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admin

About admin

In the process of starting a new grassroots movement in downtown Vancouver, Washington. In the process of fighting terminal cancer. In the process of learning to be a better neighbor, husband, father, Christ follower, and friend. As initiators of the Grassroots Conspiracy we hope to be a part of a movement of hope, imagination, and transformation in our developing downtown neighborhoods.

Chemo Round Two

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(that’s not my spine…but it’s the closest I could find that replicated my images. I hope it helps give a bit of context)

Today we received both good news and bad news. Here’s the good news:

  • My brain, lower back, and upper back are clean and tumor free. The squiggles are nothing to be worried about and it appears as though there’s absolutely no reason to worry that my cancer has metastasized to any other part of my central nervous system.
  • Symptomatically my body is showing very little signs of unhealth. My body continues to improve (these days I don’t even us my crutch to get around!), my mobility is getting better, my energy level continues to grow, and my brain continues (as it’s always been…right?) sharp as a tack.
  • We have a plan of attack for the upcoming year. After all the mystery over the last few months its nice, at the very least, to know what’s ahead of us once again.

The bad news is that it appears as though the tumor in my spinal cord has grown. While there’s been no new growth anywhere else, the growth of the original tumor itself is quite clear. All along the oncologist has made it clear that it was very possible that my post-radiation MRI could look worse due to radiation damage, scar tissue, etc. And while this is still true and a possibility, the scans seem to show pretty unmistakably tumor-like growth. Additionally, as a board of oncologists, radiologists, neuroscientists, surgeons, pathologists, and others gathered around my info this morning (prior to my appointment with my oncologist) the pathologist who originally gave me the GBM (level IV cancer) diagnosis made a strong recommendation to bring that cancer back to the table. There was additional info that led her to believe that there might be a ‘chunk’ or small tiny piece of level four cancer in there that shouldn’t be ignored.

The overwhelming and unanimous decision of the board was to move forward as if it was a higher level cancer because the risk/reward was much in my favor to do so. Their recommendation then was that I take chemotherapy medicine for the next year. What this looks like is that every four weeks for one year I would take oral chemo pills for five days. The expectation is that I will be more tired during those five days and for maybe a week following. Unlike when I was on chemo previously I will not be undergoing radiation treatments, I will not be recovering from major surgery, and (hopefully) won’t be recovering from blood clots and a pulmonary embolism. So it shouldn’t lay me flat like the previous series did!

In a sense I came away from this morning feeling somewhat hopeful. It felt good to know that my brain was clean. It felt good to know what to expect for the future. It felt good to anticipate a series of treatments that seems doable (it doesn’t sound overwhelming to take pills five days a month and be tired for ten).

In reality, however, few of the things listed above should make me feel good or hopeful. The reality is that while the cancer hasn’t appeared anywhere else, the fact that it’s growing communicates that we are indeed dealing with an aggressive form of cancer…not good. What SHOULD bring hope and make me feel good is that, as always, my life (and yours) is about so much more than simply extending life but about truly experiencing it! It’s about making something of it, about living something beautiful, and about leaving a legacy. I wish Jesus would use his Jesus-powers and magically zap this stuff out of here…but that’s not the story I’ve been invited to tell…

 

…yet??

The Truth About Squiggles

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So as you may have read in a previous post, I’ve got squiggles in my brain. We don’t really know what that means (neither did my radiation oncologist) but we know that in general one does not want squiggly lines in his brain.

On Sunday I finally got all of my MRI scans done (including a re-scan of my head), today I meet with my brain surgeon, tomorrow morning the monthly tumor board will gather around my case, and tomorrow late morning I’ll meet with my oncologist. Most likely whatever we find out will be murky and inconclusive (isn’t that how this works?), hopefully we’ll walk away with some basic idea of what the implications of having three ‘artifacts’ in my brain are, and ideally we’ll walk away knowing that I do not need more radiation or chemo for the time being.

Regardless we’d appreciate your prayers over the next two days. It’s been a long time coming to this point (and I realize it’s the first of many such points in our future) and we are eager to make it to Thursday.

The good news, the best news of all, is that bad news has always come on Thursdays (go ahead and research it. Read all the old blogs. Thursday has come to be synonymous with bad news ’round here)! Considering my appointments are on Tuesday and Wednesday I should be good to go. Bad news doesn’t come on Tuesday and Wednesdays. Only Thursdays. And on Thursday we’ll be sipping margaritas, smokin’ cigars, and celebrating the good news from the previous two days…right?

It's All Spiritual

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We all love boxes. You love boxes, I love boxes, we all love boxes.

I’m not talking about moving, I’m talking about how we love to create boundaries around things. Even you weirdos that say you’re an ‘outside the box person’ still find your value as an ‘outside the box person’ based on an ‘outside the box’ box that you’ve created. Boxing things allows us to simplify the way we think and view the world around us. It makes life easier ’cause it reduces the amount of thinking I have to do. If I look at you and place you in a box (which we all do!) then I can move forward with a whole set of assumptions about you, about how I relate with you, about how I should treat you, etc. If we’re being honest, boxes are essential…maybe not beneficial…but generally pretty essential.

One box, though, that I’m sick of is the spiritual box. Ok, don’t let me lose you yet, let me explain first. We love to create boxes around things spiritual and things physical. It’s these boxes that allow some religious groups to pray and never seek medial help. It’s these boxes that cause many Christians to pray instead of going to counseling. It’s these kind of boxes that cause some people to look for answers everywhere BUT their identity in God. It’s these boxes that create an artificial dichotomy that is not beneficial for our health, our healing, and our future.

The reality, I believe, is that everything is spiritual. Everything. Why did I get cancer? Some say it’s spiritual warfare. Others say it’s a disruption in my energy flow because of childhood trauma. Others say it’s a fluke. Others say it’s because I shop too much at Costco. The reality, I believe, is that all those things are spiritual! (Ok, maybe not Costco) It’s not one or the other.

So did I get cancer because of spiritual warfare (I realize this is a really bad term to use that’s loaded with nasty baggage. Please forgive me for using it and take it in its most un-baggaged way)? Hell yes! Of course its spiritual warfare (define it how you will)! Did I get cancer because something got jacked up in my body? Yes! Are those two things mutually exclusive? Absolutely not. The distinctions we’ve created in our western world between the physical and the spiritual is a much bigger blog than what I’m able to write today–but if the reality of Jesus walking on earth tells us anything it’s that the spiritual and the physical are forever and always intimately connected. If the idea of God being a creator God tells us anything it’s that the spiritual and the physical are forever and always intimately connected. If the idea of promised resurrection and victory over death tells us anything it’s that the physical and the spiritual are intimately connected. “Intimately connected” might not even be a strong enough way to say it because the two cannot be separated.

We may spend lots of our time trying to create boxes in our lives around people, ideas, and ways of living–but the spiritual should not be one of them. Everything is spiritual–how we eat, how we heal, how we live, how we love. It all matters and it’s all connected.

Watching 50/50 and Dealing with Loss

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So my buddy took me to see 50/50 tonight and it felt strange. So much of the movies story resonated with my own experiences. A little disconcerting actually: healthy twenty-seven year old guy with a clean medical history has back pain that ends up being a cancerous tumor in his spine.

To be perfectly honest, while sitting next to Chris I had to work hard to keep it together throughout the movie. It was most definitely funny but the manner in which it dealt with the reality of fighting cancer caused me to tear up more than a few times. Seeing him deal with loss was what got me. Loss of freedom, loss of strength, loss of dignity, loss of relationships, loss of life, loss of energy, loss of appetite, loss of self–loss.

I once read something simple and yet hugely profound: change equals loss.

It doesn’t matter if it is perceived positive or negative changes, it requires a measure of loss. We fight change ’cause we don’t want to experience loss. We struggle with loss because we’re not able or willing to grieve the change. Change brings loss and loss is painful.

I’m still grieving much of what’s been lost over the last five months. Change is rough, it’s a part of life, its inevitable, and sometimes it sucks. But change brings new life, new opportunities, and new hope–loss opens doors to new experiences, new realities, and new relationships that weren’t previously possible…though sometimes it just sucks. I thought the movie captured this reality well.

 

Happy Birthday My Love

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My wife was born twenty-eight years ago yesterday. That was a very good day…for everyone but her mom who had to do the whole birth thing…which is beautiful in retrospect but kind of painful (so I hear) in process.

For the last eleven years and ten months we’ve been a something. For the last eight years and a few months we’ve been even more. For the last seven years we’ve learned how to love each other as we learn to love and lead people. For the last six years and a few months we’ve figured out how to love each other with kids and minivans. For the last nine months we’ve learned how to be partners in leading a movement. For the last five months we’ve discovered a deeper sense of commitment to each other than the previous eleven combine.

All throughout, from when we started dating on Y2K to today she has ever been my friend and partner. She causes me to laugh more than any other person and brings me great joy. But it’s been the last five months that she’s had to give virtually everything…

She’s been a single parent, caring for our two high-energy, amazing kids virtually on her own. Taking them to doctors appointments, scheduling biopsy surgeries, taking them to occupational therapy, play therapy, and school all on her own. She’s been a chauffeur for our whole family, driving me to physical therapy, radiation therapy, appointments with my oncologist, radiologist, naturopath, brain surgeon, and phlebotomist among others. She’s been my nurse, at times giving me regular acupuncture in my feet, giving me shots in my stomach, preparing my food, helping me down the stairs, and helping me figure out my pills. She’s been forced into farming, caring for our fish, our cat, our dog, and our chickens…none of which she truly cares about. She’s endured my moodiness, my varying pain threshold, my sleepiness, my vile body odor, and the random water weight that seems to creep up my face and arm pits (gross right?). She’s endured and supported our family amidst the unknowness of everything–is it benign or cancerous? Is it bad cancer or not-to-bad cancer? Is it in my brain or not? Is it gone or not? Am I dying or not? Will I walk again or not? Is this the new normal or not? She works as a teacher. She works as a creator of community. She works constantly and looks beautiful all throughout!

If you were sitting in Mon Ami (the cafe by our home) where Jess is sitting only three tables away with one of her friends, you’d see me awkwardly tearing up as I think about how blessed I am to be partners with such an amazing woman. I have no idea how long we’ll be blessed to walk this earth together but I can be certain that every moment spent with her is one more than I deserve and I am learning to cherish each and every single experience with the most lovely, beautiful woman I could ask for.

Happy birthday Jess!