It's a Long Story... Part 4

If you want to start at the beginning, here's Part 1.

The next two weeks felt like a constant stream of appointments and tests. We met with the oncologist to find out what he wanted to do next. We went to "chemo class" where the basically tell you all of the unpleasant side effects that can happen as a result of chemotherapy and what to do if they did happen (useful information, but also unsettling information!)  I got a PET scan, which as it turns out confirmed that all of the areas that the CT scan indicated as possible areas of concern were, in fact, areas of concern. We talked to a nurse at the hospital about a biopsy of my adrenals that the oncologist had ordered. And, least anticipated of all by me, Port Install.

A port is a small device that is implanted just underneath your skin, with a short length of hose that connects directly to a vein. The port is then used for blood draws, and also to add the medicine into your bloodstream, without having to stick you in the arm every time. It saves you from damaging your veins from getting pokes many times a week. Getting one put in these days is an outpatient surgery - you're in for a few hours, then you go home with instructions not to lift anything heavy for two days. It was easy peasy, and less than a week later at the cancer center they were able to use it for a blood draw... and I got to see how much easier it is to use a port for that then the arm stick. I keep telling myself that I am now a cool cyborg - I haven't convinced myself quite yet, but I'm getting there!

I also got an MRI scan. The three different scans I've gotten serve different purposes and use different technology. For a CT scan there is the metal donut I talked about here. A CT scan is basically a 3-D x-ray. For PET scans and MRIs you are inside of a metal tube for a period of time (I figured out really quick that I should just keep my eyes closed and then I didn't risk claustrophobia!), but a PET scan is sort of a reverse x-ray, where they put some radioactive stuff inside of you and the scan detects it (think of the CT as shining a light on something, and the PET scan as the thing itself glowing). An MRI uses magnets (and loud noises?) to create a picture of your insides. I'm not going to try to explain what the three do differently - you can Google that and get a better idea than I could explain, because I don't understand it myself - but suffice it to say, for a while it felt like we were constantly either on the way to somewhere, coming back from somewhere, talking to a nurse about a test, or actually getting the test!

During this time, something came to me that hadn't occurred to me before, and I believe it was the Holy Spirit. I started to think, and now I believe for sure, that God is giving me the opportunity to be present at the cancer treatment center for a while specifically to bring His joy and hope to people who need it. There are people there who feel very sick and very exhausted. Maybe their cancer is further advanced than mine. Maybe their body doesn't do well with chemo - for some people every infusion puts them on their back for days. Bot God has given me hope in my heart, and I believer he wants me to share it! I've had people tell me that they are amazed, encouraged, and inspored by my attitude and faith. I wanted to bring that with me to the cancer treatment center!

Over the past decade or so, I've developed a little bit of a reputation for wearing silly T-shirts. I think of it as a minor superpower of mine. I decided that I might not be able to speak to everyone at the cancer center, but I sure could use my T-shirt powers to bring people joy! So I bought a flaming red shirt that says LEAN MEAN CANCER FIGHTING MACHINE in huge letters that are pretty impossible not to want to read, and wore it the next time I went to the cancer center.

Before we even got inside, a man shouted out "I LOVE THAT!" A little while later, I passed a lady in the hallway, and she said "I need that shirt!" My wife and I watched a bunch more people read it and smile, and a few more commented on it. My plan is to continue to pick up new shirts over time - it turns out there is a whole genre of funny "cancer sucks" T-shirt designs to choose from. Those are just to get the conversation going, though. I have bigger plans, and you may think I'm crazy, but because of this I'm kind of looking forward to my first chemo day.

I went with my wife to every chemo infusion she had to go through those 4-5 years ago, and as usual at a medical appointment, you wind up sitting around in a room full of people. That waiting room is full of people who are about to get unpleasant chemicals pumped into their body, and they all know it. My plan is to walk around the waiting room while I'm waiting (in my funny T-shirt!), find out who is getting a treatment that day, and to tell them "You're strong! You can handle this!" and whatever else the Spirit might have me say. My goal is to inject joy and hope into the situation rather than to try to notch my "converts" belt. My goal is to give to people, not to attack them.. I'll let you know tomorrow how it went!

Here's my Lean Mean Cancer Fighting Machine shirt, if you want to buy one! (It doesn't have to be red!)

 

More to come...