The Best Christmas Gift. Quick Dad Update 12/16/2015

Our MRI yesterday read as followed: 

"Possible slight improvement and definitely no significant worsening of the left middle cranial fossa temporal lobe signal enhancement and T2 signal changes."

The MRI looked BETTER than it did just ONE month ago, which means the Avastin treatment is WORKING! 

We will continue the chemotherapy and Avastin treatment and repeat the MRI in about 6-8 weeks. Until then, we plan on loving every minute of this Christmas season, as we are so incredibly blessed that God has given us more quality time with Dad. 

By all means, the cancer should have returned by now, so for me, the only explanation is the power of prayer. We are so incredibly blessed with the number of people praying and thinking of Dad during this journey!

Wishing you all a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!

It's The Most Wonderful Time of The Year. Dad Update 12/7/2015

First, I want to share our beautiful Christmas cards this year. I was so thankful that a dear friend of mine came in from Katy to take pictures for us once again- she always does such a fabulous job!

Dad just finished another round of chemo and his second Avastin treatment. The chemo hit him pretty hard, but he handled it all so very well. We continue to pray the chemo and Avastin are working to stop any tumor growth, and we are especially hopeful for a good MRI next week. 

As I look at these pictures for our Christmas card, I can't help but be so incredibly blessed for these last 2 years we've had with Dad. These have been extremely challenging, but also so incredibly rewarding. We've become so much closer as a family, and appreciate life so much more- especially the holiday season. 

In a time where everything is so JOYFUL- Thanksgiving, Christmas, the New Year- sometimes we tend to get down on news that is far from joyful. But if there's anything I've learned over the last 2 years is to never question God's plan. To never think I can comprehend something that God has planned for us. I would have never imagined that my life would be filled with so much suffering, but I'm so thankful that I'm reminded that it's exactly what God has promised for us:

"Be prepared to suffer for Me, in My Name. All suffering has meaning in My kingdom. Pain and problems are opportunities to demonstrate your trust in Me. Bearing your circumstances bravely- even thanking Me for them- is one of the highest forms of praise. This sacrifice of thanksgiving rings golden-toned bells of Joy throughout heavenly realms. On earth also, your patient suffering sends out ripples of good tiding in ever-widening circles. When suffering strikes, remember that I am sovereign and that I can bring good out of everything. Do not try to run from pain or hide from problems. Instead, accept adversity in My Name, offering it up to Me for My purpose. Thus your suffering gains meaning and draws you closer to Me. Joy emerges from the ashes of adversity through your trust and thankfulness." James 1: 2-4; Psalm 107: 21-22

Oh how Joy has truly emerged from our ashes of adversity. We are on this incredible path. Some days smile and joy beam through us, and other days we are discouraged and filled with fear of the future. But, we are reminded that this path was so perfectly created for us. 

We are unsure what Dad's MRI will show. We are unsure what the future holds for Dad's cancer treatment. But what we are sure of, is that we will be having a wonderful Christmas season- filled with family, friends and hope. 

We continue to ask for prayers as we face another MRI and pray that it's God's will to help heal my Dad. Thank you all for the love and support, and from our family to yours, we wish you a wonderful Christmas season and a Happy New Year. 

Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

I'm All Too Guilty Of This...Thanksgiving Update 10/30/2015

This morning I opened my devotional and it felt like God was hitting me right in the face with a message I so badly needed to hear. 

"Problems are part of life. They are inescapable, woven into the very fabric of this fallen world. You tend to go into problem-solving mode all too readily, acting as if you have the capacity to fix everything...You are ever so limited in your capacity to correct all that is wrong in the world around you. Don't weigh yourself down with responsibilities that are not your own...Rather than try to fix everything that comes to your attending, ask Me to show you what is truly important."

So here we are one Avastin treatment in, with another one on Wednesday. And I still sit and think, constantly, what IF the treatment is not working, what is our next step. I stress on our next step. I take on responsibilities that no one asks me to take on- I take on the research and insurance information gathering, and I put the weight on my shoulders to make sure we are able to afford any and all future treatment options. Here i am thinking that I have the capacity to fix everything. 

Because Dad has been feeling so well, because there have been no increase in his headaches or an increase in him wanting to sleep more, or any other cognitive changes- it's been hard for me to remember that the last MRI showed that Dad's cancer was on it's way back. It's been hard for me to remember that the nature of the beast Dad is fighting can and WILL return- it's always just a matter of time. 

And I struggle. I'm all too guilty of trying to fix the problem before it happens. I over analyze things. I over plan. 

And as I do all these things, I get hit in the face with this message of turning over these responsibilities to HIM. I can't promise that this will happen overnight, but I can promise that I will try. I will try to remember that I can not fix it all. That I can not take away this cancer from Dad. That I can not give him a perfect MRI. 

Dad starts another round of chemotherapy today. He hates these weeks. It's so hard to see him feeling so incredibly terrible. The chemo knocks it out of him. And we try to be encouraging and supportive, but he's the one that has to experience the pain of the drugs. These drugs that have given us such amazing quality time with him these last 2 years. I can't help but be so thankful for them, and yet hate them at the same time. 

Along with chemotherapy, Dad will have another round of Avastin this week. Thankfully, this treatment does not give him too many side effects- but it can be a long process that day if the chemo center is exceptionally busy. Long days are hard on Dad- especially on chemo week. But, we again are so thankful for both of these treatment options. 

Thankful. We are so incredibly thankful that we had another Thanksgiving with Dad. I remember that first Thanksgiving after his diagnosis- we were in the middle of radiation and intense chemotherapy- it's amazing how far we've come these last 2 years. Dad was able to enjoy it all and continued to feel well. 

We also received some more exciting news that reminded us again how THANKFUL we are:

Luke will be a BIG brother in July, as Genna and Chad announced they are pregnant. We are OVER the moon excited for another sweet addition to our family. 

Dad has had the chance to watch Luke grow this last year, and will now get to help celebrate another grandchild to the family- we are so incredibly blessed and THANKFUL. 

We continue to pray the new treatment is working and Dad's strength and attitude continue this week during chemotherapy. It's never easy, but this time of year helps us reflect on the things that are in fact the MOST important- friends & family. And we've been blessed with both amazing friends and family on this incredible journey.

Thank you all for the continued thoughts and prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

Well, Our Path Just Got A Bit Bumpy... Dad Update 11/18/2015

Well, it's not the news we wanted to hear yesterday. We wanted to hear "MRI looks great, no new growth." But, that's not the news we heard. Not at all. 

Instead, we heard that the MRI has changed. We don't like to hear the word "change". The MRI is showing blood flow to the area (increased enhancement) where the tumor was located. 

So what does this mean?

1. There is no mass or tumor currently in Dad's brain. YES- GREAT news!
2. There is no shift in his brain. YES- GREAT news!
3. There is blood flow and increased enhancement- meaning Dad's tumor feeds off of blood flow- so the last thing we want is blood flow to the area where the tumor was located.

Ok, so 2 of the 3 things we found on yesterday are GREAT news- but #3 up there, that one put tears in my eyes and left me with a feeling of absolute frustration. 

So what is our next step?

Well, in March of 2014 we heard some devastating news as well, we were told the MRI looked bad- much worse than THIS MRI- and after just a few months of fighting Brain Cancer, we were all left in shock and disbelief. BUT, we started a new treatment called Avastin and it seemed to really help Dad- and his MRI's. Avastin is not chemotherapy, as Dad will continue on his chemotherapy pills every month- Dad's Oncologist feels as though these are continuing to benefit him, and we do whatever Dr. Fleener recommends!- but Avastin helps slow the growth of new blood vessels. Dad has very few side effects to the treatment- the worse part is sitting at the Cancer Clinic every two weeks for about an hour receiving the treatment. But he's a champ and we make him comfortable so he can nap the entire time. 

After a brief fight with the insurance company- I swear those guys will never learn that I always win these battles!- the Avastin was approved yesterday and Dad already received his first treatment. I have to hand it to the amazing staff and nurses at the Cancer Clinic- the billing ladies and I are tight, as they've helped me through so many of our insurance battles and Nikki went above and beyond to help get his treatment approved yesterday. And the nurses, each one hugged Dad and kept telling him that they were going to help him beat this cancer again. Each one of them are so encouraging and sincere with the love and care they show Dad. To say we've been blessed with an amazing group of people loving and caring for my Dad would be an understatement- this group of people have become our second family and I'm so incredibly thankful for that. 

After mentally, and emotionally, processing all the information yesterday, I immediately went into information gathering mode. I sent texts and emails inquiring about our next steps- that is IF the Avastin does not benefit Dad. I want to be as informed as possible and have every possible option available for Mom and Dad to discuss. Yet another reason I am so incredibly thankful for the Dr. Marnie Rose Foundation- one email, yes just ONE, telling them our situation and I was given names of doctors and clinical trials I should consider to enroll Dad in. I didn't have to hunt around on the internet, instead the information was sent to me and recommendations as to the BEST clinical trial results so far. We are so BLESSED to be part of the Dr. Marnie Rose Foundation- as their love and support has been something I've leaned on these last 2 years. 

So it wasn't ideal. And with the holidays, this sure isn't an ideal time. But, we have to remember that God's timing is in fact PERFECT. I laughed this morning because I told God that I was frustrated, that all I asked for him was for a perfect MRI, so why couldn't I get exactly what I wanted? And then a quote popped into my head: "Not being able to fully understand God is frustrating, but it is ridiculous for us to think we have the right to limit God to something we are capable of understanding."

So sure, it wasn't the news we wanted to hear. I'm still mentally and emotionally processing it all, with some moments remaining so incredibly positive in our journey, and others completely confused and saddened by the path we have ahead of us. So when you see me in tears, it's not because my FAITH isn't strong and I do believe God's timing is PERFECT- it's that I'm human, my entire family is human, and I pray that God can heal my Dad. Because I truly believe he can, he will, but even if he doesn't, I'll praise him throughout it all.

Many families faced with a cancer diagnosis, especially one like Glioblastoma, aren't given the amount of time we've been given. So I'm going to focus on that- I'm going to focus on these last 2 years and what a beautiful gift of TIME God has given to me and my family. And I pray he continues to grant us this beautiful gift, if it is his will. 

Thank you for all the continued thoughts and prayers on this journey, as we fight like hell to BTHO Brain Cancer. 

National Caregivers Month.

November is 'National Caregivers Month'. And I thought, in a month where we focus on being THANKFUL for so many things, it seems like a pretty perfect time to share how thankful I am for Dad's caregiver- my Mom. 

When I was just 10 years old I watched the battle against cancer through my Granny's eyes. I watched as cancer took her hair, her strength, and her energy. I watched, not fully understanding what cancer really was, or what her treatments involved, but I watched because my parents did not want us to be sheltered to that fight. And today, I'm so incredibly thankful for that. 

I watched as my Mom and my Aunt took turns staying with my Granny at night during those difficult days. I watched as they loved and cared for their mom throughout some of the darkest of hours, and I watched as they did this with unconditional love. 

I learned from both my Mom and my Aunt, even at age 10, what it meant to be there for those you love, to do for others "just because", and what it meant to lean on faith during difficult times. I learned what it meant to be a caregiver. 

And now, 17 years later I'm watching as an adult, who still doesn't fully understand the WHY in it all, but I'm watching with open eyes and such a full heart as Mom cares for my Dad. 

It's not just cooking meals, or helping with the yard, those things are wonderful and Mom goes above and beyond to do things around the house that Dad once did, because sometimes he just isn't feeling well enough to do those things- but it's the late nights when he's not feeling well, or just staying positive when it seems like all the odds are against us. 

She is selfless and strong. She is relentless and faithful. 

I think that Granny's battle 17 years ago really prepared Mom, and our entire family, for this journey. I think seeing my Mom and Aunt as amazing caregivers throughout her cancer journey, prepared me to know what cancer looked like- and sometimes it's so incredibly ugly. 

But I have always said there is beauty in our journey. And I know for a fact I wouldn't see this beauty without my incredibly strong, faithful and determined Mom. She has stood by Dad through some of our darkest days, and she continues to stand strong next to Dad on the journey ahead. 

So this month, I want to thank my Mom and Aunt for showing me what a wonderful caregiver looks like- someone who is selfless, faithful, and strong. And this month, I want to especially thank my Mom for all the sacrifices she has made these last 2 years- from the sleepless nights, to the early morning appointments, and everything in between- she's been the rock of our family, the faithful leader we all look up to, and the strength we all need (especially Dad) to beat this disease. 

Thank you to all the wonderful caregivers out there!

Dad Update: Chemo week is almost complete- and once again these two have handled it with so much beauty and grace. I'm so proud of both of them throughout this journey. 

Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

Chemo Week. Dad Update 11/3/2015

Chemo week has started for Dad, and the look on his face when he's reminded that he will be taking those pills for 5 consecutive nights absolutely breaks my heart. I wish there was a way I could take away his pain, the side effects, and the discouragement of chemo week. But unfortunately, I can't take away his treatment option- as it's been working so well these last 2 years to stop any tumor growth- but what I can do is to try to make him smile. I can try to help him look forward to each day, even if that day involves more chemotherapy. So, we've started a new tradition (you know us Aggies love tradition!) for Dad's chemo week....

Each day of the week, Dad gets a letter with some sort of "treat". These treats range from $5 movie gift cards, to having the house cleaned, or even a trip to HEB to pick up groceries for the week. Just something that makes life a little bit easier for both him and Mom, and something that I know Dad will appreciate. 

Here's an example of a little note Dad might get from me:

"You’re almost done with this month’s test,
Chemo week has us all very stressed.

But once again, you’ve handled it all with pure grace,
And dinner’s on me, you just name the place!"

The laugh and smile I get from that little note, and a little gift, makes me feel like I'm able to help Dad during these weeks. 

I wish I could say that chemo week got easier on Dad, but really the side effects become more cumulative as the treatments continue- meaning, the side effects continue to get more difficult to manage. But we try our best, and we constantly are trying different suggestions from Dr. Fleener. Anything to make these weeks just a little less miserable!

I'm so proud of Dad. I'm so proud of his determination and fight. As much as he hates these weeks, we remind him of the WHY in it all. And a big WHY of Dad's fight, is his little grandson, which Mom told me she tells Dad each night he takes chemo, especially when he makes that face of pure hate towards those pills, that he's taking those pills for Luke. 

We celebrated Luke's first Halloween this year, and of course, he had to go Trick-or-Treating to Mutz and Grandpa's house. That little boy has this entire family wrapped around his little finger. 

So what's up ahead of us? We choose to continue to LIVE throughout Dad's terminal diagnosis. We choose to take each day and become better and closer because of it all. Just last night as I stopped by Mom and Dad's to check on them, I watched as my oldest sister, Genna, picked up Luke from their house, and my other sister, Meghan, stopped by to say hi. I joke that their house is now a revolving door- and I don't think my parents would want it any other way. We are all in this together. We are all taking it one step at a time. We are all in this to WIN the battle. 

Dad still continues on his chemotherapy, and (even after 2 years!) is still consistently doing his speech therapy. Talk about a PROUD moment to come home and see him concentrating so hard on his therapy:

It's every day. And it's amazing to see the things he continues to excel in- math skills (which is awesome because he was the one who always helped us with our math homework growing up)! And the areas in which he struggles, but continues to improve each day. His brain is constantly healing, it is constantly working to repair the damage from the surgery, brain bleed, radiation and chemotherapy. 

We have a new normal. Chemotherapy, blood work, MRI's, and Oncology appointments have become our new normal. I ran into one of Dad's Oncology nurses at another doctor's office for my own appointment and when she realized who I was, mainly who my Dad was, she immediately gave me a hug and kept telling me how much she adored my Dad. And what a wonderful patient he has been. 

I will never fully understand the WHY in Dad's diagnosis, what I have started to understand is the WHY in our journey. Dad's purpose here in this physical world is so much greater than I could have imagined and is greater than I will ever understand. His story, his faith, and his attitude are touching so many throughout this journey, and most of all, I'm so incredibly proud to be his daughter. 

Continuing to pray the treatment is working to prevent any tumor growth, continuing to pray Dad has a good week while on chemotherapy, all while we continue to fight to BTHO Brain Cancer!

Brenham Banner Press. 10/19/2015

I'm so proud that Dad was asked to share a little bit about him and our family to our local paper for a "People Profile". 

http://www.brenhambanner.com/news/glenz-s-battle-with-cancer-a-team-effort/article_a1f2155d-458f-5496-8309-994ce9fa8c37.html?success=2

Another round of chemotherapy is complete, and we focus on the next MRI in November. Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

Our 2 Year Anniversary. 10/5/2015

I was introduced to the story of Matt Chandler, a pastor in Dallas who was diagnosed with brain cancer over 5 years ago. A different type of tumor than Dad battles, but the fight is so very similar. I found an article where he described how he found purpose in his pain, and I couldn't help but want to share his exact words. I couldn't have said it better myself:

Matt stated, "Now let me be very clear here. I'd much rather bring Him glory by preaching; I'd much rather bring Him glory by driving an '01 Impala that backfires in school zones; I'd much rather bring Him glory by giving away a large part of our income; I'd much rather glorify Him in those ways, than to have brain cancer. But I don't get to choose that."

"It's not punitive; it's not random; and it has not been given to us by God to show us who's boss, Matt says, "There's a purpose in it; there's a limit in it; and in the end, God is not going to give us what He will not sustain us in. And I believe at that moment, the Holy Spirit gives you the power to stand. That's exactly what we found out. And I'm rejoicing in what He's doing in it."

24. 24 months. That's 2 years. Yes 2 years! Dad is a 2 year cancer SURVIVOR. And what an amazing 2 years it has been!

We felt so weighed down in the statistics associated with Dad's cancer. And then we had to remember that every person, every cancer, every situation is unique and different. We knew this was not random, this was not given to us by God to show us who was boss. Instead, we took the statistics and knew that it was not our job to deny the diagnosis, instead, we would fight to defy the verdict. And that's exactly what Dad has done.

The 2 year survival rate of glioblastoma patients is about 25%. That means Dad had a 75% of not being here. And here he stands. 

Nearly 100% of glioblastomas recur, usually within 6-8 months. Dad's tumor has never returned.

The median survival of a glioblastoma patient is 16-19 months. And here we are 24 months later.

We've beat the odds. Dad's strength, determination, and fight has beat the odds. 

The struggles we've faced these last two years. The difficult moments, days, and weeks. The times when we felt as though all hope was lost- where we were forced to turn to a much higher power throughout it all, for we were too weak to fight this battle on our own. We look back now and think, "How the heck did we do it?" How did we handle the surgery and physical therapy, the radiation and chemotherapy together, the nights of concern and worry- how did we manage to continue on?

Faith.

Fear can keep you up all night, but Faith makes one great pillow. 

Continuing to REJOICE on this journey and feeling so incredibly blessed for the love and support shown to my family throughout Dad's battle. If you would have told me this is where we would be 2 years ago sitting in the hospital after Dad's seizure, I would have never imagined it. I could never imagine my heart would be so full of love and support from friends and family. This path, so perfectly created for us, has been more of a blessing than anything, and I am so thankful for each of you who have walked on this path with us.

Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

On Tuesday we handed out BTHO Brain Cancer t-shirts to the staff, nurses and Dr. Fleener. I can't say enough wonderful things about each person at the Cancer Clinic! We are so blessed that God put us on this path with such wonderful people!

We have another MRI scheduled in November, which will mark 4 months since Dad's last MRI. We continue to take it all one day at a time and be so incredibly thankful for this journey!

My Thank You To Nurses.

With so much media attention on nurses, I couldn't help but think back to our last 2 years of constant appointments and treatments, and be so incredibly blessed for the nurses in my life. So here is my thank you to all the nurses out there, especially those who have helped Dad these last 2 years. 

Dear Nurses,

You have each helped scan, poke, cut and monitor my Dad these last 2 years. From brain surgeries, ICU stays, MRIs, administering treatment, doing blood work, and being my on call for any question or concern- you have handled each situation perfectly, and I thank you for that. 

Thank you to the ICU nurses at St. Joseph's. When our world seemed to be falling apart, and we were sleep deprived from sleeping in the waiting room, you were there to offer kind words and provide care to my Dad. I credit Dad's ICU nurse with saving his life that day in October 2013. That day where the brain surgery was a success and, shortly after, Dad's right arm started appearing very weak. There were no machines that went off, or some sort of test that showed what was happening, just the training of one amazing nurse who noticed a change and called the doctor. We soon realized Dad was having a brain bleed and was quickly rushed back to surgery. That nurse saved Dad's life, and for that there are no words to thank her enough. And to the ICU nurses who allowed us to visit during non-visitation hours to help make Dad more comfortable and to the ICU nurses who loved and cared for my Dad as I would love and care for him, thank you. 

Thank you the Cancer Clinic nurses. To say these nurses have become second family to us would be an understatement. These nurses have answered every call I've had with any question or concern. They have answered some of my difficult questions, where my voice screamed panic and concern, and their response was calming and comforting. I remember that day in March 2014, where we were concerned the cancer had returned. I walked back to the chemotherapy area with tears in my eyes, panic in my heart, and fear overtaking my body- and I wasn't greeted with any cold words or request to "sign in" or provide Dad's information. Instead, I was greeted with a hug and those words I will never forget, "I'm going to take very good care of your Dad." Thank you for providing hope to my family throughout this journey, thank you for providing guidance to me on this path where medical information is so foreign to me, and thank you for providing a hug when I needed it more than I could have ever imagined. Thank you. 

And to my family of nurses- thank you! You answer the calls in the early mornings and late nights, those calls where I'm filled with panic or concerned, and you are calm and reassuring. I'm not sure if nurses take a class on how to remain calm in stressful situations, or if that's just how perfectly God made you for this profession, but how amazing it is that when the world seems to be falling apart, you're right there to help manage the pieces.

And maybe nurses don't hear it enough, but thank you for all that you do each day. Thank you for the sacrifices you make working late, or being on call. You reassure us, you comfort us, and you provide a sense of strength in battles that we do not know how to fight. You become family to many of us, and I hope you see what a blessing that is to many families like mine. 

Continue your passion in helping others, because on the days where nothing seems to go right, on the days where you're tired, burnt out, and frustrated with your profession- know that there are families like mine who pray for people like you. People who provide calm in the storm, people who provide hope when the world seems hopeless, and people who provide care to those we love the most. 

Thank you.

Washington County Fair. Dad Update 9/17/2015

"Nothing can happen without God's permission and God will not allow a difficulty unless He has a divine purpose for it. If you will keep your peace, you'll pass the test, and God will bring you out better than you were before."

Last night Dad made a trip up to the Washington County Fair. This was especially BIG because last week was chemo week for Dad, and what an exceptionally difficult week it was! Dad starts chemo on a Monday and by Wednesday the side effects of the treatment are usually in full force and last until about the next Wednesday, which is why I was thrilled Dad felt good enough last night to come enjoy the fair. 

And this year was also a special year, as it's Luke's first trip to the Washington County Fair! I see lots of fair memories for him in his future. 

Making it to the VIP room to eat is always a challenge, as it seems like Dad is stopped non-stop by others wanting to say hi. Dad put so much of his heart and soul into the Washington County Fair- from serving on committees, to helping so many with their fair projects- he loved every minute of it. I still had to call him after every show yesterday to let him know who won Grand and Reserve and how some of the others placed. It always brings such a big smile to my face when others ask about him or to see the number of people stopping him to say hi- he is loved and prayed for by so many!

So the fair week continues on, and I hope Dad has a few more nights where he can enjoy the fair with friends and family. We never know if Dad will be having a good day or a bad day, but we continue to be so thankful for each day we are given with Dad. 

Thank you to all who have stopped and talked with Dad at the fair and those who continue to ask about him- we are so blessed with an amazing group of friends and family on this journey. 

Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

23 Months. Dad Update 9/2/2015

"Not being able to fully understand God is frustrating, but it is ridiculous for us to think we have the right to limit God to something we are capable of comprehending."

Saturday will mark 23 months since Dad's brain cancer diagnosis. I look back at our journey these last 23 months and I think about all the things it's been filled with- frustration, disappointment, tears, and fear. And then I realize it's also been filled with hope, joy, faith, and laughter. 

23 months ago I had so much anger and frustration towards God because I didn't understand our journey. I didn't understand why my Dad was being faced with something as difficult as cancer. What I didn't understand was that it was absolutely ridiculous for me to think that I had the right to limit God to something that I am capable of comprehending. 

And now, 23 months later I still don't fully understand it all. There are still moments and days where I wish things were back to how they were before Dad's diagnosis, but the frustration is gone. The disappointment, tears and fear have become less and less each day. Instead, we are filled even more with hope, joy, faith and laughter. 

Dad finished another round of chemo a couple of weeks ago, and overall, he felt good. Not great, but good. I will happily accept good. And now we put our focus on the events ahead. The Washington County Fair is coming up quickly, and this is always such an important time of year for Dad. We did very well at the fair with both our chickens and our rabbits, and that was a large part to Dad's hard work and dedication. And now, Mom and I serve on the Poultry Committee at the Fair. The Washington County Fair gave so much to my entire family, and it's just a small way for us to give back to it all. A little throwback picture circa 1995, when we won Reserve Grand Champion at the Washington County Fair. Dad is so incredibly proud, and I love that Mom is wearing a t-shirt with chickens on it. Oh I miss the '90s. 

Our next doctor's appointment is scheduled at the end of September, where we will meet with Dr. Fleener and discuss how Dad is doing and schedule our next MRI. To have 3 months between MRI's is just unreal to me, and as much as I love not having to visit the Cancer Clinic as often- it's very strange to me. Some days, I completely forget that Dad is battling against cancer, and what a huge blessing that is for me. I get to forget about the chemo, MRIs, medical bills, and doctor's appointments, and instead, I just get to enjoy my time with Dad. 

Thank you all for the continued love and support you've shown to me and my entire family. I am so thankful that this journey has allowed both myself, and my family, to grow closer in faith, friendship and family. We are better because of it all. 

Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting, to BTHO Brain Cancer!

Happy Birthday Lar! 8/18/2015

Happy 61st Birthday Lar! I've been so blessed to have a Dad that has put up with my lack of knowledge about some "common things" (Sorry Dad, still don't know how to put air in my tires and just recently learned there were two types of screwdrivers), has been part of every big decision in my life because his opinion is one that I greatly value, and has been the rock of our family throughout it all. We take today and forget about the cancer treatments and MRI's, the blood work and upcoming doctor's appointments, and instead, we take today to celebrate someone who is an amazing father, great husband, and a wonderful friend to so many. Today, I get to celebrate the best Dad in the world, the man that I've been lucky enough to have loved my entire life. So Happy Birthday to my Lar! Here's to celebrating many more birthdays with you!

And of course my devotional was just perfect for today:

"Anticipate coming face-to-face with impossibilities: situation totally beyond your ability to handle. This awareness of you inadequacy is not something you should try to evade. It is precisely where I want you- the best place to encounter Me in My Glory and Power. When you see armies of problems marching toward you, cry out to Me! Allow Me to fight for you."

These last 2 years have had so many situations that have seemed near impossible for us to handle or overcome. We are so incredibly blessed to celebrate another birthday with Dad and be able to walk hand in hand with someone who is truly fighting so many of these impossible situation for us! 

God is Good!

Chemo Week Is Upon Us. Dad Update 8/12/2015

Dad starts another round of chemotherapy this week, and after countless rounds of these dreaded pills, we are praying and hoping we've mastered managing the symptoms. 

Many ask me, "If your Dad's scans look good, then why does the chemo continue?" 

Dad's fight against brain cancer will be a lifelong battle. This isn't a type of cancer that is curable, we are fighting against terminal cancer. This isn't a type of cancer that statistics show after x number of months and/or years of no recurrence that the chances of the cancer returning are low. This isn't a type of cancer that just goes away. 

And as much as all of that kinda (for lack of a better word) sucks, it's the cards we've been dealt, and it's the path so perfectly created for us. Instead we look at the statistics that Dad has already overcome and beat. 

We look at the recurrence rates in Glioblastoma patients. 100% recurrence within 7-9 months of removal. We are 22 months post removal. 

We look at the median survival rate. 14.6 months with surgery, radiation and chemotherapy. We are 22 months post diagnosis. 

We look at Dad's seizure, large blood clot removed during surgery and brain bleed after surgery and notice very few side effects. Right side weakness. Some short term memory loss and word recognition. But that's really it. A very small scar from surgery. And little to no hair loss from surgery, chemotherapy and radiation. I can't help but put all these blessing back on a pretty amazing Neurosurgeon (Dr. White), and an even more amazing God.

When the chemotherapy stops working, or when the tumor returns, or if the chemotherapy ever gives Dad a lesser quality of life, then the chemotherapy will stop. But until then we stay as positive as possible during these difficult weeks for Dad. We try to take his mind off of things and continue on as normal as possible. 

This last week Mom and Dad took a trip to the hill country to visit my aunt and uncle, and I realized it was one of the first trips they have taken together since Dad's diagnosis. I realized that Dad's travel usually involves doctor's appointments, MRI's and treatment. It was obvious they both needed this little weekend away more than anything, and it was great to see them Sunday both so relaxed and refreshed! 

It's rather strange not going to the Cancer Clinic so often. As I remember during Dad's IV treatment of Avastin, I was there every 2 weeks for treatment and once a month for a visit with Dr. Fleener. This is all strange in a very good way!

I'm not sure what the next MRI will show, or if Dad will have any signs/symptoms of progression before our next MRI, but what I am sure of is how blessed we've been these last 22 months. How blessed we've been that Dad's surgery, blood clot, and brain bleed left him with the ability lead a normal life. How blessed we've been that Dad's been able to witness the birth of his first grandson. How blessed we've been that Dad has stayed so positive during it all, and how well he's handled all of his treatments. 

We continue to take it all one day at a time, we continue to pray the treatment is working to stop any cancer grown, and we continue to be so incredibly thankful for these last 22 months. 

Thank you all for the continued thoughts and prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer. 

MRI Update. 8/3/2015

Here we are just a couple of days short of Dad's 22 month anniversary of the seizure, which lead to his brain cancer diagnosis and 22 month anniversary of hearing those words "terminal cancer". We were given a grim diagnosis and devastating statistics. I look at these statistics as a realist, knowing all too well the tumor can, and most likely will, return. I look at these statistics and pray for the best, but all too often expect the worst. 

But this last MRI, as I prayed for the best results possible, it's exactly what we received! No new changes- no indication of tumor! We are on cloud 9!

I read the MRI results out loud, as Dr. Fleener had a nurse bring in the results early to us while she was meeting with another patient so we didn't have to continue waiting. Let me remind you, I picked Accounting as my major because I wanted the least number of science classes I would have to take in college- and it was pretty clear that was the case when I read the report. I couldn't pronounce half of the words and every other word I said in more of a question form than a statement, because I had no clue what it all meant.

Genna finally, as she laughed, told me to read the conclusion part instead, so I did: "Stable postsurgical change of the left middle cranial fossa. Stable peripheral and nodular enhancement, likely representing postoperative change."

Ok, so I still have not a clue what most of those words mean, BUT I read "likely representing postoperative change", I knew that was good, I knew that meant the report did not show tumor growth, and I loved hearing the word "stable". 

It was all such a relief. And we look forward and focus on the treatment path ahead. The chemo continues, along with the blood work and MRI's- BUT another MRI is not planned for another 3-4 months. And that is HUGE!

Once we received the news I was immediately texting friends and family, as they all anxiously await MRI day and the news we will receive. And I immediately texted a dear friend who's mom is currently battling cancer. We text often, we share stories of fear and anxiety, and celebrate with one another on little (and BIG!) victories for our parents. And on Thursday, when we received the results and I immediately texted her the news, her response made me realize all too well that Dad has such a large purpose here on Earth. Much bigger and greater than I could ever imagine, and much bigger and greater than I ever realized. 

I told my friend the great news, "Dad's MRI is stable- no changes or growth! Another MRI in 3-4 months!! Almost 22 months later, such a blessing!"

And her response brought mom and I to tears, because we've always said 'Hope and Hopelessness are both options, so why not choose hope?"

My friend responded: "Oh my gosh that is such great news!!! I am so happy for your guys!!! Your dad seriously gives me hope for my mom."

Hope. Dad's fight. The good and bad days we have, heck the good and bad moments, all have this much bigger and larger purpose in life. Dad is inspiring others! Which he denies when I tell him that his faith, fight and attitude are continuously inspiring others faced with difficult battles, and his faith, fight and attitude are continuously inspiring me. But it's all so true- he's such an inspiration!

Dad's leaving this amazing footprint on this Earth. At church on Sunday, our pastor shared a sermon about looking at your obituary, and if you would like what it would say. I think back to Dad's life, his role as a father, husband, friend, co-worker and cancer fighter, and I would have to say that I'm not sure if there is a darn thing that man would change about his life. I'm so proud that I get to call him my Dad, and even more honored that I'm his daughter. 

Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

21 Months Post Diagnosis. Dad Update 7/10/2015

July 5, 2015 marked 21 months post diagnosis. 

If you would have told me 21 months ago that we would be where we are right now with Dad's cancer, I'm sure I would have never believed it. 

But here we are. Given Dad's diagnosis was followed with "14.5 months to live", I would say that 21 months is a pretty incredible milestone! We still struggle daily with the side effects of the surgery and radiation, and Dad still does his speech therapy each and every day- his determination and fight never ceases to amaze me. 

Dad had another appointment with his Oncologist, Dr. Fleener, on Wednesday. It had been about 2 months since we had stepped foot in the Cancer Clinic, and we were greeted by all of the staff with hugs and smiles. I can't say enough wonderful things about everyone at the Cancer Clinic- from the business office staff (those ladies have helped me through my many battles with insurance companies and hospital bills), to the nurses who help check Dad in and do blood work, and the nurses who administer chemo to the many patients in the back, this group of individuals have been essential in our fight against brain cancer. And then there's Dr. Fleener. The lady that I joke is the 4th Glenz daughter. She's so kind to us, so loving to Dad, and maintains such faith in our journey. She has this ability to be so incredibly positive to us, but also extremely realistic. Dad trusts her, we trust her, and I'm so thankful that she is on this path with us during Dad's fight. 

Dad's appointment went well and we've scheduled another MRI in the next couple of weeks. Of course, this gets my anxiety and fear on full force, but I can't help but continue to read these little sticky notes I have on my desk:
"They do not fear bad news, they confidently TRUST the Lord to care for them. Psalm 112:7" And another favorite:
"My fight. To not let suffering win. To not let it take away the joy in my faith. To not let it affect the relationships in my life. To instead, take it for its own and run and use it to make me better. To allow it to show me when I am weak. To embrace those weaknesses when they are near and become strong for it."

Such important messages I try and remind myself on a daily basis. Really focusing on letting my faith be bigger than my fear. 

Dad starts another round of chemo next week, and we continue to pray the chemo is working so stop any cancer growth. We also pray Dad maintains his strength, appetite and fight during this week, as I know the treatment can be so incredibly draining on his body and mind. As long as the treatment continues to provide QUALITY of life, we will continue to use the chemo in our fight. 

This week I will also be moving out of my parent's home. When I initially moved in, it was a short term solution to a new job I was accepting in College Station. Fast forward 21 months, and this short term solution became much longer. I am so incredibly blessed that I've been able to spend these last 21 months being a primary caregiver to Dad. It's been 21 months that I've cherished and learned so much about myself, my faith, and my relationships. Cancer has sucked, but what a blessing it has been to be able to share this journey, hand in hand, and step by step with Mom and Dad daily. 

On the way home from Dad's doctor's appointment I heard a song on the radio, and I couldn't help but relate this to Dad's journey. 

"Unsinkable ships sink, unbreakable walls break,
Sometimes the things you think would never happen
Happen just like that. Unbendable steel bends,
If the fury of the wind is unstoppable.
I've learned to never underestimate, the impossible."


Given the statistics we were given, I've quickly learned that you can never underestimate the impossible. Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!


And the Glenz Family hopes you each had a wonderful 4th of July!

Let Your Faith Be Bigger Than Your Fears. Dad Update 6/22/2015

This last Sunday I sat in a familiar place, listened to a familiar story, but for some reason the lesson from this familiar place and familiar story was not familiar at all. 

I've heard the story of David and Goliath. The story of the little man, the underdog, who faced a much bigger, stronger man, and won. That's the story I was told as a child, and I never once tried to link this story to the struggles of life. But instead, sitting in that familiar place, listening to that familiar story, I finally linked the story of David and Goliath to my life, and finally I was hearing all the words I so badly have been needing to hear. Words I didn't even know I needed. 

Our Associate Pastor did such a beautiful job of describing the story and making comparisons to our own struggles in life, and I couldn't help but think of Dad as David, and our fight against cancer as Goliath. 

The passage read, 'The Lord who rescued me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will rescue me from the hand of this Philistine.'

"Let your faith be bigger than your fears," was what our Associate Pastor repeated over and over again. Let your faith be bigger than your fears.

Dad has endured so much. Brain surgery, a large blood clot in his brain, a brain bleed...the list goes on. The Lord has already rescued him from all these things, and I believe he will rescue him from whatever we are faced with in the future. This faith, this handing over the control of the situation, is so difficult for me, but my reminder is constantly repeating- "Let your faith be bigger than your fears." 

The message was beautifully delivered and beautifully written, and I'm not sure who else received the message in such an eye opening way on Sunday as I did, but I'm so very thankful I was there to hear this message. It brought me comfort to Dad's fight. Because sometimes you just need to hear it from someone else, you need to hear those words, "Let your faith be bigger than your fears."

I am all so incredibly guilty of running through life with a to-do list for each day, forgetting to take time to enjoy small moments in my life, and forgetting to be thankful, even in the most difficult times. This last week of chemo was especially difficult on Dad. His face showed it all- he was tired, in pain, and just down. It all broke my heart. But I continued to repeat that message I heard, from that familiar place, "The Lord who rescued me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will rescue me from the hand of this Philistine." The Lord has brought Dad through so much, and I believe he will continue to do the same, because sometimes you have to let your faith be bigger than your fears. 

Sunday evening Dad was finally feeling much better and was able to enjoy dinner with us all, all to celebrate him. Father's Day has a completely new meaning to our family, and actually, all holidays have a new meaning to us. We are not sure if or when Dad's cancer will return. We have no clue if this was the last Father's Day celebration, or if there are many more to come. We do know that right now, Dad is doing well and enjoying life. You can't take the smile off of his face when he sees his Grandson, and there isn't a moment in this world I would trade when it's just him and I spending time together. Life is good. 

The story of David beating Goliath is no longer just a story I heard in Sunday School, no, instead this story is one of an underdog, one of a man with all the statistics against him, overcoming the odds and allowing his faith to be much bigger than any fear. 

Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

20 Months. Dad Update 6/8/2015

I just realized it's been a while since I've posted any updates on Dad- which can really mean only one thing, things are stable. Stable is GOOD!

Our last MRI did not indicate any growth and even more of a confirmation that the imaging from the MRI is the result of scar tissue from surgery and radiation treatment. We are so incredibly blessed.

June 5, 2015 marked 20 months since Dad's diagnosis. I go back to that cold October day so many times and remember the statistics we were given- 14.6 months with standard care and treatment. 14.6 months. My heart immediately sank.

But, here we are 20 months post diagnosis, and we continue to look forward in life. We know there are upcoming chemo treatments and MRI's, but for right now we are enjoying each day with Dad.

We have another round of chemotherapy starting in a couple of weeks, followed by an appointment with Dad's oncologist- from there we will determine when our next MRI will take place. Until then, we try to live each day as normal as possible and be so thankful for each moment together. 

Yesterday, as we spent some time in the pool with my 5 month old nephew, I looked around and couldn't help but be so incredibly thankful for these last 20 months. I looked around and saw Dad enjoying the beautiful day, Mom taking lots of pictures of my nephew's first pool day, and my two sisters just enjoying life, and I realized that even it if all changes tomorrow, what an absolute blessing it's all been. 

Asking for continued prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

Scars. Dad Update 5/19/2015

Last night, Dad started another round of chemo. Oh how I hate these weeks. And I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual for Dad. 

But, it's all part of our process and our fight. The chemo pills will never stop, unless they stop working to suppress the cancer growth, or the side effects start to decrease his quality of life- but until then, Dad takes them each month for those 5 long days and we continue to press on. 

The other day I sat in another cold doctor's office, this time an appointment for me with my annoying allergies and I couldn't help but go right back to that cold doctor's office where we heard the word "tumor". Where we heard the word "malignant". Where I realized that our lives were about to be changed forever. 

I started thinking about all the things we've overcome so far, many of which I mentally prepared for prior to it all happening. I read about brain surgery recovery, I read about chemotherapy side effects and radiation treatment, and I read about what exactly Dad's tumor was capable of doing to his brain. But what none of those articles shared with me was the insecurity Dad would face with losing his hair due to the radiation treatment and the surgery. 

He's a guy. Guys don't care about losing their hair, right?

I realized it wasn't so much about losing his hair, it was the fact that the hair falling out solidified that he in fact had cancer, and without all of his hair, there the scar from his surgery showed through. 

But what Dad doesn't realize is the beauty I see in that scar. You see, that scar reminds me that something so bad and evil tried to take my Dad too early, that scar reminds me that I have so much to be thankful for. 

That scar also reminds me of how far I've come as an individual and a caretaker these last 19.5 months. That scar reminds me that I've got the strongest and bravest Dad in the entire world. I have a Dad that has looked death in the eyes and never feared cancer, but instead, given his concerns and worries over to God. That scar reminds me that I have a really good God.

There is so much beauty in that scar. Because that scar reminds me of the battle that Dad has won. 

Winning the battle against cancer doesn't come from remission or the cancer shrinking, nope not at all. Winning the battle against cancer means you looked at something so terrible and fearful right in the eyes, and you maintained your faith, your strength and your fight. And because of that definition, Dad has already won. 

I'm not sure what our next few months will look like, much less what will happen tomorrow, but what I do know is that I never want Dad to feel insecure about his scar. I never want any cancer patient to feel that way about their scars or losing their hair. Because to me, it's beautiful. It means your strength, your grace and your faith have helped you fight against something. Because to me, you are a true hero for the world to see. 

In the end, the journey with cancer is much greater than the end result. We all learn, grow and become better for it all. Sometimes we question how God could ever think we are strong enough or faithful enough to be on the journey- but difficult times are not the arena in which we prove our faithfulness to God, no, it's where we prove that God is faithful. 

With another round of chemotherapy this week, Dad will be back at the doctor in about a month for blood work, in hopes his counts remain stable and we can continue on his treatment. Revisiting the doctor again in 2 months to determine when our next MRI will take place, and feeling a sense of relief that, although off of the Avastin, Dad's MRI maintains stable. We are so incredibly blessed for each and every day with Dad, and can't help but thank God for the amazing friends and family on this journey with us every step of the way. 

Continue the prayers, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!

Quick Dad Update 5/15/2015

Dad's last MRI did not show any re-growth and the MRI, even more so, indicated that the areas showing up in the MRI are in fact scar tissue and radiation damage- NOT cancer. 

God is good! 

Go Gray In May. Brain Cancer Awareness.

May starts brain cancer awareness month, which is something that is so incredibly near and dear to my heart. As I've watched Dad's battle these last 19 months, I can't help but be so incredibly excited about the progress being made with treatment options, yet at the same time discouraged with the standard treatment options available to Dad. 

I've taken it upon myself to educate others on brain cancer, educate others on how deadly of a disease this really is, and educate others on the lack of funding provided to research brain cancer treatment. 

For the specific type of brain cancer Dad was diagnosed with 19 months ago (Glioblastoma Multiforme), the average life span is 14 months with the standard treatment (Surgery, Radiation, Chemotherapy). And statistically, 25% of people diagnosed with the disease live past 2 years. 

Those statistics leave me with such mixed emotions. I read those and cringe, and fear is filled in my mind, as the odds are not in our favor. And those statistics also seem to light a fire inside of me, a fire that has me focused on funding, research and awareness of brain cancer, because I truly feel like I can help change those statistics. 

I'm not sure if in Dad's lifetime we will see a cure, and that is a difficult thought to comprehend sometimes, but I am certain that we are so incredibly close to finding a cure, finding a new treatment option that will give patients quality of life, and will give patients longer than the statistics mentioned above. 

What will it take to change these statistics? It takes funding, it takes awareness, and it takes passion. In the last 19 months, we've had the love and support of so many friends and family members who have helped us donate over $16,000 to the Dr. Marnie Rose Foundation. 

Some days during Dad's fight are difficult, he has good days and bad days. And on the nights of the bad days I usually have a little bit longer talk with God. Sometimes there are tears, other nights I'm more emotionally calm, but regardless these talks start with so many questions about our journey. So many questions I ask about the future, and each time the answers come in comfort. I always get a sense of comfort on those extremely difficult nights, when all I want to do is cry, question God's path for my family, and ask Him to take away all the pain. 

But, the beauty of this journey and our fight is that I will never get these answers. I will never know what the future holds, not what will happen in the next 5 minutes or the next day. I will never not have pain in my life, regardless if it's associated with Dad's cancer or other events, and I will never be able to fully contain the tears- because I've learned sometimes you just need a good cry. 

I've realized that maybe this battle has given me a wonderful opportunity to find my purpose and passion. I'm so proud that I'm able to have an outlet with Dad's fight and help bring awareness and funding to brain cancer research. In the moments where I feel as though I'm helpless, that I'm not able to take this disease away from him, I realize that his fight- regardless of the length of the fight- is paving the way for a cure. It's bringing awareness to brain cancer, it's providing funding to research and it's providing HOPE to so many others. There will be a day where a family receives a brain cancer diagnosis and the statistics aren't the same and there is no use of the word "terminal". No, instead because of Dad's fight, the awareness and funding it's provided, patients will be given a better chance to fight with new treatment options. Patients will be given HOPE to be cured. And to me, what an absolutely wonderful gift this battle has given me, and Dad. We have been given the opportunity to help others in such a wonderful way, and for that, I'm so incredibly proud. 

Make sure you go GRAY in MAY and continue praying, as we continue fighting to BTHO Brain Cancer!