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.
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Thursday, August 18, 2016
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.
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!
And thank you all for continuing on this incredible journey with us!
Thursday, August 11, 2016
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!
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!
Monday, August 1, 2016
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!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)