THIS JUST IN.... The doc came by to chat with Jen this morning and debriefed her on the next step in the treatment. She has begun a 1-dose regimen of Oncaspar this afternoon with the intent to thoroughly treat the lingering ALL component of her cancer. The side-effects the physicians will be monitoring for are blood clotting issues and pancreatitis. Please pray for a positive response as well as a strong tolerance to the medication. Pray that God will continue to uphold her with His strong right hand. And praise the Lord for the blessing of a truly wonderful nurse who prayed with and for Jen as the chemo drugs began.
*Matt will write a medical synopsis post, as promised, as soon as he gets the chance.*
Now onto what we've been entertaining ourselves with today... Baskin Robbins has their 31 flavors; we have our 31 memories! In honor of the big birthday tomorrow, Jen and I sat down and recounted 31 of our most favorite memories. So without further ado...
31. Once in a restaurant, I, at the ripe old age of 18 months, decided to pitch a screaming fit. The waitress walked up to our table, noticed my meltdown and then Jennifer sitting calmly waiting to give her order, and said to her, "And you must be the big sister." "No," Jennifer corrected her, "I'm the precious little angel."
30. When Mom was in the hospital after having Lindsey, our grandmother Mimi took four-year old Jen and two-year old me to visit. Momma let Jennifer hold the new baby while she sat next to her on the couch. I stood nearby BEGGING to hold the new baby. Jennifer cut her eyes over to Mom in a very 'adult-like' manner and said, "Momma, nuh-uh." In other words, you better think this over good, Lee Lea, before handing the baby off to her.
29. When our aunt Billie Jean brought her son Paxton home from the hospital, I climbed over in the bassinet with him while Jenny exclaimed, "Oh Jean Jean! Thank you for getting us a brother!"'
28. Jennifer was just learning to ride a 'big girl' bike out in our driveway, and I was cruising around in an early 80's version of a Power Wheels. Jennifer had instructed me prior to her ride that I was to only operate on the lowest speed. When she appeared safely perched on her banana seat, I gave the Power Wheels a little juice and sped toward her in hot pursuit. She promptly hopped off the bike, swirled around with her hands on her hips, yelled, "Lauren! You mean, lyin' sister!" and stormed off in a huff.
27. In a "Dear Santa" letter she wrote in first grade, Jennifer asked him to bring her a new doll. Then, in her thoughtful way, implored him to bring our mother a new pair of panties. Poor Mom didn't find out about the request until she read the published letter in our town's newspaper.
26. Growing up, our family went on as many boat trips as we could squeeze into one year. Once, when Jenny was in first grade, Dad picked her up from school early so we could head out of town for one of these trips. He signed her out in the office, casually strolled out to the parking lot and threw her, along with her full bookbag, on the back of his motorcycle- all in his total haphazard style. As he was pulling off, several teachers chased him down and told him he shouldn't ride with her like that, especially with no helmets. "She knows to hold on tight," he remarked, and they sped away.
25. In elementary school, Jen and I had to go door-to-door selling magazines. We were walking down the street and noticed a big, black dog lying out in front of a house. He stood up and approached us. I took off running as fast as my little six-year old legs would carry me while Jen just sat tight and watched the spectacle unfold. The dog chased me down and took a huge chunk of flesh out of my rear (I still have the scar). Crying and furious that the dog had picked me, I yelled at her, "What were you thinking just walking around back there! Why didn't you run too??!" "Lauren," she calmly replied in her best eight-year old version of our mother's voice, "haven't they taught you in school not to run from dogs? It just makes them want to chase you. You're supposed to stay calm." Oh.
24. As previously mentioned, we loved to water-ski and lived for it in the summer. There was nothing like getting suited up and slathered down with Coppertone for a day on the lake. This particular summer, I'd decided I was going to teach myself to slalom. I talked Jen into kneeboarding beside me while I skiied along on two skis. I'd then grab a hold to the top of her head to stabilize myself and shake one of my skis loose. Well, it all went according to plan until I couldn't find the ski-slip for my loose foot. I flailed around for a few moments with one free leg kicking the air and my steadying hand pulling Jen's hair before I finally crashed. She was a trooper, and it made for a funny home video.
23. We were living in a rental house for a year and one afternoon, in an attempt to beat the boredom that was setting in, the two of us decided to have a little unconventional fun. Our old house had a wooden staircase, and we slid down it every way possible - in sleeping bags, pillow cases, or just plain ol' panties. The rental house had a carpeted staircase so we were going to have to be creative with our sliding method. I had a slick-backed board that went with an old train set and thought it'd make the perfect sled. Jen warned me saying it'd probably go way too fast and wouldn't work as well as our old sleeping bag/wooden-staircase trick. Throwing caution to the wind and a few pillows at the foot of the stairs, I had Jen hold the board steady until I gave her the all-clear. I signaled for the release and when she did, it took about .5 second for me to reach the end of the staircase. Unfortunately, we hadn't accounted for my lightning-speed momemtum catapulting me into the afacing wall. She laid rolling around at the top of the steps, laughing at the crumpled heap of pillows, train set board, and me.
22. One time in highschool, Jennifer, my boyfriend Matthew, another friend of our's, and I decided we were all going to a party. The only trouble was we didn't know where the party was being held. We thought we knew the general direction of town where the party was, so we loaded into Matthew's truck and took off. About what we thought was half-way there, Matthew decided he had to go to the bathroom and it couldn't wait. He pulled to the side of the road and hopped out. Another vehicle was headed our way and would surely hit the truck if it wasn't pulled over further. Jen told me to jump in the driver's seat and move the truck, "And hurry! Fast! That car's coming!" In all of our panic, we forgot to tell Matthew we were moving. I gave it the gas and heard, "OH MY GOSH! MY FOOT!" I'd run over Matthew's foot. Needless to say, we didn't go to the party after that, just straight back home. (And he still married me!)
21. One day, the three of us sisters were coming home from Jackson. Around Carthage, Jennifer decided she'd let our younger sister Lindsey take the wheel to give her some more experience. She did just fine until we came up on a car traveling at the speed of smell. Seeing there was plenty of time and room, we encouraged Lindsey to pass. She eased over into the left side of the road but never sped up. Apparently she hadn't been taught the concept in driving school. In the oncoming lane, an eighteen-wheeler topped the hill heading straight for us. I remember feeling as though I was frozen in time, and truly, images of my life started to flash through my mind. Jennifer was screaming, "Speed up! Speed up! Speed up!" Thankfully, Lindsey got around the car just in the nick of time, and Jen found her seat back at the helm for the remainder of the drive.
20. It's been established. Lindsey wasn't a very speedy learner when it came to driving. Jen, being the patient, doting, mothering big sis that she is, took every opportunity to help teach her. She let Lindsey drive through our quiet neighborhood one day and then ease into the driveway to park. Lindsey put Jennifer out at the mailbox so she could get used to driving alone. Lindsey pulled down the driveway and then stepped out of the car, forgetting to, yep, put the car in park, much less turn the car off. Jennifer jumped in the driver's seat just in time to stop the car before it rolled into the pile of bricks at the end of the driveway.
...So there's the start to our countdown of 31-derful memories!
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
My Heroes, Part II
The doctors did meet on Monday and are in the process of thinking through the next best course of action. The doctor who met with Jen and Matt Monday afternoon was very optimistic and told them there was every reason to be hopeful. When they hear a confirmed 'go ahead' from the doctors, Matt will be updating the blog with a medical synopsis of where Jen has been, where she is currently, and where the next steps will lead in her treatment. As we wait out the deliberation, I thought I'd finish up the last of my two part series on my heroes...
"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17
Walking back from lunch one day last week, as we neared the hospital, Matt looked up and noticed a helicopter landing on the roof-top. Knowing the severity of cases who arrive via helicopter, he, sort of off-the-cuff, said, "At least Jen's not on that thing..." My mind immediately flashbacked to a night in September nine years ago when my other sister arrived at University Medical Center in Jackson via, you guessed it, a helicopter. True to the nature of helicopter cases, she was a severe one. So severe, in fact, that doctors in Kosciusko feared she'd never make it to Jackson alive.
On the evening of Saturday, September 7, 2002, Lindsey and her boyfriend (now husband) Eli had eaten supper with his parents and then decided to take a dip in the Dew family's hot tub. Eli had a sore shoulder from the Friday night football game, and Lindsey was suffering a sprained ankle from a tumbling accident. Both thought the hot tub would be therapeutic for some of their aches and pains so they hopped into Lindsey's car and headed into town to get her swimsuit from our house. She buckled into the driver's seat, while Eli slid into the passenger seat. About a half mile from the dirt road turn-off where the Dews live, a truck, piloted by a young man with a host of toxic substances in his bloodstream, veered into Lindsey's lane and hit her car, on the driver's side, head on. The metal frame around the windshield was bent and driven through the left side of Lindsey's skull. The whole left side of her body was crushed, and she was unconscious. Eli hit the windshield and briefly lost consciousness as well. When he came to, blood was streaming down Lindsey's face, and he couldn't loosen her grip on the steering wheel. He began to scream her name in an effort to help her regain consciousness. A man, who had been traveling behind them, witnessed the crash and called 911. Lindsey was rushed to the hospital in Kosciusko. She quit breathing several times on the operating table but the doctors were finally able to achieve some level of stability. They made the decision to have her airlifted to UMC. Just before the helicopter lifted off, a doctor told our dad to say his good-byes to her. She would likely not make it to Jackson alive. The EMT in the helicopter recounted the lift-off scene for us days later when she stopped by to visit Lindsey in the hospital: "As we lifted off the ground, we were desperately trying to sustain this young girl's life long enough to reach Jackson. I glanced out the window for a moment and saw a circle of friends, with hands joined and heads bowed, lifting her up in prayer. I knew right then she was going to make it."
Our mother received word of the accident just moments after. Because she was already in Jackson helping care for our ailing grandmother, she was there at the hospital waiting on the helicopter to arrive. A nurse told her Lindsey was en route and should be landing shortly. Mom ran outside and searched the night sky. In a few minutes, she heard the rotors, saw the lights and thought, "My baby is in that helicopter. It sure looks like a very dangerous thing for her to be doing..." They were doing construction on that part of the building, and Mom could see a huge crane on the landing pad. "I sure hope they are very careful."
My older sister and I arrived from Oxford just as the doctors were performing surgery on Lindsey to remove pieces of bone from her brain. After a long, sleepness night, we were finally allowed into the ICU where she lay, nearly lifeless. The shock of the tubes and lines, head bandages and braces, was almost more than I could bear. An overwhelming feeling of fear nearly suffocated me as we walked into her room. The pump of the ventilator and the beeping of the heart monitor were surreal but I do remember praying, "Don't let these noises stop. These noises mean life." After surgery on her arm and knee that afternoon, she was admitted to a room in the neuro-surgery step-down unit. The neuro-surgeon who performed the brain surgery Saturday night, visited her room to debrief us on what to expect. "We are monitoring for brain swelling. The chances of this are highly likely due to the tear in the lining of her brain and could cause serious problems for her. Even if her brain does not swell, we could be looking at two solid years of a vegetative state. She may then start to regain some cognizant abilities but will likely be starting from scratch. She will have to be taught how to feed herself, how to walk, and maybe even how to communicate." Ugh. I felt all the wind knocked out of me. Brain swelling. A vegetable. Relearning to eat. What were we going to do?
That night, Mom, clinging to the side of Lindsey's bed, begged God for healing. "But," she told Him, "she's Your's. She belongs to You. You do with her what You will. If You choose to take her or leave her, prepare us for either." Mom let go and gave her to God. Almost immediately, we started seeing improvement. The next day she was opening her eyes and recognizing our faces. The next she sat up a bit and took a sip of juice. The next, she put her feet on the floor and stood for a few moments while holding onto Mom. Her milestones were simple yet we celebrated each of them as though she was winning the Olympics every single day. Never did her brain show any signs of swelling.
Even though her mind was incredibly cloudy and her body relentlessly sore, who she was in the deepest recesses of her soul still shined through. She hated her breathing treatments, and would say, in a foggy haze, "No thank you," to the nurse when she came in to administer them. When the doctors would come in to talk to Mom and assess Lindsey's condition, she always answered with, "No sir," "Yes sir," and "Will you please be quiet now?" When Eli would come to see her, even though she didn't know his name, she would ask him if he was studying and trying hard in school. If he had a test, she would tell him, "Well, let's go over it." Once, when he was visiting her, Mom sat quietly in the corner. Linds said to him, "You see that lady over there. She's crazy." Oh, if all moms were as 'crazy' as her, the world might be a lot better off.
On Friday, September 13th, not quite a full week from the wreck, our miracle was wheeled out of UMC. Three Friday nights later she was being crowned homecoming queen, and by the end of football season she was back on the field cheerleading. It was a long road to 'full recovery,' and there will always be repercussions from the brain injury to deal with. The confidence she once exuded has waned a bit but her unmatched kindness still lingers. She has always chosen to see the best in everyone and, to my knowledge, has never made excuses for herself or her convictions. When she was at Ole Miss with me the following year, I asked her if she felt like God had given her a second chance since she was so nearly taken from us. "O gosh, no, Lauren. We all get one chance. It just wasn't my time to go. I'm still living in this one chance, just like you are." She's exactly right. We all get one go, better make it a good one. Today she is an occupational therapist, inspired by the men and women who worked with her during recovery.
I have prayed for as long as I can remember to be a better sister. How clever of God to teach me how to be one by using my very own sisters to shape me. We all have people He puts in our lives to 'sharpen' us. I'm so thankful He chose such wonderfully inspiring people for me.
Last night, lying in bed, I realized the day we wheeled Lindsey out of UMC, September 13th, was the day Jennifer was told she had mixed-lineage leukemia. Just as God displayed Himself as Sovereign Lord, Miraculous Healer, and Great Physician in Lindsey's life, we expect nothing less from Him in Jennifer's case. But if it's all the same to everyone else, I think next August 31st (and maybe every one from now until...) I'll lay down to sleep and might not bother to get up 'til October 1st. Like Greenday said, "Wake me up when September ends."
Prayerful Ponderings:
Please pray for wisdom as the doctors plan through the next steps of Jen's treatment. Pray that God will continue to sustain Jennifer and Matt through this very trying time for their family. Pray that the Lord will continue to draw us closer to Himself, that He will receive all the glory, for it is all due Him. Pray that we will be given eyes of faith to see His hand clearly at work in our lives. What a great God we serve.
THERE'S STILL TIME! If you haven't gotten a chance to yet, I'd love to get some more b'day videos for Jen. If you're unable to send a video, then a comment on the blog would be such a sweet gift too! Thank you for the outpouring of love and support she's already experienced during the last three weeks.
THERE HAVE BEEN LOTS OF QUESTIONS ABOUT BECOMING A BONE MARROW DONOR. A dear friend and a precious cousin of our's have been doing some research, and we will get all that information to you as soon as we have a more clear understanding of how to go about all this. Apparently, I lied when I told you it was an 'easy process.' So says the girl who only had to ride an elevator and have blood drawn to see if she was a match. My apologies.
"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17
Walking back from lunch one day last week, as we neared the hospital, Matt looked up and noticed a helicopter landing on the roof-top. Knowing the severity of cases who arrive via helicopter, he, sort of off-the-cuff, said, "At least Jen's not on that thing..." My mind immediately flashbacked to a night in September nine years ago when my other sister arrived at University Medical Center in Jackson via, you guessed it, a helicopter. True to the nature of helicopter cases, she was a severe one. So severe, in fact, that doctors in Kosciusko feared she'd never make it to Jackson alive.
On the evening of Saturday, September 7, 2002, Lindsey and her boyfriend (now husband) Eli had eaten supper with his parents and then decided to take a dip in the Dew family's hot tub. Eli had a sore shoulder from the Friday night football game, and Lindsey was suffering a sprained ankle from a tumbling accident. Both thought the hot tub would be therapeutic for some of their aches and pains so they hopped into Lindsey's car and headed into town to get her swimsuit from our house. She buckled into the driver's seat, while Eli slid into the passenger seat. About a half mile from the dirt road turn-off where the Dews live, a truck, piloted by a young man with a host of toxic substances in his bloodstream, veered into Lindsey's lane and hit her car, on the driver's side, head on. The metal frame around the windshield was bent and driven through the left side of Lindsey's skull. The whole left side of her body was crushed, and she was unconscious. Eli hit the windshield and briefly lost consciousness as well. When he came to, blood was streaming down Lindsey's face, and he couldn't loosen her grip on the steering wheel. He began to scream her name in an effort to help her regain consciousness. A man, who had been traveling behind them, witnessed the crash and called 911. Lindsey was rushed to the hospital in Kosciusko. She quit breathing several times on the operating table but the doctors were finally able to achieve some level of stability. They made the decision to have her airlifted to UMC. Just before the helicopter lifted off, a doctor told our dad to say his good-byes to her. She would likely not make it to Jackson alive. The EMT in the helicopter recounted the lift-off scene for us days later when she stopped by to visit Lindsey in the hospital: "As we lifted off the ground, we were desperately trying to sustain this young girl's life long enough to reach Jackson. I glanced out the window for a moment and saw a circle of friends, with hands joined and heads bowed, lifting her up in prayer. I knew right then she was going to make it."
Our mother received word of the accident just moments after. Because she was already in Jackson helping care for our ailing grandmother, she was there at the hospital waiting on the helicopter to arrive. A nurse told her Lindsey was en route and should be landing shortly. Mom ran outside and searched the night sky. In a few minutes, she heard the rotors, saw the lights and thought, "My baby is in that helicopter. It sure looks like a very dangerous thing for her to be doing..." They were doing construction on that part of the building, and Mom could see a huge crane on the landing pad. "I sure hope they are very careful."
My older sister and I arrived from Oxford just as the doctors were performing surgery on Lindsey to remove pieces of bone from her brain. After a long, sleepness night, we were finally allowed into the ICU where she lay, nearly lifeless. The shock of the tubes and lines, head bandages and braces, was almost more than I could bear. An overwhelming feeling of fear nearly suffocated me as we walked into her room. The pump of the ventilator and the beeping of the heart monitor were surreal but I do remember praying, "Don't let these noises stop. These noises mean life." After surgery on her arm and knee that afternoon, she was admitted to a room in the neuro-surgery step-down unit. The neuro-surgeon who performed the brain surgery Saturday night, visited her room to debrief us on what to expect. "We are monitoring for brain swelling. The chances of this are highly likely due to the tear in the lining of her brain and could cause serious problems for her. Even if her brain does not swell, we could be looking at two solid years of a vegetative state. She may then start to regain some cognizant abilities but will likely be starting from scratch. She will have to be taught how to feed herself, how to walk, and maybe even how to communicate." Ugh. I felt all the wind knocked out of me. Brain swelling. A vegetable. Relearning to eat. What were we going to do?
That night, Mom, clinging to the side of Lindsey's bed, begged God for healing. "But," she told Him, "she's Your's. She belongs to You. You do with her what You will. If You choose to take her or leave her, prepare us for either." Mom let go and gave her to God. Almost immediately, we started seeing improvement. The next day she was opening her eyes and recognizing our faces. The next she sat up a bit and took a sip of juice. The next, she put her feet on the floor and stood for a few moments while holding onto Mom. Her milestones were simple yet we celebrated each of them as though she was winning the Olympics every single day. Never did her brain show any signs of swelling.
Even though her mind was incredibly cloudy and her body relentlessly sore, who she was in the deepest recesses of her soul still shined through. She hated her breathing treatments, and would say, in a foggy haze, "No thank you," to the nurse when she came in to administer them. When the doctors would come in to talk to Mom and assess Lindsey's condition, she always answered with, "No sir," "Yes sir," and "Will you please be quiet now?" When Eli would come to see her, even though she didn't know his name, she would ask him if he was studying and trying hard in school. If he had a test, she would tell him, "Well, let's go over it." Once, when he was visiting her, Mom sat quietly in the corner. Linds said to him, "You see that lady over there. She's crazy." Oh, if all moms were as 'crazy' as her, the world might be a lot better off.
On Friday, September 13th, not quite a full week from the wreck, our miracle was wheeled out of UMC. Three Friday nights later she was being crowned homecoming queen, and by the end of football season she was back on the field cheerleading. It was a long road to 'full recovery,' and there will always be repercussions from the brain injury to deal with. The confidence she once exuded has waned a bit but her unmatched kindness still lingers. She has always chosen to see the best in everyone and, to my knowledge, has never made excuses for herself or her convictions. When she was at Ole Miss with me the following year, I asked her if she felt like God had given her a second chance since she was so nearly taken from us. "O gosh, no, Lauren. We all get one chance. It just wasn't my time to go. I'm still living in this one chance, just like you are." She's exactly right. We all get one go, better make it a good one. Today she is an occupational therapist, inspired by the men and women who worked with her during recovery.
I have prayed for as long as I can remember to be a better sister. How clever of God to teach me how to be one by using my very own sisters to shape me. We all have people He puts in our lives to 'sharpen' us. I'm so thankful He chose such wonderfully inspiring people for me.
Last night, lying in bed, I realized the day we wheeled Lindsey out of UMC, September 13th, was the day Jennifer was told she had mixed-lineage leukemia. Just as God displayed Himself as Sovereign Lord, Miraculous Healer, and Great Physician in Lindsey's life, we expect nothing less from Him in Jennifer's case. But if it's all the same to everyone else, I think next August 31st (and maybe every one from now until...) I'll lay down to sleep and might not bother to get up 'til October 1st. Like Greenday said, "Wake me up when September ends."
Prayerful Ponderings:
Please pray for wisdom as the doctors plan through the next steps of Jen's treatment. Pray that God will continue to sustain Jennifer and Matt through this very trying time for their family. Pray that the Lord will continue to draw us closer to Himself, that He will receive all the glory, for it is all due Him. Pray that we will be given eyes of faith to see His hand clearly at work in our lives. What a great God we serve.
THERE'S STILL TIME! If you haven't gotten a chance to yet, I'd love to get some more b'day videos for Jen. If you're unable to send a video, then a comment on the blog would be such a sweet gift too! Thank you for the outpouring of love and support she's already experienced during the last three weeks.
THERE HAVE BEEN LOTS OF QUESTIONS ABOUT BECOMING A BONE MARROW DONOR. A dear friend and a precious cousin of our's have been doing some research, and we will get all that information to you as soon as we have a more clear understanding of how to go about all this. Apparently, I lied when I told you it was an 'easy process.' So says the girl who only had to ride an elevator and have blood drawn to see if she was a match. My apologies.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
A Holy, Hole-y Tunnel
"Give thanks to the Lord, call on His name. Make known among the nations what He has done. Sing to Him, sing praise to Him. Tell of all His wonderful acts. Rejoice in His holy name. Let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always." Psalm 105: 1-4
When I taught second grade, we memorized a verse every week. As the weeks went by, we added a verse to our collection and would review them every morning. By the end of the year, we were reviewing up to 33 verses each morning. The verses above are the ones we learned the first two weeks of school, and we reviewed them every single day until the end of the year. Now, on top of that I taught second grade for five years. After reciting this passage roughly 180 days out of the last five years, you can imagine how it is embedded in my heart. Never have I had a direct application for these verses like I did last night. Matt called with the news of the second bone marrow biopsy. Here's a summary of where Jen is at this point in the treatment, in Matt's words:
"In the first bone marrow biopsy, 70% of the cells were cancerous (or blasts). At day 14 (this past Thursday), a second bone marrow biopsy was conducted and the total bone marrow cells that are cancerous is at 7%. Sounds like great news, doesn't it? It is! But, it comes as a little mixed. We were hoping for 0% blast count but in reality expected some. The good news is the blast count is down so low. The bad news is some cancer is still lingering. This mixed news (how fitting for mixed-lineage leukemia to have mixed news!) portends a good outcome but she is still very much in the thick of this. Ideally, we are looking for Jen to be cancer-free. The docs will meet on Monday to discuss the chemo regimen and make decisions on dosage adjustments, if any are needed. We are continuing along hopeful but understand we are still years from a cure."
Right now, from a worldy perspective, there is not even a light at the end of the tunnel yet. But thankfully, God is puncturing holes in this dark tunnel Jen is traveling down and pouring His light and love in from above. Friday night's news was another hole ushering Light into this proverbial tunnel.
Prayerful Ponderings:
Praise the Lord for a significantly reduced blast count. Please pray for wisdom for the doctors in their meeting on Monday. Please prayerfully consider joining the bone marrow registry on-line at http://www.marrow.org/. Lift up Jennifer's donor in prayer that he/she may be prepared and willing for what will be asked of him/her. Continue to pray for Matt. He went back to work on Wednesday but is still spending a lot of his time during the day and all of his nights with Jen. He is setting a great example for all of us as he is daily on an active lookout for answered prayer.
Vandy Verse:
...They called to the Lord, and He answered them. Psalm 99:6
When I taught second grade, we memorized a verse every week. As the weeks went by, we added a verse to our collection and would review them every morning. By the end of the year, we were reviewing up to 33 verses each morning. The verses above are the ones we learned the first two weeks of school, and we reviewed them every single day until the end of the year. Now, on top of that I taught second grade for five years. After reciting this passage roughly 180 days out of the last five years, you can imagine how it is embedded in my heart. Never have I had a direct application for these verses like I did last night. Matt called with the news of the second bone marrow biopsy. Here's a summary of where Jen is at this point in the treatment, in Matt's words:
"In the first bone marrow biopsy, 70% of the cells were cancerous (or blasts). At day 14 (this past Thursday), a second bone marrow biopsy was conducted and the total bone marrow cells that are cancerous is at 7%. Sounds like great news, doesn't it? It is! But, it comes as a little mixed. We were hoping for 0% blast count but in reality expected some. The good news is the blast count is down so low. The bad news is some cancer is still lingering. This mixed news (how fitting for mixed-lineage leukemia to have mixed news!) portends a good outcome but she is still very much in the thick of this. Ideally, we are looking for Jen to be cancer-free. The docs will meet on Monday to discuss the chemo regimen and make decisions on dosage adjustments, if any are needed. We are continuing along hopeful but understand we are still years from a cure."
Right now, from a worldy perspective, there is not even a light at the end of the tunnel yet. But thankfully, God is puncturing holes in this dark tunnel Jen is traveling down and pouring His light and love in from above. Friday night's news was another hole ushering Light into this proverbial tunnel.
Prayerful Ponderings:
Praise the Lord for a significantly reduced blast count. Please pray for wisdom for the doctors in their meeting on Monday. Please prayerfully consider joining the bone marrow registry on-line at http://www.marrow.org/. Lift up Jennifer's donor in prayer that he/she may be prepared and willing for what will be asked of him/her. Continue to pray for Matt. He went back to work on Wednesday but is still spending a lot of his time during the day and all of his nights with Jen. He is setting a great example for all of us as he is daily on an active lookout for answered prayer.
Vandy Verse:
...They called to the Lord, and He answered them. Psalm 99:6
Friday, September 30, 2011
Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match
Written Thursday evening, September 29
Got some disappointing news this morning. Lindsey nor I are a match for Jenny's bone marrow. The doctors were looking at markers on our cells called HLA markers. Lindsey matched 3 of the 6 markers, and I only matched 1. This news means the doctors are now moving to the next step in securing a donor: UNRELATED MATCHES. Essentially, "unrelated matches" means ANYONE except Jen's sisters or parents.
Signing up to be a bone marrow donor is a very easy process. If you would like to sign up, please visit http://www.marrow.org/ and click "Join the Registry." They will send you a kit where you swab the inside of your cheek and send it back to them. You will then be placed in the registry as a bone marrow donor. PLEASE READ ALL THE INFORMATION, INCLUDING THE DISCLAIMERS.
Signing up to be "Jennifer's bone marrow donor" isn't the way this works (little did I know). When you join the bone marrow donor organization, you could possibly match her's, but you may match someone else in need of a transplant (or, you may not match anyone at all!). With that said, please know they may be calling you to be a donor for someone other than Jen. Of course, you can refuse but donating marrow to a stranger would be a life-saving donation, exactly the same situation we find ourselves in. And, as a friend of Matt's put it this afternoon, "Bone marrow I donate may match someone whose sister is a match for Jen...It's kind of a pay-it-forward way to look at it." This logic really made sense to me, so I'm planning on signing up as a donor even though mine will never match Jen's.
The biopsy of her bone marrow was performed this afternoon and the results should be in, at the earliest, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then Monday. I asked Matt how the biopsy went, and this is how he put it: "Biospsy went well, and she slept some after due to the sedation. They were actually able to draw this time. During the first biopsy, they had trouble getting anything because the marrow was so full of cancerous cells. Their ability to get more this time hopefully means the amount of cancerous cells are decreasing. This is merely speculation, but I am hopeful it correlates to a decrease in tumor burden."
One more quick plug, as if asking you for your bone marrow isn't enough! Jen's 31st birthday is a week from today. If you haven't had the chance yet, please video yourself (from your phone would be great) wishing her a birthday message. Email the message to laurenmccool11@gmail.com. Even if you don't feel like you know her well enough to do this, I assure you, this is definitely one of those cases where "the more the merrier!" Remember: Visitors are so limited right now that any familiar face will warm her heart. If you've never even met her and still want to send a message- fantastic! (Just include how you know of her so it won't be creepy.) Be as creative (or uncreative) as you like. Looking forward to making this a very special day for her and appreciate any help you can give us.
I helped her out today with her bath and washing her hair....It is starting to come out. Before I left for the weekend, she said, "When you come back, there might not be any left..." After a long pause, "Oh well, it's just hair." Well, it's not 'oh well' in my book. I'm sad. Sad about this whole darn thing. Sad that she can't come home with me from the hospital everyday when I have to leave her. Sad that her mouth hurts so bad she can't eat. Sad about (and terrified of!) the drugs in her blood that are literally burning her insides. Sad that she gets light-headed from a shower. Sad that Lindsey and I can't be matches and sad knowing it disappointed her we weren't.
While it might not be 'oh well' in my thoughts, attitude and emotions right now, it can be WELL with my soul. Out of the overflow of my soul, this WELLNESS will seep into all the rest of me...
"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul." -Horatio Spafford
Father, You have taught us, "In all things, give thanks." Thank you for this news today. Thank you that we are not getting an easy match. Once again, it brings us to our knees before you- which is right where we need to be. Thank you for handcrafting Jennifer, Lindsey, and me each so uniquely that only a few of our markers even match! You are remarkable. Thank you that we can trust you have a better plan for Jennifer's bone marrow. Thank you for caring about 'little things' like hair. Thank you for being the Supplier of the 'well' that can be found in our souls. Father, thank you for this trial. For through it, we are certain, we will be brought closer to You. We praise You because You are the same God yesterday, today, and forever and we can count on You, not to do what we will, but Your will. And it is always perfect.
Got some disappointing news this morning. Lindsey nor I are a match for Jenny's bone marrow. The doctors were looking at markers on our cells called HLA markers. Lindsey matched 3 of the 6 markers, and I only matched 1. This news means the doctors are now moving to the next step in securing a donor: UNRELATED MATCHES. Essentially, "unrelated matches" means ANYONE except Jen's sisters or parents.
Signing up to be a bone marrow donor is a very easy process. If you would like to sign up, please visit http://www.marrow.org/ and click "Join the Registry." They will send you a kit where you swab the inside of your cheek and send it back to them. You will then be placed in the registry as a bone marrow donor. PLEASE READ ALL THE INFORMATION, INCLUDING THE DISCLAIMERS.
Signing up to be "Jennifer's bone marrow donor" isn't the way this works (little did I know). When you join the bone marrow donor organization, you could possibly match her's, but you may match someone else in need of a transplant (or, you may not match anyone at all!). With that said, please know they may be calling you to be a donor for someone other than Jen. Of course, you can refuse but donating marrow to a stranger would be a life-saving donation, exactly the same situation we find ourselves in. And, as a friend of Matt's put it this afternoon, "Bone marrow I donate may match someone whose sister is a match for Jen...It's kind of a pay-it-forward way to look at it." This logic really made sense to me, so I'm planning on signing up as a donor even though mine will never match Jen's.
The biopsy of her bone marrow was performed this afternoon and the results should be in, at the earliest, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then Monday. I asked Matt how the biopsy went, and this is how he put it: "Biospsy went well, and she slept some after due to the sedation. They were actually able to draw this time. During the first biopsy, they had trouble getting anything because the marrow was so full of cancerous cells. Their ability to get more this time hopefully means the amount of cancerous cells are decreasing. This is merely speculation, but I am hopeful it correlates to a decrease in tumor burden."
One more quick plug, as if asking you for your bone marrow isn't enough! Jen's 31st birthday is a week from today. If you haven't had the chance yet, please video yourself (from your phone would be great) wishing her a birthday message. Email the message to laurenmccool11@gmail.com. Even if you don't feel like you know her well enough to do this, I assure you, this is definitely one of those cases where "the more the merrier!" Remember: Visitors are so limited right now that any familiar face will warm her heart. If you've never even met her and still want to send a message- fantastic! (Just include how you know of her so it won't be creepy.) Be as creative (or uncreative) as you like. Looking forward to making this a very special day for her and appreciate any help you can give us.
I helped her out today with her bath and washing her hair....It is starting to come out. Before I left for the weekend, she said, "When you come back, there might not be any left..." After a long pause, "Oh well, it's just hair." Well, it's not 'oh well' in my book. I'm sad. Sad about this whole darn thing. Sad that she can't come home with me from the hospital everyday when I have to leave her. Sad that her mouth hurts so bad she can't eat. Sad about (and terrified of!) the drugs in her blood that are literally burning her insides. Sad that she gets light-headed from a shower. Sad that Lindsey and I can't be matches and sad knowing it disappointed her we weren't.
While it might not be 'oh well' in my thoughts, attitude and emotions right now, it can be WELL with my soul. Out of the overflow of my soul, this WELLNESS will seep into all the rest of me...
"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul." -Horatio Spafford
Father, You have taught us, "In all things, give thanks." Thank you for this news today. Thank you that we are not getting an easy match. Once again, it brings us to our knees before you- which is right where we need to be. Thank you for handcrafting Jennifer, Lindsey, and me each so uniquely that only a few of our markers even match! You are remarkable. Thank you that we can trust you have a better plan for Jennifer's bone marrow. Thank you for caring about 'little things' like hair. Thank you for being the Supplier of the 'well' that can be found in our souls. Father, thank you for this trial. For through it, we are certain, we will be brought closer to You. We praise You because You are the same God yesterday, today, and forever and we can count on You, not to do what we will, but Your will. And it is always perfect.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
My Heroes, Part I
“Great occasions do not make heroes or cowards; they simply unveil them to the eyes of men. Silently and perceptibly, as we wake or sleep, we grow strong or weak; and at last some crisis shows what we have become. ”
― Brooke Foss Westcott
She's looking out her window because, let's face it, there are only so many places to look for interest in this tiny room where we've spent most of the day. "Oh wow," she says, and it's her gasp that causes me to look up from my mindless web-surfing. And, there it is, the sweetest little sunset you've ever seen going down just over the Vanderbilt campus and beyond. Then her humor infiltrates the quiet, reflective moment, "You know, there's just nothing quite like the hum of your bed inflating, as you watch the sunset, over a plate of cottage cheese and a glass of grape juice." As I watch her smirk at her own joke, I can't help but think, "How do you do it? How do you stay so cheerful, so witty, so tender, so sensible in a time like this?" And I realize, she hasn't just become this way overnight, it's the way she's always been. And I am fortunate enough to watch as her character is unveiled to me moment by moment throughout our day together...
When I walk in to greet her at mid-morning, she beams to see me, as though she hasn't seen this face for the last 28 years. "Oh hey!" she says with a bright smile, "How was your night? Was your drive up yesterday ok?" It's not until later in the day that I will find out her night was completely deprived of sleep or realize that her yesterday was full of fever, nausea, and infection.
At lunch, her mouth twists and contorts to taste and swallow the lukewarm soup and pudding on her tray. Sometimes, when she is making pleasant chit-chat all to keep me from becoming bored, I can see the way she has to awkwardly hold her tongue because of the pain. Yet, during all our conversations today, she'll make no mention of it.
"Let's watch a movie," she suggests. So I hurry down to the Family Room, to keep her from waiting, and pick out an old favorite we watched nearly every afternoon my Freshmen year in college. During the movie, as we laugh at the quirky jokes and quote the familiar lines, I long to go back to that time in college when we were worry-free 18- and 20-year olds."Gosh, I didn't remember it had such a sad ending!" "Oh, I did, " she says, "but all the rest of it is just so good you can't help but watch." "Yeh, she's right," I think, "you can't take the good without the bad."
It's time for a walk. She gets suited up with her tennies and mask, and we head out. She slips one arm around her IV pole and another through my arm. She stops at the nurses desk for a friendly chat and to say hello to a doctor she knows from working in the pharmacy. He offers his sympathies, and I overhear his deep, aching sigh as we walk away. Did she? We make our laps, and she pauses another moment to offer a warm greeting to a fellow patient. Mindful of her weakened state, she encourages me to keep an eye on the clock. As we tick the laps off in silence, walking arm in arm, she asks me to tell her a story about the artist who's painted ornaments with inspiring messages for the 11th floor occupants. I stammer out something like, "Ummm... I don't know. Maybe she liked working with clay?" She cuts me off with, "No, I bet she went through a really tough time, and she used all these quotes to help get her through. She had so many that she wanted to share them with other people who were hurting and that's how she got her start." Sounds good. I'll buy it. The walk lasted all of 8 minutes, and she's worn out. But I know the people she encountered are probably better off because she walked today than she is.
I read to her about a woman named Jennifer who, at age 16, was diagnosed with a degenerative eye disease and, by the time she entered college, was totally blind. This Jennifer went on to accomplish great things with her life and has become a successful wife, mother and author. Touched by the 'other' Jennifer's story, she asks me to record some of the verses that Jennifer uses for inspiration:
When I said, "My foot is slipping," your love, O Lord, supported me.
When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.
Psalm 94: 18, 19
A kind, young 'Care Partner' enters the room, and as the CP checks vital signs, she asks how her nursing test went. "I made a 105 out of a total 112 points," the CP gushes. "Wow! That's awesome! I know you are proud and glad to have that over with!" she tells her. The CP leaves the room all smiles because of her encouragement and the few jokes thrown in for good measure.
While she's content to watch a tv show with no audio coming through, I'm thinking on the latest "Prayerful Ponderings." I ask her if she believes she has the 'peace that surpasses all understanding.' "Well, Lauren, look around you. It's pretty tough to have peace in a place like this. But I'm trusting, and I know the peace will come." It's just like her to use this moment to teach me something. (Now I wish she'd also figure out the audio on this daggum tv and then 'teach' me how to use it!)
Evening comes, and I have the great pleasure of helping her get ready for bed. She's not too proud to ask for help so I slip off her socks, find a new gown, and help her button in. With all the lines running to and from her precious arm, it's quite a puzzle getting dressed but we finally manage.
It's time for me to go, and I hate to leave. On the surface, nothing especially eventful has happened today. Nothing other than getting to spend another day with one of the people I admire most. And I'm better for it, I'm certain.
Good night. I love you. And thank you for always being who you are right now. Nothing more, nothing less. A woman of character. A woman of integrity. A woman to emulate. A woman I'm proud to call my hero and blessed to call my sister.
Prayerful Ponderings:
Jen had a good day today but the mouth pain can be excruciating at times. Matt is preparing to go back to work tomorrow and is asking for prayer that this can be a smooth transition. He is a wonderful husband. Thank the Lord for the blessing he is to Jennifer, especially during a time when his vows, "In sickness and in health," have taken on a very real meaning. We should be finding out soon whether Lindsey or I will be a match for Jen's bone marrow. This would be the best case scenario, so please pray for a match. The doctors will perform another bone marrow biopsy at the end of this week (either Thursday or Friday) to see how well Jen is responding to the chemo treatments. Pray for good results with the biopsy.
The Vandy Verse:
He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me. 2 Samuel 22:20
A Little Somethin' for the Samples:
Jen's birthday, October 6th, is a week from Thursday. We talked today about how she wanted to celebrate this year since she'll be in the hospital. She decided she wanted something small and low-key for the actual day and to postpone the big celebration with family and friends for when she comes home. Because she can't see any of her friends or extended family in person on her birthday this year, if you would like to send her a birthday message recording, that'd be great! Just record your message on your phone and then email the video to laurenmccool11@gmail.com. I'll compile all the messages into a video for her to watch.
Several people have mentioned difficulty with posting comments. Try clicking on 'Anonymous' in the drop-down box near 'Post comment.' Just remember to sign your name at the end of the comment. If anyone has a better way to trouble-shoot this problem, this tech-UNsavvy girl sure'd be appreciative.
― Brooke Foss Westcott
She's looking out her window because, let's face it, there are only so many places to look for interest in this tiny room where we've spent most of the day. "Oh wow," she says, and it's her gasp that causes me to look up from my mindless web-surfing. And, there it is, the sweetest little sunset you've ever seen going down just over the Vanderbilt campus and beyond. Then her humor infiltrates the quiet, reflective moment, "You know, there's just nothing quite like the hum of your bed inflating, as you watch the sunset, over a plate of cottage cheese and a glass of grape juice." As I watch her smirk at her own joke, I can't help but think, "How do you do it? How do you stay so cheerful, so witty, so tender, so sensible in a time like this?" And I realize, she hasn't just become this way overnight, it's the way she's always been. And I am fortunate enough to watch as her character is unveiled to me moment by moment throughout our day together...
When I walk in to greet her at mid-morning, she beams to see me, as though she hasn't seen this face for the last 28 years. "Oh hey!" she says with a bright smile, "How was your night? Was your drive up yesterday ok?" It's not until later in the day that I will find out her night was completely deprived of sleep or realize that her yesterday was full of fever, nausea, and infection.
At lunch, her mouth twists and contorts to taste and swallow the lukewarm soup and pudding on her tray. Sometimes, when she is making pleasant chit-chat all to keep me from becoming bored, I can see the way she has to awkwardly hold her tongue because of the pain. Yet, during all our conversations today, she'll make no mention of it.
"Let's watch a movie," she suggests. So I hurry down to the Family Room, to keep her from waiting, and pick out an old favorite we watched nearly every afternoon my Freshmen year in college. During the movie, as we laugh at the quirky jokes and quote the familiar lines, I long to go back to that time in college when we were worry-free 18- and 20-year olds."Gosh, I didn't remember it had such a sad ending!" "Oh, I did, " she says, "but all the rest of it is just so good you can't help but watch." "Yeh, she's right," I think, "you can't take the good without the bad."
It's time for a walk. She gets suited up with her tennies and mask, and we head out. She slips one arm around her IV pole and another through my arm. She stops at the nurses desk for a friendly chat and to say hello to a doctor she knows from working in the pharmacy. He offers his sympathies, and I overhear his deep, aching sigh as we walk away. Did she? We make our laps, and she pauses another moment to offer a warm greeting to a fellow patient. Mindful of her weakened state, she encourages me to keep an eye on the clock. As we tick the laps off in silence, walking arm in arm, she asks me to tell her a story about the artist who's painted ornaments with inspiring messages for the 11th floor occupants. I stammer out something like, "Ummm... I don't know. Maybe she liked working with clay?" She cuts me off with, "No, I bet she went through a really tough time, and she used all these quotes to help get her through. She had so many that she wanted to share them with other people who were hurting and that's how she got her start." Sounds good. I'll buy it. The walk lasted all of 8 minutes, and she's worn out. But I know the people she encountered are probably better off because she walked today than she is.
I read to her about a woman named Jennifer who, at age 16, was diagnosed with a degenerative eye disease and, by the time she entered college, was totally blind. This Jennifer went on to accomplish great things with her life and has become a successful wife, mother and author. Touched by the 'other' Jennifer's story, she asks me to record some of the verses that Jennifer uses for inspiration:
When I said, "My foot is slipping," your love, O Lord, supported me.
When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.
Psalm 94: 18, 19
A kind, young 'Care Partner' enters the room, and as the CP checks vital signs, she asks how her nursing test went. "I made a 105 out of a total 112 points," the CP gushes. "Wow! That's awesome! I know you are proud and glad to have that over with!" she tells her. The CP leaves the room all smiles because of her encouragement and the few jokes thrown in for good measure.
While she's content to watch a tv show with no audio coming through, I'm thinking on the latest "Prayerful Ponderings." I ask her if she believes she has the 'peace that surpasses all understanding.' "Well, Lauren, look around you. It's pretty tough to have peace in a place like this. But I'm trusting, and I know the peace will come." It's just like her to use this moment to teach me something. (Now I wish she'd also figure out the audio on this daggum tv and then 'teach' me how to use it!)
Evening comes, and I have the great pleasure of helping her get ready for bed. She's not too proud to ask for help so I slip off her socks, find a new gown, and help her button in. With all the lines running to and from her precious arm, it's quite a puzzle getting dressed but we finally manage.
It's time for me to go, and I hate to leave. On the surface, nothing especially eventful has happened today. Nothing other than getting to spend another day with one of the people I admire most. And I'm better for it, I'm certain.
Good night. I love you. And thank you for always being who you are right now. Nothing more, nothing less. A woman of character. A woman of integrity. A woman to emulate. A woman I'm proud to call my hero and blessed to call my sister.
Prayerful Ponderings:
Jen had a good day today but the mouth pain can be excruciating at times. Matt is preparing to go back to work tomorrow and is asking for prayer that this can be a smooth transition. He is a wonderful husband. Thank the Lord for the blessing he is to Jennifer, especially during a time when his vows, "In sickness and in health," have taken on a very real meaning. We should be finding out soon whether Lindsey or I will be a match for Jen's bone marrow. This would be the best case scenario, so please pray for a match. The doctors will perform another bone marrow biopsy at the end of this week (either Thursday or Friday) to see how well Jen is responding to the chemo treatments. Pray for good results with the biopsy.
The Vandy Verse:
He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me. 2 Samuel 22:20
A Little Somethin' for the Samples:
Jen's birthday, October 6th, is a week from Thursday. We talked today about how she wanted to celebrate this year since she'll be in the hospital. She decided she wanted something small and low-key for the actual day and to postpone the big celebration with family and friends for when she comes home. Because she can't see any of her friends or extended family in person on her birthday this year, if you would like to send her a birthday message recording, that'd be great! Just record your message on your phone and then email the video to laurenmccool11@gmail.com. I'll compile all the messages into a video for her to watch.
Several people have mentioned difficulty with posting comments. Try clicking on 'Anonymous' in the drop-down box near 'Post comment.' Just remember to sign your name at the end of the comment. If anyone has a better way to trouble-shoot this problem, this tech-UNsavvy girl sure'd be appreciative.
Lastly, a wonderful group of folks have set up a fund to support Jen and Matt and to help cover extra expenses incurred during her illness. Please prayerfully consider giving and if you feel led to do so, you may make a donation at M&F Bank under the account number 102104830.
Monday, September 26, 2011
God's Calling
A Hypothetical. Follow me on this.
You're in the mall trying on shoes and your phone rings. Your purse, with the phone in it, is lying on the floor a few feet away and your best friend, being closer to said purse, asks if you want her to pick it up. Sure. "It's God calling, do you want to talk?" she asks. Of course you do. You take the phone from her and hurry outside so you can hear Him better. Foregoing the common exchange of pleasantries, the Almighty gets right to the point, "You and your husband have worked really hard toward some fantastic life goals. And I'm proud of you. But I'm going to redirect your path a bit. Before I tell you your new path, I want you to trust that I know what's best for you. Can you do that? I need you to give me your 'yes' or 'no' before I tell you what it is. What's it going to be?" "Of course, Lord. Whatever it is You have in store for us, sign us up. Yes, we trust You!" And then He drops the gauntlet...
"I know you both wanted a baby, but I'm going to give you cancer instead.
When you go to your doctor this afternoon, he won't find an embryo. He will find mixed-lineage leukemia.
In the coming weeks you won't be shopping for maternity clothes, but hospital gowns. No need to browse the bonnets and bows, you'll be picking out chemo-caps and wigs instead.
When you go for routine check-ups, you'll be watching an echocardiogram of your heart instead of a sonogram of your womb.
Instead of decorating a nursery, you'll be decorating a hospital room on the oncology floor.
When you go for your walks, you won't be pushing a stroller. It will be an IV drip with chemotherapy drugs that you lug.
You won't commiserate with expectant mothers about morning sickness and cravings. You'll befriend cancer patients and discuss things like, "How is your treatment going?" and "When will you be getting to go home?"
Your "big news" that you break to your friends will not leave them wanting to throw you a shower but wanting to know how curable you are.
Your sleepless nights won't be because of a tiny precious. It will be because the nurse keeps coming in to get your vital signs.
Your family will all gather in the waiting room. They won't be anxious to know if it's a boy or girl. They will be searching the doctors' faces for assurance and hope.
Your rosy glow will not be because there's a bun in the oven. It will be because there's Prednisone in your blood.
Your mom and sisters won't rush out to buy coloring books and puzzles for your busy toddler. Those very gifts will be to combat the stir-craziness you will go through.
I'm telling you, you will go through nine months (and more!) of extreme discomfort. And yes, there will be life on the other end.
You've given me your answer. You said you would trust me. Are you ready? Now, come, take My hand and go with me. I will see you through it all."
What reads as a hypothetical for most of us is very much the reality that Jen and Matt live everyday. God has called them, as a couple, to lay aside their hopes and dreams for their life together and to pick up their crosses to follow Him. Since Tuesday, September 13th, Jen and Matt's life has been turned upside down. Their life-plan has been totally uprooted. But, once again, therein lies the hope. God will plant new hopes, new dreams for His precious children Jennifer and Matt. Their Christian faith is being put to the ultimate test: will you travel down an unknown road, walking in blind faith, letting go of all you once knew to be, so that along the way you have the chance to make much of the Perfect One who let go of Heaven for you?
Could you do it? If God placed just such a call on your life, a call to a closer walk with Him, would you be ready? The truth is God IS calling each of us. And it's not so much the path He's wanting to take us down that's all that important, but the answer that we will give to Him. What will your answer be?
Prayerful Ponderings:
Please pray that Matt and Jen's hope will be restored. As they realign themselves to all that God now has in store for them, pray that God will strengthen their marriage, their love for one another and, most of all, their love for Him and their commitment to the cause of Christ. I can think of no greater cause and what an honor it is for them to have the opportunity to glorify Him during such a trying time.
Jen's temperature has returned to a nice, normal 98.5 degrees. Mouth sores are a bit of an aggravation and a restless night is leaving her drowsy today. She contracted a PICC line bacterial infection over the weekend but, thankfully, the profilactic antibiotics were started in time to prevent an escalated situation. Some have asked, and her beautiful brown hair is looking just lovely today. Thank you for your concern. She's holding up well and remaining positive. Praise the Lord.
The Vandy Verse:
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, abides under the shadow of the Almighty. He shall say to the Lord, "You are my refuge and my stronghold, my God in whom I put my trust." Psalm 91:1-2
*DUE TO THE SENSITIVE NATURE OF THIS POST, PLEASE DO NOT COMMENT. THANK YOU FOR YOUR THOUGHTFULNESS. *
You're in the mall trying on shoes and your phone rings. Your purse, with the phone in it, is lying on the floor a few feet away and your best friend, being closer to said purse, asks if you want her to pick it up. Sure. "It's God calling, do you want to talk?" she asks. Of course you do. You take the phone from her and hurry outside so you can hear Him better. Foregoing the common exchange of pleasantries, the Almighty gets right to the point, "You and your husband have worked really hard toward some fantastic life goals. And I'm proud of you. But I'm going to redirect your path a bit. Before I tell you your new path, I want you to trust that I know what's best for you. Can you do that? I need you to give me your 'yes' or 'no' before I tell you what it is. What's it going to be?" "Of course, Lord. Whatever it is You have in store for us, sign us up. Yes, we trust You!" And then He drops the gauntlet...
"I know you both wanted a baby, but I'm going to give you cancer instead.
When you go to your doctor this afternoon, he won't find an embryo. He will find mixed-lineage leukemia.
In the coming weeks you won't be shopping for maternity clothes, but hospital gowns. No need to browse the bonnets and bows, you'll be picking out chemo-caps and wigs instead.
When you go for routine check-ups, you'll be watching an echocardiogram of your heart instead of a sonogram of your womb.
Instead of decorating a nursery, you'll be decorating a hospital room on the oncology floor.
When you go for your walks, you won't be pushing a stroller. It will be an IV drip with chemotherapy drugs that you lug.
You won't commiserate with expectant mothers about morning sickness and cravings. You'll befriend cancer patients and discuss things like, "How is your treatment going?" and "When will you be getting to go home?"
Your "big news" that you break to your friends will not leave them wanting to throw you a shower but wanting to know how curable you are.
Your sleepless nights won't be because of a tiny precious. It will be because the nurse keeps coming in to get your vital signs.
Your family will all gather in the waiting room. They won't be anxious to know if it's a boy or girl. They will be searching the doctors' faces for assurance and hope.
Your rosy glow will not be because there's a bun in the oven. It will be because there's Prednisone in your blood.
Your mom and sisters won't rush out to buy coloring books and puzzles for your busy toddler. Those very gifts will be to combat the stir-craziness you will go through.
I'm telling you, you will go through nine months (and more!) of extreme discomfort. And yes, there will be life on the other end.
You've given me your answer. You said you would trust me. Are you ready? Now, come, take My hand and go with me. I will see you through it all."
What reads as a hypothetical for most of us is very much the reality that Jen and Matt live everyday. God has called them, as a couple, to lay aside their hopes and dreams for their life together and to pick up their crosses to follow Him. Since Tuesday, September 13th, Jen and Matt's life has been turned upside down. Their life-plan has been totally uprooted. But, once again, therein lies the hope. God will plant new hopes, new dreams for His precious children Jennifer and Matt. Their Christian faith is being put to the ultimate test: will you travel down an unknown road, walking in blind faith, letting go of all you once knew to be, so that along the way you have the chance to make much of the Perfect One who let go of Heaven for you?
Could you do it? If God placed just such a call on your life, a call to a closer walk with Him, would you be ready? The truth is God IS calling each of us. And it's not so much the path He's wanting to take us down that's all that important, but the answer that we will give to Him. What will your answer be?
Prayerful Ponderings:
Please pray that Matt and Jen's hope will be restored. As they realign themselves to all that God now has in store for them, pray that God will strengthen their marriage, their love for one another and, most of all, their love for Him and their commitment to the cause of Christ. I can think of no greater cause and what an honor it is for them to have the opportunity to glorify Him during such a trying time.
Jen's temperature has returned to a nice, normal 98.5 degrees. Mouth sores are a bit of an aggravation and a restless night is leaving her drowsy today. She contracted a PICC line bacterial infection over the weekend but, thankfully, the profilactic antibiotics were started in time to prevent an escalated situation. Some have asked, and her beautiful brown hair is looking just lovely today. Thank you for your concern. She's holding up well and remaining positive. Praise the Lord.
The Vandy Verse:
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, abides under the shadow of the Almighty. He shall say to the Lord, "You are my refuge and my stronghold, my God in whom I put my trust." Psalm 91:1-2
*DUE TO THE SENSITIVE NATURE OF THIS POST, PLEASE DO NOT COMMENT. THANK YOU FOR YOUR THOUGHTFULNESS. *
Saturday, September 24, 2011
And Now a Message from Eli and Sullie
Here's a cute video of our brother-in-law Eli and his and Lindsey's dog Sullie. Sullie was a shelter dog Lindsey got two Christmases ago because the description on his kennel read: Sweet and quiet. She thought, "Hmmm...sounds like me. It'll be a good match." Well, truth be told, Sullie is anything but sweet and quiet. He is such a rascal, so boisterous, and loves Eli! They live on a great piece of land with five ponds out in the country. It's dog paradise! As all four dogs would attest to could they talk! But of the four dogs, Sullie is the one who's always at his dad's heels ready for the next adventure...as you can see in the video. Looks like Eli's got his hands full!
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