Our home- the foster factor

Well, February is coming to an end. Cancer treatments are ended. Life has turned a corner in our home and we are looking at a new normal. Besides the tsunami of cancer treatment that has enveloped our lives for the past 9 months, there has been the foster factor here on the riverbank. Arnel, our foster son turned 18, pulled his school marks up from from 50s and 60s to high 70s, celebrated living with us for a year and bought his first car. What a gift he has been to us, with his gentle faith, his loving care for Cindi through her treatment and his slow journey building a life in our home. Our dog Jake adores him and that's the litmus test isn't it? Our three rescued and adopted dogs Sammy, Jake and Harley have been great, albeit expensive at times what with cuts and sickness and even a Quail egg blockage in the intestines for poor Harley. They are most definitely a part of the family fabric here. We saw our first "Friendly Giant" foster dog come and go last year. Maggie was a lovely 75lb. lapdog. She was with us for a few months of fostering and now lives permanently just outside of Parry Sound on the edge of a lake with a wonderful couple. Yesterday we rescued our second "Friendly Giant" dog, an 8 year old Mastiff mix. She's probably about 15-20 pounds overweight and clocks in at about 110lbs. She's a talker and amazingly friendly. Sad story is that her owner lost his job, his disability, his home and pretty much everything and had to make the tough decision to give her up so she would be cared for. He lives out of his truck and friends basements. She would never have made it at Humane Society - probably too old to be adopted out quickly. So here we are, rounding a corner, fostering people and dogs and trying to live lives of honesty and integrity and sometimes actually getting that right. I believe that Jesus was in the business of redeeming and because we want to follow him (although that may be hard) ... Well we believe we should be in the redeeming business too. It just makes sense to my heart. So in the midst of the dog hair and teenage laundry we foster and we love it. It has proven great for the soul...Pete

The Celebration that Almost Wasn't

February 12, 2013 will always be a day to remember. The final day of treatment for breast cancer! The first steps towards freedom from daily medical appointments, parking at the hospital, long walks down crowded hallways, and cold fingers prodding and poking. Time to shed the aches and pains of active treatment and just focus on rest and recovery. And celebrating! So the plan was to complete the final treatment, check in with the family doctor at the end of her busy day, and then go home to celebrate. Dear friends were waiting to make homemade waffles as a nod towards pancake Tuesday. But while my family doctor examines me, she finds what looks like another lump in the same breast. Suddenly i am going home with a very different plan in play: another mammogram to be scheduled, along with an ultrasound - which is likely to fall in the middle of our little mini-getaway planned for next week. WOW - talk about a curve ball! So instead of going home and celebrating with my husband and friends, i have to deliver some sobering news. We had planned some serious parties: lunch with my sister, mom and niece on Wednesday. Friday leave for a weekend with friends in Parry Sound. Next week, go to Toronto to relax, unwind, visit one of our favourite haunts, the zoo. Now all of this is put on hold while we wait to hear from the doctor about when the new mammogram is scheduled... Deflated does not begin to cover it. Fast forward to this morning: our neighbour, herself a breast cancer survivor, hears the update. Another lump, with ominous possibilities. So she makes a few calls and suddenly i have a mammogram and ultrasound scheduled for THis AFTERNOON! it is a whirlwind, but we leave the hospital with good news: nothing suspicious at first glance. Looks like scar tissue, or perhaps something fibrous, but not anything to worry about. Nothing out of the ordinary. Music to my ears! The celebrations are back on, and there is no lingering cloud of worry hanging over us. THANK YOU DEAR NEiGHBOUR - you know who you are!!! Recovering from cancer means living a "new normal." i think this experience was our first step into this new reality. Pete asked me today if this was always going to happen when our doctors and oncologists found a suspicious lump. The answer to that is yes - now that i have survived cancer, the medical community will always act in the interest of caution. That is part of the "new normal" for us. i am thankful to have such a thorough doctor! i am also thankful to be surrounded by friends and family who are so quick to respond to our cries for help and prayer. Another friend in Nicaragua sent me the following verse that has helped her breathe in difficult moments: Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next. Amen. --Reinhold Niebuhr

i went to see the chemo oncologist yesterday for a follow up. My mouth is almost completely healed, and i am well on my way to eating a more varied diet. Good news! As for my hands & feet: i have developed something called "peripheral neuropathy." This is a common side effect of the specific chemo drugs used in my treatment. Lots of people experience it, and it often interferes with the chemo regimen. Sometimes it gets so bad, that doctors have to adjust the chemo or stop treatment completely so that no more damage is incurred. Once again, i managed to get lucky in that the neuropathy began after the final treatment. So i was able to get the full dose of chemo, which is important in fighting the cancer. i am grateful for that. Peripheral neuropathy involves the nerves in the hands and feet, causing tingling, burning and pain. i am clumsy, and sometimes drop things. Depending on the task, it can be a challenge to get it done - zippers, buttons, turning the page on a book take a little more time and effort. My feet are sore and tender at best; at worst there is pain in my heels and toes. Thus my gait is different, as my body tries to compensate and find the least painful way to move. Someone asked yesterday if i can walk at all. Yes i can, but not for long periods, and standing in one place for a period of time is very difficult. So i am able to do tasks that do not involve long periods of standing or walking very far. it is a matter of learning to adjust my activities as much as possible. For example, i can continue my regimen at the gym, because the workout routine involves more sitting and lying down than it does standing. However the elliptical at home is off limits until my feet heal up. :( As for a recovery timeline: the oncologist advised me to "think months, not days." She told me the very worst case she saw took a year to heal. i kinda knew from my own research that time is the only thing that will bring healing - these nerves have to regenerate themselves and so that means i need to be patient with this recovery. in the meantime, my medication has been tripled in order to dull the discomfort. The drawback is that it will make me feel drowsy which, coupled with the increasing fatigue from the radiation treatment, will probably put me back in the comfy chairs with Sam for a few weeks again. Sam continues to be a constant companion, and has taken to following me around the house as i hobble from room to room, dealing with daily tasks. He curls up by my feet when i am on the computer, laying on a blanket. i know he prefers sharing the chair with me though so he will be happy when i retreat once more to the comfort of the living room and stay put with him! So the journey continues, with all its ups and downs.

A dear friend sent me some encouragement the other day, in the form of this Scripture from Psalm 18: "As for God, his way is perfect: The Lord’s word is flawless; he shields all who take refuge in him. For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; he causes me to stand on the heights." (v. 30-33). Pete and i are trusting God to continue his healing, invisibly reworking my body cell by cell. i love the imagery in these verses: as i limp along through the upcoming months, i rest in the knowledge that with time i will definitely stand up, strong and healthy.

The Journey

Well January has come to an end and time ticks on. Yesterday was a low day and those come and go regularly. Last night just before bed Cindi heaved a big sigh and said, "I am so ready for this to be done". It gently breaks my heart to hear those words and to realize that the journey is not over yet and we still have a way to go.

But ... there is talk of the future in our house. We had a dinner out last night - the first in a long time - and it was nice to have a steak and a gentle conversation about "tomorrow" with my wife. Last weekend we had our grandchildren stay overnight for the first time and it was absolutely restorative in so many ways. Their parents ended up a bit stranded on a road trip and we were able to send help their way. We enjoy supporting 2 little waifs who live in a Nicaragua community where I devote some of my spare time yearly. We are helping our pseudo adopted son get his first car on the road and all of these things make us feel alive and engaged. These are the chapters of the journey that breathe life and hope into the mess. Can't believe the toll this has taken on Cindi's body and energy. Can't believe the toll it's taken on both of our hearts. This journey has tested our metal and in many ways has found us lacking but ... There is the love of our friends and family and the love of our God and that is enough to take the next step. What will tomorrow hold? Well, (with a deep sigh) I believe it will hold more of tha same and frankly, we are prepared for it.

This whole process has given us a new perspective of things around us for sure. Friends who are living elsewhere are missed more. Family who we may have taken for granted have become more precious. Setbacks are felt in deeper and more real ways. Life that is somewhat frivolous has been put in an honest perspective. This has been an opportunity to measure the worth of who we are, what we do, who we live beside and the God who holds our hand. We feel tired but blessed. We feel a deep need to pause and make sure we are really getting what we are being taught through this. This is a story and although we are not writing it, it is ours and we want to be able to tell it well, with integrity and honesty and to honour Him. So...on with the day...Pete

Down to the Nitty Gritty Today is one of those days. Nothing seems easy, not even finding keys or getting cars on the road this morning! We are feeling the strain of this journey very keenly in the last few weeks. Perhaps it is because both i am impatient to move forward in my recovery. it is difficult to have to wait for so many things to sort themselves out. Physically i am moving forward, yes, but it is SLOW GOING and at times follows a pattern of one step forward, two steps back. There is damage in my system from chemo that lingers, making my bones achy and joints sore. The worst is the pain in my feet, which hinders my walking. i can get around, but often at a slow pace, or a downright shuffle if i have been on my feet too much. Last week the folks at the gym slowed down my workout plans here at home, concerned that i might be pushing my heart too hard. So I was banned from the elliptical for a few weeks until my system strengthens. Not a happy conversation, but i have not touched the home gym since. And then there are the daily trips to the hospital. Believe me it is humbling to walk so slowly and gingerly down the hospital corridors, and watch seniors with canes pass me. Really? Sigh. So i look for the green shoots of recovery to encourage me. My hair continues to come back, but it is much more silver than when it left. Hmmm. Kinda indicative of the strain this journey has been both physically and emotionally. My husband, bless his heart, shares so much of this anxiety. He told a dear friend the other day that he is "sick and tired of seeing his wife sick and tired." in some ways, i think this has been harder on Pete. The rest of my life shut down so i could focus on my medical concerns, giving me more space to get through this. But for him, nothing else shifted: he still goes to work each day, trying to cope with the day-to-day demands of ministry, maintaining all those relationships, managing details, supporting staff, parents and students. And then there are the simple realities of home where his wife just... can't. So he picks up that slack too. All very willingly. All with good humour and a loving spirit. But as he does all this, there is the constant drain on his spirit and his heart. There is not much margin in his life these days, and that takes a toll. As we pray, and trust God, we are still oh-so-aware of our humanness. We are frail and inadequate to this task! So as we walk this pathway, we both get weary. We are indeed fragile "jars of clay" and "hard pressed on every side." We are "perplexed" sometimes at the whys of this experience... and yet choose to live by faith that we will be neither "crushed" nor left in " despair." This morning i am taking a deep breath, and reaffirming that Pete and will not be "abandoned... struck down..." or "destroyed" by this experience of cancer. (2 Cor. 4:7-9).

One month after chemotherapy and... ... I have begun to grow "peach fuzz" on my head. It is like fine baby hair that is standing up on end - and it is WHITE (uh oh). Really hoping my dark hair will wake up soon and make an appearance. (Pete keeps asking me why I am concerned about this - "What's wrong with white hair?"he wants to know). Perhaps a few of you ladies could explain it to him. ...I have developed neuropathy in my hands and feet. This is nerve damage from the chemotherapy, and it is like a constant tingling/burning sensation. My feet in particular are affected, and quite sensitive and painful if I am on them too much. I am not able to go stocking foot, and have to have a good pair of running shoes on all the time, to give my feet support. There is no treatment for this, just painkillers to make life a bit easier. I am told this will fade over time as my nerves begin to regenerate themselves, but there is no set timetable for this healing, either. So a bit of patience is required on my part. In the meantime, I move slowly and hobble around like an old woman sometimes, but it does feel good to begin to MOVE again even if my feet are sore. ...my energy is coming back, and I can be more active. It's so great to not be chained to the chair in the living room anymore. (Sam disagrees with this, of course.) It will take time before I can say I am back to full speed, as the fatigue is hard to shake off. But it's getting better, and that is wonderful. ...I begin radiation therapy shortly - as in this week! Radiation involves 4 weeks of daily 30 minute hospital visits. Side effects involve increasing levels of fatigue, and perhaps a bit of sore skin. Folks who have undergone this therapy tell me it is much easier to manage than chemo, which is good news indeed. Pete and I continue to be blessed and humbled by the continuing love and support of family, friends and our church community. The hardships and challenges of this journey have been softened by the outpouring of encouragement, prayers and visits. This has made our experience with cancer richer, and a reminder that we do not walk this difficult pathway alone. Thank you so much for joining us and supporting us. The result, as you can see, is that we can still experience joy and laughter in the midst of the mess (as the picture demonstrates).

As we head into the next phase of treatment, both Pete and I can agree with the psalmist when he declares the following: Praise be to the Lord, for he has heard my cry for mercy. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him. (Psalm 28:6-7)

Well, here we are: Dec. 27, almost two weeks since my last chemo treatment. I have been fielding one question a lot: "Are you feeling better?" The answer to that is yes and no. I can't describe to you the enormous relief I feel at finishing the chemo regimen. What a fantastic Christmas gift! That in itself is a huge boost. Physically, though, I still have a long road to recovery. The chemicals should be out of my system completely by mid-January. But the reality is that each treatment left behind a lot of damage. So my body still needs time to recuperate after 4 months of constant attack. Right now, I am still dealing with symptoms from the last chemo treatment - tingling in my hands and feet, and some numbness. I have a bit of bone pain, and there is still some infection in my mouth. (Although this is improving slowly). And the fatigue slows me down on most days. I am told that full recovery from cancer treatment takes anywhere from 6 - 12 months after one is finished treatment. Barring any complications, I will complete radiation therapy in February, and then take a few months to get back on my feet fully. In the midst of all this, I can't help but be grateful for the love and support of family and friends... We have had a great Christmas - one of the best because this year has truly been about cherishing people and time spent together. I celebrate the idea of "Emmanuel" - God with us - because each of us face challenges in life, and some of them do not disappear over the holidays. But even so, isn't it wonderful to consider that God is among us in all that messiness, sharing our struggles, and working in our midst in spite of them? That is my great celebration this holiday season. The road ahead to recovery may be long and have a few bumps along the way. But I am not walking it alone: "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." And, as always, I have my faithful sidekick, Sam, who tags along each day. (Looks like he is quite stressed by this whole thing, doesn't it?!)