SEATTLE, WA, SNOW, COLD 40 DEGREES.
I sat beside a young man today in his late twenties who is 2 1/2 years out from his stem cell transplant. He had a picture of his two boys attached to his computer screen and I knew he felt blessed to be alive for them. He was suffering from leukemia and needed a stem cell transplant to save his life. We started sharing the recovery process and journey and it was very helpful to me. We have both had Graft vs Host disease, but his was much more widespread and included his gut, liver and still persists at times in his throat and mouth. He had to remain on prednisone for so long that it depleted the calcium in both hips and has had to have both of them replaced. He doesn't mind all that if he can be a husband and father and provide for his family. He is a man of faith and we encouraged one another in our common bond in Christ. I shared with him what I was doing in writing this blog and he immediately logged on and vowed to read it. It was just one of those gifts of God to me this morning to lift my spirits.
I am on a fast track Prednisone reduction so that I won't have some of the side effects that my friend has experienced. It's as close to drug withdrawal as I ever hope to get. Shakes, restlessness, insomnia, extreme fatigue, imbalance, loss of motivation, and to top it off Prednisone can elevate blood sugar to dangerous levels. So, I have to go in tomorrow and be trained in self blood sugar testing procedures and start charting my blood sugar levels throughout the day to see if I will need insulin shots. It should decline as I keep lowering the Prednisone levels. We are getting to the "dog-days" of post transplant recovery. Lots of the same old same old. You start to become a calendar counter, counting down the days when we get out of stir. God, however, has still got alot of wonderful things for us to do while we are here. One of them may be just to get well. Another is Kriss' sister Patty Jo is coming to visit us this weekend and spend a few days. She is a cancer survivor of 35 years and an inspirational sister in Christ. She will take charge and make sure Kriss is taken care of and they can go out and do some fun things that I just can't muster up the energy to do. Every three days I continue to drop my Prednisone level by 10 mg, so they might want to get out of the house rather than hang out with someone in withdrawal. I am learning many spiritual lessons about myself during this whole withdrawal thing. Empathy, compassion, understanding and what is useful and what is not. God is the rock upon which we stand and you and your prayers are the lifelines that are holding us fast. Thank you for all you are doing to keep up strong in the face of the gale. We love you all and couldn't get through this without you. Robin
June-July 1972, Western Europe
It was time to finish up our European Vacation, just like it will soon be time to wrap up our "exile" in Seattle for medical care. We left Holland with Kriss' parents in our VW camper van and travelled through as many countries as we could leading to Southern France. In each country we tried and succeeded in purchasing a tea cup and saucer that was actually manufactured in that country. Do you have any idea how difficult that was? Everyone assumed you wanted Bavarian or British China and when you insisted it had to be manufactured in their own country, they were mystified. Amazingly, we accomplished our goal and each cup and saucer reflects the culture from which it comes, perfectly. We also collected individual coins of each denomination from each country and we have all of those still to this day. They bring back memories of people and places that we will always cherish.
We arrived in Aix-en-Provence and showed Kriss' parents where we had lived and gone to school. I think they were impressed with our ability to live in such conditions, as well as master the language and culture. We bought them some of our favorite foods, such as these little boat shaped cookies called "Navettes" that were only made in a little mom and pop factory. The only way to find it was to follow your nose. You got them warm off the assemble line and they had a special jam to spread on them and it was" fameux," delicious. Having been the only married couple at the American Institute, we had been invited by some French couples to their homes for dinner and outings. That was a special treat for Kriss and me. They took us to their homes for 8 course dinners and authentic French home cooked cuisine that was like from another planet. One weekend we were invited to the city of Gap to speak to Middle School English students and spend the weekend with the teacher. We spoke to the classes on Friday and what the students wanted to know more about America than anything else was religious. We shared with them that we were practising Christians versus nominal Christians and even knew and associated with "Jesus People". That broke the flood gate and we spent the rest of the time answering questions about what Jesus People believed and how they lived, etc. I'm not sure that was the teacher's lesson plan for the day, but the kids learned a lot of religious vocabulary they might not ever have gotten elsewhere.
Finally, it was time to say "Adieu" to France and make a frantic trip to Calais and over the English Channel and spend a few days in merry old England. We got to a few places and then were notified that our charter flight home schedule was moved forward. Kriss and I had to leave from England and Kriss' parents had to deliver the van back to the mainland and follow us home a few days later from Holland. The most bizarre thing I experienced upon waking up the first morning back on the farm in Harrah, was which side of the road to drive the pick-up truck. Here I was glad to be behind the wheel of a real American vehicle driving down Progressive Road on the left hand side. Fortunately, there's not much traffic on Progressive Road that time of day and I suddenly panicked and realized my error. I have tried to stay more to the right ever sense. Robin
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
YOUR BROTHER WILL RISE AGAIN!
Seattle, WA 40 degrees rain, sleet, hail and snow, sunny and calm
Over the course of the past five days I have been haunted by the constant thought, impression, spiritual conviction and the consciousness in my mind and on my lips: "Your brother will rise again!" Of course it is referring to my brother Tom, now three full weeks in intensive care here in Seattle in Harborview Hospital. A week ago, I believe I was mired in unbelief and looking for all the signs of his demise. He has had at least one bonafide stroke and possibly more. He is fighting a life threatening battle with Adult Respiratory Distress Syndrome. He is on a medical roller coaster of good days and bad days, but like Hotel California, you can check in any time you want, but you can never get off. God convicted me of my sin of disbelief. I have been hearing those words: "Your brother will rise again!"so urgently, that three days ago I went into his room and opened one of his eyelids and spoke directly and powerfully to him what God put on my heart.
You see, Tom is just in the early stages of faith and faith development. He has been here in Seattle at my bedside during the preparation for my stem cell transplant and we have had a lot of time to share spiritual truths. He was baptized the same day I was in a cattle trough filled with water in the Disciples of Christ Church in Wapato, WA by immersion by Rev. Joseph Dixon of the Community Presbyterian Church. Mom had been raised Disciples of Christ and immersion baptism was the only truly biblical form acceptable. We both took the membership classes at the Community Presbyterian Church and were enrolled as members in good standing. Some seeds lie in soil years before they sprout, take root and flourish. The good seed of faith sown in Tom's heart those many years ago had sprouted and was just beginning to emerge when he was struck down with his current medical crisis. Isn't it just like the enemy to attack the very youngest of the flock, exactly like the roaring lion scripture depicts. I am rebuking through God's Spirit the attacks of that enemy and I would covet your warrior-like chants for his deliverance and survival. Every day now when I go into his room I am girded for spiritual warfare. I am wearing the same clothes, like the Priest ministering at the alter. I perform a ritual of anointing and conversation, the very same each day so Tom will recognize who I am and slowly reach out from the depth of his unconsciousness and rise again. God has just started the process of transforming Tom into the image of Christ, as with all of us. He is a gifted and beloved man already. Just imagine what God can and will do with another Lazarus running around. In a loud voice Jesus called:"Lazarus come out!" Jesus told them to take off the grave clothes and set him free. I believe we will see that same miracle happen for my brother in the coming days and weeks. The promise of Jesus to Martha still stands: "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" That's the real question in life for all of us isn't it? If Jesus is the resurrection and the life, then all our failures, stupidities, dysfunction and sin can be confronted face to face and in the presence of the Risen One, we can come forth from our tombs and be set free. Robin P.S. I'll see how long Kriss lets me wear those same clothes to the hospital every day.
Over the course of the past five days I have been haunted by the constant thought, impression, spiritual conviction and the consciousness in my mind and on my lips: "Your brother will rise again!" Of course it is referring to my brother Tom, now three full weeks in intensive care here in Seattle in Harborview Hospital. A week ago, I believe I was mired in unbelief and looking for all the signs of his demise. He has had at least one bonafide stroke and possibly more. He is fighting a life threatening battle with Adult Respiratory Distress Syndrome. He is on a medical roller coaster of good days and bad days, but like Hotel California, you can check in any time you want, but you can never get off. God convicted me of my sin of disbelief. I have been hearing those words: "Your brother will rise again!"so urgently, that three days ago I went into his room and opened one of his eyelids and spoke directly and powerfully to him what God put on my heart.
You see, Tom is just in the early stages of faith and faith development. He has been here in Seattle at my bedside during the preparation for my stem cell transplant and we have had a lot of time to share spiritual truths. He was baptized the same day I was in a cattle trough filled with water in the Disciples of Christ Church in Wapato, WA by immersion by Rev. Joseph Dixon of the Community Presbyterian Church. Mom had been raised Disciples of Christ and immersion baptism was the only truly biblical form acceptable. We both took the membership classes at the Community Presbyterian Church and were enrolled as members in good standing. Some seeds lie in soil years before they sprout, take root and flourish. The good seed of faith sown in Tom's heart those many years ago had sprouted and was just beginning to emerge when he was struck down with his current medical crisis. Isn't it just like the enemy to attack the very youngest of the flock, exactly like the roaring lion scripture depicts. I am rebuking through God's Spirit the attacks of that enemy and I would covet your warrior-like chants for his deliverance and survival. Every day now when I go into his room I am girded for spiritual warfare. I am wearing the same clothes, like the Priest ministering at the alter. I perform a ritual of anointing and conversation, the very same each day so Tom will recognize who I am and slowly reach out from the depth of his unconsciousness and rise again. God has just started the process of transforming Tom into the image of Christ, as with all of us. He is a gifted and beloved man already. Just imagine what God can and will do with another Lazarus running around. In a loud voice Jesus called:"Lazarus come out!" Jesus told them to take off the grave clothes and set him free. I believe we will see that same miracle happen for my brother in the coming days and weeks. The promise of Jesus to Martha still stands: "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" That's the real question in life for all of us isn't it? If Jesus is the resurrection and the life, then all our failures, stupidities, dysfunction and sin can be confronted face to face and in the presence of the Risen One, we can come forth from our tombs and be set free. Robin P.S. I'll see how long Kriss lets me wear those same clothes to the hospital every day.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
PEOPLE WITH A VISION!
Seattle, WA February 19, 2011, 40 degrees, sunny with wind.
God's word declares that without a vision, a people waste away. A vision of who we are, who God calls us to be and a vision for what we have to be and do to manifest of Kingdom of God in our midst. Jesus spoke constantly of the Kingdom. He said it is now, it is within you, it must be revealed in your life, both individually and corporately. God has already prepared inspirational and magnificent things for his people to do in this world. The tragedy is that so many congregations and individuals live with the attitude: "But we couldn't possibly do that!" Precisely; God doesn't call us to do what we can already do on our own, God calls us to risk stepping out of the boat of our own capabilities and securities and walk on water, literally. What we do for the glory of God and the love of others can only be accomplished by the supernatural presence and intervention of a living God. What I find so heartbreaking is that there are a fair number of clergy and churches who simply do not believe in a supernatural God. They are devotees of a religion or institutional church in which they can just give lip service to the miraculous or supernatural, but it is just going through the motions when it comes to radical obedience and following Jesus sacrificially. The needs of our world scream out for God's people to be God's people. We are commanded, not recommended, to love the stranger in our midst, to share not only our abundance, but our own security with others in need. The joy of the Lord is in seeing lives transformed by God's Spirit taking control of our Spirit and making us a new creation in Christ. Only then can we deny ourselves, take up the cross Jesus has personally made for us and follow Christ.
I am learning this lesson so profoundly through my stem cell transplant. As you know, I was unable to use my own stem cells for a transplant because of the discovery of Myelo-Dysplastic-Syndrome in 75% of my stem cell chromosomes. Therefore we had to go back to Walla Walla in October and receive more chemo until they could find a suitable donor among my siblings and/or children. My eldest daughter, Rev. Hanna Peterson was chosen as the best half-match available and we went through all the harvesting and staging for my transplant JAN 11, 2011. Within days I was in UofW Medical Center for over two weeks fighting the onset of Graft vs Host Disease. It appeared that Hanna's stem cells were so healthy and aggressive that they were going right to work, just doing the wrong kind of work. It has taken over a month to get the Graft vs Host problem under successful control, but 30 lbs lighter, I am starting to get back to a normal diet. As of the day 28 post transplant blood evaluation, 100% of my white blood cells originate from Hanna's stem cells. We are approaching 100% of my T-Cells now originating from Hanna. My medical team assures me that the Myelo-Dysplastic-Syndrome is completely removed from my bone marrow because all of those stem cells have been eliminated by Hanna's stem cells. Step two is in the creation of a complete new immune system from Hanna which will take a year post transplant minimum, and probably two years in reality. However, the latest information I received from the Medical Team this week is that I will be taking my Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma home with me to continue the battle. I am approaching 6 full years of living with this diabolical disease. At one point I had 8-9 active tumor sites from my groin to my neck. I have been up and down the ladder of NHL treatments including natural remedies and consultations with various medical providers including the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. What is different this time is the spiritual parallel with which I began this blog.
God has given me a vision and a hope. The hope is that there is a way to finally conquer my cancer, once and for all. My immune system simply had lost the battle and even with all the chemo and radiation, I was going to die. My Dr. in Walla Walla simply said that there was nothing more he could do for me except keep me as comfortable and pain free as long as possible. I appreciated his honesty, sincerity and years of devoted care. I needed and still need a supernatural miracle in my life. Hanna's stem cells have one more major job ahead of them. They are young, strong, vigorous and, I believe, anointed of God to do in my battle with cancer what I had failed to do on my own. God has given me a vision of Hanna's T-Cell army systematically moving about in my entire body and destroying each and every cancer cell still present. I felt some tumor site pain this week in my neck and I could only say: "atta girl, Hanna, give em heaven!" My body is a living spiritual laboratory. Is God still God? Do we follow a risen Savior that intervenes in our lives and world to the praise of his name? I believe with all my heart that these truths will never become irrelevant to our daily lives. The final part of the vision God gave to me this week is the number 40. It is such a meaningful number in scripture, symbolizing a season of time for God to accomplish something wonderful and powerful. I don't presume to know exactly what 40 stands for in my life today. Does it mean my brother Tom has 40 minutes left to live in Intensive Care at Harborview? Does it mean I have 40 days to accomplish all that God has sent us here to Seattle to do in His service? Does it mean I have 40 weeks to make a lasting and durable recovery, making the best choices possible for me and the church? Does it mean that I have 40 months of quality life ahead of me to make a difference in this world for the glory of God? Could it possibly mean that God has a plan and a purpose for my life for 40 more years serving faithfully in that portion of His Vineyard in which we have been designated. The key is to be alert, prepared and willing to accept any of those options as from the Hand of God and live each day passionately, joyously, and with no regrets. Robin
God's word declares that without a vision, a people waste away. A vision of who we are, who God calls us to be and a vision for what we have to be and do to manifest of Kingdom of God in our midst. Jesus spoke constantly of the Kingdom. He said it is now, it is within you, it must be revealed in your life, both individually and corporately. God has already prepared inspirational and magnificent things for his people to do in this world. The tragedy is that so many congregations and individuals live with the attitude: "But we couldn't possibly do that!" Precisely; God doesn't call us to do what we can already do on our own, God calls us to risk stepping out of the boat of our own capabilities and securities and walk on water, literally. What we do for the glory of God and the love of others can only be accomplished by the supernatural presence and intervention of a living God. What I find so heartbreaking is that there are a fair number of clergy and churches who simply do not believe in a supernatural God. They are devotees of a religion or institutional church in which they can just give lip service to the miraculous or supernatural, but it is just going through the motions when it comes to radical obedience and following Jesus sacrificially. The needs of our world scream out for God's people to be God's people. We are commanded, not recommended, to love the stranger in our midst, to share not only our abundance, but our own security with others in need. The joy of the Lord is in seeing lives transformed by God's Spirit taking control of our Spirit and making us a new creation in Christ. Only then can we deny ourselves, take up the cross Jesus has personally made for us and follow Christ.
I am learning this lesson so profoundly through my stem cell transplant. As you know, I was unable to use my own stem cells for a transplant because of the discovery of Myelo-Dysplastic-Syndrome in 75% of my stem cell chromosomes. Therefore we had to go back to Walla Walla in October and receive more chemo until they could find a suitable donor among my siblings and/or children. My eldest daughter, Rev. Hanna Peterson was chosen as the best half-match available and we went through all the harvesting and staging for my transplant JAN 11, 2011. Within days I was in UofW Medical Center for over two weeks fighting the onset of Graft vs Host Disease. It appeared that Hanna's stem cells were so healthy and aggressive that they were going right to work, just doing the wrong kind of work. It has taken over a month to get the Graft vs Host problem under successful control, but 30 lbs lighter, I am starting to get back to a normal diet. As of the day 28 post transplant blood evaluation, 100% of my white blood cells originate from Hanna's stem cells. We are approaching 100% of my T-Cells now originating from Hanna. My medical team assures me that the Myelo-Dysplastic-Syndrome is completely removed from my bone marrow because all of those stem cells have been eliminated by Hanna's stem cells. Step two is in the creation of a complete new immune system from Hanna which will take a year post transplant minimum, and probably two years in reality. However, the latest information I received from the Medical Team this week is that I will be taking my Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma home with me to continue the battle. I am approaching 6 full years of living with this diabolical disease. At one point I had 8-9 active tumor sites from my groin to my neck. I have been up and down the ladder of NHL treatments including natural remedies and consultations with various medical providers including the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. What is different this time is the spiritual parallel with which I began this blog.
God has given me a vision and a hope. The hope is that there is a way to finally conquer my cancer, once and for all. My immune system simply had lost the battle and even with all the chemo and radiation, I was going to die. My Dr. in Walla Walla simply said that there was nothing more he could do for me except keep me as comfortable and pain free as long as possible. I appreciated his honesty, sincerity and years of devoted care. I needed and still need a supernatural miracle in my life. Hanna's stem cells have one more major job ahead of them. They are young, strong, vigorous and, I believe, anointed of God to do in my battle with cancer what I had failed to do on my own. God has given me a vision of Hanna's T-Cell army systematically moving about in my entire body and destroying each and every cancer cell still present. I felt some tumor site pain this week in my neck and I could only say: "atta girl, Hanna, give em heaven!" My body is a living spiritual laboratory. Is God still God? Do we follow a risen Savior that intervenes in our lives and world to the praise of his name? I believe with all my heart that these truths will never become irrelevant to our daily lives. The final part of the vision God gave to me this week is the number 40. It is such a meaningful number in scripture, symbolizing a season of time for God to accomplish something wonderful and powerful. I don't presume to know exactly what 40 stands for in my life today. Does it mean my brother Tom has 40 minutes left to live in Intensive Care at Harborview? Does it mean I have 40 days to accomplish all that God has sent us here to Seattle to do in His service? Does it mean I have 40 weeks to make a lasting and durable recovery, making the best choices possible for me and the church? Does it mean that I have 40 months of quality life ahead of me to make a difference in this world for the glory of God? Could it possibly mean that God has a plan and a purpose for my life for 40 more years serving faithfully in that portion of His Vineyard in which we have been designated. The key is to be alert, prepared and willing to accept any of those options as from the Hand of God and live each day passionately, joyously, and with no regrets. Robin
Monday, February 14, 2011
VALENTINE'S DAY 2011
FEBRUARY 14, 2011, SEATTLE, WA, RAINY, 45 DEGREES.
Of all the scriptures on love in the New Testament, I am inspired by those in Romans 12:9ff. "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality." These words have a special personal relevance to me and our family today. My brother Tom, who has been in intensive care here at Harborview for just over 2 weeks took a major turn for the worse this morning. He has been on a medical roller coaster since his arrival in Seattle. Friday he had a dramatic afternoon of consciousness and awareness, only to fall back early Saturday morning. He has some source of infection that they are currently treating with four antibiotics, but they cannot find the source of the infection. He is retaining fluids which may be putting too much stress on his lungs. In fact, they thought at one time this morning that he had had a pulmonary embolism, but they are now thinking it is more external than internal pressure on his lungs. He has four different sedatives working to keep him in an artificial coma and a drug to keep his blood pressure from going too low. The last conversation Kriss and I had with his head nurse before we left for home was that he is at the point where he has no more natural reserves and that he is at great risk if he continues to cycle these severe downturns. I have had the opportunity to pray with members of my family who are here with whom I have never prayed with in my life. God has put us here for this time in order that we might be a source of strength and spiritual hope for Tom and other family members. We pray that we can be a witness for the love of Christ to all of our family and those who are caring for my brother.
I am putting myself at some level of risk by coming to Harborview. I am very careful to keep as sterile and safe as possible, but it is a risk that I feel I must take for a greater spiritual and eternal good. On Friday afternoon when Tom came out of his coma, I was sitting down the hall in a waiting area and Hanna came running and told me that he was asking for me specifically. It was a gift for him to think of me at that moment and we shared a special time of greeting and prayer. I will never forget the gift of those moments and whether we have years more to share that brotherly affection, or just cherish the memory of that moment, I thank God for that day. I have been through this process with literally dozens of families over the last 30+ years of ministry. In some ways, I know too much about the telltale signs and patterns of recovery and or decline. Within 7-10 days, Tom will either make some form of dramatic improvement, or he will continue to experience periodic cycles of intensifying medical crisis which will necessitate our family making some very difficult life and death decisions. I would covet your prayers for Tom and all of my family as we walk with him through the valley of the shadow. God is a good shepherd and his rod and staff will comfort us.
On my own medical front, we are continuing to see slow, but steady progress. I only have to go to the SCCA two days a week now. I am receiving almost 7 hours daily of home hydration and IV infusion medication, but we have a portable pump and my perfect nurse, Kriss, makes sure I keep on schedule. In addition to the 40 pills I have been taking daily, they have added a new medication. It's called Beclomethasone in corn oil, no kidding. It is a drug designed to protect the inside lining of both the stomach and intestine. It is used to treat Graft-vs-Host Disease. Beclomethasone in corn oil emulsion is a carefully compounded drug that can only be prepared in special compounding pharmacies. The instructions for the preparation of this compound sound like the early days of medical science. We might find some old codger from 100 years ago who could whip this stuff up without any effort. I have to take it 5 times a day and we will have to go on line when we come home and find a pharmacy that can actually fabricate it for us. The more modern medicine moves forward, the more it seems to reach back and resurrect the best of the past. I now am taking daily an artificial black bear bile medication plus corn oil suspending this fine powder. Maybe I should just eat massive amounts of popcorn and see if that doesn't do the trick.
My weight loss appears to have stabilized at 33 lbs since January 11. My appetite is getting better and I try to get in as much protein as I can. I am also working on our stationary bike every time I do infusion here at home. I need to rebuild some muscle mass and endurance without too much weight gain. I am sleeping OK, but all the hydration keeps me up and down during the night. With my brother's condition so precarious, we won't be taking any day trips for a while. We need to be available for him at a moment's notice. I also continue to run into people we have met at the Cancer Center. I sat with two guys this morning that I have gotten to know and God continues to use us to minister to other patients and staff. Many of my Techs are reading the Blog and they comment to me about the impact it seems to have on their lives and perspective. I know God has many, many reasons for us to be here at this time and for this purpose. I would never intentionally choose such a ministry, but we are called to trust and obey and leave all the rest in God's gracious hands. The greatest privilege any of us has in life is to be an instrument of God's love, not just on Valentine's Day, but every day we are blessed to share in this world; to God be the Glory. Robin
Of all the scriptures on love in the New Testament, I am inspired by those in Romans 12:9ff. "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality." These words have a special personal relevance to me and our family today. My brother Tom, who has been in intensive care here at Harborview for just over 2 weeks took a major turn for the worse this morning. He has been on a medical roller coaster since his arrival in Seattle. Friday he had a dramatic afternoon of consciousness and awareness, only to fall back early Saturday morning. He has some source of infection that they are currently treating with four antibiotics, but they cannot find the source of the infection. He is retaining fluids which may be putting too much stress on his lungs. In fact, they thought at one time this morning that he had had a pulmonary embolism, but they are now thinking it is more external than internal pressure on his lungs. He has four different sedatives working to keep him in an artificial coma and a drug to keep his blood pressure from going too low. The last conversation Kriss and I had with his head nurse before we left for home was that he is at the point where he has no more natural reserves and that he is at great risk if he continues to cycle these severe downturns. I have had the opportunity to pray with members of my family who are here with whom I have never prayed with in my life. God has put us here for this time in order that we might be a source of strength and spiritual hope for Tom and other family members. We pray that we can be a witness for the love of Christ to all of our family and those who are caring for my brother.
I am putting myself at some level of risk by coming to Harborview. I am very careful to keep as sterile and safe as possible, but it is a risk that I feel I must take for a greater spiritual and eternal good. On Friday afternoon when Tom came out of his coma, I was sitting down the hall in a waiting area and Hanna came running and told me that he was asking for me specifically. It was a gift for him to think of me at that moment and we shared a special time of greeting and prayer. I will never forget the gift of those moments and whether we have years more to share that brotherly affection, or just cherish the memory of that moment, I thank God for that day. I have been through this process with literally dozens of families over the last 30+ years of ministry. In some ways, I know too much about the telltale signs and patterns of recovery and or decline. Within 7-10 days, Tom will either make some form of dramatic improvement, or he will continue to experience periodic cycles of intensifying medical crisis which will necessitate our family making some very difficult life and death decisions. I would covet your prayers for Tom and all of my family as we walk with him through the valley of the shadow. God is a good shepherd and his rod and staff will comfort us.
On my own medical front, we are continuing to see slow, but steady progress. I only have to go to the SCCA two days a week now. I am receiving almost 7 hours daily of home hydration and IV infusion medication, but we have a portable pump and my perfect nurse, Kriss, makes sure I keep on schedule. In addition to the 40 pills I have been taking daily, they have added a new medication. It's called Beclomethasone in corn oil, no kidding. It is a drug designed to protect the inside lining of both the stomach and intestine. It is used to treat Graft-vs-Host Disease. Beclomethasone in corn oil emulsion is a carefully compounded drug that can only be prepared in special compounding pharmacies. The instructions for the preparation of this compound sound like the early days of medical science. We might find some old codger from 100 years ago who could whip this stuff up without any effort. I have to take it 5 times a day and we will have to go on line when we come home and find a pharmacy that can actually fabricate it for us. The more modern medicine moves forward, the more it seems to reach back and resurrect the best of the past. I now am taking daily an artificial black bear bile medication plus corn oil suspending this fine powder. Maybe I should just eat massive amounts of popcorn and see if that doesn't do the trick.
My weight loss appears to have stabilized at 33 lbs since January 11. My appetite is getting better and I try to get in as much protein as I can. I am also working on our stationary bike every time I do infusion here at home. I need to rebuild some muscle mass and endurance without too much weight gain. I am sleeping OK, but all the hydration keeps me up and down during the night. With my brother's condition so precarious, we won't be taking any day trips for a while. We need to be available for him at a moment's notice. I also continue to run into people we have met at the Cancer Center. I sat with two guys this morning that I have gotten to know and God continues to use us to minister to other patients and staff. Many of my Techs are reading the Blog and they comment to me about the impact it seems to have on their lives and perspective. I know God has many, many reasons for us to be here at this time and for this purpose. I would never intentionally choose such a ministry, but we are called to trust and obey and leave all the rest in God's gracious hands. The greatest privilege any of us has in life is to be an instrument of God's love, not just on Valentine's Day, but every day we are blessed to share in this world; to God be the Glory. Robin
Thursday, February 10, 2011
TRANSPLANT TWILIGHT ZONE PART II
Seattle,WA Beautiful sunny day, 50 degrees. Spring is coming!
Prayer is powerful. I know literally hundreds of you are praying for us and it makes all the difference. We have had a dramatic positive turn during the week. The weekend was very difficult. I ended up losing another 5 lbs in 4 days until the new treatments we are taking began to kick in the first of the week. My appetite began to emerge early in the week and the digestive system began to stabilize. During our consultations with our Medical Teams today, they commented on just how severe a case of Graft VS Host we have been dealing with, combined with the CMV infection. They are amazed at the rate of improvement we have shown in just less than a week of Prednizone and Ganzciclovir. They hope to start me on a rapid reduction in the amount of Prednizone I am taking beginning next week. There are just too many negative side effects at the high dosage I am taking. I will probably stay on the Ganzciclovir for three weeks to give me the best chance at getting things stabilized long term.
The Twilight Zone Stem Cell Saga continues unabated. One of our Doctors today asked if I was feeling any different kinds of emotions. I wasn't certain what he was leading up to until he told us that they had the results back from our 28 day post-transplant blood evaluations. Mini-Hanna's Stem Cells now account for 100% of my entire white blood cell population. They also are taking over all T-Cell production, accounting for 87% of that population. Within days, I will have a complete female blood count make up, T-Cell identity and the creation of a 36 year old's immune system to protect my 60 year old body. My daughter, Hanna, reminded me of a day when she was 4-5 years old when we had a near life and death experience with her life. We lived on Lambert Road near the Big Y Shopping Center. Cars drove too fast down our narrow street and it was a real risk to children and pets. Our mailbox was across the street from our house and when Hanna and Amos saw the mailman go by, they wanted to run across the street to get the mail. On this certain day, Hanna had just seen the mailman go by and I saw a car speeding up the street far too fast to be able to stop for a small child emerging from between two parked cars. I simply shouted: "Hanna, Stop Now!" Being unaccustomed to having me address her in that tone of voice, she immediately stopped, burst into tears and probably saved her life. There are two things parents and parents alone are ultimately responsible for in child raising. They must teach their children to respect and obey legitimate authority and they must command instant obedience from them in life threatening situations. By the grace of God, Hanna knew that we loved her so much that we wouldn't speak to her in such a manner unless it was absolutely necessary.
Apparently, her stem cells have the same innate knowledge and when we have had to communicate forcefully with powerful drug treatments this week, they have stopped dead in their tracks and we may all live for a better day. It is going to take a minimum of a year for Mini-Hanna to create anything near a full blown immune system, but it not only is possible, but looking more probable every day. Much of it will be up to me. I have to take the initiative to force myself to eat the right things. Exercise in appropriate manners. Avoid exposure to infectious agents and compromising health conditions. Get enough sleep and rest to allow my body to restore its strength. In short, do all the things God calls us to do to honor our bodies which are the Temple of the Holy Spirit. For me it is no longer an option, it is life and death. I can go back to a fairly undisciplined physical lifestyle and hope that all this treatment and expense will just magically cure my cancer and make my life perfect. That is probably unlikely, even irresponsible. God calls us to master our bodies into submission in order to be physically fit to fulfill His divine call in our lives. I would covet your prayers for that self-control and wisdom in order to honor God throughout this whole process. In addition to finding out how life is like with both male and female essential organs, I am looking forward to having the Holy Spirit take greater control of my heart, mind and Spirit as we seek to serve God together. Robin
The Netherlands, June-July, 1972
Standing in the waiting area, looking through the glass partitions, we knew we were surrounded by Dutch family because they kept calling out Kriss' parents names, Harry Kwak, Anna Kwak. They were accompanied by some cousins, Arie VanDerHoeven and his wife Delpha and their two sons. It was quite a scene and none of the Dutch relatives knew who we were, but we sure knew they were family. Kriss' family is 100% pure unadulterated Dutch purebreds. They come by their heritage from all four sides of their family and it is large and historic. They can trace the polders, or farms their ancestors tilled with maps back to the 16th century. They were laboring people, not landholders or aristocrats. Therefore they inculcated into their children down through the generations the deepest expressions of Dutch culture: duty to nation above personal success, sacrifice for others at risk of personal loss, social stability and security above private gain. When they came to America by the hundreds, they kept many of these ideals, but began to add the inevitable American values of rugged individualism and personal pursuit of wealth and fame. Many of these families are closer to one another living 6,000 miles apart than their cousins who live in America, 60 miles apart. I would have to say that our four children personally know and relate with their Dutch cousins in Holland more fully than with any of their American cousins in my family or Kriss'. They seem to share a great deal of a common cultural heritage and have had the privilege of spending a great deal of time together on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. We owe a great debt to our Dutch family for giving our children such a tremendous cultural and spiritual heritage.
Our Dutch Vacation was a roller coaster of experiences. We met more relatives than you could imagine and were offered more coffee and sweets than you could ever eat. We slept in ancient houses that were coveted by museums for tiles and thatched roofs, along with ultra modern homes, the envy of anyone. Fortunately, they were doing summer haying and I got to go out into the fields and do some manual labor. They didn't work quite like farmers worked in America. On hot days, Heineken Beer late every morning and afternoon to quench your thirst. Supper was mostly potatoes and hash with lots of fresh strawberries and cream for dessert. People who didn't work the farms, worked in factories or for the civil service. Everyone worked. The only people folks considered unemployed were "domine" or ministers. They were effectively governmental employees who were considered overpaid and parasites on society. Everyone paid a tithe of their income to support the "church", whether they were believers or attenders or not. When one cousin found out that I intended to attend theological seminary and become a "domine", he threw a fit and threatened to throw me out of his house, having vowed to never allow a "domine" inside his dwelling as long as he was still alive and kicking. Cooler heads prevailed, however, and I was given a dispensation that allowed me to stay a couple of hours. After all, I had not yet attended Seminary and might come to my senses and do something honorable like farming. After a couple of weeks of hanging around Holland, Kriss and I had to get back to France and pick up our belongings we had left there. Kriss' father left his native homeland kicking and pouting, but we got headed south and enjoyed some great places on our southern tour.
Prayer is powerful. I know literally hundreds of you are praying for us and it makes all the difference. We have had a dramatic positive turn during the week. The weekend was very difficult. I ended up losing another 5 lbs in 4 days until the new treatments we are taking began to kick in the first of the week. My appetite began to emerge early in the week and the digestive system began to stabilize. During our consultations with our Medical Teams today, they commented on just how severe a case of Graft VS Host we have been dealing with, combined with the CMV infection. They are amazed at the rate of improvement we have shown in just less than a week of Prednizone and Ganzciclovir. They hope to start me on a rapid reduction in the amount of Prednizone I am taking beginning next week. There are just too many negative side effects at the high dosage I am taking. I will probably stay on the Ganzciclovir for three weeks to give me the best chance at getting things stabilized long term.
The Twilight Zone Stem Cell Saga continues unabated. One of our Doctors today asked if I was feeling any different kinds of emotions. I wasn't certain what he was leading up to until he told us that they had the results back from our 28 day post-transplant blood evaluations. Mini-Hanna's Stem Cells now account for 100% of my entire white blood cell population. They also are taking over all T-Cell production, accounting for 87% of that population. Within days, I will have a complete female blood count make up, T-Cell identity and the creation of a 36 year old's immune system to protect my 60 year old body. My daughter, Hanna, reminded me of a day when she was 4-5 years old when we had a near life and death experience with her life. We lived on Lambert Road near the Big Y Shopping Center. Cars drove too fast down our narrow street and it was a real risk to children and pets. Our mailbox was across the street from our house and when Hanna and Amos saw the mailman go by, they wanted to run across the street to get the mail. On this certain day, Hanna had just seen the mailman go by and I saw a car speeding up the street far too fast to be able to stop for a small child emerging from between two parked cars. I simply shouted: "Hanna, Stop Now!" Being unaccustomed to having me address her in that tone of voice, she immediately stopped, burst into tears and probably saved her life. There are two things parents and parents alone are ultimately responsible for in child raising. They must teach their children to respect and obey legitimate authority and they must command instant obedience from them in life threatening situations. By the grace of God, Hanna knew that we loved her so much that we wouldn't speak to her in such a manner unless it was absolutely necessary.
Apparently, her stem cells have the same innate knowledge and when we have had to communicate forcefully with powerful drug treatments this week, they have stopped dead in their tracks and we may all live for a better day. It is going to take a minimum of a year for Mini-Hanna to create anything near a full blown immune system, but it not only is possible, but looking more probable every day. Much of it will be up to me. I have to take the initiative to force myself to eat the right things. Exercise in appropriate manners. Avoid exposure to infectious agents and compromising health conditions. Get enough sleep and rest to allow my body to restore its strength. In short, do all the things God calls us to do to honor our bodies which are the Temple of the Holy Spirit. For me it is no longer an option, it is life and death. I can go back to a fairly undisciplined physical lifestyle and hope that all this treatment and expense will just magically cure my cancer and make my life perfect. That is probably unlikely, even irresponsible. God calls us to master our bodies into submission in order to be physically fit to fulfill His divine call in our lives. I would covet your prayers for that self-control and wisdom in order to honor God throughout this whole process. In addition to finding out how life is like with both male and female essential organs, I am looking forward to having the Holy Spirit take greater control of my heart, mind and Spirit as we seek to serve God together. Robin
The Netherlands, June-July, 1972
Standing in the waiting area, looking through the glass partitions, we knew we were surrounded by Dutch family because they kept calling out Kriss' parents names, Harry Kwak, Anna Kwak. They were accompanied by some cousins, Arie VanDerHoeven and his wife Delpha and their two sons. It was quite a scene and none of the Dutch relatives knew who we were, but we sure knew they were family. Kriss' family is 100% pure unadulterated Dutch purebreds. They come by their heritage from all four sides of their family and it is large and historic. They can trace the polders, or farms their ancestors tilled with maps back to the 16th century. They were laboring people, not landholders or aristocrats. Therefore they inculcated into their children down through the generations the deepest expressions of Dutch culture: duty to nation above personal success, sacrifice for others at risk of personal loss, social stability and security above private gain. When they came to America by the hundreds, they kept many of these ideals, but began to add the inevitable American values of rugged individualism and personal pursuit of wealth and fame. Many of these families are closer to one another living 6,000 miles apart than their cousins who live in America, 60 miles apart. I would have to say that our four children personally know and relate with their Dutch cousins in Holland more fully than with any of their American cousins in my family or Kriss'. They seem to share a great deal of a common cultural heritage and have had the privilege of spending a great deal of time together on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. We owe a great debt to our Dutch family for giving our children such a tremendous cultural and spiritual heritage.
Our Dutch Vacation was a roller coaster of experiences. We met more relatives than you could imagine and were offered more coffee and sweets than you could ever eat. We slept in ancient houses that were coveted by museums for tiles and thatched roofs, along with ultra modern homes, the envy of anyone. Fortunately, they were doing summer haying and I got to go out into the fields and do some manual labor. They didn't work quite like farmers worked in America. On hot days, Heineken Beer late every morning and afternoon to quench your thirst. Supper was mostly potatoes and hash with lots of fresh strawberries and cream for dessert. People who didn't work the farms, worked in factories or for the civil service. Everyone worked. The only people folks considered unemployed were "domine" or ministers. They were effectively governmental employees who were considered overpaid and parasites on society. Everyone paid a tithe of their income to support the "church", whether they were believers or attenders or not. When one cousin found out that I intended to attend theological seminary and become a "domine", he threw a fit and threatened to throw me out of his house, having vowed to never allow a "domine" inside his dwelling as long as he was still alive and kicking. Cooler heads prevailed, however, and I was given a dispensation that allowed me to stay a couple of hours. After all, I had not yet attended Seminary and might come to my senses and do something honorable like farming. After a couple of weeks of hanging around Holland, Kriss and I had to get back to France and pick up our belongings we had left there. Kriss' father left his native homeland kicking and pouting, but we got headed south and enjoyed some great places on our southern tour.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
TRANSPLANT TWILIGHT ZONE!
Imagine, if you can, a foreign invasion of your body by 6,000,000 immature stem cells that take control of your body and create a whole new immune system which can either destroy your body organs and functions, or miraculously bring total healing to your body. If you can, you've entered THE TRANSPLANT TWILIGHT ZONE!
Seattle, WA 2/5/11, cloudy 42 degrees.
We are fully into the science fiction side of modern medical treatments. Results of the upper and lower GI biopsies reveal the full blown presence of Graft VS Host Disease in my "Gut". A typical condition following a half-matched transplant. In addition, a Viral condition that I brought with me into the process is also activated and between the two of them I have been losing the battle with a healthy digestive system. They have added two new medications to combat the negative side effects, IV infusion of Ganciclovir twice a day and 100 mg of Prednisone every day. This should have an immediate impact on my physical condition and I am looking forward to being able to eat an exercise normally. One of the research Doctors gave me an interesting perspective on this latest development.
The Medical Team expect and value the presence of some form of Graft VS Host Disease. It shows them that my donor's stem cells are asserting themselves in creating an entirely new immune system. They are behaving like a 4 year old who has discovered that he/she is capable of doing just about every normal daily task and is exerting an irritating level of independence. Mini-Hanna thinks it is alot of fun to mess with soft tissue masses in the digestive system. It's like playdough and it feels good in your fingers. The Medical Team's job is to play the role of the wise parent in disciplining Mini-Hanna by slapping her hands with medical treatments when she damages healthy tissues or organs. On the other hand, this aggressiveness and independent behavior by Mini-Hanna also tells them that she is exerting her initiative in seeking out any juicy looking cancer cells or small tumors which may have survived all of the previous treatments. Like squishing potato bugs on a rock in your summer garden, Mini-Hanna must find a special pleasure in mobilizing the T-Cell strike forces and unleashing them on weakened cancer cells. This is where one finds that elusive entrance into the Transplant Twilight Zone. I find myself having adult conversations with an immature immune system, much like talking with our Granddaughter, Rhona. She exhibits alot of the same behavior as Mini-Hanna, but I didn't have permission to name my immune system after her. Knowing what excellent parents Rhona has, I am confident that we can train Mini-Hanna to only use her power and strength to help Grandpa Peterson and leave the good organs alone.
IN CONVERTENDO! TRANSFORMATION!
Psalm 126 holds out the promise of restoration and regeneration: "When the Lord restored the good fortune of Zion, then we were like those who dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy. then they said among the nations, "The Lord has done great things for us, and we are glad indeed. Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses of the Negev. Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed, will gather together with joy, bringing in the sheaves." I have an unshakable confidence in the restoring grace of God. We will all go through seasons of tears and loss, but God is in the business of restoring our well being and we will come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
European Vacation, May-July, 1972
We had arranged to rent a VW campervan for about six weeks. The first couple of weeks we were to travel with student friends we had met and then we were to rendezvous with Kriss' parents in Amsterdam, The Netherlands for a month of travel. We picked up the van in Paris and all our travel companions met us there. Our first destination was L'Abri, a Christian community in the Swiss Alps outside of Geneva. Francis Schaeffer held court there and people came from all over the world to live on the grounds, work mornings for room and board and gather for meals and evening discussions about Christian theology and modern culture. Francis Schaeffer was a Christian guru who was probably overrated as a theologian, but he was a genius at communication and self-promotion. His books sold by the millions in various languages and people flocked to the Swiss Alps to find some kind of authentic spirituality and lifestyle. Believers, agnostics, seekers, hippies, Jesus-Freaks and everything in between could be found there weekly. We had both believers and sceptics in our group, but everyone was willing to fit into the routine of manual labor, communal meals and large group "rap sessions" in the evening. It was perfect weather. When we had free time in the afternoons, we might run up and down the Alps singing "The Hills are Alive, With the Sound of Music." By the time we got back to our camper in the evenings, we would stay up late having deep and meaningful conversations about faith and life. I know God used that time to touch all of our hearts and we left L'Abri and headed across Switzerland to Austria and then on to Stuttgart, Germany. We had a friend serving in the military stationed there, and we wanted to see him. We had a minor problem using some military issue diesel fuel, which wouldn't run in our van and almost got arrested for the manner in which we disposed of it. I bought an Olympic Comemerative coin celebrating the Munich Olympics which were only a couple of weeks away. Everytime I look at that coin, I have mixed feelings, remembering the terrorist attacks and subsequent deaths that would change everyone's sense of security in the world.
We got out of Germany and headed for Amsterdam. We were look''ing forward to Kriss' parents coming, particularly, since we were running out of cash. Of course their flight got delayed in Vancouver, BC and they had no way of letting us know about the changes. It was a stressful couple of days going to the Airport every day to see if their charter flight was coming. The most difficult thing was sneaking in and out of the airport WC's with no money and not getting accousted by the concierge. Fortunately, they showed up and the great Dutch Reunion would begin.
Seattle, WA 2/5/11, cloudy 42 degrees.
We are fully into the science fiction side of modern medical treatments. Results of the upper and lower GI biopsies reveal the full blown presence of Graft VS Host Disease in my "Gut". A typical condition following a half-matched transplant. In addition, a Viral condition that I brought with me into the process is also activated and between the two of them I have been losing the battle with a healthy digestive system. They have added two new medications to combat the negative side effects, IV infusion of Ganciclovir twice a day and 100 mg of Prednisone every day. This should have an immediate impact on my physical condition and I am looking forward to being able to eat an exercise normally. One of the research Doctors gave me an interesting perspective on this latest development.
The Medical Team expect and value the presence of some form of Graft VS Host Disease. It shows them that my donor's stem cells are asserting themselves in creating an entirely new immune system. They are behaving like a 4 year old who has discovered that he/she is capable of doing just about every normal daily task and is exerting an irritating level of independence. Mini-Hanna thinks it is alot of fun to mess with soft tissue masses in the digestive system. It's like playdough and it feels good in your fingers. The Medical Team's job is to play the role of the wise parent in disciplining Mini-Hanna by slapping her hands with medical treatments when she damages healthy tissues or organs. On the other hand, this aggressiveness and independent behavior by Mini-Hanna also tells them that she is exerting her initiative in seeking out any juicy looking cancer cells or small tumors which may have survived all of the previous treatments. Like squishing potato bugs on a rock in your summer garden, Mini-Hanna must find a special pleasure in mobilizing the T-Cell strike forces and unleashing them on weakened cancer cells. This is where one finds that elusive entrance into the Transplant Twilight Zone. I find myself having adult conversations with an immature immune system, much like talking with our Granddaughter, Rhona. She exhibits alot of the same behavior as Mini-Hanna, but I didn't have permission to name my immune system after her. Knowing what excellent parents Rhona has, I am confident that we can train Mini-Hanna to only use her power and strength to help Grandpa Peterson and leave the good organs alone.
IN CONVERTENDO! TRANSFORMATION!
Psalm 126 holds out the promise of restoration and regeneration: "When the Lord restored the good fortune of Zion, then we were like those who dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy. then they said among the nations, "The Lord has done great things for us, and we are glad indeed. Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses of the Negev. Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed, will gather together with joy, bringing in the sheaves." I have an unshakable confidence in the restoring grace of God. We will all go through seasons of tears and loss, but God is in the business of restoring our well being and we will come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
European Vacation, May-July, 1972
We had arranged to rent a VW campervan for about six weeks. The first couple of weeks we were to travel with student friends we had met and then we were to rendezvous with Kriss' parents in Amsterdam, The Netherlands for a month of travel. We picked up the van in Paris and all our travel companions met us there. Our first destination was L'Abri, a Christian community in the Swiss Alps outside of Geneva. Francis Schaeffer held court there and people came from all over the world to live on the grounds, work mornings for room and board and gather for meals and evening discussions about Christian theology and modern culture. Francis Schaeffer was a Christian guru who was probably overrated as a theologian, but he was a genius at communication and self-promotion. His books sold by the millions in various languages and people flocked to the Swiss Alps to find some kind of authentic spirituality and lifestyle. Believers, agnostics, seekers, hippies, Jesus-Freaks and everything in between could be found there weekly. We had both believers and sceptics in our group, but everyone was willing to fit into the routine of manual labor, communal meals and large group "rap sessions" in the evening. It was perfect weather. When we had free time in the afternoons, we might run up and down the Alps singing "The Hills are Alive, With the Sound of Music." By the time we got back to our camper in the evenings, we would stay up late having deep and meaningful conversations about faith and life. I know God used that time to touch all of our hearts and we left L'Abri and headed across Switzerland to Austria and then on to Stuttgart, Germany. We had a friend serving in the military stationed there, and we wanted to see him. We had a minor problem using some military issue diesel fuel, which wouldn't run in our van and almost got arrested for the manner in which we disposed of it. I bought an Olympic Comemerative coin celebrating the Munich Olympics which were only a couple of weeks away. Everytime I look at that coin, I have mixed feelings, remembering the terrorist attacks and subsequent deaths that would change everyone's sense of security in the world.
We got out of Germany and headed for Amsterdam. We were look''ing forward to Kriss' parents coming, particularly, since we were running out of cash. Of course their flight got delayed in Vancouver, BC and they had no way of letting us know about the changes. It was a stressful couple of days going to the Airport every day to see if their charter flight was coming. The most difficult thing was sneaking in and out of the airport WC's with no money and not getting accousted by the concierge. Fortunately, they showed up and the great Dutch Reunion would begin.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
DOMINE, NE IN FURORE! LORD, DO NOT REBUKE ME IN YOUR ANGER!
February 2, 2011, Seattle, WA 45 degrees mostly cloudy with sun breaks.
I have been living Psalm 6 this week. It is a cry of the soul for the redemption and revelation of God's presence. "Have pity on me, Lord, for I am weak; heal me, Lord, for my bones are racked. My Spirit shakes with terror; how long, O lord, how long? Turn, O Lord. and deliver me; save me for your mercy's sake....I grow weary because of my groaning; every night I drench my bed and flood my couch with tears. My eyes are wasted with grief and worn away because of all my afflictions. Depart from me, all evil, for the Lord has heard the sound of my weaping, The Lord has heard my supplication; the Lord accepts my prayer." At the tomb of Lazareth it simply says: "Jesus wept". For all time grief is given it's proper place in healthy human and spiritual behavior. Most tears are a manifestation of God's grace, my friend Frederick Buechner often says. This is one of those weeks where I have lived Psalm 6 and know God has heard the sound of my weaping and surrounds me with the strength of his loving arms. It all began last weekend when I took a turn for the worst. My digestive tract began to deterioriate into almost constant diarreah and I lost all desire for food. My energy level plummetted and it seemed we were taking several steps backward instead of forward. This is not that unusual nor unexpected, but it clearly presents some serious new potential problems. The chief of these is the onset of Graft VS Host Disease which typically attacks the "gut" or the skin. We had a consultation with the GI team this morning and they immediately scheduled me for an upper and lower GI procedure this afternoon, with biopsies and a thorough examination. We have our weekly clinical visit tomorrow, Thursday, so we hope to hear a report then and a plan of treatment.
Other sources of our grief and tears seem to be multiplied in our lives this week, as well. My next older brother, Tom, who lives near Wapato, was airlifted to Harbour View here in Seattle Sunday evening for emergency trauma care. He apparently had some form of leakage in his brain which was putting undue stress on his cerebreal cavity. We went to see him Monday morning between appointments at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. He seemed to be deteriorating and by Tuesday, his condition was being complicated with pneumonia. That meant that I would no longer be able to go visit him, due to my lack of any stable immune system. My older sister in Alaska, Ophie, flew in to Portland and drove up with one of her daughters, Jan, on Tuesday, so they are doing the daily caregiving for him. There are other life history issues which are also coming into play in his larger medical crisis which make this a life and death drama. We would covet your prayers for Tom, both physically and spiritually.
Monday, I was also informed that a close brother in our church died from cancer. Doc Brace was a special friend who was like a father to me and I was like a son to him. We had both grown up in the depths of poverty and neglect. He fought his way out of those depths, literally, as a Golden Gloves Boxing Champion in Canada who represented that nation at the highest levels of the sport. He was a complex and difficult man who brought as much pain and suffering to people, as pleasure and joy. Regardless of his and our obvious shortcomings, we grew to love each other, especially when we both were battling cancer. I can't tell you how many times we would have treatment on the same day seated next to each other at the St. Mary's Regional Cancer Center in Walla Walla. I would give anything to be able to go home and share in his Memorial Service this coming Saturday, but I will just write an eulogy for one of the staff to read in my absence.
The thing that pushed me over the top emotionally, today was meeting Ryan. Ryan was on the same elevator with Kriss and me and I couldn't help speaking to him. He is three years old, just a little younger that our granddaughter, Rhona. His hair, what there is of it looked a lot like mine and so I took off my hat to show him we had something in common. I offered to let him wear my hat, but his mother said he never wore a hat and so I let it go. His mother had such an obvious and deep love for Ryan that it just overwhelmed me. She couldn't help herself from kissing and embracing this beautiful little boy, knowing that she very likely would not have all those years to love and cherish him in this world. It is a parable to all parents to treasure the gift of each day and take nothing for granted. Putting it all together, I was an emotional wreck by the time we had to meet with the GI Medical Team and them get ready for 4 hours of procedures. The nursing staff were like angels who embraced my tears with deep understanding and encouragement. I did put my game face on when absolutely necessary, or they might have shipped me off to the mental health unit. As I write this blog, I cannot stop the tears from flowing, mostly out of the deepest gratitude for God's acceptance of my tears and His power to take those expressions of love and intervene with His grace in the lives of Tom, Doc Brace, and little Ryan. My problems seem miniscule in the light of so much suffering that surrounds me. May God sustain us all this day with mercy and hope.
APRIL-MAY, 1972, AIX-EN-PROVENCE, FRANCE
Our little flat in the center of the old city had an oven to cook with, but no refrigerator. During the months of January-March, it was cold enough that we could put perishables on the window sill, but our luck ran out in April. We surmised it was some mayonnaise that had gone bad. We had made some tuna salad for supper and then gone to bed. The next thing I remember was hearing a loud thud in the hallway. I awoke with a splitting headache, but since Kriss wasn't in bed, I knew something was very wrong. The bathrooms for the entire apartment complex housing around 50 people were one floor up or two floors down from our flat. Kriss had chosen to go up one floor and the thud I had heard was her passing out on the first flight of stairs.I managed to get to her and revive her. She was too sick to walk, so I half carried, half drug her up to the bathroom where she could relieve herself and we both just lay there, semi-conscious. It was a severe case of food poisoning, but we had no telephone, no knowledge of where to get medical help in the middle of the night and no mental acumen to make rational decisions, regardless. In about 45 minutes, we helped each other back down to our flat and tried to go back to sleep. We were up and down a couple more times during the night. I seemed to have had a lot less severe case, but Kriss was totally incapable of moving about on her own. It seems incomprehensible looking back, but I had a commitment at school that morning and so I left Kriss something to drink and eat and told her I would be back as soon as possible. She could have easily gone into shock or some other medical crisis, and no one would have ever known, until possibly too late. I cringe at the depth of our ignorance and my own irresponsibility. By the grace of God she was alive and sitting up when I returned home, but it took us a couple of days to get any strength back.
From that low point in our last few months in Provence, we finished the Academic Year with some very meaningful highlights. Every year the Institute for American Universities had a formal celebration thanking the City and the City Officials for their hospitality. One American Student was chosen to represent IAU and the American students. I was given that honor and a speech, written by the IAU Director, which I was to memorize and share in the festivities, along with a check to assist in restoration projects in the City. I didn't realize what a big deal this was. I had the speech down pat, but I didn't know that all the local newspapers had reporters present. I was the finale of the celebration and did my best. I ended the speech with the words "We thank you very much.", in English as I handed the Mayor the IAU check. In the newspaper the next day, one reporter marvelled at the rare eloquence an American student could acquire after only 9 months in their fair city. Needless to say, it was a joyful day and we were ready to start the next adventure in Europe, travelling in a VW campervan for six weeks prior to returning home in mid-July.
I have been living Psalm 6 this week. It is a cry of the soul for the redemption and revelation of God's presence. "Have pity on me, Lord, for I am weak; heal me, Lord, for my bones are racked. My Spirit shakes with terror; how long, O lord, how long? Turn, O Lord. and deliver me; save me for your mercy's sake....I grow weary because of my groaning; every night I drench my bed and flood my couch with tears. My eyes are wasted with grief and worn away because of all my afflictions. Depart from me, all evil, for the Lord has heard the sound of my weaping, The Lord has heard my supplication; the Lord accepts my prayer." At the tomb of Lazareth it simply says: "Jesus wept". For all time grief is given it's proper place in healthy human and spiritual behavior. Most tears are a manifestation of God's grace, my friend Frederick Buechner often says. This is one of those weeks where I have lived Psalm 6 and know God has heard the sound of my weaping and surrounds me with the strength of his loving arms. It all began last weekend when I took a turn for the worst. My digestive tract began to deterioriate into almost constant diarreah and I lost all desire for food. My energy level plummetted and it seemed we were taking several steps backward instead of forward. This is not that unusual nor unexpected, but it clearly presents some serious new potential problems. The chief of these is the onset of Graft VS Host Disease which typically attacks the "gut" or the skin. We had a consultation with the GI team this morning and they immediately scheduled me for an upper and lower GI procedure this afternoon, with biopsies and a thorough examination. We have our weekly clinical visit tomorrow, Thursday, so we hope to hear a report then and a plan of treatment.
Other sources of our grief and tears seem to be multiplied in our lives this week, as well. My next older brother, Tom, who lives near Wapato, was airlifted to Harbour View here in Seattle Sunday evening for emergency trauma care. He apparently had some form of leakage in his brain which was putting undue stress on his cerebreal cavity. We went to see him Monday morning between appointments at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. He seemed to be deteriorating and by Tuesday, his condition was being complicated with pneumonia. That meant that I would no longer be able to go visit him, due to my lack of any stable immune system. My older sister in Alaska, Ophie, flew in to Portland and drove up with one of her daughters, Jan, on Tuesday, so they are doing the daily caregiving for him. There are other life history issues which are also coming into play in his larger medical crisis which make this a life and death drama. We would covet your prayers for Tom, both physically and spiritually.
Monday, I was also informed that a close brother in our church died from cancer. Doc Brace was a special friend who was like a father to me and I was like a son to him. We had both grown up in the depths of poverty and neglect. He fought his way out of those depths, literally, as a Golden Gloves Boxing Champion in Canada who represented that nation at the highest levels of the sport. He was a complex and difficult man who brought as much pain and suffering to people, as pleasure and joy. Regardless of his and our obvious shortcomings, we grew to love each other, especially when we both were battling cancer. I can't tell you how many times we would have treatment on the same day seated next to each other at the St. Mary's Regional Cancer Center in Walla Walla. I would give anything to be able to go home and share in his Memorial Service this coming Saturday, but I will just write an eulogy for one of the staff to read in my absence.
The thing that pushed me over the top emotionally, today was meeting Ryan. Ryan was on the same elevator with Kriss and me and I couldn't help speaking to him. He is three years old, just a little younger that our granddaughter, Rhona. His hair, what there is of it looked a lot like mine and so I took off my hat to show him we had something in common. I offered to let him wear my hat, but his mother said he never wore a hat and so I let it go. His mother had such an obvious and deep love for Ryan that it just overwhelmed me. She couldn't help herself from kissing and embracing this beautiful little boy, knowing that she very likely would not have all those years to love and cherish him in this world. It is a parable to all parents to treasure the gift of each day and take nothing for granted. Putting it all together, I was an emotional wreck by the time we had to meet with the GI Medical Team and them get ready for 4 hours of procedures. The nursing staff were like angels who embraced my tears with deep understanding and encouragement. I did put my game face on when absolutely necessary, or they might have shipped me off to the mental health unit. As I write this blog, I cannot stop the tears from flowing, mostly out of the deepest gratitude for God's acceptance of my tears and His power to take those expressions of love and intervene with His grace in the lives of Tom, Doc Brace, and little Ryan. My problems seem miniscule in the light of so much suffering that surrounds me. May God sustain us all this day with mercy and hope.
APRIL-MAY, 1972, AIX-EN-PROVENCE, FRANCE
Our little flat in the center of the old city had an oven to cook with, but no refrigerator. During the months of January-March, it was cold enough that we could put perishables on the window sill, but our luck ran out in April. We surmised it was some mayonnaise that had gone bad. We had made some tuna salad for supper and then gone to bed. The next thing I remember was hearing a loud thud in the hallway. I awoke with a splitting headache, but since Kriss wasn't in bed, I knew something was very wrong. The bathrooms for the entire apartment complex housing around 50 people were one floor up or two floors down from our flat. Kriss had chosen to go up one floor and the thud I had heard was her passing out on the first flight of stairs.I managed to get to her and revive her. She was too sick to walk, so I half carried, half drug her up to the bathroom where she could relieve herself and we both just lay there, semi-conscious. It was a severe case of food poisoning, but we had no telephone, no knowledge of where to get medical help in the middle of the night and no mental acumen to make rational decisions, regardless. In about 45 minutes, we helped each other back down to our flat and tried to go back to sleep. We were up and down a couple more times during the night. I seemed to have had a lot less severe case, but Kriss was totally incapable of moving about on her own. It seems incomprehensible looking back, but I had a commitment at school that morning and so I left Kriss something to drink and eat and told her I would be back as soon as possible. She could have easily gone into shock or some other medical crisis, and no one would have ever known, until possibly too late. I cringe at the depth of our ignorance and my own irresponsibility. By the grace of God she was alive and sitting up when I returned home, but it took us a couple of days to get any strength back.
From that low point in our last few months in Provence, we finished the Academic Year with some very meaningful highlights. Every year the Institute for American Universities had a formal celebration thanking the City and the City Officials for their hospitality. One American Student was chosen to represent IAU and the American students. I was given that honor and a speech, written by the IAU Director, which I was to memorize and share in the festivities, along with a check to assist in restoration projects in the City. I didn't realize what a big deal this was. I had the speech down pat, but I didn't know that all the local newspapers had reporters present. I was the finale of the celebration and did my best. I ended the speech with the words "We thank you very much.", in English as I handed the Mayor the IAU check. In the newspaper the next day, one reporter marvelled at the rare eloquence an American student could acquire after only 9 months in their fair city. Needless to say, it was a joyful day and we were ready to start the next adventure in Europe, travelling in a VW campervan for six weeks prior to returning home in mid-July.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)