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
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/
