November 7

In previous entries I have been complaining of the disparity between my rotten inside and my normal outside.  Well this past week I had no such problem.  There has hardly been a minute when I didn’t fully realize the severity of my condition.

We left on Tuesday and had a fun movie night with the kids watching the new ‘Jungle Book’ movie. It is such a treat that Cami always has a yummy dinner waiting for us when we arrive.  Wednesday morning we set out again for another round of treatments and for a consultation with Dr. Lara, the oncologist.  I was looking forward to it, because I felt so encouraged by him 3 month ago when he started me on the immunotherapy.

When we left Tim’s house the morning looked magical, it was still dark and there was this wispy band of low laying fog over the fields, the multicolored lights from cars, traffic signals and buildings punctuated the misty atmosphere.  As pretty as it was it caused the traffic to slow considerably and we soon realized that we would be late for our first appointment at 8 am.  The appointment was with the lab to get a blood draw but when we finally arrived 20 minutes late the lab was still closed because they had difficulties with their printers.  The printers are needed to print a label to indentify each and every blood sample taken. 

The lab is downstairs and the doctors’ offices are on the first floor.   As our appointment with the doctor was at 8:30 I was getting anxious as to what to do.  So I stayed in the lab waiting while Dad went upstairs to check me in with receptionist so they knew we were in the building. But the receptionist would not allow Dad to check me in because he was not me, duh.

So he came downstairs again and he waited in the lab and I went upstairs, shortly after I checked in I was called up to see the doctor so I texted Dad to come up, but no response, so I called him and my call went to his voicemail, so frustrated I went downstairs to get him and by the time we finally saw the doctor I was wheezing like crazy.  That made the doctor very worried and he went to consult with the Dr. Yoneda the lung specialist.  The two of them studied my CT scan images and felt it was necessary that a stint be placed into my lung to prevent the tumor from closing off my windpipe.  Since we had already planned our Utah trip next week it was scheduled for the following week. 

That was very disappointing news to me.  Not only had my tumor not shrunk one bit, it is now inflamed because of the medications I am taken.  The inflammation is supposed to be a good thing because it signifies that my immune system is attacking the cancer, my right lung is now ground zero in the fight between the brave white blood cells and the bad red blood vessels that form this ugly blob.  So far the red team is still ahead. The inflammation also causes a swelling and that presses on my bronchus and decreases my ability to breath, thus all the wheezing. And not just wheezing, my lung makes the weirdest noises.  At times I sound like I have swallowed a harmonica.

The necessity for a stent placement really discouraged me. It is done via another bronchoscope and I did not enjoy the last one at all. 

After all this let down news I still had to go down stairs to get my blood drawn and have another infusion. By now it was past 10 o clock and I had not had anything to eat or drink since early morning and my blood vessels were as flat as my mood.  Which meant several attempts by the phlebotomist to find a productive blood source to fill all the necessary vials. 

All good and bad things finally come to an end and so by the afternoon we were back home. 

Thursday morning I was reading a talk by Elder Holland titled “ All things are possible to him that believeth’; it expounds on the story of the father who so desires his little son to be healed but who does not seem to know how to generate enough faith.  “I believe” he cries and then adds the plea “help thou mine un-believe”.

I can so identify with this man. I have a hard time reconciling the two seemingly contradictory ideas of having faith enough to be healed and allowing God’s will to be done.  

The courageous “but if not” from the three brave young men about to be thrown into the fiery oven is what I need.

We have already seen small miracles and we are so grateful for them.   When uncle Bill died in July we really wanted to go to the funeral but the lung specialist in Davies urged us to come see him as soon as possible.  By that time I was experiencing several bleeding coughing fits a day.  We prayed about it and felt it was the right thing to postpone the appointment one week and go to the funeral.  From that point on my coughing fits diminished and eventually stopped completely. 

At the onset of this journey I was more afraid of the treatment than the disease and again I was blessed because so far I have not been unduly sick.

Since Thursday my flagging courage has rallied again, my wheezing has diminished somewhat and my inhaler has helped me over the worst.  Things are looking up.