly, from town, and Kriss had to walk alone during the day and that wasn't very pleasant. I thought she would learn French quicker by immersion, so I spoke to her in French much of the time. Needless to say, I had a lot to learn about being married. Regina and Cindy got word of this stupidity and gave me a much needed dressing down. They convinced me it was OK to speak English with my wife, or they would intervene again. They didn't have to. Just when we got the language thing resolved, our landlady, Yvette, asked us to find somewhere else to live. She figured out that we were getting such a deal that she now felt she could lease that room to two people and double her income. It was a big shock, but like all things, God's fingerprints were all over that situation. The housing office at the Institute for American Universities already had a real flat lined up for us and all we had to do was go by and meet the Concierge for both parties approval. It was smack dab in the middle of the Old City, close to everything. Kriss could take classes and we were surrounded by English speaking people that was a blessing. We moved what meager possessions we had and started over again. Now I had the long commute to the Faculte de Lettres at the Universite, but on my trusty used bicycle I could get there in no time. We prayed about what God would have us to do for Christian Fellowship and felt called to start a Bible study in our flat for anyone interested. We put up an announcement in the mailroom at IAU for the coming Friday evening. We thought it would be a good alternative to the other entertainment choices available to students. Word must have gotten out about it, because come Friday evening several students showed up and it became an essential lifeline for all of us.
You never know when people are going to change direction of their lives, but one day a large package arrived for us at the mailroom. It was from my mother, amazingly. Inside were two things worth more than their weight in gold, real American peanut butter and loose popcorn to insulate the peanut butter jars. You just couldn't find either of those two items in the French food supply chain. In addition, there was a card with a check for $100 American that my mother thought we needed, we did. She would send us the same package for the remainder of the Academic Year. God had obviously changed her heart and attitude towards Kriss and our marriage. Now, on Friday, we would close the meeting with real American popcorn, a small ration of peanut butter, or homemade cookies. Attendance increased instantly. I thought it might have been due to my stellar Bible teaching, but it probably was the rare chance to eat real popcorn that brought the crowds. We only had one room, packed (planchers a plafond) floor to ceiling with eager Bible students. It set the stage for a lifetime of Christian service which is what we felt God had brought us together for in the first place. The worst of the cultural shock was over for Kriss and she felt safe and made new friends to do things with. We even felt like we could afford a used bicycle for Kriss and got her one about the same vintage as mine. Studies were going well and we formed a Good Will Touring Basketball Team, dubbed the IAU All Americans. It was a pretty crazy group of guys, some of them legitimate Division I basketball talent from places like Dayton University and Kalamazoo. You won't believe where that pony show would take us in the coming months.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
D-Day Plus 4
Seattle, WA, 50 degrees and raining.
I started developing a fever on Monday evening. The transplant took place successfully on Tuesday. Wednesday the fever increased to the point of needing to see the triage nurse at SCCA. By 8:00 in the evening, it had risen to 103.6 degrees so we came to the University of WA Medical Center and I was admitted to room 8204. My blood counts have continued to decline to the point where the white blood cells are at zero. And I have no immune system at this point. It appears that we will be in the hospital for 2 to 3 weeks until Hanna's stem cells begin to replicate and create a new immune system in my body. I had chemo yesterday for 10 hours and again today for 10 hours which only adds insult to injury. But hopefully it will be my last chemo treatment. I'm battling intense loss of appetite and nausea. Just the thought of food almost makes me sick. I force myself to eat anything and essentially I have three jobs: stay hydrated, try to eat something and get as much exercise as possible.
Because I am so weak, I am dictating this blog to Hanna and she is typing it for me.
Hanna here - It is somewhat disconcerting to watch the nurses gown-up in a full-body plastic hazmat gown complete with a clear, plastic face mask in order to even hook up the chemo drugs. If they aren't supposed to get anything on themselves, are we entirely certain that it's a good idea to put these chemicals directly into his blood stream? Well, I guess that's the way chemotherapy works. Poison the patient to the point of almost killing him and then hope that what survives will be strong enough to bring him back to health.
Robin here - Nights are the most difficult time of the day. When I have Cytoxan, they hydrate me so much that I am up every 30-45 minutes going to the bathroom. You can't really get any restful sleep so you just feel exhausted all the time. Kriss has been a life-saver staying the night with me to help get me up and down out of bed. Right now she is back at the Anderson house trying to get some sleep before she returns later this afternoon. Since Wed, she has only been away for about 3 hours. My fever fluctuates from 101.6 to 103.6 and they have done a complete work-up to try to find a source of some infection, but they have come up empty. This is not uncommon. Many people who develop this "mystery fever" never find the source and when their new immune system kicks in, it goes away. We are looking at 2-3 weeks of being in the hospital which is probably where we need to be right now considering the total lack of immune system.
Hanna is going back to Kelso today. Cleo is here until Monday. My brother, Tommy, is coming back from the Yakima valley on Monday, so we will have plenty of help. Kriss and I want to thank all of you for your cards and letters and prayers and support during this challenging time. Hopefully I will feel better next week and can get back to writing my normal blog.
I started developing a fever on Monday evening. The transplant took place successfully on Tuesday. Wednesday the fever increased to the point of needing to see the triage nurse at SCCA. By 8:00 in the evening, it had risen to 103.6 degrees so we came to the University of WA Medical Center and I was admitted to room 8204. My blood counts have continued to decline to the point where the white blood cells are at zero. And I have no immune system at this point. It appears that we will be in the hospital for 2 to 3 weeks until Hanna's stem cells begin to replicate and create a new immune system in my body. I had chemo yesterday for 10 hours and again today for 10 hours which only adds insult to injury. But hopefully it will be my last chemo treatment. I'm battling intense loss of appetite and nausea. Just the thought of food almost makes me sick. I force myself to eat anything and essentially I have three jobs: stay hydrated, try to eat something and get as much exercise as possible.
Because I am so weak, I am dictating this blog to Hanna and she is typing it for me.
Hanna here - It is somewhat disconcerting to watch the nurses gown-up in a full-body plastic hazmat gown complete with a clear, plastic face mask in order to even hook up the chemo drugs. If they aren't supposed to get anything on themselves, are we entirely certain that it's a good idea to put these chemicals directly into his blood stream? Well, I guess that's the way chemotherapy works. Poison the patient to the point of almost killing him and then hope that what survives will be strong enough to bring him back to health.
Robin here - Nights are the most difficult time of the day. When I have Cytoxan, they hydrate me so much that I am up every 30-45 minutes going to the bathroom. You can't really get any restful sleep so you just feel exhausted all the time. Kriss has been a life-saver staying the night with me to help get me up and down out of bed. Right now she is back at the Anderson house trying to get some sleep before she returns later this afternoon. Since Wed, she has only been away for about 3 hours. My fever fluctuates from 101.6 to 103.6 and they have done a complete work-up to try to find a source of some infection, but they have come up empty. This is not uncommon. Many people who develop this "mystery fever" never find the source and when their new immune system kicks in, it goes away. We are looking at 2-3 weeks of being in the hospital which is probably where we need to be right now considering the total lack of immune system.
Hanna is going back to Kelso today. Cleo is here until Monday. My brother, Tommy, is coming back from the Yakima valley on Monday, so we will have plenty of help. Kriss and I want to thank all of you for your cards and letters and prayers and support during this challenging time. Hopefully I will feel better next week and can get back to writing my normal blog.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
QUI HABITAT! HE WHO DWELLS IN THE SHELTER OF THE MOST HIGH!
D-Day, Seattle,WA, 40 degrees sporadic showers.
Psalm 91 is the favorite scripture for all soldiers and marines going into a life and death battle. It contains my most fervent hopes and prayers today, as well: "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, abides under the shadow of the Almighty. He shall say to the Lord, "You are my refuge and my stronghold, my God in whom I put my trust." He shall deliver you from the snare of the hunter and from the deadly pestilence. He shall cover you with his pinions, and you shall find refuge under his wings; his faithfulness shall be a shield and buckler. You shall not be afraid of any terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day; of the plague that stalks in the darkness, nor of the sickness that lays waste at mid-day. A thousand shall fall at your side and ten thousand at your right hand, but it shall not come near you....Because you have made the Lord your refuge, and the Most High your habitation, there shall no evil happen to you, neither shall any plague come near your dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. They shall bear you in their hands, lest you dash your foot against a stone...."Because he is bound to me in love, therefore will I deliver him;" saith the Lord. " I will protect him, because he knows my Name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him; I am with him in trouble; I will rescue him and bring him to honor. With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation."
As with all invasions, the months and weeks of preparation are critical to success. We have been about this transplant process since August of last year. We have had some setbacks. Originally, I was to use my own stem cells, but fortunately, they discovered that 3/4 of them have a mutation that would have developed into Leukemia within two years and been the death of me. Back to the drawing board and make a new strategy. Eliminating all of my living 9 siblings as stem cell donors, we settled on my daughter, Hanna, as the donor. Returning to Seattle mid-December, the invasion preparations began in earnest. Tests, procedures, evaluations, all led up to the day we left port and set sail on the destroyers to approach the invasion target. The last 6 days we have been softening up the beachhead with daily bombardments of multiple chemo agents and a total body irradiation yesterday. The final piece of the transplant puzzle was to resupply all the advance forces with essential donor stem cells. Daughter Hanna, as usual, our eldest and habitual over achiever, not only reached the desired goal of creating 5,000,000 stem cells, she was able to harvest 7,500,000 in one apheresis. It is now 0930 and I am checking all my emotional and spiritual equipment, getting ready to jump into the Ford Expedition landing craft for departure at 1230. We will have a final evaluation and equipment check prior to the landing at 1300 hours. The invasion officially begins at 1400 hours and its out of the landing crafts and into the surf.
You can see the fear on the faces of many of those embarking on this same mission. They can't bring themselves to return any form of communication and isolate themselves in their apprehension. Everyone has to deal with the real prospect of their potential imminent death in their own way. A man I met when I was here in August, died a couple of weeks ago. We all know that 20-25% percent of us won't make it back from this battle alive. Another 25-30% will be wounded and their lives limited forever with complications from the transplant battle. For the 45-50 % who miraculously live through all the horrors of nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, loss of appetite and weight, and potentially lethal Graft vs Host Disease; there is the possibility of a cancer free life and a return to home and work. It may take up to 2 years for that restoration to fully take place and the readjustment back into civilian life is sometimes as difficult for transplant survivors as any returning combat veteran. I already think about friends who have been fatally wounded by cancer and didn't get to a facility like the SCCA in time for this kind of specialized care. I feel some potential survivor guilt already when I speak to them and pray for them. The biggest danger to our survival is waiting too long to get to a facility that has the expertise and skilled personnel to help save your life. Many wait until they are at death's doorstep and they have lost so much strength and vitality, that they have less of a chance of survival. I am so fortunate that I am strong and emotionally intact to face this battle with a sense of optimism and confidence. The presence and support of my family, friends and all the gracious people praying for me leads to the ultimate source of our strength; God is our hope and refuge. We will jump out of the landing craft at 1400 hours, 1/11/11 surrounded by all of your love and prayers, sheltered under the shadow of God's wing.
I am too focused on getting my game-face on to concentrate on writing anything about the battle of staying together as a married couple that Kriss and I began 40 years ago. It appears the % of failure for marriages even exceeds that of transplant patients. I will continue that saga in the next installment. I don't know when I will feel like writing again after the invasion. Communication may become more difficult, but I will get back to you all as soon as I am able. Robin
Psalm 91 is the favorite scripture for all soldiers and marines going into a life and death battle. It contains my most fervent hopes and prayers today, as well: "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, abides under the shadow of the Almighty. He shall say to the Lord, "You are my refuge and my stronghold, my God in whom I put my trust." He shall deliver you from the snare of the hunter and from the deadly pestilence. He shall cover you with his pinions, and you shall find refuge under his wings; his faithfulness shall be a shield and buckler. You shall not be afraid of any terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day; of the plague that stalks in the darkness, nor of the sickness that lays waste at mid-day. A thousand shall fall at your side and ten thousand at your right hand, but it shall not come near you....Because you have made the Lord your refuge, and the Most High your habitation, there shall no evil happen to you, neither shall any plague come near your dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. They shall bear you in their hands, lest you dash your foot against a stone...."Because he is bound to me in love, therefore will I deliver him;" saith the Lord. " I will protect him, because he knows my Name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him; I am with him in trouble; I will rescue him and bring him to honor. With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation."
As with all invasions, the months and weeks of preparation are critical to success. We have been about this transplant process since August of last year. We have had some setbacks. Originally, I was to use my own stem cells, but fortunately, they discovered that 3/4 of them have a mutation that would have developed into Leukemia within two years and been the death of me. Back to the drawing board and make a new strategy. Eliminating all of my living 9 siblings as stem cell donors, we settled on my daughter, Hanna, as the donor. Returning to Seattle mid-December, the invasion preparations began in earnest. Tests, procedures, evaluations, all led up to the day we left port and set sail on the destroyers to approach the invasion target. The last 6 days we have been softening up the beachhead with daily bombardments of multiple chemo agents and a total body irradiation yesterday. The final piece of the transplant puzzle was to resupply all the advance forces with essential donor stem cells. Daughter Hanna, as usual, our eldest and habitual over achiever, not only reached the desired goal of creating 5,000,000 stem cells, she was able to harvest 7,500,000 in one apheresis. It is now 0930 and I am checking all my emotional and spiritual equipment, getting ready to jump into the Ford Expedition landing craft for departure at 1230. We will have a final evaluation and equipment check prior to the landing at 1300 hours. The invasion officially begins at 1400 hours and its out of the landing crafts and into the surf.
You can see the fear on the faces of many of those embarking on this same mission. They can't bring themselves to return any form of communication and isolate themselves in their apprehension. Everyone has to deal with the real prospect of their potential imminent death in their own way. A man I met when I was here in August, died a couple of weeks ago. We all know that 20-25% percent of us won't make it back from this battle alive. Another 25-30% will be wounded and their lives limited forever with complications from the transplant battle. For the 45-50 % who miraculously live through all the horrors of nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, loss of appetite and weight, and potentially lethal Graft vs Host Disease; there is the possibility of a cancer free life and a return to home and work. It may take up to 2 years for that restoration to fully take place and the readjustment back into civilian life is sometimes as difficult for transplant survivors as any returning combat veteran. I already think about friends who have been fatally wounded by cancer and didn't get to a facility like the SCCA in time for this kind of specialized care. I feel some potential survivor guilt already when I speak to them and pray for them. The biggest danger to our survival is waiting too long to get to a facility that has the expertise and skilled personnel to help save your life. Many wait until they are at death's doorstep and they have lost so much strength and vitality, that they have less of a chance of survival. I am so fortunate that I am strong and emotionally intact to face this battle with a sense of optimism and confidence. The presence and support of my family, friends and all the gracious people praying for me leads to the ultimate source of our strength; God is our hope and refuge. We will jump out of the landing craft at 1400 hours, 1/11/11 surrounded by all of your love and prayers, sheltered under the shadow of God's wing.
I am too focused on getting my game-face on to concentrate on writing anything about the battle of staying together as a married couple that Kriss and I began 40 years ago. It appears the % of failure for marriages even exceeds that of transplant patients. I will continue that saga in the next installment. I don't know when I will feel like writing again after the invasion. Communication may become more difficult, but I will get back to you all as soon as I am able. Robin
Sunday, January 9, 2011
DE PROFUNDIS - OUT OF THE DEPTHS!
Seattle WA, 38 degrees rain and snow.
Psalm 130 begins with these words: "Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy....I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope....O people of God, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption." I have begun my descent into the depths of immune suppression and pre-transplant conditioning. It will initiate the most dangerous period of my transplant process. Here is my schedule:
5 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine and Cytoxan, 12 hours
6 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine and Cytoxan, 12 hours
7 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine, 3 hours
8 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine, 3 hours
9 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine, 3 hours
10 Jan. , 2011 Total Body Irradiation and Hydration, 6 hours
11 Jan , 2011 PBSC (Stem cell transplant) Infusion and clinic 8 hours
12 Jan , 2011 Lab tests and infusion hydration training 3 hours
13 Jan , 2011 Lab tests 1 hour
14 Jan , 2011 Lab tests, Chemotherapy: Cytoxan and Mesna, Clinic Evaluation 8 hours
15 Jan , 2011 Lab tests, Chemotherapy: Cytoxan and Mesna, 4 hours
The first 5 days of Chemotherapy are to suppress my immune system and destroy my own stem cells. The two days of Chemotherapy on the 14th and 15th are to slightly suppress Hanna's stem cells so they are not as likely to attack organs, skin and intestinal tract. As you can see, it will be a full week and by the grace of God we are getting our game faces on and preparing for the struggle.
Friday evening and all day Saturday I was fully feeling the descent into the depths. Exhaustion like nothing I had ever felt before. Loose bowels and nausea, with an almost complete loss of appetite. I started developing a fever Friday evening and by Saturday afternoon it was hovering at 100.9 which is the tipping point at which we have to call the SCCA and probably go to the U of W Medical Center for blood tests and evaluation. Thankfully, by using all the tried and tested home remedies; cold wet rag, tons of fluids and a cool bath, we were able to keep it below 101 and this morning it was back to normal. I am not supposed to take any Tylenol or other fever reducing drugs, because they might mask some information about a bacterial infection. You just have to tough it out. Fighting a fever is exhausting. I could barely get out of bed this morning to go to the clinic. As it turns out, the fever may have been a side effect from the many drugs and Chemo agents that I have been taking this week. As the fever has subsided, I am getting much more energy. My appetite is still lousy, but I have enough reserve stored up that I can draw upon that for some time. This is not a weight loss program anyone would willingly choose, but I wouldn't be disappointed if I came back to Walla Walla a lean, mean, fighting machine.
We have had lots of family here this weekend. Christopher and Ella came up from Portland Friday evening and stayed until a few hours ago. My brother Tom and Cleo arrived just a few minutes ago and they will be here most of the week. We, fortunately, have enough bedrooms to house them all and we can never thank Mark and Patty Anderson enough for letting us use their home here in Ballard. Hanna is going through the throes of pain as her bone marrow produces up to 5 million stem cells for the transplant. Tonight is the most difficult time for her. She aches all over and we try to keep her medicated as much as possible to bear the pain. They will begin harvesting those stem cells tomorrow, Monday, and if they don't get enough, they will do it again Tuesday morning just before the transplant. I think this is what Jesus was talking about when he said: "Greater love has no one, than the one willing to lay down their life for their neighbor." I will be forever grateful for her courage, devotion and willingness to suffer to potentially save my life and cure my cancer. The first day she met with Dr. Storb to go through whole process, she broke down after a while and sobbed; "I just don't want my Daddy to die!" I think Dr. Storb was deeply moved by her depth of compassion. It validates his 50+ years of research and clinical treatment of lymphoma and leukemia patients. He must be in his mid-70s and his passion for research and the kinds of almost supernatural therapies on the drawing board keep him young and energized. It would probably kill him to be forced to retire when they are just a few years away from unlocking the key to numerous chronic diseases. Thank God for the intellectual gifts of such people and their willingness to use them in the alleviation of suffering. The people we meet every day will remain in our hearts and minds for years to come and I pray that they will see Christ in our lives and family. I have always treasured my wife and children, but this experience reveals the fruit of those tough years of parenting, coaching, disciplining and loving. I can not imagine how we would get through all this without them and all of you who hold us in your hearts and in your prayers. A nurse the other day was asking why I thought I was doing so well going through so many treatments. I told her that there were literally hundreds of people praying for me daily and that God is faithful to hear the prayers of his people. She is a believer and agreed that this was certainly a major factor in my well being, in spite of it all. I had people praying for me while I was studying in France, as well, and in my journey home for Christmas Break, I needed all the help I could get, divine and human.
December, 1971 Aix-en-Provence, France -- Wapato, WA -- Aix-en-Provence, France
Much of my life was changing dramatically in the French Universite. I avoided speaking English with a passion and dedicated my life to learning all I could while I was in France. I barely had enough money to survive, let alone travel all over Europe every weekend like many of the American students at the American Institute. They seemed like they were in a competition to see how many places they could visit over the course of one or two semesters abroad. They didn't take their academic courses seriously and it was just a lark, for the most part. The American Institute did provide affordable outings for anyone stuck in the financial mud like me occasionally, and I took advantage of them when I could.
Kriss was the biggest issue I had to deal with as Christmas Break approached. We were engaged to be married in June of 1972 after I returned from France. However, I began to feel a deep conviction that if she didn't come to France and experience what my life was becoming, we would be strangers to one another. I didn't have enough money to go back to WA state and back, yet I wrote to her and asked her to consider getting married. Her response was, if you come home you aren't going back without me. God has a way of intervening when we are at a place where only God can change the course of our lives. I received a check in the mail from my personal Physician, Dr. Gregg from Wapato, for enough money to fly round trip from Zurich, Switzerland to Seattle. I took a bus to Zurich and waited for my flight in a raging blizzard. Hour by hour ticked by with cancellation after cancellation. Finally, our departure was announced, telling us that we were the final flight that would be allowed to leave that night. I arrived at JFK, New York at 3 am and had a minor problem. I only had French Francs and that had worked in Zurich, but all the money-change booths were closed at 3 am and they wouldn't accept French Francs for the ticket to Seattle. What a bummer! I desperately thought about all my options and decided I would use the last check I had from my checking account in Wapato. The only minor problem was that I didn't have enough money in that account to cover the check, but this was in the days of less than instant communication, and I was sure I could get to Wapato and deposit my money before the check cleared. Thankfully, I did. We flew a 747 out of JFK in the afternoon which was 1/4 full and I could stretch out on three seats and get some much needed sleep.
My parents were so concerned about my unexpected and unwelcome return from France, that they broke their ongoing feud and both came to meet me at the Seattle Airport. It was very tense and when I told them that I intended to get married that month and take Kriss back to France with me, my Mother, in particular, just about had a fit. She was in an emotional state for the next couple of weeks that just about did her in. Kriss met us at the Greyhound Station in Wapato, in reality, the American Motors Dealership. As only my Mother could pull off, she communicated without a word her total disdain and contempt for both Kriss and the ridiculous notion that we were going to get married in a week or so. It got worse in the days to come. We sat down with her the next day or so and tried to get her blessing and approval. I was seated across the room and Kriss was next to her on the sofa. The first thing she did was inform us that I wasn't of age, 21, to get married without parental approval and how could I marry this girl who was a total stranger to her. As it turned out, neither of us needed parental approval to get married and I told her so. She ranted and raved a while and finally I just ended the conversation with the admonition to just not come to the wedding if she was going to make a fool of herself. She had succeeded at that at some of my siblings nuptials and I reminded her that she would have to live in that community after all this blew over, so she might take that into consideration. We left on that discordant note and decided it was time to go to Yakima, get a marriage license and set a date.
We decided on December 30, 1971, as the day. Kriss and her mother spent the night before the wedding making her wedding dress, which she can still get into to this day. We had a session with the Pastor of Kriss' church to plan the ceremony and though my parents were almost 30 minutes late, they showed up for the wedding. Kriss walked down the aisle to the Hymn: "Great is Thy Faithfulness" and that has essentially been the theme of our lives and ministry to this day. Kriss' mother baked a couple of turkeys and all the trimmings, with help from neighbors and friends, and we had the reception at the ancestral home. We would have to leave for France in a couple of days and so we packed up Kriss' things and flew from Seattle to JFK, New York. My oldest sister Patsy's brother-in-law Constantine "Gus" Tasolides met us at the airport and we stayed a couple of days with his family seeing the sights of New York City that I had seen a couple of years before. For some reason we had another problem purchasing Kriss' ticket from New York to Zurich, so I had to resort to my tried and tested procedure of writing a bad check and called Kriss' parents to take money out of her savings to cover it. What a way to start married life!
We arrived in Zurich and took a bus to Marseilles, France and another bus to Aix-en-Provence. It all sounds so amazingly romantic, but don't be deceived. It turned out to be some of the best and worst days of our lives and we were fortunate to be 7000 miles away from our families. We had no one to run to except God and one another. It turned out to be the best way for us to start life together. God has a way of working all things together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purposes.
Psalm 130 begins with these words: "Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy....I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope....O people of God, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption." I have begun my descent into the depths of immune suppression and pre-transplant conditioning. It will initiate the most dangerous period of my transplant process. Here is my schedule:
5 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine and Cytoxan, 12 hours
6 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine and Cytoxan, 12 hours
7 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine, 3 hours
8 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine, 3 hours
9 January, 2011 Chemotherapy: Fludarabine, 3 hours
10 Jan. , 2011 Total Body Irradiation and Hydration, 6 hours
11 Jan , 2011 PBSC (Stem cell transplant) Infusion and clinic 8 hours
12 Jan , 2011 Lab tests and infusion hydration training 3 hours
13 Jan , 2011 Lab tests 1 hour
14 Jan , 2011 Lab tests, Chemotherapy: Cytoxan and Mesna, Clinic Evaluation 8 hours
15 Jan , 2011 Lab tests, Chemotherapy: Cytoxan and Mesna, 4 hours
The first 5 days of Chemotherapy are to suppress my immune system and destroy my own stem cells. The two days of Chemotherapy on the 14th and 15th are to slightly suppress Hanna's stem cells so they are not as likely to attack organs, skin and intestinal tract. As you can see, it will be a full week and by the grace of God we are getting our game faces on and preparing for the struggle.
Friday evening and all day Saturday I was fully feeling the descent into the depths. Exhaustion like nothing I had ever felt before. Loose bowels and nausea, with an almost complete loss of appetite. I started developing a fever Friday evening and by Saturday afternoon it was hovering at 100.9 which is the tipping point at which we have to call the SCCA and probably go to the U of W Medical Center for blood tests and evaluation. Thankfully, by using all the tried and tested home remedies; cold wet rag, tons of fluids and a cool bath, we were able to keep it below 101 and this morning it was back to normal. I am not supposed to take any Tylenol or other fever reducing drugs, because they might mask some information about a bacterial infection. You just have to tough it out. Fighting a fever is exhausting. I could barely get out of bed this morning to go to the clinic. As it turns out, the fever may have been a side effect from the many drugs and Chemo agents that I have been taking this week. As the fever has subsided, I am getting much more energy. My appetite is still lousy, but I have enough reserve stored up that I can draw upon that for some time. This is not a weight loss program anyone would willingly choose, but I wouldn't be disappointed if I came back to Walla Walla a lean, mean, fighting machine.
We have had lots of family here this weekend. Christopher and Ella came up from Portland Friday evening and stayed until a few hours ago. My brother Tom and Cleo arrived just a few minutes ago and they will be here most of the week. We, fortunately, have enough bedrooms to house them all and we can never thank Mark and Patty Anderson enough for letting us use their home here in Ballard. Hanna is going through the throes of pain as her bone marrow produces up to 5 million stem cells for the transplant. Tonight is the most difficult time for her. She aches all over and we try to keep her medicated as much as possible to bear the pain. They will begin harvesting those stem cells tomorrow, Monday, and if they don't get enough, they will do it again Tuesday morning just before the transplant. I think this is what Jesus was talking about when he said: "Greater love has no one, than the one willing to lay down their life for their neighbor." I will be forever grateful for her courage, devotion and willingness to suffer to potentially save my life and cure my cancer. The first day she met with Dr. Storb to go through whole process, she broke down after a while and sobbed; "I just don't want my Daddy to die!" I think Dr. Storb was deeply moved by her depth of compassion. It validates his 50+ years of research and clinical treatment of lymphoma and leukemia patients. He must be in his mid-70s and his passion for research and the kinds of almost supernatural therapies on the drawing board keep him young and energized. It would probably kill him to be forced to retire when they are just a few years away from unlocking the key to numerous chronic diseases. Thank God for the intellectual gifts of such people and their willingness to use them in the alleviation of suffering. The people we meet every day will remain in our hearts and minds for years to come and I pray that they will see Christ in our lives and family. I have always treasured my wife and children, but this experience reveals the fruit of those tough years of parenting, coaching, disciplining and loving. I can not imagine how we would get through all this without them and all of you who hold us in your hearts and in your prayers. A nurse the other day was asking why I thought I was doing so well going through so many treatments. I told her that there were literally hundreds of people praying for me daily and that God is faithful to hear the prayers of his people. She is a believer and agreed that this was certainly a major factor in my well being, in spite of it all. I had people praying for me while I was studying in France, as well, and in my journey home for Christmas Break, I needed all the help I could get, divine and human.
December, 1971 Aix-en-Provence, France -- Wapato, WA -- Aix-en-Provence, France
Much of my life was changing dramatically in the French Universite. I avoided speaking English with a passion and dedicated my life to learning all I could while I was in France. I barely had enough money to survive, let alone travel all over Europe every weekend like many of the American students at the American Institute. They seemed like they were in a competition to see how many places they could visit over the course of one or two semesters abroad. They didn't take their academic courses seriously and it was just a lark, for the most part. The American Institute did provide affordable outings for anyone stuck in the financial mud like me occasionally, and I took advantage of them when I could.
Kriss was the biggest issue I had to deal with as Christmas Break approached. We were engaged to be married in June of 1972 after I returned from France. However, I began to feel a deep conviction that if she didn't come to France and experience what my life was becoming, we would be strangers to one another. I didn't have enough money to go back to WA state and back, yet I wrote to her and asked her to consider getting married. Her response was, if you come home you aren't going back without me. God has a way of intervening when we are at a place where only God can change the course of our lives. I received a check in the mail from my personal Physician, Dr. Gregg from Wapato, for enough money to fly round trip from Zurich, Switzerland to Seattle. I took a bus to Zurich and waited for my flight in a raging blizzard. Hour by hour ticked by with cancellation after cancellation. Finally, our departure was announced, telling us that we were the final flight that would be allowed to leave that night. I arrived at JFK, New York at 3 am and had a minor problem. I only had French Francs and that had worked in Zurich, but all the money-change booths were closed at 3 am and they wouldn't accept French Francs for the ticket to Seattle. What a bummer! I desperately thought about all my options and decided I would use the last check I had from my checking account in Wapato. The only minor problem was that I didn't have enough money in that account to cover the check, but this was in the days of less than instant communication, and I was sure I could get to Wapato and deposit my money before the check cleared. Thankfully, I did. We flew a 747 out of JFK in the afternoon which was 1/4 full and I could stretch out on three seats and get some much needed sleep.
My parents were so concerned about my unexpected and unwelcome return from France, that they broke their ongoing feud and both came to meet me at the Seattle Airport. It was very tense and when I told them that I intended to get married that month and take Kriss back to France with me, my Mother, in particular, just about had a fit. She was in an emotional state for the next couple of weeks that just about did her in. Kriss met us at the Greyhound Station in Wapato, in reality, the American Motors Dealership. As only my Mother could pull off, she communicated without a word her total disdain and contempt for both Kriss and the ridiculous notion that we were going to get married in a week or so. It got worse in the days to come. We sat down with her the next day or so and tried to get her blessing and approval. I was seated across the room and Kriss was next to her on the sofa. The first thing she did was inform us that I wasn't of age, 21, to get married without parental approval and how could I marry this girl who was a total stranger to her. As it turned out, neither of us needed parental approval to get married and I told her so. She ranted and raved a while and finally I just ended the conversation with the admonition to just not come to the wedding if she was going to make a fool of herself. She had succeeded at that at some of my siblings nuptials and I reminded her that she would have to live in that community after all this blew over, so she might take that into consideration. We left on that discordant note and decided it was time to go to Yakima, get a marriage license and set a date.
We decided on December 30, 1971, as the day. Kriss and her mother spent the night before the wedding making her wedding dress, which she can still get into to this day. We had a session with the Pastor of Kriss' church to plan the ceremony and though my parents were almost 30 minutes late, they showed up for the wedding. Kriss walked down the aisle to the Hymn: "Great is Thy Faithfulness" and that has essentially been the theme of our lives and ministry to this day. Kriss' mother baked a couple of turkeys and all the trimmings, with help from neighbors and friends, and we had the reception at the ancestral home. We would have to leave for France in a couple of days and so we packed up Kriss' things and flew from Seattle to JFK, New York. My oldest sister Patsy's brother-in-law Constantine "Gus" Tasolides met us at the airport and we stayed a couple of days with his family seeing the sights of New York City that I had seen a couple of years before. For some reason we had another problem purchasing Kriss' ticket from New York to Zurich, so I had to resort to my tried and tested procedure of writing a bad check and called Kriss' parents to take money out of her savings to cover it. What a way to start married life!
We arrived in Zurich and took a bus to Marseilles, France and another bus to Aix-en-Provence. It all sounds so amazingly romantic, but don't be deceived. It turned out to be some of the best and worst days of our lives and we were fortunate to be 7000 miles away from our families. We had no one to run to except God and one another. It turned out to be the best way for us to start life together. God has a way of working all things together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purposes.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
"PARATUM COR MEUM" - MY HEART IS FIRMLY FIXED, O GOD!
Seattle, WA January 5, 2011 These are the opening words to the 108th Psalm. "My heart is firmly fixed, O God, my heart is fixed; I will sing and make melody....I will confess you among the peoples, O Lord; I will sing praises to you among the nations.For your chesed (loving-kindness) is greater than the heavens, and your faithfulness reaches to the clouds. Exalt yourself above the heavens, O God, and your glory over all the earth. So that those who are dear to you may be delivered, save with your right hand and answer me." David's words in the Psalms have been precious to all believers who are facing great difficulties and life-threatening situations. They resound with such a passionate honesty that it is easy to identify with them when we are in need. At times, the author comes close to being overwhelmed with vindictiveness and "spite", but given Davids' circumstances, you can't blame him too much. In some ways it is refreshing and more authentic to hear him speak what most of us only hide in our inner thoughts. David's plea for justice against his enemies is one thing we feel comfortable with. However, he goes further and actually describes the punishment he wants God to inflict: "When he is judged, let him be found guilty, and let his appeal be in vain. Let his days be few, and let another take his office. Let his children be fatherless, and his wife become a widow. Let his children be waifs and beggars; let them be driven from the ruins of their homes. Let the creditor seize everything he has; let strangers plunder his gains. Let there be no one to show him kindness, and none to pity his fatherless children. Let his descendants be destroyed, and his name be blotted out in the next generation. Ps. 109:6-12. I hope and pray that no one is praying that prayer with me in mind today.
The "chesed" or "loving-kindness" of the Lord merits some reflection. "Chesed" is as close as you can get to the concept of "agape", "perfect love", in the New Testament. God's "loving-kindness" is what keeps God from simply giving up on humanity in general, and the People of Israel, or the Church, in particular. If you seriously reflect upon the overwhelming suffering and evil that plagues this planet, you couldn't blame a Righteous God for just wiping all of us off the face of the universe. Chesed is what restrains the wrath and justice of God. It holds the covenant promises God has made as evidence in the Celestial Courtroom and tips the balance from anger to mercy. Chesed is what the Apostle Paul relied upon when he wrote his hymn of "agape" love in ICor. 13. Replace chesed for love in all those affirmations and you can get a good idea how deep and important this word is to the Biblical narrative. In spite of all the reasons that the Lord should cast us off and be done with us, chesed binds us together in the heart of God with cords that can never be broken. Chesed reveals itself in God and in us as faithfulness. Lamentations 3 graphically describes the anguish and suffering of Jeremiah. His words resound with despair. In verses 15-20 we read: "He has filled me with bitter herbs and sated me with gall. (Old Testament Ursidiol) He has broken my teeth with gravel; he has trampled me in the dust. I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is. So I say, "My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the Lord." I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me." These verses could easily be called the Lament of Cancer Patients. We can identify with all of it; medication upon medications that often taste like bitter herbs and in my case, is a black bear gall. Our teeth, gums, skin and intestinal tract all begin to break down prematurely. One feels trampled by the constant war with insurance companies and the overwhelming financial and emotional drain. Sleep and peace seem like a mirage of a former age, not so much from anxiety or lack of faith, but as a direct side-effect of the drugs and treatments you receive. Most of your hopes and plans for the future, professional as well as financial, seem like an impossible and mocking reminder of what life used to be like. There are days when your soul is so downcast that you are tempted to just give up and give in; hoping you die as quickly and painlessly as possible.
It is at this point that Jeremiah and most of us in the Cancer Community keep reading and continue on to verses 20-23. "I well remember them, and .... yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope. Because of the Lord's chesed we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; GREAT IS GOD'S FAITHFULNESS." There is a wonderful chorus we sing: "Thy "chesed" loving-kindness is better that life!" To be in the face of our greatest need and encounter the "chesed" of a merciful God transforms our lives and gives us "shalom". God's peace isn't necessarily absence from worry or anxiety, but a profound sense of being whole in Christ no matter how much your body, life or situation seems to be falling apart. God doesn't just glue us back together again like Humpety-Dumpety. God takes the broken pieces of who we used to be and transforms us into the image of Christ so that God might be glorified whether in life or in death. Tomorrow I begin the 5 day chemo and radiation pre-conditioning that leads up to my stem-cell transplant on 1/11/11, next Tuesday. I am counting on the "CHESED" of God to take the broken pieces of my old body and self and transform them into the vessel God intends for my life that will reflect Jesus Christ much better than I have ever done in the past. Keep all of us in your prayers, please and thank you. -Robin
AIX-EN-PROVENCE, FRANCE October, 1971
Getting back from Barcelona without something frightening occurring was a great relief. It was time to register for classes in the Faculte de Lettres, Universite Aix-Marseille, along with 20,000 other French and foreign students from all over the French speaking world. We had the luxury of taking classes from any department we wanted, but we had to pick things that would fulfill graduation requirements back in the USA. I took a Litt class with Regina dealing with 19th Century Romanticism. I took a Modern Chinese History course with Betsy of which I will speak later. I included a "Solfege", or music theory class and attended a French Grammar Course and a History of the Myth of Napoleon following his death. It was a full schedule, but unlike undergraduate classes in American Universities, it was more like graduate school. You were responsible for mastering all of the material over the course of the entire Scholastic Year. There might be a major paper or thesis turned in during the school year, but you could count on a 6-8 hour comprehensive exam at the end of the year that determined if you passed or failed. Everything in the professional world was based on your standing from your grades at the Universite. You were competing against your fellow classmates for everything. Acceptance into their form of graduate school, placement in the civil service of the Federal Government, or jobs in the private sector, just to mention a few. The stress on the students was tangible and to relieve that tension, they would declare that everyone and the institution was "en greve". That meant that you showed up for class and found chains padlocking all entrances. "Strike" meant no one could go back to school until the student leaders decided we could. "La Manif", or public demonstration was a daily event in the middle of town and American students avoided them like the plague. If we were arrested during one of them we would have been deported immediately. You have to remember that the French judicial system is just the opposite of the American/British system of law. In France, and the state of Louisiana, for that matter, you are presumed guilty if you are accused of a crime and you have to prove your innocence. We carried our Carte D'Identite and Visa de Sejour constantly. Anyone could be stopped and taken in for interrogation at any time for no probable cause. Never take our legal system for granted!
Grading was based on a twenty point scale. If you received 9/20 you passed the class. If you received 10-11/20 you did well. If you got 12-13/20 you were exceptional. It was unheard of for students to get anything over 13/20 and Professors took great pride in their absolute tyranny in determining academic life and death. In my Modern Chinese History course, my Professor was a unique man. He had a Dutch name from his father and his mother was Chinese. He was the incarnation of the brilliant, yet totally absent-minded professor. He had taught for over 25 years in the same Faculte. China, in 1971, was going through the height of the Cultural Revolution and was essentially a closed nation. Foreigners and foreign ideas and material objects were despised and destroyed. The way M. Kykendahl obtained his knowledge of contemporary Chinese Events was to read Publications from Korea, Japan, Vietnam, Hong Kong, Singapore and anything else he could get his hands upon. I don't know how many languages he could read or speak, but he lectured in French and wrote notes in Chinese script on the blackboard. He wore and had probably worn, the same black suit his entire teaching career and he reeked of the most powerful body odor I have ever encountered. He was so passionate about finding and disseminating knowledge about China that he just didn't notice or care about his personal appearance. If you like the smell of a Middle School Locker Room, you would have loved to spend two hours a week with M. Kykendahl. He assigned a "thesis" paper for our entire grade and so I stopped by to see if he wanted me to write it in French or in English. I didn't have a French typewriter, but I had access to an English one. He didn't care one way or another, but suggested it would have more depth in my native tongue. It was the only assignment I wrote in English the entire year.
Having had two brothers serve in Viet Nam in the 1960s, I had some obvious interest in that War and it was unclear how and when the USA would ever get out of that mess in 1971. I was neither a radical peace nor war activist, but I had seen the personal cost to individuals and their families from a personal point of view. I relied on Barbara Tugman's writings of World War Two and General Stillwell, in particular. The title of my Thesis was: "America's Tragic Mistakes in China, 1936-1948." Essentially, I was trying to show that the experience and attitudes we had adopted in dealing with the factions led by Mao Tse Tung and Chaing Kai Chek blinded us from making political and strategic military decisions when it came to Viet Nam in the early 1960s. It ended up being over 20 pages long and I hoped it would get me at least a passing 9/20. Otherwise, I wouldn't get any academic credit for enduring the locker room ambiance. A week or so after turning in my Thesis, M. Kykendahl asked Betsy and myself to step into his office following class. I thought he was going to break the bad news to us in private that we had failed his class. He gave Betsy her paper and she got a 10/20 and she was relieved. Then he began this formal speech about his academic history over the years. In all his years of teaching, he had given one French student a 18/20 for exceptional work, but that this was the first time in his career that he would be giving a Foreign student a 18/20. He handed it to me and I just about fainted from relief and disbelief. Betsy wasn't that pleased about the whole thing, but you have to remember she was from Iowa and they don't like to come in second best in anything. I thanked God for helping me do so well and, amazingly, I still have that Thesis in my office at the church and even know how to find it. I think P. Kykendahl was totally shocked that a young American student could look at Viet Nam and our own Foreign Policy with somewhat of an open mind and connect our past behavior with current policies.
The first 1/2 of the year sped by and I had to make some life-changing decisions about my fiancee, Kriss, back in the Yakima Valley. The Christmas Break would determine much of the rest of my story and life.
The "chesed" or "loving-kindness" of the Lord merits some reflection. "Chesed" is as close as you can get to the concept of "agape", "perfect love", in the New Testament. God's "loving-kindness" is what keeps God from simply giving up on humanity in general, and the People of Israel, or the Church, in particular. If you seriously reflect upon the overwhelming suffering and evil that plagues this planet, you couldn't blame a Righteous God for just wiping all of us off the face of the universe. Chesed is what restrains the wrath and justice of God. It holds the covenant promises God has made as evidence in the Celestial Courtroom and tips the balance from anger to mercy. Chesed is what the Apostle Paul relied upon when he wrote his hymn of "agape" love in ICor. 13. Replace chesed for love in all those affirmations and you can get a good idea how deep and important this word is to the Biblical narrative. In spite of all the reasons that the Lord should cast us off and be done with us, chesed binds us together in the heart of God with cords that can never be broken. Chesed reveals itself in God and in us as faithfulness. Lamentations 3 graphically describes the anguish and suffering of Jeremiah. His words resound with despair. In verses 15-20 we read: "He has filled me with bitter herbs and sated me with gall. (Old Testament Ursidiol) He has broken my teeth with gravel; he has trampled me in the dust. I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is. So I say, "My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the Lord." I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me." These verses could easily be called the Lament of Cancer Patients. We can identify with all of it; medication upon medications that often taste like bitter herbs and in my case, is a black bear gall. Our teeth, gums, skin and intestinal tract all begin to break down prematurely. One feels trampled by the constant war with insurance companies and the overwhelming financial and emotional drain. Sleep and peace seem like a mirage of a former age, not so much from anxiety or lack of faith, but as a direct side-effect of the drugs and treatments you receive. Most of your hopes and plans for the future, professional as well as financial, seem like an impossible and mocking reminder of what life used to be like. There are days when your soul is so downcast that you are tempted to just give up and give in; hoping you die as quickly and painlessly as possible.
It is at this point that Jeremiah and most of us in the Cancer Community keep reading and continue on to verses 20-23. "I well remember them, and .... yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope. Because of the Lord's chesed we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; GREAT IS GOD'S FAITHFULNESS." There is a wonderful chorus we sing: "Thy "chesed" loving-kindness is better that life!" To be in the face of our greatest need and encounter the "chesed" of a merciful God transforms our lives and gives us "shalom". God's peace isn't necessarily absence from worry or anxiety, but a profound sense of being whole in Christ no matter how much your body, life or situation seems to be falling apart. God doesn't just glue us back together again like Humpety-Dumpety. God takes the broken pieces of who we used to be and transforms us into the image of Christ so that God might be glorified whether in life or in death. Tomorrow I begin the 5 day chemo and radiation pre-conditioning that leads up to my stem-cell transplant on 1/11/11, next Tuesday. I am counting on the "CHESED" of God to take the broken pieces of my old body and self and transform them into the vessel God intends for my life that will reflect Jesus Christ much better than I have ever done in the past. Keep all of us in your prayers, please and thank you. -Robin
AIX-EN-PROVENCE, FRANCE October, 1971
Getting back from Barcelona without something frightening occurring was a great relief. It was time to register for classes in the Faculte de Lettres, Universite Aix-Marseille, along with 20,000 other French and foreign students from all over the French speaking world. We had the luxury of taking classes from any department we wanted, but we had to pick things that would fulfill graduation requirements back in the USA. I took a Litt class with Regina dealing with 19th Century Romanticism. I took a Modern Chinese History course with Betsy of which I will speak later. I included a "Solfege", or music theory class and attended a French Grammar Course and a History of the Myth of Napoleon following his death. It was a full schedule, but unlike undergraduate classes in American Universities, it was more like graduate school. You were responsible for mastering all of the material over the course of the entire Scholastic Year. There might be a major paper or thesis turned in during the school year, but you could count on a 6-8 hour comprehensive exam at the end of the year that determined if you passed or failed. Everything in the professional world was based on your standing from your grades at the Universite. You were competing against your fellow classmates for everything. Acceptance into their form of graduate school, placement in the civil service of the Federal Government, or jobs in the private sector, just to mention a few. The stress on the students was tangible and to relieve that tension, they would declare that everyone and the institution was "en greve". That meant that you showed up for class and found chains padlocking all entrances. "Strike" meant no one could go back to school until the student leaders decided we could. "La Manif", or public demonstration was a daily event in the middle of town and American students avoided them like the plague. If we were arrested during one of them we would have been deported immediately. You have to remember that the French judicial system is just the opposite of the American/British system of law. In France, and the state of Louisiana, for that matter, you are presumed guilty if you are accused of a crime and you have to prove your innocence. We carried our Carte D'Identite and Visa de Sejour constantly. Anyone could be stopped and taken in for interrogation at any time for no probable cause. Never take our legal system for granted!
Grading was based on a twenty point scale. If you received 9/20 you passed the class. If you received 10-11/20 you did well. If you got 12-13/20 you were exceptional. It was unheard of for students to get anything over 13/20 and Professors took great pride in their absolute tyranny in determining academic life and death. In my Modern Chinese History course, my Professor was a unique man. He had a Dutch name from his father and his mother was Chinese. He was the incarnation of the brilliant, yet totally absent-minded professor. He had taught for over 25 years in the same Faculte. China, in 1971, was going through the height of the Cultural Revolution and was essentially a closed nation. Foreigners and foreign ideas and material objects were despised and destroyed. The way M. Kykendahl obtained his knowledge of contemporary Chinese Events was to read Publications from Korea, Japan, Vietnam, Hong Kong, Singapore and anything else he could get his hands upon. I don't know how many languages he could read or speak, but he lectured in French and wrote notes in Chinese script on the blackboard. He wore and had probably worn, the same black suit his entire teaching career and he reeked of the most powerful body odor I have ever encountered. He was so passionate about finding and disseminating knowledge about China that he just didn't notice or care about his personal appearance. If you like the smell of a Middle School Locker Room, you would have loved to spend two hours a week with M. Kykendahl. He assigned a "thesis" paper for our entire grade and so I stopped by to see if he wanted me to write it in French or in English. I didn't have a French typewriter, but I had access to an English one. He didn't care one way or another, but suggested it would have more depth in my native tongue. It was the only assignment I wrote in English the entire year.
Having had two brothers serve in Viet Nam in the 1960s, I had some obvious interest in that War and it was unclear how and when the USA would ever get out of that mess in 1971. I was neither a radical peace nor war activist, but I had seen the personal cost to individuals and their families from a personal point of view. I relied on Barbara Tugman's writings of World War Two and General Stillwell, in particular. The title of my Thesis was: "America's Tragic Mistakes in China, 1936-1948." Essentially, I was trying to show that the experience and attitudes we had adopted in dealing with the factions led by Mao Tse Tung and Chaing Kai Chek blinded us from making political and strategic military decisions when it came to Viet Nam in the early 1960s. It ended up being over 20 pages long and I hoped it would get me at least a passing 9/20. Otherwise, I wouldn't get any academic credit for enduring the locker room ambiance. A week or so after turning in my Thesis, M. Kykendahl asked Betsy and myself to step into his office following class. I thought he was going to break the bad news to us in private that we had failed his class. He gave Betsy her paper and she got a 10/20 and she was relieved. Then he began this formal speech about his academic history over the years. In all his years of teaching, he had given one French student a 18/20 for exceptional work, but that this was the first time in his career that he would be giving a Foreign student a 18/20. He handed it to me and I just about fainted from relief and disbelief. Betsy wasn't that pleased about the whole thing, but you have to remember she was from Iowa and they don't like to come in second best in anything. I thanked God for helping me do so well and, amazingly, I still have that Thesis in my office at the church and even know how to find it. I think P. Kykendahl was totally shocked that a young American student could look at Viet Nam and our own Foreign Policy with somewhat of an open mind and connect our past behavior with current policies.
The first 1/2 of the year sped by and I had to make some life-changing decisions about my fiancee, Kriss, back in the Yakima Valley. The Christmas Break would determine much of the rest of my story and life.
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