Yes And Amen

This coming Monday morning, we will stand outside the MRI machine and wait on our unconscious, brave boy once again.

There is no such thing as an unimportant scan for kids like Chase, but this one really is important and different from the others in a new way because, if, (yes, Lord, please…)… yes, if Chase’s results are stable, this month will hold his last round of appointments with his current neuro-oncology team. If he’s stable, he’ll be moved to a different clinic at Lurie with different doctors and staff, better and more equipped to deal in the living with cancer instead of the dying with cancer. Does one “move on” from cancer? Ha. But one can certainly get to another level in the game.

Having this bittersweet moment in sight feels like a tempting of fate. And the changes come and go with the days, weeks, and months, but the whisper is always there, stronger in the weeks preceding a scan – especially a big one: “It might come back. This might be it…” That moment I’ve tried a million times to imagine and prepare my heart around — even when I know I can’t. And the pre-MRI days hold a desperate struggle, but it’s hard to pinpoint the source of the black mood wrestling.

Is it fear?

Is it a renewed in-your-face realization that we are disgustingly powerless in this life?

Is it anger at staring down my own weaknesses and learned lessons over again?

The answer is probably yes, yes, and more yes.

But you know what else is, are, and ever will be yes? …yes and amen?

THE PROMISES OF GOD.

Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.
    Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you.
    I will hold you up with my victorious right hand. Isaiah 41:10

And yes, the worst may prove true on the scan, but there is someTHING…someONE who proves MORE TRUE.

Every word of God proves true.
    He is a shield to all who come to him for protection. Proverbs 30:5

Bring it on.

Moment by moment.

Chase with his favorite hospital security officer, John

Truth, Grace, Perspective, and Chemo

I don’t want to write tonight, but there is much to share.
Yesterday, we had a full schedule of appointments at the hospital – Chase was cleared post-op by his neurosurgeon and was cleared pre-chemo by the oncology team.  Oh, and in the middle of all the scheduled visits we had a series of UNscheduled visits when his father and I (please, keep in mind that we are parents of four, and in this moment, we only had ONE to watch) ignored that one wiggle that sent him backwards off his cafeteria chair and onto the floor…on his baseball head.  Oh my.  He’s completely fine.  Someday, Bob and I will recover too.

Coloring to pass the time in pre-op

After all our meetings yesterday, we got to go home for a few hours and then came back very early this morning for Chase’s second trip into the OR in 2 weeks – this time for a central line, spinal tap, and first spinal injection of chemo.

Daddy prepping to assist the medical staff until Chase stopped kicking them 🙂

As I write this, we are back in one of our lovely lake view rooms on the oncology floor.  For this first chemo visit, he stays for several days, incredibly vigilant monitoring, and lots and lots of chemo drugs.

Our new life

Oh, the drugs!  In some ways, this is harder to handle than his surgery.  I hate the thought of what these life-saving drugs are going to do to him.  Each infusion makes this more real…or at the very least, keep us from ever forgetting where we are and why.  I find myself pondering again and again the strange and sober mercy that allows such suffering in the now for the benefit of long term.  (always pondering it…never questioning it)
Today has really been a good day and Chase is doing incredibly well given the circumstances.  So why didn’t I want to write?  Because today is a struggle for me.  Not a high-level freak out… Just a low level wishing things were other than what they are.  I feel very weak in the “bigness” of this disease and it’s implications.

With Chase immediately post-op as he was coming out of the anesthesia

In this moment, I know that I need to be reminded of Truth.

“Have you not known? Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.  He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.   Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted;  but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:28-31 (ESV)

Though I am weary, God is not.  Though I am weak, God is not.  Though I am very intimidated by my son’s chemo protocol, God is not.  Though I have no idea what our future holds … GOD KNOWS.  In fact, He more than knows…He has perfectly crafted and designed these events in a symphony of praise and glory beyond our wildest and most beautiful imaginings.
Moment by moment perspective.
Moment by moment grace.

Sleeping peacefully at the end of a long day (Isaiah 26:13)