Chemo: Round Two

   So here we sit, forty-eight hours or so after Chemo Round Two.  "Sit" is the operative word here.  I am not flat on the couch, I am not bowing to the porcelain throne (yet), but I am able to sit.  People...this is good so far.  I am certainly exhausted -- the mere thought of going for a walk around the block tires me out -- and yet I can sit.  Sitting is a good thing.  It allows the participant an opportunity to notice what is going on around him.  It allows one to ingest fluids more easily.  It just gives one a better perspective of the world when one is sitting rather than when one is lying or bowing to that bowl of water with the flusher handle.
  I sat yesterday too.  I sat at home for a while, I sat at the treatment center as another liter of fluid dripped into my port and therefore my body.  I sat and watched television until about 9:00 last night, all of which is better than I did the day after Chemo Round One.
  But sitting is just part of the continuum that I hope to improve on.  Standing is important.  Walking has its advantages.  Hiking/backpacking will have to happen again.  Dancing could be fun.  Running would be cool again.  Mountain climbing would be amazing.  But the two things on the top of the list would be slam-dunking in the NBA Finals at the buzzer to win it all and hitting a walk-off home run in the bottom of the ninth inning of Game Seven of the World Series.  Ah, the meds...they're making me imagine things that probably are not going to happen.  Oh well, you get the picture.  For now, sitting is just fine.  Keep praying everyone...and thank you.

Wendy

   Well, the next round of chemicals taking a sight-seeing trip through my body has begun!  Chemo went in without a problem and now we wait through the next 72 hours to see what fireworks might occur.  I pray that the fireworks show is a dud because I saw all I needed to see with the last round of chemo.  But then again, everywhere I go, I am blessed.  At the treatment center today, we were in a conversation with Wendy (our nurse) and she was explaining what had happened to her back about a year ago.  She was in a serious head-on accident and both she and her husband survived but Wendy had serious injuries.  She talked about it almost matter-of-factly, but then again she is a nurse and they do have a clinical way of discussing injuries and pain -- I know this to be a fact because my mom is a nurse, my sister is a nurse, and my wife is a nurse.  Broken wrist, sternum, ribs, collarbone, and a whole lot of pain for a good long time.  But there she was today, attending to my port and my medical needs.  Everywhere I go I see God's goodness to his people.  So what is it that I have to complain about?  Nothing.  Life is good.  God gives it.  We get to live it.
   The next round of chemicals is cruising around inside of me right now.  No problem.  And my wife just walked through the door with groceries and such.  I think I will try to steal a kiss...oh yeah, life is good.

The Boys

   Tomorrow is my next day of chemo.  My brother reminds me not to look at it as Round Two of six rounds but instead look at it as the Big One -- just one of these at a time, not just one more step but the task is One: tomorrow.  Let the rest of them wait until I get there.  I will get there, but I don't need to think about the rest of the days.  They will be there and I will be ready.  Tomorrow is coming and I will be ready for that one.  That is the only one I need to think about.
   Tomorrow is a blessing from God.  Each day we live we have the opportunity to live a life given to us by God.  I will begin by seeing my boys at 6:00 am.  This group of warriors have met together weekly for 17 years.  Tom and Tom and Jim and Tim and I have battled together as brothers for a long time.  We were together when Jim went through his several surgeries and his daughter's death.  We were together when Tim was fighting through a marriage that ended and then witnessed together as God brought a wonderful woman into his life and they married on a snowy day in Lowell.  We were together to celebrate Tom's first days as a grandpa.  We were together with Tom as he went through two bouts of lymphoma ten years ago.  We have been to the weddings of each other's children.  We have laughed together, cried together, done life together.  Tomorrow my boys will see a brother who now has no hair -- well, the last of it is falling out right now -- but a brother who is eager to embrace whatever comes.  Tomorrow I see them again and I will again gain strength from each of them and from the God we serve together.
   Tomorrow will have its ups and downs.  Tomorrow is a blessing.  Tomorrow means each of us is one day closer to heaven.  Enjoy today, use today, bless others today... but look forward to tomorrow. It will be good.

Levi, Death, and Relationships

   My new friend Levi is visiting us this afternoon.  Levi's mom works with Connie.  Levi is here because yesterday his grandpa had a massive heart attack and died.  Levi's mom and dad, Olivia and Jared, are currently meeting with the rest of the family to go over the "what to do now" list of things at the funeral home.  Do you see?  Do you see?  Everywhere one looks, one can find people going through hard things.  None of us are immune to the heartaches of life on this side of heaven.  I am sitting in a warm house on a damp winter day knowing I have my next round of chemo coming in a couple of days but I am warm, I am loved, I am cared for, I have my family -- and Levi -- home with me.  Why do I mention this on this day after Christmas?
   There are times when we think we have problems...and they really are not problems.  A Facebook post from a young woman showed up the other day.  She was bemoaning the fact that she has a cold and is pregnant -- at the same time.  The post included the phrase, "Can't think of anything worse."  Really? Is your world that small that this is a problem worth notifying the whole world about?  You cannot really think of any worse situation?  Get your eyes off yourself and understand there is far greater suffering going on in the world than simultaneously being pregnant and having a cold.
   But I also mention this to remind myself and maybe you, the reader, that life is all about relationships.  Love the people in your family.  These folks may not always be in our lives because God may choose at any time to take any of his saints home with him.  Celebrate the love we have in our lives.  Recognize these relatives and friends as genuine blessings, even if little squabbles and petty arguments cloud the relationship.  Make things right.
   Levi is here right now and without saying a word he has reminded me of joy and family and life.  By the way, he is a really cute kid too.  God is amazing.  Wanna play Lincoln Logs or watch Daniel Tiger?  I think I will let Levi choose.

Christmas Eve With Winnie the Pooh

   It's Christmas Eve morning.  While the rest of the family is getting ready to go to a large gathering later today, I am planning to stay at home and avoid all of the childhood germs that could be accompanying the myriad of young children that will be there.  Strange how I need to become more of a germaphobe when the first 56 years of my life I was quite the opposite.
   I am five days away from the next round of chemotherapy.  While I feel as though I am slowly gaining strength from that first experience two weeks ago, I still also feel lethargic and uninterested in investing energy in much of anything.  I am told that I will once again have energy.  I am told that I will like coffee someday again.  I am told that I will be able to go backpacking again.  Right now all of that is hard to imagine.  But for the time I am in I had better learn how to slow down and just get well.  What I think is more accurate is that I need to learn how to gain value out of doing nothing.  Winnie the Pooh once said, "Never underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering." 
   There is always danger in quoting the words of a fictional character.  Don't get me started with such an argument.  I understand the pitfalls of seeking wisdom from cartoon characters and stuffed animals.  But I find challenge in this quote.  I am wired to perform, to do, to act, to measure up.  Perhaps now is the time to sit down, shut up, and learn what needs to be learned.  Maybe we could all stand doing a little bit of nothing every so often.

Blessings and Bullet Points

   First off, if you are finding time during the holidays to read what you are currently reading here, please let it be known that I am genuinely thankful for you.  You have stumbled upon this blog to keep tabs on the health of a guy that is battling a disease that many battle.  But your checking in here to read this makes me realize once again how blessed I am to not be going through this battle alone.  I have been surrounded and uplifted by so many praying people.  I have been honored with gift cards, with meals, with mail, with kind words, with acts of service that I am simply astounded by when I begin to quantify it all.  I cannot imagine going through what I am going through without the immense support we are witnessing.  So many things...so many things...and they add up to one big thing: God's people are amazing.

• Doug plows my driveway...for free.  
• Steve and Dave battle it out with their snowblowers for the right to clear my sidewalk.  
• Sandy sets up an amazing holiday party and gifts at school for me.  
• Eric makes sure educationally we keep things going well, whether I can answer the bell or not.  
• Don has chauffeured me all week.  
• Pam brought us cookies.  
• My students smile at me...every day.  
• Tom and Dave and Nancy and Gwen and Mel and Loie and Jane and Trevor and Tom and Tim and Jim and Tom and others tell me they are praying for me...and I know without a doubt that they are not just saying so.  
• Elsie lets me off work even though I promised to keep her driveway clear.  
• Noelle sent me a homemade Christmas card.  
• Josh gave me a jar of honey.
• Carter gave me a purple-and-black bracelet ("The black means cancer," he told me.  "But the purple means Jesus because that is a royal color and he is the king and there is more purple than black so purple will win.") Yes, I am wearing the bracelet now.
• Randy tells me he is praying for me, even though his sentences are usually punctuated by words that Christians should not use.  But he also tells me that he sees in me the kind of man he wishes he could be.  
• Sarah gives me a new devotional thought...every day.
• Olivia gives me kiwis...every day. 

   How do I begin to catalog all of this?  I cannot.  Thank you, Jesus.  You have raised up an army of folks that are concerned for my well being.  It is all very humbling.  Faith?  I got it.  It has me.  I see it in action in the people around me.  But faith is not necessary if it is not tested.  Bring it...I am ready.  I have my people behind me.  I have my God with me.  I need nothing else.

The New Look

   I find myself wanting to write down a lot of what I have been experiencing through this new look at life.  This "new look" of course includes the word "cancer" and already it has altered how I see the world.  A couple of months ago, "anaplastic large-cell non-Hodgkins lymphoma" had nothing to do with me, a guy who lives in Michigan named Phil Warners.  Now that this term is attached to who I am, it mandates that I look at life in different ways.  Before I begin wrestling on paper with this "new look" is all about, let me at least acknowledge a few things.  First, I realize that I am not unique.  There are a lot of people who have been motoring through life just fine only to find that something is looming behind a rock up ahead and it jumps out and changes us.  This is not new.  It could be anything that does this -- it doesn't have to be cancer.  For some I know, it is some sort of disease.  It could be the death of a spouse or a child.  It could be the loss of a job or bankruptcy.  It could be something else.  But none of us is immune to coming face to face with something that does and will alter our lives in some way that we will -- even when we emerge -- never be the same as we were.  For me, it is this disease.
   But also, this altering of how we see life does not mean that one was better than the other.  Sure, I wish I never had this disease.  Of course, I would like to have the energy to not just survive each day but to have energy to do all kinds of things.  Sure, I wish that my family did not have this cloud that sits over us as we get one day closer to the next round of chemotherapy when I may end up vegetable-like for the few days afterward wondering seriously if death isn't such a bad alternative to what I am experiencing at the time.  But then, there are those special moments that I experience now that I have experienced many times before but I never have even noticed them as special before.  Today there is something even more special when my daughter snuggles up next to me to watch a program on television.  Today I will see my wife walk through the door and I know that just seeing her will make me feel so much better.  The routine of the day now has me noticing the little things that are just so special that I kick myself for never really noticing them before.  I love life.  God has blessed me with so much.  My health is wavering but my mind stays busy counting the many blessings that for some reason are so much more obvious to me now.
   The "new look?" One does not need to go through a crisis to appreciate all that is around us.  And death?  Well, as a Christian, I have nothing to fear.  God is good.  He continues to be so.  Look around yourself today and recognize something little in your life that really is something special.  "Count your blessings, name them one by one.  Count your many blessings to see what God has done."  Life is good.  Look for the little components that make it so.

A Letter to My Students

Dear Rockford Christian Middle School students,
   Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to come in for the day yesterday to pretend that once again I was your teacher.  I made the return to Room 129 without being even semi-adequately prepared to be a worthwhile teacher for you.  The papers were not graded, the plans were not well-written, and I wasn't even sure that I was going to make it through the day without taking a nap or running to the bathroom to throw up.  But you allowed me to resume the role of Teacher, you recognized me as being an important part of your experience, and you listened intently as if I had something important to say.  You blessed me with yet another set of Christmas gifts.  You made me smile (Aly) at your silly joke.  You made me laugh (Zack) during our conversation about how handsome I am.  You made me happy (Caleb) to be a part of your birthday celebration.  You made me satisfied to be back home (Sophie and Bernadette and Ocean and Morgan and Olivia and Jess) at the volleyball game when I was unable to distract you on your march to victory over the teachers at noon hour.  You blessed me with your talents (Mr. Ross) as we tag-teamed on some of the lessons, teaching  together.  You all made me feel like I belonged with the fist bumps, the smiles, the giggles, the fun.
   Oh, I'll be back.  I'll be better.  Someday again soon I'll feign anger at some of you if you forget your homework.  Someday again soon I'll show real anger if you are unkind to one of your fellow classmates.  Oh yes, and I will be back when we have that volleyball rematch in May.  But that First Day Back had to get out of the way.  That First Day Back that is filled with uncertainty and insecurity and "can-I-do-this-again?" That First Day Back of remembering what the schedule was and where I left those hot lunch cards.  That First Day Back...you all made it easy for me.  Thank you.

Love,  Mr. Phil

Ed and Nancy

   Another day, another liter of fluid.  It has been a week since my first chemo treatment and today was to be a simple check-in, but -- alas -- since the blood pressure was a little low, aw heck, why not add one more liter of fluid into Phil's carcass.  But I am glad I went in.  My Virginian daughter, Abby the R.N., was able to accompany me and ask all the questions that my finite mind does not remember to ask.  It has been such a blessing to have our daughters here helping us negotiate these first few days of our new normal way of living.  But I also received the OK to try school for a day tomorrow which has me really excited.  Whether or not I will be an effective teacher tomorrow is a moot point...just getting back there makes me smile.  Get ready, gang -- Mr. Phil is coming back to get you all back into shape (a HUGE special thanks to Rachel, my primary guest/replacement teacher at school who just took over for the last three days without any lesson plans -- Rachel, you are the best and John better know how blessed of a man he is).
   I saw Ed at the treatment center today.  While it is usually good to see a familiar face, one never wishes to see a familiar face at the cancer treatment center.  Ed told me his wife Nancy was recently diagnosed with a different type of lymphoma than what I have and in fact just received her port and first round of treatment a few days ago.  After getting myself hooked up, I went for a walk with my pole of fluids ("the Tower of Power") and found Ed and Nancy.  I have known these two wonderful people for years. I was their son's sixth grade teacher perhaps 25 years ago (ah, probably more than that but who really cares).  We have run into each other in different places over the years: our girls played basketball together, I helped with an event Nancy ran at Camp Roger, and most recently, we attend the same church as they do.  While sharing our "what-brought-you-to-the-clinic" stories, Nancy and I were both wondering why God has allowed us to go through these similar diseases at the same time.  We have no answer.  There seldom is.  But we have resolved to cheer each other on as we battle this thing.  Let's go, God -- and don't forget to heal Nancy while you are healing me.  And don't forget to heal me while you are healing Nancy.  I now have another partner in this fight.  I am blessed with partners.  Thanks again everyone.  Let's go.

The Cancer Survivor

   I met a woman the other day at the treatment center who introduced herself (I forgot her name) but quickly followed that up with, "And I have been a cancer survivor for three years now."  I am really glad for you, I thought, but I had neither the emotional nor the physical energy to endure what was promising to be a long story.  So I politely returned to my magazine and may or may not have pretended to take a short nap.
   This encounter has me thinking though about the day I emerge at the other end of this journey I am in right now.  With God's blessing and his work, I will emerge far healthier in body and stronger in resolve.  But I am also thinking that when I emerge, I will be hesitant to add that "cancer survivor" label as a headline to my introductory remarks.  I mean, I will be thankful for family and a strong support team that went through this with me and helped me to become stronger.  I will praise my God who saw me through the hard times and lifted me up.  None of that will be diminished.  But when I emerge, I want to make sure people on the other side know what is more important about who I am than merely a "cancer survivor."  "I am a child of God...I am a proud father of six children...I am the fortunate husband of a beautiful woman...I am a teacher to 39 great students..."  Each of these monikers is far more important to me than the one that says "cancer survivor."  I don't want to give cancer too much credit, too much sway.  It can influence me, but it cannot define me.
   It's early in the morning.  I didn't sleep as well last night as I should have.  I am stammering.  But you get the point?  I will not allow this experience to define my existence, but perhaps I should be humble enough to allow it to temper me.

   "Hold me Jesus, 

I am shaking like a leaf.  

You have been King of my Glory, 

Won't you be my Prince of Peace?"  -- Rich Mullins

Team Oomie Zoomie

   It has been a difficult few days, but I am still holding fast to the fact that I am blessed.  Today (Monday) I was able to take in a little food for the first time since Friday.  Thanks to the Suess Family  for providing the food that did the trick!  I was back at the treatment center again to day to get yet another bag of saline -- my third now -- as I try to fight of the dehydration problems that chemo patients know all to much about.  As I write this now (7:00 pm) I have food in my belly, I have not had a nap in more than six hours, I am not feeling nauseous at all, and I have my grandson cuddling up next to me watching an episode of Team Oomie Zoomie on his iPad.  My wife the nurse says no school yet tomorrow for me because she thinks I need to actually eat more than just once before going to school for the day.  But still, so blessed.  Here are my shout-outs for today.  I guess you could say this is my Team Oomie Zoomie:

• Eric F -- all of that Arnie's Food has my son thinking he wants to work for you someday.  Your willingness to just come by and pray with me was a blessing.  Thanks.
• Anna -- your flower on your smock reminded me of spring.  That is when all of this will be behind us.  Thanks.
• Ginger, Drew, and Darby -- your chicken and noodles were my first meal in a very long time and you delivered it to our door on a snow day.  Thanks.
• Kate, Steve, and Abby -- you guys all drove up here from Virginia and Ohio to hang out with me.  You are amazing children.  Perhaps more importantly, bringing the grandchildren was a really good idea.  Thanks.
• Connie -- you are the best.  You just are.  Ain't no man alive who can honestly say that he has it better than I do.  For taking care of me, for loving me, for sticking with me...thanks.

   Thanks for your interest, kind notes, and prayers.  This is hard, but when I think of how blessed I am, I realize there are so many others whose lives are so much harder than mine.  With my God, with his blessings, I vow to keep going with that Hebrews 12 perseverance.  Now back to Team Oomie Zoomie.

Chemo: Round One

Hello friends.  It is Sunday late afternoon and it has been a rough weekend.  This is Connie, by the way.  We just returned from the ER after about 36 hours of Phil being unable to keep anything down, including any of his meds.  He was getting severely dehydrated and becoming more and more unable to do anything but sleep.  After a few hours and two bags of fluids and anti-nausea meds, we are back home and his eyes are open!!  He feels better than he did.....but now I'm trying to get him to eat a tiny bit.  Pray he can do that soon.

This is hard.  I guess we knew it would be.  I hate seeing him sick and I am unable to do much about it.

But as usual, we are not alone.  We know our Heavenly Father sees us and loves us.  Then he prompts YOU to do something.....whether it is pray for us, be with us, bring us food, shovel or plow, send an encouraging message, take Tem and Tess, and on and on.  It was so great to have my sis-in-law Myra with us in the ER since she has years of oncology experience and knows what to ask when I have no idea.  We're thankful for the medical professionals who cared for Phil and did it so well.

I'm asking God for peace.....not to worry about things ahead of time.  And that those two little crackers would be eaten soon and stay down.

The Chemotherapy Odyssey Begins

   Chemo Day #1 is now a part of my history.  While I have very little to compare it to since I have never had cancer nor chemotherapy before, it seems to have all happened quite uneventfully.  Oh sure, I have heard the horror stories of what can happen and I have no way to know exactly how my body will be reacting in 48-72 hours, but every day is a blessing and Chemo Day #1 has already been a blessed day.  Want proof?  Here it is:

• My day started off with a 6:00 am gathering of my Band of Brothers -- Tim, Tom, Tom, and Jim.  We have met together weekly for 17 years -- well, that's when they let me join.  They had been together for a while before that.  Each Thursday morning for one hour we get together to ask the hard questions, to pray, to encourage, to bless each other, to kick each other in the rear when needed.  Some folks would call this an "accountability group" which sounds more like Christianese code language.  But these guys have been a blessing to me for a long time.  This morning they spent time praying for our family.  I always leave these gatherings feeling blessed, loved, and recognized as a man striving to live for Jesus and his family.  Thanks, Boys...you know I love you and always will.
• While sitting in the treatment center, I received a text with the photo of twenty beautiful seventh-graders wearing bandannas, noting that they were thinking and praying for me today.  (You all look good in those bandannas too -- just sayin' -- although I should probably give a couple of you a quick lesson in how to actually wear one well). Thanks you all, you know what I think of you -- you make me smile.  All.  The.  Time. 
• I met Wendy today.  Wendy is my nurse for the next 18 weeks and ten years ago was my wife's chemo nurse when Connie was going through her bout with cancer.  It was a family reunion right there as we all caught up on each other's kids and lives and such.  Wendy has already been a blessing to my family -- looks like she has to do it all over again now.
• I met Rick today.  Rick was the patient next to me who has been coming to the treatment center two days a week for 1 1/2 years.  Straight.  No breaks.  Rick's condition is terminal but he was diagnosed he was told he had with months to live -- that was nearly two years ago.  Rick is a Christian who knows that heaven awaits but still is scared about it all.  Honest Christians are the best kind.  Thanks for blessing me today, Rick.
• My friend Scott came by last night.  Having had kidney cancer eight years ago and battling through chemotherapy, he gave me some honest insights about what it is all about and offered a metaphor to remember about allowing God and his sovereignty into my life -- and not trying to replace him with other things and other people.  Scott, your words and prayer were a blessing.  It has now officially started.  Thanks.
• My brother Gary is planning to come by tonight and just hang out and eat my food and such this evening.  He doesn't have to...he just wants to.  Thanks, brother.  
• Oh, and I got to hang out with a beautiful girl much of the day too (see photo).  She is gorgeous.  And by the way, she is the one on the right.  

   See?  Quite a day.  Thank you, Lord!  I am a blessed man.  

At the Starting Line

   When I was in high school, I was a runner on a very good cross-country team.  We were nicknamed "The Black Pack" because of our black uniforms and because our top six or seven guys were often across the finish line within a minute of each other.  As I think back on those days, I remember the camaraderie we had as team members.  I remember the myriad of trophies we acquired.  But I also remember the anxiety and nervousness that always seem to be a part of my very being at the starting line.  I was ready, I had stretched out, I knew what our plan was and how we would run the race, I knew the course, but the worry was palpable.  It was just anticipatory energy, but honestly I hated the starting line.
   Right now we are two days away from the start of chemo...it seems like I have been in this waiting mode forever but in actuality this process has moved quite quickly.  With no known signs of this disease at the end of August, it is a fast-moving rascal and it has only been about six weeks since my very first doctor's visit regarding those weird bumps in my neck.  Since then I have been poked and ported, medicated and inconvenienced, blessed and humbled.  But honestly I am ready to get this show started.  I feel the pre-race jitters as I write.  I realize the effects of the chemotherapy may be more than uncomfortable (just like a lot of those races on hilly courses) I am ready to get this party started, even if the side effects stink.  The discomfort will mean that something is being done and that the waiting and the waiting and the waiting will be over.  Let's go.
   Pray for peace.  Pray for family.  Pray for healing.  Pray for strength.  Just pray and know that through this experience that I am going through, you too have the opportunity to grow closer to God during this experience.  Watch.  The waiting?  It's all temporary anyway.

A Day of Blessings

   It's a quiet Sunday morning.  I awoke with quite a headache this morning and so Connie and the kids went to church without me.  This will be an eventful week.  Chemo starts.  I have no idea how I am going to react to all of this stuff that gets injected into me but I hope that my body deals with it and that healing can begin.  While I am a tough old coot, I also have come face to face again with the limitations of this "fearfully and wonderfully made" carcass of mine.  But again we are surrounded by people who simply choose to bless us in whatever way they can:

• Josh and Brenda -- thanks for coming over and reminding me and my children that the world is a big place and that God is a part of it all.  
• Tom and Lynn -- thanks for the care package, the prayers, the visit, the "insider-trading" information from people who have endured and conquered what I am facing, and the friendship that has lasted more than 30 years.  I am only guessing that won't change over the next 30 years.    
• Matt and Amy -- thanks for the tree, the love, the compassion, the understanding.  You are people who are currently fighting the fight and yet you found time and energy to visit us and bless us.  Want some more pumpkin pie?

   And that was just yesterday.  One day.  God has an army of people who consistently ride to our rescue and bless us.  Wherever you are, listen to the Holy Spirit's prompting you to do something for someone else.  It could be inconvenient, it could be clumsy, but if God is prompting you to do something for someone else, you might be surprised at the depth of blessing someone else receives because you acted.
   It's a quiet Sunday morning.  Stay quiet long enough to hear what God is saying to you today.
 

Constance Sue

   It is now Friday evening.  Even though I didn't show up to school until 11:15 today, I am still somehow tired.  Teachers love weekends and while I am definitely thankful for a little time away from the classroom,  right now I find myself especially thankful for my wife and her willingness to:
      a.) Go with me to all of those appointments
      b.) Write the blog entry earlier today because it included a lot of medical terms -- which for
            me is like learning a foreign language
      c.) Be my partner through this adventure
      d.) Remind me daily of what love in action looks like
   I love my wife.  I cannot imagine going through this experience without her.  That is all I need to write tonight.  I am tired, I am sore, but I am blessed by a great God who offered me a great wife.  Thanks Connie.  I love you.
   
   

Some Medical Details

Hi!  Connie here!  Phil invited me to write an entry today since there is tons of new medical information and some of you might be interested in those details.....for those of you who are not, well......sorry:)
Yesterday Phil received a birthday present: a PORT.  It was necessary since chemo will begin next week and he will be ready.  We are anxious to begin this fight against cancer.  It was an unforgettable birthday for him for many reasons.  He's probably never felt so loved by everyone and he's probably never needed that more than now.
We also met with Dr. Campbell before the port placement yesterday to hear more details of this diagnosis and prognosis. We knew it was non-Hodgkins lymphoma but were waiting on some pathology from U of M.  The official diagnosis is anaplastic large cell lymphoma ALK negative. There is a greater chance of recurrence with this type of lymphoma so Phil might be looking at a stem cell transplant when chemo is done.  That will be determined later and as we all know now, we live A DAY AT A TIME, SWEET JESUS!!  This type of lymphoma is rare - I believe it is only 2 to 3%  of all lymphomas.  But they know exactly what to do with it.  For those of you who have medical knowledge or like to google things, they use the CHOP protocol for chemotherapy.  I hope that is enough but not too much information.
It is now Friday evening and a delicious meal has just been delivered and we are ready for a relaxing weekend.  We are so thankful.  Seriously, this kind of thing helps us all to remember how blessed we are and how each day is a gift.  Please just pray that Phil will have good pain relief from all the swollen lymph nodes and will be able to sleep well. Pray that we all have peace about this prognosis.  Pray that the younger kids won't be fearful.  We can leave this in God's hands, trusting that he has a good plan for our lives.
If you are reading this, then you are probably one of those people who has been loving us and praying for us and caring for us and we absolutely could not do it without you.  God bless you.

Happy Birthday To Me!

   Today I turned 57 years old.  My mother likes to remind me that I was born in a blizzard (when I first remember hearing the story, a flake of snow was in the air, then for a while the story of my birth included a snowy day theme but as the years have gone on the weather conditions from December 1, 1959 have somehow worsened).  While I was genuinely blessed with many cards and notes, my wife surprised me with a scrapbook of notes and thoughts from people that have been a part of our lives over the years.  We have had the opportunity to be a part of several wonderful churches since we have been married (six of them), several schools that I have taught at (four of those), and several different non-profit ministries that with which we have had intimate connections (Pregnancy Resource Center, Camp Roger, Upper Peninsula Bible Camp, to mention a few).  What is predictably fascinating about organizations such as these and the people involved in them is how they rise up to face whatever challenge an individual within the organization is facing.  I have seen it happen to and for so many people.  Now it is happening to me.
   It was nearly 35 years ago when began my teaching career at Bellflower Christian School in California -- I have received "get well" cards from those people.  Some of my best friends to this day were people I taught with at Creston Christian School (Grand Rapids, MI).  In the last few weeks they have blessed us beyond what one could imagine.  I taught for only four years in a small Christian school in rural Michigan, Northern Michigan Christian School (McBain, MI).  The shout-outs, bests-wishes, get-wells, keep-in-touches and other notes is amazing -- per capita these people pour out more love than any group of folks I have ever met.  And now Rockford Christian School (Rockford, MI)?  You people are ridiculous -- there is nothing a man could do that should ever earn him the right to receive over $1000 in gift cards -- but that is what you all offered me after knowing me as a teacher for maybe two months.  Ridiculous.
   I bring this all up because I had my port inserted today.  "What a lousy way to spend your birthday" was a sentiment I heard more than once.  It is through this port in my chest that they will start filling me with chemo next week.  While the world would look at all of this and wish to pity someone like me, I want to go on record as saying that this experience has done so much to remind me how much love, kindness, grace, and caring there is in the people that I know.  While I never would have wished for cancer, the intensity of the blessing I have experienced from God's people has been overwhelming to the point of literally bringing me to my knee in humility.  Oh and come on, some of you are just crazy nut jobs with how much you have blessed us -- Connie, Julie, Julie, Seth, Tim, Eric, Diana, Gary/Myra, Roland/Sarah, Sarah/Olivia, others -- you know who you are and you know what you've done.  Bless you.
   Today I turned 57 years old.  I got a port for my birthday.  I also have the blessing of having an army of friends.  It has been a very good birthday.

Apologies and Explanations

   Monday...back to school, back to work, back to normal.  I found myself this morning eager to get back to the students and to for at least a while pretend all is well.  I am also finding that harder to do all the time.  While I get the port inserted on Thursday, one would think that I have three days of "normal" to get through, but today was hard.  I find myself with two overriding feelings: my physical self does not have the energy to do my teaching job as well as I would like, and I find my mental self being out of focus when I do try to do my job well.  My mind wanders to thoughts like, "What will this journey be like a few days from now?  A week from now?  A month from now?"  I still am operating on the "One day at a time, sweet Jesus..." motif, but it has become more difficult to keep that mantra in focus.
   To my students: I am limping through some things.  What I have to teach you is important even if I don't have the typical energy that I would like to have when presenting you with topics such as the importance of Deuteronomy or the nature of polygons.  I am sorry.  Be patient with me.  I am doing my best with what I have right now.  But also remember that it is your job to do the learning -- I am here to guide you.  Let's keep going together.  Both you and I know that it will get better.
   To the parents of my students: my love for your children has not wavered.  They have been patient, amazing, incredible, and necessary supports for me.  You have blessed me with not only the opportunity to be the teacher of your children, but with the ways you have supported my family as well -- raking leaves, bringing food, offering prayers -- all has blessed us in ways you will never know about.
   To my school community: you have offered me a glimpse of what it means to be one of you.  You continue to amaze me with your support and concern.  You bless me with your questions, your support, your presence.  Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
   So here we go.  I have to get some grading done.  I have to prepare lessons for tomorrow.  I have to get a nap.  I have a lot of "have-tos" on my list.  I will do my best.  Your patience and understanding will be needed as we fill in the gaps...together.  "One day at a time, sweet Jesus..."

Pete's Gift

   While I was at one of my many doctor's appointments last week, I met two people in the waiting room that I immediately recognized as the parents of a boyhood friend.  Pete and Millie were there because Millie is enduring the ravages of cancer as well, but the perseverance evident in them is something that I too wish to emulate.  But Pete, a first-generation immigrant from the Netherlands and a WWII survivor, had found an old prayer journal at his mother's home, still written in its original Dutch language.  He had taken the time to translate the journal into English and gave me a copy of his work.  The book, small like a postcard, is simply entitled, "A Prayer for Every Day."  Here is the entry for November 27:

   "Heavenly Father, help me that I today without interruption may gaze on you.
       Grant that the bad and the low will not pull me down.
       Help me to walk as a child of the Almighty and all-powerful one who knows
          that his citizenship is secure in heaven."

   Many have gone before me who have endured far more than I am being asked to endure.  I have good doctors and a good prognosis...many do not.  I am surrounded by a good family and a lot of support...many do not.  I have a hope and a future, guaranteed me by a loving Father...many do not. I have fresh water, good food, a solid roof, the blessings of wealth...many do not.  While I echo this prayer, I also am humbled by all that I have and understand that I am blessed beyond what I deserve.  Take the time today to be thankful, not just for the list we rattled off around the Thanksgiving table earlier this week, but for the basics that many of us take for granted.  Thank you, Pete.  Take care of Millie for us.

A Rainy Saturday

   Saturday...wet and rainy, grey and damp.  One could use weather conditions as a metaphor when describing one's state of mind or a season in life.  Forget it.  "This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it."  Each day is a gift.
   I received a lengthy e-mail from a former student of mine who claimed I was a big influence on her during some difficult days in her life...30 years ago.  While I remember her well and remember her family well, her words were a blessing to me this morning.  They cut through the wet/rainy/grey/damp and encouraged me during this time when I am down a bit.  Thanks Jane.  Blessings to you and your family.
   We just said "good-bye" to our daughter, her husband, and our grandson.  Again, another blessing from God -- well, their existence is the blessing, not the fact that they were leaving.  "Great is thy faithfulness..." from one generation to the next.  OK, I am just rambling here this morning.  It makes no sense to write if I am not saying much.  I have been told that I have the gift of being able to talk until I think of something to say...maybe I can write the same way.
   Time to go get a haircut.  It's all going to fall out anyway...I might as well get rid of it before it comes out in clumps.  That could scare the children.

Three Loves

My girlfriend and our two grandchildren...
From left: Nora Jane (age 1), my wife Connie (I am not saying her age) and Jesse Taylor (age 2)

   If I ever need to be reminded during this upcoming process that fighting for life is important and nobody is around in close proximity to kick me in the behind to keep me going, I post this picture here and now to remind and proclaim to my future self three of the most important reasons why I need to fight this cancer and its side effects with everything I have.  Every fiber of my being might need to go into this fight.  This is what you are fighting for, Phil...keep going.

The Beginning of It All

"I am two weeks short of my 57th birthday.  For 56.85 years, I have lived a life that has been blessed by God and I am assuming -- because I have a vague understanding of God's sovereignty -- that there is nothing that will threaten this blessing from continuing.  I have a beautiful wife.  We have been married for 31 years.  I have six children, two grandchildren, two sons-in-law, a dog, a cat, and a mortgage.  I am a teacher of students that are in the 7th and 8th grades, an age that causes many of my friends to cringe when they think of how I spend my days.  But they are indeed a spark in my life that make me smile, wonder, and gasp.  At that age, nothing ever happens without exclamation points.  "Play try-outs!"  "Basketball game!"  "Too much homework!"  "Nobody likes me!"  "I hate school!" "I think he likes me!"  Each day is one exclamation point after another.

The school I teach for is a Christian school.  Each family pays tuition for the right to have their children attend the school and then we as Christian teachers have the blessed opportunity to raise these children "...in the discipline and instruction of the Lord"  which sounds scarier than what it is.  The summary of it all is that I love my students, I love my job, I love my school.  You would have to ask my students what they think about me but then you would have to read their blogs.

Last week I was diagnosed with lymphoma, a cancer of the lymph node system.  Middle school students don't scare me, but this has.  Tomorrow I visit the oncologist for the first time after two solid weeks of visiting with other doctors who checked out this and that and whatnot.  Their job was to determine that the bumps that I had noticed in my armpit and my neck were not caused by cancer that may have originated somewhere else in my body.  Those tests proved to be negative (a good word) and so the conclusion is that the cancer is in the lymph nodes.

The purpose of this blog then is to allow those who are curious about my health, my state of mind, and whatever other details I care to throw in.  I intend to keep private what I need to keep private but also I know there are many people who are praying and want to know how I am doing on this journey.  This will be the place to check.

Tomorrow is Oncologist Visit #1.  I meet with my human exclamation points in the morning and then visit the doctor at 2:00 pm.  We hope to find out what type of cancer we are dealing with and the treatment options that will allow me to continue this earthly existence for a few more years or decades."

That was the news from a few days ago.  I am still on the edge of a major battle.  Today was about a Pet Scan, fasting, and being thankful.  My grandson is here with my daughter and her husband.  My grandson is medicine for my soul.

I intend to do my best to write on this blog frequently so that those of you who are concerned for my well-being can stay apprised of things.  I have been overwhelmed by the kind wishes, the meals, the cards, and the prayers that have been realized and offered.  You all are the best.  Keep praying -- next week we get a port and start the chemotherapy.  Bring it!