Tag Archives: PC

Expect the unexpected

Expect the unexpected

My shower was quick but I allowed the warm water to stream down slowly rinsing the suds from my hair. Just two appointments today, a routine blood workup, probably a couple of vials for Guardant for the cancer study and then the usual Complete Blood Count and Extended Metabolic/Electrolyte panel. Then consult with my oncologist Dr. Hani Babiker to discuss the results of Friday’s CT and MRI. Tommy and I should be eating breakfast by 10:30AM. Tomorrow was the big day, an Electrocardiogram and then our first meeting with Dr. Stauffer, the surgeon who would perform my “out of the box” surgery to remove my tumor and clean up some other questionable’s deep within my stomach area on August 17th, just nine days from today.

The bloodwork results came in in record time and as I reviewed the results in my portal only one value stood out….white blood cell count was 4.1. It had never been that high before. In fact, three weeks ago it was 1.2 and below the mid range. Oh well, everything else looked ok to me.

Dr. Babiker entered the room and after hello’s were exchanged he pulled his chair close to the sofa where Tommy and I sat. He told me he was sorry I had been feeling weak and tired. (Tommy had shared this information with him via text a few days before.) And, I am also sorry to tell you this is most likely the result of the spreading cancer. He referred to the CT and MRI reports as showing no reduction in the size of the tumor in my pancreas and even a slight growth of the lung tumors, but more concerning was the addition of more leisons on and near the liver.

He shared that surgery was no longer an option.

This news took both of us by complete surprise. He further explained it would be a difficult surgery that would require five to six weeks of healing for a healthy person. There was no way to know how far the cancer had spread and to endure this kind of surgery and then not have a good outcome, it just would not be wise.

He was thinking aloud as he offered options of chemotherapy and immunotherapy and even attempt to create a vaccine from my own cells to fight off the cancer. But, that would take time. I didn’t have to decide today, but I would need to decide soon.

As I write this I am filled with disappointment, but, also gratitude. As my Joseph sat beside me and tried to verbally confirm what we were both hearing the doctor say, his voice quivered. He needed to understand precisely what was happening so he could report to our children the complete and utter reality. I am thankful to have walked beside this godly man for 39 of my years on the earth.

He walked me to my car and hugged me before I got into the car. It was certainly not the news we expected today yet we both know God is in complete control. We drove directly to church and prayed, cried and laughed as we sat in the empty church we both agreed was the place we had always come to celebrate, to mourn, to seek answers and to praise.

No matter what is ahead we can handle it because we believe in a God who has shown us repeatedly miracle after miracle and grace upon grace with each new day.

Today I pray for discernment. For God to guide me to make the best decision. I pray for an answer.

Thinking outside the box – UPDATE

Thinking outside the box – UPDATE
Fourth of July fun at Z-Farm

The past few weeks have been an emotional roller coaster ride for my family, friends and me. Confirming that the malignant adenocarcinoma had returned to the head of my reconstructed pancreas and having my oncologist tell us without treatment we have just months would send any human being to a deep dark place.

Having survived the absolute most fatal cancer for eight years has truly been a miracle thanks to God, you my prayer warriors, my fantastic medical team of primary care doc, surgeons, radiologists, gastroenterologists, radiologists, oncologists and the PA’s and nurses who assist them at Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL.

But, realistically, we always knew there would be a day when the cancer would take over.

For a time we placed our complete trust in a non-approved trial drug Herceptin Hylecta (trastuzumab and hyaluronidase-ovsk) recently used as immunotherapy treatment for early breast cancer in HER2 positive patients, with great success I might add. Tests were run to determine the DNA of my tumor and provide the best possible match for the gene therapy. The prayer was that I might be the first pancreas cancer patient to receive the treatment…and that it would destroy the cells. That was truly our only hope.

When we asked if surgery could be performed to remove the tumor, the answer was no, there has not been success in the past with patients with similar medical situations. So truly our only hope was in the trial drug. So, we began the infusions.

Entering the chemo suites that familiar smell and feeling rushed over me like a bad dream. But, I knew this treatment would be different. My oncologist told me I would not lose my hair, I would not experience nausea but would possibly have a rash. A rash? I could surely handle that. But, it was just returning to this place I had avoided for two years, that sick feeling returned. I was happy to see a familiar face, a nurse who sat with me the entire infusion watching for adverse reaction but more importantly, chatting in light conversation.

As the test reports came in my case was presented by my oncologist to the Thursday tumor board, a group of up to eighteen Mayo docs from different departments. (Get a second opinion? Why when you have eighteen of the finest doctors in the world collaborating over your MRi’s, scans, blood work and pathology reports.)

One of the surgeons attending that day probably said, “Oh this is Judi, I am familiar with her case. She is the one who defies all of the norms with her PC.” But most importantly, he thought he had a solution. He presented his ideas to the board and they all agreed.

Shortly after the meeting my oncologist phoned. His excitement came right thru the phone as he explained what the surgeon was proposing. He told me surgery was being offered to me and to expect a call from Dr. Stauffer.

When Dr. Stauffer called I listened intently to his plan. He began by stating, “Judi, we need to think outside of the box with you.” He explained they would like to surgically remove the tumor, a suspicious lymph node behind the mesenteric artery as well as a lesion that had shown up for years on my liver, but had not grown in size in any of my scans. He said, if you agree to the surgery, I believe it can work.

My reaction was, “What have I got to lose?” He replied, “You have nothing to lose and life to gain.”

I have received two infusions to date and am scheduled for a third in early August. Scans and tests will be reviewed to check results of the infusions and to be used in the open surgery that will be performed August 17th.

Many of you are praying for me and as you have heard me say in the past, I truly believe this is the explanation I have for my survival. God is listening to your payers, and granting them. For this we are eternally grateful. So, again, I am asking for your prayers for the doctors and nurses on my care team to receive what they need to have a successful surgery. Again, not just for me but to make surgery a possibility for other PC warriors with resectable tumors.

Thankful for all of my prayer warriors and thankful for a surgeon who is willing to think outside the box.

Waiting for the shoe to drop…

Waiting for the shoe to drop…

October 15th, 2019 was the last time I had a Gemzar Abraxane infusion (chemo therapy) for my pancreas cancer that had metastasized to my lungs. The decision to stop treatment was one I made prayerfully and on my own. As a six year survivor of a lethal cancer with a five year survival rate of single digits, this was a bold move.

My Mayo oncologist, Dr. Mody’s reaction to my decision was surprisingly positive. Last fall I was feeling the effects of prolonged treatment and could actually taste, smell and feel the chemo that had been a part of my life since July 2017 when it was discovered the cancer had moved to my lungs. But, I had become so fatigued and ill, he agreed I needed a break. The holidays were approaching and I wanted to be able to enjoy every moment with my family and most of all my grandchildren who asked when they walked into the house, “Mia, are you in bed today?”

In January of 2018, a CT scan revealed one of my numerous lung spots had doubled in size. It was recommended that chemo be administered every two weeks. So, for as many months I had endured the treatment that would produce flu like symptoms days after and keep me weakened and nauseous.

In mid October of 2019, I contracted an intestinal virus somehow that caused me extreme vomiting and diarrhea and landed me in the hospital for five days. However, the nausea continued after the virus subsided.

The oncologist described my condition beyond the virus as nausea brought on by prolonged chemotherapy…something in my head!

If you follow my blog you know I am a faith filled person. I consider myself to be strong and able to handle discomfort pretty well. While I know the dire statistics that come with this diagnosis, I face life with confidence that God is in control. He determines when He will call me home, not the doctors who treat me with the science He has given them.

I believe He has work for me to do to increase awareness and fight for much needed research that will one day find an early detection for this cancer that kills nearly 20% of us diagnosed within one year.

In the last six years my husband, family, doctors and close friends have supported me unconditionally. They have provided the care I need, whatever it might be, along each set back. God and they have seen me thru some very difficult times.

But, this cancer, that I now look at as a blessing in our lives, has given us so many positive changes. It has brought our family closer to God, closer to one another and also empowered us to start a foundation to fund important research that will result in a simple test that could be administered to patients presenting with family history, predisposition or early symptoms that have been dismissed in the past as other less serious digestive issues.

Every six to eight weeks I go to Mayo for scans and bloodwork to determine the status of my cancer. It is always a time of anxiety and concern as the date approaches. However, I have learned to listen to my body and believe that while I am feeling as good as I can, the cancer must still be at bay.

The last three scans have reported as “stable”. This means that the 13 spots in my lungs, while still evident and growing very slowly, are not at this moment out of control.

I chose to carry on and take in each breath enjoying my family and friends in gratitude for the life we have been blessed with so abundantly until the day …

…the shoe drops.

HOPE

HOPE

Today our family celebrates the six year anniversary of my diagnosis of pancreas cancer. With a five year survival rate of just nine percent, I stand in amazement that I am still here. In the past six weeks the world has faced the possibility of losing life. Are you celebrating each day or are you gripped with fear that you could be touched by this global pandemic? Let me tell you, the one thing that has sustained us over our journey with pancreas cancer…HOPE.

Hope comes in many forms. It may come in the birth of a child, the positive report the doctor delivers, or the simplest of things…a freshly budding flower reaching for the sun.

We have a choice every day to have hope or be gripped in fear. It is proven that our emotional state effects us physically. While there are many things out of our control, we can control our minds. I choose to have hope.

Even in the direst of situations, we can find reason to have hope. My diagnosis six years ago lifted a haze from my eyes. What appeared to be the worst news possible has become a blessing to me and to my family. We approach each day with gratitude and a new appreciation for life.

Thanking God every moment of each day for the gift of life He has graced me with. It all comes from Him.

“For I know the plans I have for you.” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11.

Who can I talk to?

Who can I talk to?
Psalm 91 gives me peace
My bible and my journal help me fight this beast pancreas cancer

I have a journal with information about people who have been referred to me with pancreas cancer. I keep just a few sentences about them and where they are in their diagnosis. They come from anywhere…friends around the country, family who have googled “PC” and landed at my blog. Mayo docs have asked me if they can send me newly diagnosed patients. They all have terror in their voices. I believe it is what God wants me to do and maybe even why I am still here nearly six years from the day I was exactly where they are.

You see, I didn’t have anyone but my family to help me in those early days. Of course I had my doctors, but they couldn’t help me with the fear I felt. I wanted to speak to someone who was in the battle. That is the impetus for bringing my story to others.

Faith played an enormous part in this journey. It is the first question I ask a new fellow warrior. Quite frankly, I don’t think I could have made it this far without my trust in God. Finding strength in His word, we journey on stronger and confident that no matter what, in the end we all win. We go home to Him and have no more fear, no more pain.

The pages of my journal are filled with small paragraphs. Some of them are highlighted with a marker indicating they have earned their purple wings, as we say.

Today, I added another name to my journal. A 62 year man who is expecting another grand child in June. He was given 9 to 11 months to live just yesterday. Stage 4 pancreas cancer. He is desperate for hope, for anyone who will erase that death sentence. As I spoke with him I assured him I would do all I could to help him by connecting him with doctors who saved my life. Yet, the most important thing I can do for him is to pray for him. He immediately felt our bond. And, I pray he received just a glimmer of hope from a previous day that turned his world upside down.

Last week, due to Covid-19, we were forced to cancel our fundraising event, Champions for Hope that was to take place in early June. This event enables us to fund three promising research projects seeking early detection for this deadly cancer with a five year survival rate of just 9%.

While I wonder how God will provide, I trust He will. I trust because I know this work is ordained. He will bring us others whom we may have never met to carry on His work.

We can’t wait to see the silver lining that will emerge from this enormous black cloud that hangs over the earth today. But, for this moment in time, I will continue to be led by His prompting.

Prayers will be answered, of that I am absolutely positive because that is His promise.

Scan Update

Scan Update
Scan Update

The holidays were really wonderful this year after taking a much needed three month break from chemo treatments. My last infusion was October 15th and the immediate reaction was extremely difficult. I began to have nausea and digestive issues, chill and fever that afternoon. Two days later I visited the ER for fluids and to attempt to stop the symptoms that were continuing. I was admitted and remained in semi-isolation for five days.

After many blood tests and digestive scans it was determined I had contracted some sort of viral infection. Liver enzymes were spiraling in the wrong direction and I was weak and losing weight.

Several IV antibiotics were prescribed and in a few days, as soon as the liver enzymes began the slow return, and the nausea and such stopped, they sent me home.

To say I was dreading the two week appointment for my next chemo treatment was no exaggeration. But, I headed to Mayo for bloodwork and my oncology appointment. As soon as Dr. Mody entered the consultation room I announced I was going to take a break from my treatments.

His reaction was welcomed. “Good”, he said, agreeing with my unusual non-compliance. “Let’s take a break till mid January and see what we need to do after a CT scan.”

We left his office in high spirits and Tom began to make holiday plans for a trip to NYC and our annual Christmas Eve Open House. I was ecstatic.

We filled the next three months with family fun, parties, trips and dinners. Within a few weeks, I was back to feeling almost normal. Well, better than I had in many months.

I tucked my fears deep and partied on, knowing full well I would have to face the CT scan in January and whatever results it would declare, I would have to accept.

Laying on the table during the scan I prayed that whatever God’s will for me would be, we would handle it. I have the best doctors in the field of oncology to lead me and several treatment plans both conventional and even a little experimental to choose from. But, I knew we would handle the news no matter what it was just as we always had with courage and strength found solely in our faith in God.

My blood work looked good, well better then it had, we only needed now to hear what Dr. Mody would reveal.

My son Scott and daughter Lindsay accompanied me to the appointment as Tommy, my Jospeh was unable to attend. He texted to let him know the results immediately. It was great to have them with me.

As Dr. Mody entered the room I felt a rush of worry. He rushed thru the “hello’s” and as his eyes met mine he said, ” The scan was stable. Everything looks the same.” My eyes filled with tears of joy and the kids both joined in my elation. Dr. Mody suggested we go two months before another scan and no chemo treatments.

Had I continued my treatments I would not have been able to make the sweet memories our family and friends shared during this holiday season. I was once again thankful to God who had lead me to this bold decision.

Prayer is powerful. Family, friends, everyone was praying for me. I knew by the texts and phone calls I received they were lifting me up.

My Jospeh and I count our life in increments of weeks and months, choosing to be grateful for even the days we are able to be together. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone lived this way? After all, none of us are promised tomorrow.

Thanking God for His favor and for my family and friends who battle with me every step of this journey.

I tucked my fears deep and partied on, knowing full well I would have to face the CT scan in January and whatever results it would declare, I would have to accept.

I choose to believe God…

I choose to believe God…

They say that pancreas cancer tumors rarely disappear with chemo. Usually the best you can ask for is a stable scan where no new tumors develop and the ones you have don’t show any significant growth. Well, the two images above are a comparison from six weeks ago to yesterday after I completed my chemotherapy regimen of Abraxane and Gemcitabine. The 2.5cm tumor on the right is ALMOST gone.

My oncologist, Dr. Mody did not perform a biopsy on the tumor to determine unequivocally it was pancreas cancer. The pathology reports from the lung resections had confirmed pancreas cancer mets, but some of the tumors may have been benign. We will never confirm scientifically that this tumor was or was not of pancreas cancer origin. But, we do know it almost disappeared thanks to the chemo treatment.

I believe that God heard the prayers of you, His faithful servants. I believe He has more work for me to do. I believe I have been given more time, and I plan to use it to honor and glorify Him every single day.

In two weeks I will begin another chemo treatment plan to hopefully take care of the rest of that tumor. I am so thankful for your positive thoughts and prayers.

They are working.

When prayers are offered…

When prayers are offered…

Patty slipped the note containing a prayer for healing between the rocks of the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem today. When she had a moment, she sent me a message to tell me what she had done and this photo to prove it.

What a powerful message my friend sent me. The blessing of a prayer mumbled in near silence as she pressed closer into the crowd to reach the wall. She had promised to pray for me in a card she mailed before she left…and she was following through.

If you have followed this journey with me for very long you know I believe in miracles and I believe in the power of prayer. I completely believe the only reason I am here four years and four months since my pancreas cancer diagnosis is thru the intercession of prayers offered up for me.

Sometimes I wonder when I tell someone I will pray for them if they truly believe I will do it. Am I just saying something because I don’t know what else to say about the trial they are faced with? This promise is a huge responsibility in my view. The reason is….I know that if God hears the prayers of all of us…He will answer them. It might not be in our time, it might not be in the way we thought He should do it….but He does answer.

My niece told me last week she and her family pray for healing for me every night. I can picture four little boys in the pajamas and wet heads kneeling beside their beds with hands pressed. She asked me what I wanted her to pray for me. I told her to please pray for God’s will for us and for His peace and strength to face whatever His will would be. That we could glorify Him in our acceptance and be an example of what having a relationship with Our Lord Jesus Christ looks like. An example that would stir the question deep within them…how do I find that kind of strength?

There are many friends, family and others that are praying for us. Not one day passes that someone doesn’t share with Tommy or me in conversation or by email. We are humbled and thankful. Thank you Patty.

If you feel a tug at your soul to say a prayer for someone you know could use it..please do so. And, watch to see how the answer unfolds. There is a power in this simple act that can move mountains. I promise you.

I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call on Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:11-13

Wailing Wall -Jerusalem

When God answered….

When God answered….

There are several nodules in my lungs that my medical team have been keeping an eye on for over a year. They say the sophistication of equipment used in chest CT scans has improved so much that if they were to scan everyone, chances are pretty good they would find nodules in a good percentage. But, they preface this by adding, of course, they are not pancreas cancer patients.

The horrible thing about pancreas cancer is the seamless way it slips into cells in other major organs. There is a river of sorts with tiny tributaries that runs thru the pancreas sending enzymes to your digestive system and ultimately throughout your body. These enzymes are necessary for the body to absorb valuable nutrients our body needs to thrive. The pancreas also produces insulin important to maintaining sugar levels that support many other systems throughout our bodies. While it is a pretty important organ, you actually can live without a pancreas with the help of digestive enzymes and insulin that can be prescribed. (Disclaimer alert….I am not a doctor, and forgive me if I have misspoken, but this is how it was explained to me.)

For over three years there were no significant changes in my three month CT scans that are on the hunt for new masses, lit up lymph nodes and who knows what else. But, suddenly, one of the lung nodules they had watched for over a year seemed to solidify and grow from what is described as “ground glass” with no real form to a one centimeter spot. This was the size docs had told me it would have to reach before we could do a biopsy. After my team of doctors reviewed the suspect nodule, they agreed a needle biopsy should be ordered.

The out-patient procedure was scheduled and we were given instructions and of course the precautionary worse case scenarios that could occur. About 15% of patients undergoing a needle biopsy of the lung will experience deflation of the lung which is painful and you will be required to spend the night in the hospital while the lung is re-inflated. The worst part of the procedure was supposed to be numbing the area. Tommy and I agreed we had already beaten so many odds since our original diagnosis of PC that surely we could beat this too.

Doctors explained that there were three possibilities. 1) Inflammation causing enlargement of the node. 2) Lung cancer or 3) Metastatic pancreas cancer. While it seems odd to pray for lung cancer, we actually did. It would have been early stage lung cancer with a relatively high rate of cure. Option number three was not discussed in detail because we all knew that would change my staging to a four with lung being one of our major organs and a recurrence to battle once again. But of course we hoped it was just inflammation.

The day of the appointment came. We have a ritual prayer Tom prays as we make the left turn into Mayo campus. He grabs my hand and prays aloud to God to give us courage to believe He will bring us through this day and provide us with the strength we all need as a family to face whatever His will is for us. I told Tommy I would be going under Jesus’ wing feathers, Psalm 91 just as I did for every frightening procedure before. Power port access and blood draw began at seven AM. We registered and made our way to the second floor staging area. I was taken back to be prepared and shortly after Tommy joined me in the curtained waiting area bay #16.

There would be no sedation for this procedure explained the doctor. They needed me to be completely awake. I had to help with important breathing techniques that would enable them to penetrate that small nodule that was like a moving target inside my lung. The heart is beating and the diaphragm is working, so no drug that might deplete the lungs air capacity could be administered. The area would be numbed with Lidocaine which would be a sharp prick and then burning as the numbing took over. They said I should feel just a small amount of pressure when the actual biopsy was taken, a punch sound and then a little pressure. I was ready to go.

A young Asian male nurse wheeled me back to the CT room and asked me to transfer to the bed for the scan. Several nurses and technicians were in the room preparing whatever it was they were responsible for. They assured me the nurse would be there just to attend to me. The rest of them would be doing their jobs. They asked me to lay on my stomach and laid my head on a pillow facing the glass window to the adjacent office where more techs seemed to be discussing what they saw on the monitor. I was fairly relaxed and ready to have this part of the ordeal over with. The doctor entered the room and told me my job was a series of breaths that would help them to capture the tissue they needed. But, if I experienced any pain to let them know immediately. I told them I had a pretty high pain tolerance so I would be able to do whatever they needed me to do.

Suddenly they were prepping my back shoulder blade with betadine solution. Next came the Lidocaine shot…”Here you will feel a big pinch and then burning” , said the doctor. He was not kidding. It seemed like he gave me several injections of the numbing medication as I felt the burning subside leaving just some pressure. I would not have moved if I had to. This was serious. It was explained to me that it was just like piercing a balloon with a needle. They didn’t want that balloon to burst.

It seemed like I completed a thousand trips into the CT machine and requests to “take a short breath in, hold it, now breath.” as the doctor guided his scope aiming for that small moving target …the center of the nodule. He stopped for additional Lidocaine and instruction from the attending physician, eyes were glued to the monitor. Finally the other doctor took over and at long last…success. They quickly took two needle biopsy’s and removed the prob from my back. “It’s all over” she said. “We got two good tissue samples. Now lay completely still so we can check to make sure the hole we just put into your lung closes as it should. If you feel any pain, let us know.” She moved quickly to the office and I could see them in the window glued to the monitor.

Alone in the room I laid face down on the bed not moving a muscle. Suddenly I felt a huge cramping in my left lung around what I suspected to be my heart. I cringed and waited to see if it would pass. I seemed to move outward from the core and then engulf my entire lung. I couldn’t take a breath and I feared I might run out of breath.

A nurse entered the room asking if I was doing okay. I told them what was happening and suddenly the room filled. “Your vitals are fine, the scan shows the hole is closing just as it should be. You are going to be fine. Let’s move you.”

I didn’t want to move or to be touched. “Please just give me a minute.” I gasped.

But suddenly they were grabbing the sheet that I laid on and sliding me over to the gurney and moving me on my side. The pain was almost unbearable. The gurney began to move taking me out of the CT room and down the hall to the recovery area I had left just an hour before.

My sweet friend Kelly Winer lights a candle at beautiful Cathedral de San Juan


The doctor explained to Tommy and my son Scott who had just arrived, the procedure had gone really well and they would be giving me pain medication, Dilaudid, into my port and that should stop the cramping once I relaxed. It took two doses to dull the pain. I felt like a feather drifting through the room. The cramping continued but it allowed me to breath. Tommy held my hand telling me to breath through my nose and slowly let it out. I held his hand tightly and followed his prompting. We remained in the room for an another hour under observation and finally given the all clear to go home. We should have the results of the biopsy by Tuesday afternoon.

While the procedure was difficult it could not compare to the anxiety of awaiting a phone call to tell you if you are facing another life threatening cancer diagnosis. And, the anxiety touched not only Tommy and I, but our entire family and close friends too.

Would be have to put our plans on hold for trips during the holidays? Would I have hair for a Christmas card photo? Would I be strong enough to decorate, buy gifts and entertain? These thoughts ran through my mind the entire weekend.

Tommy and I attended evening mass a few days before the biopsy procedure and Msgr. administered the sacrament anointing of the sick. We had asked for prayer from my bible study groups and close friends we knew we could count on. Everyone was eager to get on their knees once again.

Family and friends gathered at our home most of the weekend. When Monday arrived we both jumped each time the phone rang. We didn’t sleep well and I had a throbbing headache most of the time, unusual for me. Finally it was Tuesday. Tommy didn’t know if he should go to work or not. He wanted to be the one to take the phone call. He stayed close to me all day.

The clock struck 6 on Tuesday evening and we were pretty sure we would not get a call so late. We tried to sleep to the gentle ping of our cell phones as text messages came in from family wondering if we had gotten any news. Every text and email told of more who were praying for good results.

When we arose on Wednesday morning Tommy made a pot of coffee and we read the paper together. Finally he asked me if we should call the doctor or just show up at his office? Suddenly the phone rang and it was a Mayo Clinic number. Tommy sprang from his chair grabbing my phone and made his way to our bedroom. I stood looking out of the kitchen window praying to God and thanking Him for our many blessings.

The call didn’t take long but I strained to hear any response Tommy was making. I couldn’t hear anything. He came to the kitchen and asked me to join him in the bedroom. We kneeled down next to the bed and he began to pray.

“God, we don’t understand how you continue to shower us with your blessing and grace. We are so thankful for this report of no cancer this morning……” I barely heard the rest of the prayer. We both sobbed and embraced.

God had heard the prayers. His plan was in place long before we were even born. It is all about Him truthfully. But I still believe He must have heard all of those voices asking for His favor. He must have figured, this lady needs to stay awhile longer. She has more work to be done. This was a time we all prayed and He answered.

Thank you Jesus.

The rest of the day I walked thru the house feeling like a bright yellow sunflower standing tall and swaying in the sunshine of a Tuscan field, thankful for my faith, for my husband and my family and for my prayerful friends.

A battle and a blessing

A battle and a blessing

Mayo Clinic Jacksonville - March 28th, 2016 Hernia repair Surgery Dr. Asbun

Mayo Clinic Jacksonville – March 28th, 2016 Hernia repair Surgery Dr. Asbun

Am I battling for my life? Is the enemy surrounding me and do I have weapons that I raise to fight?

This week I read an article written by Kate Granger who has cancer who claimed cancer is not a fight. She said, in her view “the cancer seems to revolve around wartime rhetoric: battle, fight, warrior, beat.” She found these words uncomfortable and frustrating to hear.

“I would like to be remembered for the positive impact I have made on the world, for fun times and for my relationships with others, not as a loser. When I do die, I will have defied the prognosis for my type of cancer and achieved a great deal with my life. I do not want to feel a failure about something beyond my control. I refuse to believe my death will be because I didn’t battle hard enough.”, she wrote.

Please don’t think I challenge her personal opinion. In fact, I found it to be an interesting point of view. It got me to do some serious thinking about my perspective. Would I be offended if someone uttered “she lost her brave fight” once that I have passed on?

Not at all.

Another writer, Rebecca Hamilton wrote she felt “like someone who has wintered over at the South Pole and is now peeking from behind doors at the newcomers who’ve arrived with the sun….I been fighting for my life, just as surely as any gladiator in an arena, any soldier in battle. I have been, like they are, on strange soil, someone else’s territory, guarding my back as well as my front as I sought purchase on the shaky ground under my feet, as I fought to find the way out of the nightmare.”

Rebecca resented the word “survivor” at first. “After all, no one “survives” cancer, at least not with surety. It can come back at any time and when it does, chances are that it will come back meaner and more advanced than the last time we saw it.”

Now she understands the word survivor differently.”I feel like a survivor, but of a decidedly unheroic, uncertain and battered sort. I am not the heroine, striding over the top of a hill to claim my victory crown. I am rather a shipwreck victim, washed up on a beach, half conscious and too exhausted to lift her face out of the sand.”

I felt that was a perfect analogy. I could relate to that person lying weak on the sandy beach after washing ashore. Fighting to stay atop the water, treading till I feared I would give up. That is what it feels like to endure surgery, infections, drains, chemotherapy and radiation. Yet, I made it to shore. I didn’t give up. I didn’t succumb to the waves or the cold or the uncertainty of my fate.

I won that battle. I am victorious. But it is only temporary.

I lift my mug each morning and take a sip of my creamy hot joe watching the sun rise. Assessing how I am feeling, I think to myself as Rebecca thinks….”Today I feel good….Today is not the day I am going to die.” I have TODAY.

Surviving with strong faith has been my victory. Will I win the battle over cancer? Statistically not. Regardless of where the cancer moves next my death certificate will read…”Cause of Death…Pancreatic Cancer.” But, I will fight a good fight. I will battle forward.

Everyday I am blessed to live I will pray for God to grace me with time to see my children and my grandchildren thrive.

” The same cancer ordeal that has ravaged your body can put you in a place so close to God that you can feel His presence every moment….You can feel the everlasting arms around you and know that you are loved, cherished and protected there forever.” says Rebecca. (Oh is she ever right about that.) “You don’t have to do anything except trust. Just let God love you through this and you will wash up on that shore, battered and ravaged physically, but stronger than you have ever been spiritually.”

I pray people will remember how they saw Jesus thru me. He surely lives in me. I am so thankful for the faith that brings me through this battle. There are so many that do not believe and I cannot imagine how they must suffer. I might not win the battle with cancer….but I have deepened my faith and the faith of my family and those close to me. For that I am thankful.

Cancer is a battle but more importantly it has turned out to be a blessing.