Scott

It’s funny, the commotion a little number can cause

The first time I was told I had cancer; I thought it might be the beginning of the end of my life.

I remember thinking, I can’t die now, I have unfinished projects everywhere I look, who will finish them? And I had always assumed I would be here to take care of my wife when we got older. Who will do that if I’m not here?

After prayer and consideration, I came to realize that there isn’t really anything that won’t get by without me.

I was mentally preparing my self for the end. You reluctantly try the notion on for size, wear it around for a while, and with God you can say, “If I must, I can do this.”

I had surgery and recovery, and after a while I thought my life might continue.

Time passes and you start thinking, “Maybe I will be around a while, maybe even a long time.” So you wear that around and get used to it.

Then came the second cancer, this one incurable. Those words are devastating, but good or bad (bad or worse), I have God’s peace. I remember the moment it hit me, the peace that passes all understanding. You can learn about it here – Philippians 4:7.

Certainly, I’d rather not have cancer; I’m in no hurry to die, but here on earth, the mortality rate is 100%.

I’m tested every three months. After stable, stable, and continuing stable, it’s easy to cast your focus a little farther out and think again, “Maybe I will be around for years.”

The difference between 1.2 and 1.8 is such a small number, but enough to bring a (Smoldering) Multiple Myeloma patient back for more testing, x-rays, waiting for the next answer (and the next question), and realizing again that this is could well be the beginning of the end.

I feel like such a wimp when I read the blogs and posts of other Multiple Myeloma cancer victims, they’ve been through so much. I’ve been enjoying a fairly normal life, quietly smoldering a year and a half; that’s easy.

These MMr’s are experienced and decorated medical combat veterans. Most have had serious medications, agonizing treatments, terrible side-effects, lives completely upended, and eventually – finally, death.

I read one Multiple Myeloma blogger’s list of stages he predicts most of us will go through. There was not one mention of Jesus, no peace from God.

How sad for him to face this (and eternity) without joy. His only hope was in doctors and medicine. I love doctors and medicine (and insurance!), but even with the very best, one day I will die.

I remember hearing it said of someone who survived a great tragedy, “God was surely with them!” But, then I wondered about those who didn’t survive, was God not with them? If they were believers, God was with them.

I realize that because he is always with me. Going in or out of the hospital, going in or out of cancer, going in or out of life, His presence is undeniable.

This cancer experience hasn’t been any fun, but through it, I’ve enjoyed the strength and comfort from God’s Peace. Thank you for your prayers for Diane and me.

Monday, I go for another bone marrow biopsy. This is where the roller-coaster starts to get exciting!

*I love this shot of my brother, Loren, and I. Thanks, Diane*

A Wobble in my Stability?

The test results that were not available right away came in Monday and “bumped the wheel” causing my last spin to actually land on BMB: Bone Marrow Biopsy.

My protein number (my M-spike) is up and my oncologist wants to see what’s going on.

Stability Is Constant (at least for now)

I left work yesterday telling my co-workers I was going to “spin the wheel” again at my oncologist’s office. The wheel appears to have stopped once more on, “stable.” I tell everyone that I would be happy to remain stable for the rest of my life. I won’t get tired of that word, stable. I hope you don’t mind my repeating it. Thank you for your prayers.

The current test results that were available right away showed no notable change. The results for the test that really tells what’s going on will not be available for a few days.

During the exam, the doc asked if I was experiencing any pain or numbness, or anything unusual. I told her that next time I see my urologist; I was going to ask him about my belly button. It’s been “weird” since the prostate surgery.

There’s a little skin bubble where the button used to be. She took a look and said it’s herniated. She said it won’t be a problem unless some “bowel” gets into it (or, unless a head with slime dripping fangs pops out of it). I wondered out loud about the rare opportunity to incorporate that little bubble into a three dimensional tattoo; an eyeball tattoo would be perfect there!

*Also very rare, our cats sitting quietly together. Probably resting up for the late night cat races*

Busy Days, Life is Good

That’s me cutting access to bathroom (shower) plumbing

People ask how I am. I tell them I am stable. It’s good to be stable, and it’s good to be busy. I’m thankful I am able to be busy.

October’s days were packed. Every weekend, most evenings, and even some week days were spent working at our vacant rental house.

As the tenants were moving out, we discovered a mysterious, spongy hump growing under the linoleum in the bathroom floor. The tenants said they hadn’t noticed it.

It turned out the water heater had been leaking and the underlayment was mostly destroyed. There was also some previous or ongoing damage to the laundry room floor.

Plywood holds up better if exposed to water

Diane filling the first of what must have been 300 holes in the walls

Once the work began, the list of things that needed repair rolled out like a scroll, including things that, “now” was as-good-a-time-as-any to do.

*Brandon & Emily at Southwestern University*

We spent Thanksgiving at Brandon and Emily’s house in Georgetown, Texas. Brandon is teaching there.

Robin and Aubrie joined us the day after. I’m glad we got to spend that time together. It felt like a summer break for us as we did most of our strolling around in shorts and sandals.