Retirement Celebration. & Dad Update 12/15/2016

Tomorrow will be Mom's last day at Brenham ISD after 28 years of service. It's crazy to think this chapter of her life is ending, and she is now turning the page to a new chapter- one filled with many unknowns, but lots of time for friends & family. 

The last three years of work for Mom has been challenging. She's struggled through some really difficult days, each of which she managed through with a smile on her face and an unbelievable perspective on it all. Her positive attitude and outlook has never ceased to amaze me. 

When I think back on Mom's 28 years of service, there is really one main phrase that comes to mind when describing her management style, one thing she constantly tells me when I struggle with a career decision:

"There are three priorities in life you need to remember, and they go in this order exactly. Your faith is first, your family is second, and then it's your career. If you consider the priority of each of those, you'll never make a wrong choice."

That's how she managed her office the last 28 years, and that's how she has managed our house (especially) in these last three years. It's a true testament to the type of manager she is, and most importantly, the type of person she is.

She ends these last 28 years with many friends she has met through her job as Child Nutrition Director at BISD. Friends that have laughed and celebrated through the good, and friends that have been there to love her and cry with her through the bad. She has been so incredibly blessed. 

I joke that Mom and Dad may have survived cancer these last three years, but can they survive being with one another each day, all day long? And it's truly a joke because, if anything, they will thrive being with one another each day. 

Everyone has commented on how great Dad is looking- and I couldn't agree more. If you just looked at him, you'd never know the fight he's put up these last three years. He's a pretty amazing fighter, and most importantly, a pretty amazing dad. 

So after 28 years of waking up early, barely eating a lunch, and working late- Mom gets to set her own schedule. She can wake up at 7 am, or sleep until 10 am. She can make a sandwich for lunch or meet friends downtown. She can work on her own to do list until 8 pm, or stop at 3 pm. Her schedule is just that, HER schedule. And I know both her and Dad are thrilled. 

We have no idea what Dad's next MRI will show, as we were told that 7-9 months post surgery the tumor would return- and here we are 38 months later with no recurrence. After being given just 14 months to live, I think it's safe to say God has another plan for Dad. I know he's using him in ways that I couldn't have ever imagined- and all because of cancer. If you look hard enough, you truly can see the good in it all. 

Tomorrow at 5 pm, I'll be celebrating with Mom as she ends her chapter at Brenham ISD. We will probably have a glass of wine, or two...ok maybe three. We will talk about her favorite things about Brenham ISD, we will laugh (Mom will probably cry a bit), and then we will look to the future at all the wonderful things that are still left in this lifetime. We know from experience these things will involve laughter and tears, trials and triumphs, but most importantly amazing friends and family each step of the way. 

Congrats Mom on 28 amazing years at Brenham ISD!

Christmas Time At The Glenz Household. Dad Update 12/8/2016

On Tuesday we had a follow up appointment with Dr. Fleener and discussed our upcoming MRI. Dad has currently been off all treatments since August- he's thrilled to be done with the IV treatment Avastin, and even more thrilled to be off of chemotherapy. Three years of such intense treatment can really take a toll on your body. 

It's been 38 months since we learned of Dad's cancer, and it's been 38 months where we learned a lot about ourselves, a lot about our faith, and even more so about the support system we have in this battle. Y'all, we are so incredibly blessed. 

And the holidays are always such a wonderful time to remind ourselves of how blessed we are to have Dad still with us- how amazing it is that he's truly beaten the odds! I looked back and saw that just two years ago I posted the following quote, and after our most recent trip to see Dr. Fleener, it's all still so incredibly true: 

"Part of winning the battle against cancer is hope, faith, determination, strength and keeping positive. The other part of winning the battle is a great medical team on your side. I learned early on that statistics are just numbers, and I'm more than a number. I'm a strong human being with inner strength and an iron-clad determination to fight to win. Statistics don't tell you about the human behind the fighter who possesses the will and strength to fight, win and overcome."

Dad has this unbelievable amount of hope, faith, determination and strength- and what he lacks in staying positive on some of his most difficult days, Mom more than makes up. These two are an incredible team, two people that I'm so very proud to call my parents- they have looked fear, anxiety and stress right in the eyes, and have fought back with everything they have. Statistics in Dad's cancer clearly didn't take into account these two individuals in this battle. We were given 14 months. And here we are 38 months later. I think it's safe to say Mom & Dad's hope, faith, determination and strength had a lot to do with it- along with a lot of prayers and the good Lord on our side. 

And the other part of our battle- a great medical team. I can't say enough wonderful things about each person at the Cancer Clinic in Bryan. After each visit Dr. Fleener gives Dad a hug and says "I love you." In a place that COULD be so incredibly cold and depressing- I honestly don't wish ANYONE a visit to an Oncologist office- the Cancer Clinic is FAR from that. I've been there at least once a month since Dad's diagnosis, and I've always been greeted with a smile, a hug, and a question "How's Larry doing?". They know us by name- we have no patient number that I'm aware of- and they answer each of my questions (no matter how dumb they may be!). We are blessed to have found such amazing people to care for my Dad. 

On Tuesday we left with wishing each of the staff, nurses and doctors a Merry Christmas, and the words "See y'all in 2017!"

We have another MRI at the end of the month, but until then we are planning to focus not on the results and the scan-anxiety associated with it all- no, instead we are going to focus on celebrating the true meaning of the season. We plan to spend time with friends & family, celebrate the two little ones (soon to be THREE!) experiencing the JOY of Christmas, and soak up as much time as we can with Dad. 

I know all too well the statistics associated with Dad's cancer, but I also know all too well the absolute grace God has given us these last three years. We've been given more time than we ever thought we would have, and for that I am so incredibly grateful. 

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

A Life Filled With Miracles. Dad Update 11/28/2016

As I started going through the beautiful pictures my best friend took of my family in an attempt to pick only one or two for our family Christmas card, I also pulled out my devotional and the words couldn't have been more perfect:

"A life of praise and thankfulness becomes a life filled with miracles. Instead of trying to be in control, you focus on Me and what I am doing."

A life filled with miracles is exactly what we have experienced- Dad is our miracle. 

I think back to that first Thanksgiving after Dad's diagnosis- we were in the middle of his radiation and intense chemotherapy treatment. Dad felt terrible, and we all had this thought in the back of our minds- what if this was the last Thanksgiving with Dad?

Each year since then we have been reminded how blessed we are for our miracle. Each year we are reminded of those incredibly difficult months following Dad diagnosis, months that we still look back and question how we ever survived it all. 

We celebrated another Thanksgiving surrounded by friends and family, and we look forward to the Christmas season! It's really our family's favorite time of year- Mom always manages to go all out, and I managed to have about seven crates filled with Christmas decorations for my house. Like mother-like daughter apparently!

This last year has been one filled with so much joy. I can't share with each of you enough how blessed we feel to have Dad with us each and every day. I honestly can't share with each of you how much our faith has grown with each day that has passes. 

Dad is still off of all treatment- no chemotherapy and no Avastin- he's thrilled, and so am I- I haven't had to yell at any insurance companies or hospitals in what seems like forever!

We have another MRI at the end of the year, with hopes that everything appears stable and the break from treatments can continue, as I know the quality of life for Dad is so much greater since he's been on this break! We know all too well the beast we are up against, and we are so incredibly proud of Dad for being a three year brain cancer survivor!

Here is a little sneak peak of our Christmas card for this year! A big thank you to my best friend of almost 20 years for taking pictures for us again this year- check out her website loveandlightphotography.co,

Each year gets a little more challenging to manage the little ones, and next year will be even more challenging, as my middle sister, Meghan, and her husband Ross are expecting their first child! I'll be an aunt to three little ones, and I couldn't be more excited!

As always, your thoughts, prayers and kind words have meant more to us than you'll ever know. Thank you for your love and support, and thanks for helping us BTHO Brain Cancer!

When The Battle Is Over... The True Suffering Begins.

This morning I received a text that broke my heart into a million pieces. 

"My mom died this morning."

I honestly didn't even know how to respond. Because I knew no words could bring back her mom. No words could show the absolute pain my heart was feeling for her and her family. No words could bring any sort of comfort to her at that moment. 

So what did I share? 

I told her that I loved her. 

This dear friend of mine has been on a cancer journey very similar to ours, as her mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer about a year and a half ago. We've both celebrated through great scans, and supported one another through some not so great ones. We've leaned on one another for advice on how to manage the side effects of the treatments, and we've each celebrated small victories when our loved ones managed to feel just a little bit better. 

She's been my rock throughout Dad's battle. 

I recently watched a sermon by Matt Chandler- he's a pastor in the Dallas area, and a brain cancer survivor- where he shared the following words:

"Suffering. Difficulty. It should surprise no one." Matt Chandler

You're right Matt, these things shouldn't surprise us- because it is what God has promised each of us- it's just I wish those things didn't hurt so bad. 

And I truly believe that eventually we understand the suffering and difficulty that is placed in our lives, and although I do not think God WANTS us to suffer- it's part of our journey in this world. I believe that God gives us the tools to handle the suffering and difficult times, but sometimes it takes us a while to find those tools in the midst of our sadness and defeat. 

There are a lot of things that I can relate to when it comes to a cancer diagnosis. I can relate to the awful chemotherapy treatments and the terrible side effects. I can relate to the numerous insurance issues and bills. I can relate to scan days and the dreaded anxiety associated with waiting for the results. I can relate to the pain of hearing "terminal cancer". 

But I can't relate to losing a parent. I know it's a loss that is hard to describe. It's a loss that involves so much suffering, and so much pain.

And although I can't relate to the loss, what I also shared with my friend is that I do not believe that her mom "lost" her battle with cancer. 

No you see, her mom showed faith, determination, strength, and a will to kick cancer's butt. How can you lose a battle when you have all those things in your corner? 

So today, I'm asking for a few more prayers for my dear friend and her family, as they face the suffering after the battle. They face the realization that the cancer journey is over, and a new type of suffering has started. 

I'll be hugging Dad a little bit tighter, enjoying a few more extra moments with him over the holidays, and I'll be thanking God for each second I have with him- because after today, life has shown me, once again, that our time here is short and the little moments in life truly are the big moments. 

MRI Results. 10/27/2016

Quick Dad Update:

Dad had an MRI yesterday and today we received the wonderful news of no changes, no indication of tumor growth- everything is stable! This is even compared to the MRI done over a year ago- everything appears stable and that is such amazing news!

Dad is thrilled to be off all treatments- his blood pressure is back to normal and he's been feeling better each day. 

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

In Honor Of Our Favorite Caregiver- Happy Birthday Mutz!

It takes a pretty special soul to be a caregiver for a loved one. Someone who takes the bad days in strides, and celebrates the good days as small victories. Someone who never cries while Dad is around, but instead shows great strength in moments when we all want to fall apart. 

Who is this special soul? My favorite caregiver- my Mom, and everyone's favorite Mutz. 

From day one she has told every doctor we've met that Dad is going to beat the odds- and he has. She has never crumbled or given up. She has never said she can't, but instead she continues to prove that she always can. 

She had learned to do the yard work and work the pool equipment, pay the bills and manage Dad's appointments- she literally does it all. 

There are moments when I'm not sure how she does it. Moments where anyone else would have given up and quit, but instead she continues with great strength, a big smile, and strong faith leading the way. 

This weekend we celebrated 60 years for Mutz. 60 years where she's celebrated great moments of joy, but also profound sorrow. She's learned in these 60 years how to be a great wife, mother, sister and friend. She's also learned in these 60 years how to be a great caregiver. 

She is probably going to read this post and call to tell me that she doesn't deserve this much credit, that she hasn't been all those things I wrote above (and more). And then I'll just laugh and tell her that if anything my words didn't accurately share the strength, faith, and love that she continues to provide to those around, especially to Dad. 

(Look Mutz, I saved you a phone call right there!)

I wrote in her card for her birthday a quote that I think is so very accurate of her strength and determination:

"Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing to do. But to hold it together while everything seems to be falling apart, that is real strength."

And real strength is just one amazing quality she holds. 

Wishing Mutz a very happy 60th birthday and prayers for many more birthday celebrations!

3 Year Cancer-Versary. Dad Update 10/5/2016

October 5 will always hold a pretty important place in our hearts. On October 5, 2013 our entire world was turned upside down. And although we didn't know what exactly caused Dad's seizure that day- we consider this date Dad's "cancer-versary". 

Three years. 

Three years ago we were told the statistics associated with Dad's cancer- statistics that were not freely given to us, but statistics that were asked by Dad to our Neurosurgeon- 14.6 months. Approximately 20% of people diagnosed with Gliblastoma will survive three years.

Our hearts stopped. 

I look back now and remember the fear that consumed me when I heard that my Dad would have just ONE year left in his lifetime.

How foolish of me to think that I had the right to limit God to statistics. 
How foolish of me to think that His hand was not in the midst of our darkest days. 
How foolish of me to not believe in miracles.

Because that is exactly what Dad is- a miracle. As Dad reaches his 3 year mark battling this beast, he is now considered a "long term survivor". My heart aches to read that line- it's something I fight for every day, to provide better treatment options and funding for brain cancer research. A "long term" survivor at three years is just not long enough. 

And I could go back to that day and relive all the pain, anxiety and pure fear that was placed in my heart- but instead, I want to focus on the joy, faith, and HOPE we've experienced these last three years. 

It's been three years of some good MRIs, and some not so great ones. It's been three years filled with great days, and really bad days. It's been three years filled with lots of laughter, and a lot of tears. I think it's safe to say we've been on a bit of a roller coaster these last three years. 

We don't know what the next three years will have in store for us, much less the next three days. We are all too aware that our world can be turned upside down at any moment, but I think if anything God has used these last three years to prepare us for the possible difficult days ahead.

We've learned to appreciate the good, and find a way to be positive throughout the bad. We've learned that it's okay to cry and be fearful, but to trust in a much greater power. And we've learned that we have the strongest parents in the world. I'm not sure how we would have survived without the strength and determination of Dad, and the love, hope and faith of Mom.

I was recently telling a friend that during the first few months of Dad's diagnosis I was so incredibly angry. I spent so much time, and had so many conversations with God that were filled with anger and hate. And now, now I'm starting to realize what this journey is really about, and as much as cancer sucks, I feel pretty honored that God thought our family was strong enough to handle it all. 

I just hope that we've made him proud throughout this journey. 

We can't thank our friends and family enough for loving and supporting us throughout it all. We would have crumbled a long time ago if it wouldn't have been for the countless prayers, the endless meals, and the constant texts just to check in. 

We've become a stronger family because of this- we have learned that the little things are the BIG things, we've learned that our faith is much BIGGER than this cancer, and we've learned that throughout it all, we really are blessed.

Dad has stopped taking all treatments- no more chemotherapy or Avastin treatment. He is feeling so much better and we are so thankful that this was an option we were given, that Dad is doing well enough to take a break from the medicine that was making him so incredibly sick. 

Thank you all for the continued love and support, and thank you all for helping us BTHO Brain Cancer! 

Here's to celebrating Dad being a cancer SURVIVOR for three years!

Post MRI/Post Dr Appointment Dad Update. 9/13/2016

I realize now that I never gave an update post-doctor appointment after Dad's MRI and, still what we think, was a TIA (Transient Ischemic Attack). 
*A TIA happens when blood flow to part of the brain is blocked or reduced. After a short time, blood flows again and the symptoms go away. A TIA is often labeled "mini-stroke", it is more accurately characterized as a "warning stroke". The only difference between a TIA and a stroke, is that with a TIA the blockage is temporary. TIA can last for up to 24 hours. 

We made a decision, as a family and with the help of our amazing doctor, to stop all treatments for Dad. No more chemotherapy. No more Avastin. No more bi-weekly trips to the Cancer Clinic. 

To say Dad is happy with this decision would be an understatement, as he dreaded taking those chemotherapy pills, and bi-weekly trips to College Station were never his favorite. 

(Can I mentioned that I'm thrilled as well- as this will mean less fights with his insurance company to pay for the VERY expensive Avastin treatment!)

As we had our appointment with Dr. Fleener, she was thrilled to share that the MRI looked great, that there in fact were no changes, no tumor growth, and no indication of a stroke- and she also shared how relieved she was that it was a good MRI since we just stopped the chemotherapy. 

Mom, myself and my sisters had already had this discussion about the chemotherapy and our fear that the tumor had returned, we had this discussion prior to knowing the results of the MRI. We talked, and we were honest with one another, and it was simple what we shared: How horrible we would have felt if Dad would have had another terrible round on the chemotherapy, only for the tumor to return. 

It was in that moment that we were all on the same page, that I truly felt at peace with our decision to stop all treatment. So when others ask me how I feel about Dad being off the Avastin now as well, I share with them how thankful I am that this is even an option for Dad and how thankful I am that I am giving it all to Him to walk us through. 

We will have another MRI in 6-8 weeks, and until then we aren't sure what our journey will involve. We are all hoping to get back to a new sense of normal, as emotionally and physically, we are all still so exhausted from the other week. 

My devotional has been with me throughout this three year cancer journey, and as the outside looks worn and the pages bent, it's been pretty spot on during some of our "bumps in our journey":

September 1 (Dad's MRI/Results)
"When you encounter rough patches along your life- journey, trust that My Light is still shining upon you. My reasons for allowing these adversities may be shrouded in mystery, but My continual Presence with you is an absolute promise. Seek Me in good times; seek Me in hard times. You will find Me watching over you all the time."

And watching over us He did. 

Thank you all for the continued thoughts and prayers, and thank you all for helping us BTHO Brain Cancer!

What A Week It's Been. Dad Update 9/2/2016

Let me first start by sharing that Dad's MRI did not show any tumor growth or any changes from our last MRI. The cancer is NOT back!

To say we are all a bit shocked, would be an understatement- as I was preparing for appointments with another doctor and had started researching clinical trials offered by this particular doctor in Austin. 

Many have asked us how we knew something wasn't right with Dad, so I thought I would share how in just four short days we thought our world was falling apart- how four "short" days have felt so much longer and left each of us physically and emotionally exhausted. 

On Monday, Dad fell. This fall wasn't exactly abnormal by any means, as with the two brain surgeries and radiation treatment, he has some right side weakness- but he was able to get himself back up and was able to tell Mom about it later. Monday wasn't a great day, but it wasn't terrible. But then there was Tuesday...

Tuesday Mom tried to get Dad up, but he was just so incredibly tired and so incredibly weak. With Dad off of the chemotherapy, this was unusual and Mom gave me a call. I came home and stayed with Dad all afternoon while Mom finished up some meetings at work, just to make sure he didn't fall again or have any other issues. He honestly seemed okay Tuesday afternoon. But Tuesday night was a different story. 

My sister made dinner and went over to Mom & Dad's house, where Dad had some extreme right side weakness, and was constantly dropping his fork at dinner. We all started getting a bit more concerned, as it seemed as though everything was getting worse.

And then Wednesday morning I received a call from my other sister that something was clearly wrong with Dad- between the right side weakness getting worse, his speech basically unable to be understood and him being even more confused- I made a call to the Cancer Clinic to figure out what we should do. 

My mind flashed back to almost three years ago when I made a similar call, except that time barely able to be understood as I sobbed on the phone. This time, I was way too calm for my own liking- but I like to think my faith has grown TREMENDOUSLY these last three years- and before making that call, I gave it all up to God. I talked to the nurses and Dr. Fleener and we decided to move up the MRI- we all had the same concern, that the tumor was back. 

Wednesday was difficult, as Dad was so incredibly weak, his speech was nothing that I could understand, and he was doing things that were not logical at all. I found myself having to stop Dad from doing things that he would never do, and try to explain to someone, who couldn't reason at all, why he shouldn't be doing something. There were so many times I wanted to just break down and cry, as I felt like I was seeing my Dad slowly slip away. 

I left Wednesday evening and my mind was racing in a million different directions. I knew something wasn't right, and I refused to not be prepared for the tumor to have returned. Thursday was spent getting things in order at Mom & Dad's, as I wasn't sure what appointments and treatment would be in our future, but I wanted everything to be ready for us to be busy focusing on Dad. 

By Wednesday night, Dad was acting normal again- no right side weakness, speech completely back to normal, and his confusion almost gone. I didn't know what to think, as when he was initially diagnosed he had a seizure on a Saturday, but we didn't find out until later the next week it was from a tumor, and he didn't have another seizure between the initial seizure and the surgery- so was this a similar situation? Would Dad be bad one minute and completely normal the next because of a new tumor? 

Thursday seemed a bit like a blur, as we waited patiently (ok, I wasn't exactly patient) for the results to come in from the MRI. With the yard work all complete, house cleaned, laundry done, and grocery store trip made- we sat and waited as Dad went to his MRI appointment. Time seems to go by so incredibly slow when you're waiting for results. But the results came back and all was clear- no cancer, no changes. 

I can't explain why there is no tumor growth, but turning to my devotional almost seemed TOO perfect for today:
"...When you depend on Me continually, your whole perspective changes. You see miracles happening all around, while others see only natural occurrences and 'coincidences'..."

We aren't sure what exactly was going on with Dad these last few days, although we are concerned it could have been a few mini-strokes he experienced- and sadly when you're up against something like Glioblastoma, a mini-stroke(s) is a relief. Dad's IV treatment can cause strokes, so we will discuss today IF this treatment will stop due to everything Dad has been experiencing. 

I can't thank each of you enough for the countless thoughts and prayers being sent our way, we witnessed the power of prayer this week and we are so thankful for another miracle in Dad's cancer fight.

Quick Dad Update 8/31/2016

It's with such a heavy heart that I make this post, but as each of you have celebrated during the good times with Dad's cancer battle, you've each also helped pray with us throughout the bad- and right now, we are asking for lots of prayers.

We are noticing some changes to Dad and we are concerned this is the result of the cancer returning. We have moved up our next MRI with hopes of knowing what exactly is going on so we can figure out our next steps. 

Right now, God's plan doesn't seem exactly perfect, but if I've learned anything these last 3 years, it's that His plan is always perfect, sometimes it just takes a while to see it fululy.

Re-reading this devotional today in hopes my soul is filled with calmness and hope in whatever journey is ahead.
"Follow me one step at a time. That is all I require of you. You see huge mountains looming, and you start wondering how you're going to scale those heights...But you don't know what will happen today, much less tomorrow...If I do lead you up cliffs, I will equip you thoroughly for the strenuous climb. Walk by faith, not by sight."

Asking for continued prayers as we meet another "bump" in our journey.

Happy Birthday Dad! 8/18/2016

Today we celebrate the birthday of one of my favorite people, someone who has experienced joy and heartache, celebrations and defeats- but throughout it all has had a smile on his face, and such strong faith running through his soul.

I can't put into words how incredibly proud I am to call this man my Dad. Throughout the years he's supported me 100%- from the many hours on the softball field, to volleyball games, and FCCLA events, and not to mention those years in college- he's always questioned my choices with good intentions, provided advice when my heart needed it the most, and has loved me throughout it all. 

Each day I see fight and determination in his eyes, as he fights each day to not only beat cancer (as that's just a bi-product of his attitude) but he fights to live life to the fullest, to continue to smile through the pain, and make each of us proud. I learned so quickly just three short years ago that life is in fact short, and I also learned very quickly that it's not the amount of time you spend here, but how you spend it. Three short years ago Dad taught my heart to love even more, experience life to it's fullest, and to capture moments in time as memories that will last forever. 

Wishing Dad a very happy birthday, and prayers for many more birthday celebrations in our future!

And thank you all for continuing on this incredible journey with us! 

We Went With Our Heart. Dad Update 8/11/2016

From phone calls, text messages, Facebook messages, emails, and those of you who stopped any of us to share that you've been praying for us, and with us, in making our big decision in Dad's treatment plan- thank you!

That little blog post that shared some of my emotions of fear, anxiety and concern received over 700 views. I can't even begin to put into words what it means to know that we have so many people following our story and continuing on this journey with us one step at a time. 

I'm not sure if my head and my heart will ever be on the same page when it comes to the treatment options for Dad, but what I do know is that I had a chance to have a one on one conversation with Dad- just me and him. And I asked him, flat out asked him what HE wanted to do- and he said he would do whatever we thought was best. And I stopped him and again asked, 'No Dad, what do YOU want?"

And he wanted a break from the treatment. And that was my moment of clarity. For so long I was worried about what to do- what decision I would make, when all along I should have just asked Dad and made him give me an answer.  

How long will the break from chemo be for? Well, that part of the decision is up to our oncologist. We are leaving it up to her to tell us for how long she feels comfortable going off of the chemotherapy- which will probably mean a few more MRIs in our future to monitor any potential cancer growth.

To be honest, I feel very at ease with our decision. I've had time to really think about all of our options, and I think my heart has been pretty LOUD in this decision making process. Sure, I still hear my head from time to time bring the anxiety and fear back into the process- what IF the cancer returns- but I told my head that IF the cancer returns, then I will assume it was going to return regardless if we took a break from the chemotherapy or not. When someone's life is measured in months with a cancer diagnosis, weeks matter- so why give them 2 horrible weeks on a treatment that we aren't sure is doing any good at this point? 

Dad will still continue on the Avastin treatment- it's an IV treatment done every 2 weeks- as it leaves very little side effects (except for increased blood pressure). And he plans to start physical therapy soon, as the impacts of the surgery and radiation are causing some weakness in his legs and arms. 

Yesterday I called Dad on my way home from work just to say hi, and he sounded SO good. He sounded as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He sounded like my old Dad again.

The anxiety, stress, and fear that consumes my body on a daily basis when I think of Dad's cancer was quickly taken away when I heard him talking- it was in that moment that I knew the decision we made was the perfect decision for Dad. It was in that moment that I realized I would rather have just SOME days like this then have months of him being miserable. 

To say that we love and appreciate the thoughts, prayers, kind words and support we've received over the last (almost!) 3 years would be an understatement, as I can't truly share how blessed we really are with amazing friends and family.

Some days aren't easy, some decisions in this process are tough, but I'm so happy that in the battle with our heads and our hearts, we went with our hearts. 

Thank you all for the continued thoughts and prayers, and thank you all for helping us BTHO Brain Cancer!

Head and Heart. Dad Update 8/1/2016

In just a few short days, we will have reached 34 months in our battle against brain cancer. And I would be lying if I said that brain cancer hasn't been a pretty big mountain in our lives these last 34 months- one that we have tried so hard to move, just inch my inch. Inch by Inch-because I truly do believe we've been assigned this mountain to prove to others that it CAN be moved. 

But sometimes the mountain feels impossible to move, sometimes the weight of our own anxiety, stress, fear and sadness weighs the mountain down more than we can imagine. And this weight was so very clear to me this weekend.

Sunday I helped Mom clean out the bathroom, as my parents decided to re-do the bathroom/shower to make it easier for both my Dad, and my Mom. But as we cleaned out cabinet by cabinet, we came across the medicine cabinet- one with empty chemotherapy bottles (I would guess at least 30 bottles), and my heart sank. 

My mind went back to Thursday night when I received a phone call from Mom letting me know that Dad was having extreme right side weakness- and something was not right. She was pretty certain he was having a mini-stroke, and there was absolutely nothing we could do. So I waited all night for the phone call letting me know to head to the ER, as I feared a much larger stroke was on it's way- but I'm so thankful that call never came. The right side weakness seemed to get better, and Dad slept through the night without any issues. 

This weekend this mountain seemed heavier and larger than ever before. Along with the mini-stroke and the realization of how long Dad has been battling this beast, my heart and my head were conflicting on the decision if we should take a "chemo break".

There is no scientific evidence to show that taking the chemotherapy forever is beneficial- nor is there any scientific evidence to show that taking the chemotherapy for only 9 months, or 18 months is the perfect dosage. There is no scientific evidence to help us at all with our decision. 

So instead, we've been praying about it- we've been praying so incredibly hard. I've had a few conversations with the man upstairs, each one begging him to have my head and my heart feel the same way. 

In one week we will make this decision, as a family- with Dad getting the ultimate vote- and I haven't decided if I'll be voting with my head or with my heart. My head says, "If he goes off the chemotherapy and the tumor returns, there is a chance the chemotherapy will not be able to work as quickly as the tumor grows." Sometimes I think I've read one too many articles about this beast Dad battles.

But my heart, my heart looks at Dad's face during his chemotherapy week (and the week following), and sees how tired he is from fighting through the side effects of the drug. His face doesn't show defeat, but it shows a need to slow down the treatment- it shows a need to get the quality back in his life during these weeks. 

The day I heard the diagnosis, the day I heard the life span of someone with Dad's cancer- I told myself I would never allow treatment to get in the way of Dad's quality of life- so now the question remains, at what point am I doing that by voting to continue the chemotherapy? 

As the days countdown until our next doctor's visit, my prayers double in asking God to have my head and my heart be on the same page- because right now, my heart is sounding so much louder than my head. We all want to go into this decision with no regrets, with absolute assurance that we have made the right choice, and with the understanding that it is always God's will whatever may happen.

It's just sometimes, when you've got your head and your heart at war- making a decision and feeling 100% certain about it feels nearly impossible.

Asking for continued prayers as we struggle with making the best decision for Dad as a family. And as always, thank you all for the continued love and support in helping us BTHO Brain Cancer!

The Story Behind The Status... Dad Update 7/12/2016

Today my Facebook status stated: "What an absolute joyful day! 33 months later and Dad's MRI looked good- no changes, no growth, all is good! We are so incredibly blessed- God is so so good."

But there is a much bigger story behind that post- because what they post doesn't accurately show is the amount of relief that filled by body when we heard the MRI results, because just hours before I was certain the cancer was back. 

Mom messaged me to let me know that she grabbed Dad's walker (something he hasn't used since his brain surgery) because Dad's legs were weak- very weak. My heart sank. I immediately called to figure out what was going on, what was causing this weakness- and I could hear the fear and concern in Mom's voice. It was in that moment that I just knew the cancer was back, that the tumor was impacting his strength and movement. And tears filled my eyes. 

I started frantically searching online, trying to figure out the doctor in Austin- when we could see him and what meetings I could move around this week to make sure we could get an appointment. My thoughts were frantic- and I received this text "Just remember, God already knows what this MRI will show and he is in control no matter what." 

Some relief filled my body- but I will admit, pure fear seemed to trump any other emotions. So we waited, and we waited- and finally we got the results...

A good MRI. No changes. No growth. All was good. 

My heart sank- but in a good way! I immediately felt this weight leave my body- and there I was filled with relief, thankfulness and grace. 

We shared with Dad's doctor this little episode and she didn't seem too concerned- we were all put at ease.

We then talked about the genetic testing performed on Dad's tumor, and that the first round of test were inconclusive, so a second round was being performed- more waiting. Once these results are back, we (as a family) will make the decision if we will take a break from the chemotherapy- something I struggle with making a decision on. 

But the good news is, this is a discussion that is happening for Dad! This is something 33 months ago I never imaged we would get to discuss, and for that I am so incredibly thankful- even though I dread making a decision on something that seems so very important. 

So we wait, and Dad continues his chemotherapy treatment this week, along with his IV Avastin treatment and then we make a decision in a month. We have one month to discuss, pray and really think through this decision- ultimately focusing on quality of life for Dad throughout it all. 

On another extremely happy note, we welcomed another member to our family on the 4th of July, Miss Hallie Rae Lechler:

We are all very much in love with this little girl and so very thankful that Dad was able to be with us as we welcomed her to our family. 

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

My Father's Day Letter. 6/17/2016

With Father's Day approaching this weekend, I thought I would take this moment to share a little letter to my Dad and to all those Dads out there, specifically those lucky enough to have daughters. It takes a pretty special soul to handle a house filled with women, and I'm lucky enough to have witnessed first hand my special soul that I call Dad. 

Dad,

Living with a house filled with women I'm sure was a bit challenging, but you handled all of those years with pure grace- and a few beers. You were patient and kind, helpful and handy, and most importantly loving. You have gone above and beyond to take care of your girls, and I think it's pretty clear that God hand picked you to be my Dad. 

Thank you for all the times you had to explain to me how to put air in my tires when the tire pressure light came on, even though we both know that to this day, I still don't know how to put air in my tires. Thank you for all the times I called and said that I "may or may not have hit something with my car", where you didn't respond with anger, just a simple, "well, you either did or you didn't."- and let's be honest, I always did. 

Thank you for teaching me that there are in fact two different types of screwdrivers, even though at the age of 28, I still manage to use the wrong one. Thank you for moving me five times in college and then again three times in Austin- because I simply never "loved" where I was living. 

Thank you for making me show animals in the fair, as the memories made in the chicken barn will forever be some of the best memories of my life. And thank you for making me clean up the chicken pen during the week, as now I have some pretty great stories to tell to my city friends.

Thank you for making me drive a 1997 Grand Am (non-working AC and broken windows)car in high school- as I learned to appreciate things a bit more. And thank you for giving in on your rule of "no new car until you're 18", because we both know summer in Texas can be a bit miserable without AC in your car. 

And thank you for these last 32 months of being able to be a caretaker and witness first hand your strength, determination and fight to beat cancer. You never complain, you never stop fighting, and you never stop loving each of us girls. You are my hero, and someone I look up to in so many ways. 

Throughout the years our relationship has been far from perfect, as a teenager I thought I knew it all- but it seems as though the older I get, the smarter you get as well. You've taught me so much in my 28 years, and I pray each day for many more years to come. 

So on this Father's Day, know that you have been one of the best fathers, friends, and supporters to not only me, but to our family. It takes a special soul to be a father to a house filled with women, and I think it's safe to say, a truly special soul you are. 

Happy Fathers Day!

Whitney

MGMT Methylation Promotor. Say What? 6/15/2016

Almost any article you read regarding Glioblastoma talks about "MGMT promoter methylation". Which apparently, if you're going to have Glioblastoma, that's the type of promoter you want to have. I guess it's like having the best of the worst? 

Yesterday we met with Dr. Fleener to schedule our next MRI and discuss any issues from the treatment. And then, we had a little discussion on this MGMT promoter methylation thing. Apparently, Dad's tumor was never tested for this initially- and there are a lot of reasons behind that- but now, there have been some new studies specifically about this MGMT promoter methylation. 

"The study demonstrated MGMT promoter methylation is a favorable prognostic factor in patients with glioblastoma."

IF someone has the MGMT promoter, then studies have shown that the tumor responds very well to the chemotherapy and treatment (i.e. the chemotherapy kills the cancer cells)- which is a VERY good thing. An even more recent study has looked at how long someone with the MGMT promoter should stay on chemotherapy after surgery and after the cancer is considered to be in remission.

So now, we wait for about 10 days to find out what type of promoter Dad's tumor may have, as this could impact the future treatments for Dad. 

We are so hopeful that Dad does in fact have the MGMT promoter, and his next MRI will look good- which could mean a little break from the chemotherapy- which is something Dad has so badly been wanting. 

It's honestly pretty crazy to think that we have been going to the cancer clinic for over 32 months now. Although, visiting the Cancer Clinic still manages to leave me filled with anxiety and stress- I think it's just the fact that I'm returning to a place where I never imaged we would be. 

And as the stress and anxiety filled my body yesterday- even though this appointment did not include any MRI results- I found a blog post that I couldn't help but want to share. This post took that stress and anxiety from my body. 

The title of the blog read "When God's Plan Doesn't Seem Wonderful", and I'm pretty sure I laughed out loud after reading that- because throughout these last 32 months, there have been times where this plan has felt anything but wonderful. 

The blog reads: "But what happens when you look around and His plan looks nothing like you ever imaged? What happens when it's darker and scarier and more painful than you ever thought He'd allow? What happens when you cry out for Him to take a burden away and He doesn't. What happens then?"

I think this blogger read my mind, as I went back to those first few weeks after Dad's diagnosis- where I questioned it all, I questioned why God had done something so terrible to my Dad, and I questioned why so much pain was being thrown our way.

But then the blog continues, to read (which is so very close to my own experience in Dad's cancer diagnosis): "Perhaps it's in that darkness that one can easily see the dysfunction of a theology centered around God only offering good things. It's in that darkness that you're reminded of your dependence on Him and your inability to do anything to control the current situation. And perhaps that's exactly where your faith learns the character of the true God."

It was in that darkness that I leaned on my faith to make it through some of our more difficult days- from nights in ICU, to days spent at the Cancer Clinic, and nights sleeping on the couch to be close to Dad- it was clear that I had no ability to control the situation. And as difficult of a lesson that has been learning (and I'm still learning!)- I think it's exactly where my faith has learned the character of the true God. 

Dad started another round of chemotherapy on Monday, along with another round of Avastin- and although these weeks are always difficult for him, I have such faith that his strength is much greater than the side effects of the medicine. We continue to pray that if it is God's will, the treatments will continue to work and Dad will continue to spend quality time with each of us. 

The blog ends with words that I think I need to repeat on a daily basis- as some days are much better than others in the Glenz household-

"And so in remembering that the God of the Bible did not spare even His own Son from suffering and pain, be encouraged to know that all of this pain, your pain, is not in vain. And while our own wonderful plan for our lives might not come to fruition, we can rest assured that no matter the heartache and trials, His wonderful plan for our life is always coming true."

Thank you all for the continued thoughts and prayers, and thank you all for helping us BTHO Brain Cancer. 

Blog Post Referenced Above: http://www.lindsayfranks.com/2016/05/18/wonderfulplan/

Post MRI Results. Dad Update 5/26/2016

So, our world has been a bit busy lately- so I apologize as I failed to share some WONDERFUL news with everyone. 

During Dad's last appointment, Dr. Fleener discussed following up with other radiologists to determine what they thought this small "enhancement" could be- since it had not changed since our last MRI.

And Tuesday Mom received a call from Dr. Fleener with information on their conclusion:

They concluded that there is no cancer growth going on. 

Oh how thrilled we are to hear that news!

Dad just finished another round of chemotherapy, and will continue with another round of Avastin in a week. We will discuss another MRI at our next appointment with Dr. Fleener, but until then, we are taking it all just one day at a time. 

I can't say enough wonderful things about Dr. Fleener, the staff, and nurses at the Cancer Clinic in Bryan. We have such an amazing relationship with each of them, and having Dr. Fleener personally call Mom helped to reiterate just that. 

Not to mention, the relationship I've made with the ladies in the business office- they have been absolute lifesavers as I've tried to understand the world of insurance. I received a call from one of the ladies to let me know that two claims I've been fighting were now approved and processed- let's just say, I've been more than happy to receive calls from the Cancer Clinic this week.

So if there is one thing I've learned throughout Dad's cancer battle- it's to never give up (and I've learned this in more than one way!)

Dad's pure fight and determination is so obvious in his day to day life- as just the other day he wanted to mow the grass, something he just hasn't felt like doing for so long! He continues to prove the statistics wrong, he continues to fight through the pain of his treatments and he continues to never give up. 

And I've learned to never give up when it comes to fighting insurance companies and hospitals. As just yesterday I was on the phone with one hospital and two separate insurance companies. 

It's amazing how quickly you get what you want when the insurance company realizes that the paperwork completed by your dad, which gave the insurance company the ability to speak with you legally, expired 9 months ago and they've talked to you numerous times since then. You just throw out "HIPAA violation", and that pretty much takes care of any issues.

I've fought two hospitals and three different insurance companies- and they all work the same- they push you away until they think you will give up. Unfortunately for them, I've learned from the best on never giving up, and I plan to continue fighting for my parents throughout this process. I never want Dad's fight to be a huge financial burden for my parents, and if it means fighting for each dollar they are billed, that's exactly what I will continue to do. 

We are so incredibly proud of Dad, and we are so incredibly proud of our friends and family. Each person has stepped up in one way or another- we've been overwhelmed with love and support, thoughts and prayers, and the continuous push to make it through some of our more difficult days. There is no way we could have survived these last (almost 32 months!) without our friends and family. 

We continue on this fight, as Dad has beat all of the statistics we were given that grim day at our Neurosurgeon's office- with treatment less than 2 years, without treatment less than a year. He continues to BEAT this disease just one day at a time- he continues to inspire me each day. 

Some days are good, some days are difficult, but each day with Dad present and able to join us in just the little things makes each day great. We all struggle with Dad's post-cancer life- and I think Dad struggles the most- but we continue to remind him how STRONG he is, how FAITHFUL he continues to be, and how PROUD we are each day of his fight. 

Thank you all for the continued thoughts and prayers- as we've seen the power of prayer work wonders in our lives- and thank you all for helping us BTHO Brain Cancer! 

What I Learned From Knee Surgery...& Dad Update 5/20/2016

Wednesday morning I had knee surgery. A surgery I've been putting off for about a month now. And honestly all day Wednesday, and most of yesterday, I sat looking at my knee, then looking at my crutches, wondering- why does this hurt if the laparoscopic incisions are so very small and why does this hurt more than BEFORE surgery? 

Needless to say, it's day three and it feels much better already. 

But I learned something- something that I thought I already knew, but now have an even greater appreciation for- my Mom is an absolute rock star. 

You don't realize how much help you will truly need when you are faced with walking only with crutches- for example, how do I fill up a cup of water from the kitchen and bring it to the living room? Mom. 

Or, how do I make dinner and sit down at the table to eat? Mom.

The examples go on and on. 

I can't even begin to describe what an incredible caregiver she has been to Dad throughout his battle- she's compassionate, caring, and patient. She gives her love and her time without ever asking for anything in return. And she goes above and beyond to make life comfortable. 

She's a rock star. 

And Dad. Well, Dad is not far behind on this "rock star" status, as he's been home with me since Wednesday. He fills up water cups for me while Mom is at work, helps me make my plate for lunch, and checks on me constantly throughout the day.

They are both such a great team- they balance each other and bring out the absolute best in one another. 

And Mom does this all while working full time. And Dad does this all while on chemotherapy this week. 

Rock Stars.

Dad's chemotherapy seems to be a LITTLE bit better this week- and we aren't sure if it's due to the good MRI we received this week, Dad B-12 shots we started on, or the fact that he is so very distracted with my recovery- but regardless, it's been a good week for Dad. We are so very thankful!

It was wonderful to be able to go into surgery knowing that Dad's MRI was in fact stable, that it showed no changes and we could keep going on our current treatment course- talk about a decrease in stress and anxiety for me! 

31.5 months post diagnosis is so very rare- as those who make it 3 years with Glioblastoma are considered "long term" survivors. We do not take these 31.5 months with Dad lightly- we take these months and praise God for the time we've been given- the QUALITY time we've been given. And we take these 31.5 months and think back to the countless friends and family who have encouraged us, prayed for us, and supported us throughout it all. 

From phone calls, text messages, meals, snacks (LOTS of snacks!), and flowers being send my way- I can honestly say that I have the best friends and family anyone could ask for. 

Maybe it takes something like a little knee surgery to really see first hand the type of caregiver Mom is to Dad, but I'm so glad that I get to see first hand what Dad sees in Mom- a compassionate, caring and absolute wonderful person who does so much for others, and expects very little in return. 

Asking for continued prayers as Dad continues to fight through this week with determination and faith. Thank you all for supporting us on this journey, and thank you for helping us BTHO Brain Cancer!