Dan You Have Cancer: Cancer Thoughts at Thanksgiving

I have no doubt that I am where I am today because of the Lord. I have no doubt that the driving force behind that is prayer. Not just my own prayers but the fervent, righteous prayers of a silent, behind the scenes army of prayer warriors, that goes undetected and unrecognized until the fruits of their faithfulness is seen when God is glorified by a “miraculous healing”. I know God is in all this, because He walks with each day, He has told me so through scripture, through the lyrics of songs and through the words of encouragement by those around me. I wait to hear His voice.

God has changed my heart through the blessings of cancer. I know I just want to be where He wants me. He has really been preparing me for whatever is next through the books I have been reading. Quiet, alone times and His scripture are two great ways that I have found discernment from God.

From the very beginning I knew God was in control of what Ann and I would be going through. I knew he had already walked the path we were on. Somehow He instilled within me a supernatural calmness and confidence. I read in Philippians 1:21-22, “For to me, to live, is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me.” I want to do what He wants. I do not fear death.

The caner I have is not a punishment from God. I don’t have it because of something I did. It’s not because God didn’t protect me. God still loves me! Cancer is just where He wants me to be. It’s that platform from which I’ve been asked to glorify Him with my words and through my actions.

The conundrum is that even though cancer is a curse because of what it does to me physically, it has provided a forum from which God has poured out His blessings on my life. On Ann’s life. We have been able to rise each morning. We have made it through each day. We have been able to rest each night. We have been led to the right doctors. We have been served by the right nurses. We are taking the right medicine. Friends have visited at the right time while other friends have blessed us with the right words when they were needed. God’s blessings are all around us. More than one blessing has been received through a silent snow fall, a skittish bird, a fluttering butterfly or an aromatic summer flower. Just following the position of the setting sun each evening on its trip from the Tropic of Cancer to the Tropic of Capricorn is a blessing and reminder of just how awesome God is. Focusing on pain, worry, and heartache would cause me to miss all these blessings.

The greatest blessing God has given me has been my family. Without Ann I would not be here to write this. What does it take to bury your own fears and uncertainty to give 100% of yourself to another? I never thought I’d need someone to help get me into bed and tuck me in but I did. And Ann was there to meet those needs. I never thought I’d need someone to practically dress me each morning but I did. And Ann was there to meet that need. I never thought I’d need someone to get me out of the shower and dry me but I did. And Ann was there to meet that need. I never thought I’d need someone to chauffer me around for months but I did. And Ann was there to meet that need. I never thought I’d need someone to sit with me for hours while being infused or getting blood transfusions but I did. And Ann was there to meet that need. Simply said, without An I wouldn’t be here today.

It’s a blessing to have your adult children sit with you at chemo. It’s a blessing to have friends spend time with you during infusions and transfusions. It’s a blessing to have friends pray for you. It’s a blessing to have strangers pray for you.  It’s a blessing to receive a simple card of well wishes in the mail or a message or text on your cell phone. It’s a blessing, the strength I received from family. It’s a blessing to have bothers visit and help. I start each day with thanksgiving and end each day with thanksgiving for the blessings God has given me.

I do not look for disappointments. I look for the positives. I need to be positive to maximize my situation. I need those around me to be positive. I need to keep those around me positive. Instead of worrying about the thing I could no longer do, I focused on the things I could do. Instead of worrying about the things cancer took from me, I focus on what cancer has given me. Cancer has increased my joy, it has developed friendships, it has created new friendships. It has developed a stronger prayer life and caring for others.

My greatest fear now is that I may miss something God has in store for me. I don’t want to miss one assignment or one blessing. I do want to miss His voice or His whisper. I wait for Him each day.  I wait.

Dan, You Have Cancer: A Wanderer, a King, Some Singers and Me

I have been having trouble writing this next blog. I have many things to write about but just cannot seem to find the energy to sit and write it down. Lack of material? Not a chance. Lack of inspiration? Possibility. I have experienced a period of down time, low energy and the blahs. I feel like my ship has sailed into the Sargasso Sea and the winds have died.

I have spoken with a lot of people recently. Friends, family, nurses and doctors all tell me how good I look, how well I am doing and that they are glad to see me. My response to their comments is always, “It’s good to be seen!” Last night I realized what needs to be blogged.  I became inspired, to share exactly why acquaintances see what they see.

When Moses was called to lead the Israelites out of captivity from Egypt what did he do? He took them and headed to the Promised Land. Ah, but there is this thing called the Red Sea standing in their way. Unlike Noah, Moses was not given directions to build a boat. When he lifted his rod the Sea parted and Moses and his band of brick makers crossed on dry land. Upon reaching the other side the Israelites were scared when they saw the Egyptian army in hot pursuit and wanted to go back to Egypt. What did Moses have them do? He had them stand still and watch as God saved them. So did the Israelites escape or were they delivered? When you escape it is due to your actions. When you are delivered it is because of the actions of someone else, in this case God’s mighty act delivered Moses and his band of rock stackers.

Awhile later the wandering Israelites were forced to fight the Amalekites who were big, strong, fierce fighters and gunning for Moses and his followers. Moses won but was not part of the battle. What? Well, when the battle started Moses took his friends Aaron and Hur to the top of a hill. Where? How could they fight a battle from such a distant position? They did not fight with swords and shields but rather with prayer. Moses lifted his arms in prayer, sans rod, and the Israelites started to win the battle. When he lowered his arms the advantage on the battlefield returned to the Amalekites. In order to maintain the advantage and eventual victory on the battlefield Moses had Aaron and Hur hold his arms up. The Israelites beat the Amalekites not because of the battle in the valley but because of the battle on the hill.

As children growing up I always knew that if I were in trouble, if the bully in the neighborhood was beating the snot out of me, I could call for my father to come rescue me. This is exactly what Moses had done. The battle with the Amalekites was too big so Moses called upon his Heavenly Father to save him. If you doubt this, just how many Jews are building pyramids today?

Now let me introduce you to King Jehoshaphat. Jehoshaphat defeated the Moabites, Ammonites and Meunites. These people were also large, strong, fierce fighters, mean as snakes. King Jehoshaphat had no battle plan, no strategy, and no way to defeat his enemies. He was scared knowing that they were coming to get him and his people. What did he do? The king asked God what to do.  He gathered his people and they went on a national fast. They told God that He was the king and whatever He wanted was OK with them. They really needed God’s help. They waited. The enemy was coming closer; Jehoshaphat stood and waited.

One of the king’s people, a guy named Jahaziel, told the king God said not to be afraid, worry or be discouraged that the battle was His not ours. Obviously these were men of prayer because when they heard God’s voice they recognized it.  So just how did the battle play out? How did King Jehoshaphat become victorious? They sang! They sang? Yes, they had the Levites lead them into battle singing. That's correct, the singing Levites led the warriors into battle singing. They sang and they sang. God set ambushes and when the king got to the battle the enemy was dead.  Bizarre! Who believes this stuff? Those with man-sized problems will laugh. Those with God size problems will pray.

What people see in me is that I have a God-sized problem. My story is a lot like these stories. When I was given a God-sized problem I prayed. I called out to my Father for help. I lifted my rod and God parted the waters of my mind so that I could find my footing on dry land. Then God closed those waters drowning any thoughts that I would have of defeat. Ann and my family held my arms up as the battle raged within me. Their support goes a long way in God’s plan to defeat the cancer within me. While I wait the army of prayer warriors in my life goes before me with their prayers, lifting their voices in praise, trust and great expectations of being answered, giving the battle to the Lord to defeat my enemy. What people see in me is what happens when I wait and God fights! 

What does God do for me when I am in a bind? He fights! He fights for me each and every day. He takes on my battle. My job in all this is to trust. My job is to wait.

Remain calm; the Lord will fight for you. (Exodus 14:14)

He is my defender; I will not be defeated. (Psalm 62:6)

Dan You Have Cancer - Hearing God's Voice

Now, that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem.  They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him.

He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?”

They stood still, their faces downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, “Are you the only one visiting Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?”

“What things?” he asked.

“About Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied. “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him; but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel. And what is more, it is the third day since all this took place. In addition, some of our women amazed us. They went to the tomb early this morning but didn’t find his body. They came and told us that they had seen a vision of angels, who said he was alive. Then some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they did not see Jesus.”

He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them.

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”

I had a second scan on April the 5^th. The results presented to me on April 8th were of a mixed bag, some things improved. Some findings remained the same. Several other things were presented as worse than before. Fight on! Every day I fight!

Each morning as I wake I thank God for giving me another day and ask Him to watch over and bless all that I do that day. On the morning of April 11^th  as I tried to regain consciousness from a fitful night of sleep and as I was ending my morning prayer I heard, I felt the Holy Spirit say to me, “Dan your cancer is gone. You are healed.”  I had heard this voice before so I knew who it was. Like Samuel, who ministered for the Lord under Eli, I lay back down and said, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” Again I received the same message, “Dan your cancer is gone. You are healed.”  I believed.

So Dan you are saying God speaks to you? Come on now, who do you think you are fooling?

I have come to know that there are two ways to test if the voice I hear is God’s. The first is explained in the opening scripture of this blog. When I hear the voice of God my heart burns within my chest. The second is explained in Samuel Chapter 3 where young Samuel is awakened by God’s voice calling him. Samuel hears the voice thrice and each time he puts it out of his mind when he goes to Eli to see what he wants. Eli realizes what is happening and he instructs Samuel how to respond because Eli realizes it is God calling. When I hear God’s voice I am unable to push it away until I answer. If I try to move on from the voice and can’t I know the voice is God’s.

The message He gave me that morning was daunting. I had just received, on April 9^th,  the mixed result of a scan that was the direct opposite of what God just told me. God was asking me to believe Him. I needed to put aside what modern medicine was telling me and believe what God said. So, I did. The positive attitude I had towards my cancer became even more so because I knew now that I was healed.

The next scan I had in July proved that God’s word was truth. The expression on my doctor’s face as he tried to explain my situation was priceless. I had insider information and even though I was elated with the scan’s results I was not surprised nor did I have to search for an answer as to why. My nurses were ecstatic, I was humbled.

This healing, these circumstances are not solely because I prayed or because I am deserving or I am righteous or any of that. I believe healings like this happen because people pray. I have had so many people far and wide praying for me my knees weaken when I consider the enormity of that fact. I know of prayer warriors that have prayed novenas for my healing. One good friend visited the Holy city of Jerusalem and while there prayed for me at the Temple’s Western Wall, whereas custom dictates, he slipped my name on a piece of paper between the walls cracks. I find all this to be overwhelming at times. Others remember each time I go for a therapy treatment with a card of encouragement. Text messages and phone calls of support are priceless. I am very grateful for these sacrifices and consider them worth more than silver or gold. Thank you!

My prayer is that all who share in this blog will also feel the burning of your heart by the voice of God no matter what your situation may be.

Every day, I fight!

Dan You Have Cancer - The End of Chemo

February 26^th was the halfway point for my chemo treatments, number three of six. Treatment seems like such a misplaced word. I normally equate treats with good things, like donuts on Sunday morning, an ice pop when I finish mowing the lawn, a tall, cold, glass of iced-tea on a hot summers afternoon or Ann greeting me with a smile and a “Here I am” whenever she comes home. Pushing poison into my veins does not equal a treat. But wait a minute. I said it before and I’m going to repeat it, if it takes multiple chemo treatments to make me better and add days to my life then ding-dong, trick-or-treat.

The difference in this particular go round of treatments is that I will receive my first dose of Teqcentric the immunotherapy drug. My doctor explained and then my nurses read me a list of possible reactions to Teqcentric. Pretty scary stuff. The last thing on every one of these lists is “..and death”. The irony I find here is that the very thing I am counting on to fight my cancer, which will kill me if it goes unchecked, may also kill me. I think I’ll stick to the Rocky Balboa stuff and keep punching no matter how bruised and swollen I become. Splash me with water, run a styptic pencil across my cuts, spin me around and push me back into the fray.

Twelve hours after first receiving Teqcentric, I awoke in my bed wishing that I was dead or soon would be. As previously document in this blog I could never say what my pain level was because I had never experienced a pain I couldn’t control or work my way through. This night, February 27^th 2019, the raging battle between good and evil; the warfare between dug and cancer; the refining fire needed for deeper healing was unleashed in full force within my body. I felt as if I was on fire. All my bones hurt! All my joints were a flame! I could not lay I could not sit. I could not stand. If I would have died in that moment I would have been grateful for the relief. How I got through it I cannot remember. I do remember calling out to Jesus to save me, to take the pain away. When I woke to a new day I felt much better but still ached all over. The aches would last for days. I read over the list of what Teqcentric could do to you. This wasn’t on the list. When I told my doctor and nurses the next day they were amazed. They had only ever heard of one other cancer patient that experienced the same reaction. I said congratulations, now you know of two.

Some positives did come from this reaction. I know what a pain level of 10 is. It’s the pain level that precedes passing out or in extreme cases dying. I had a new found appreciation for the vast amount of cancer within me. I hurt, I burnt all over. Not just in one or two places but from head to toe from hip to hip and down both arms. My doctor was correct when he said this was serious. I also looked at Teqcentric differently. The pain and the burning came from the drug attacking my cancer on all fronts at the same time. There was a war raging inside of me. I quickly developed a greater appreciation for those who are at the tip of the spear developing new treatment and cures for cancer. They are making a difference.

On the weeks that I had chemo and immune I spent about sixteen hours at the infusion center. Some call this ‘down time’ in that those hours are dedicated to being there for that purpose. I could do nothing else. I did read books and tried to do Ken-Ken, Sudoku and crosswords but these activities were always at odds with ‘chemobrain’, a condition where I would find it very difficult to stay focused for more than a minute or two. Music and podcasts were another activity that I tried but they were often interrupted by sleep. Ann spent many hours sitting with me, taking care of me and just loving me with all she had. I truly appreciated those who would come to pick me up on Wednesdays and Thursdays when Ann worked. They would arrive early, sitting with me for an hour or so before the last drip dropped prior to the final flush administered by the nurses. A quick ride home was provided, followed by assistance from the car to my chair. There were even times when friends would stop in during my downtime just to sit and talk. These moments, these sacrifices of time were greatly appreciated. I know that when I get a chance I want to return these same favors to others. Think about doing the same to someone you know. Don’t send flowers, stop in to say hello. Sending a card? Why not deliver the same message by lips. You need not stay long. Just your personal touch will mean so much. Ann and I have implemented this in our lives and the rewards of doing so are tremendous.

The routine of going every three weeks for chemo and immuno became another new normal for us. The end of chemo also brought several things with it that we did not anticipate. My oncologist had a face-to-face heart-to-heart with us prior to my last chemo session and scan. He explained that I, that we, could decide to continue with immunotherapy after our last chemo session or say enough is enough. We even had the right to stop the pending chemo session if we wanted. I took his words as words of caution but not quite surrender. It also was his way of letting us know that we were in control. We were the ones in the fight so we were in control. I chose, we chose, the fight!

The end of chemo also brought another scan. This would be the first scan since the initial one. We knew that good was happening because the tumor on my jaw was all but gone. Definitive results were yet to be measured. The second scan was a mixed bag, some good some not so good. Bone tumors were present and still active. Liver tumors had shrunk from 9 cm to 6 cm. Addition ribs reported in as ‘broken’. Multiple vertebra were now showing up on the scan as being fractured. Dr. Surapaneni asked me if I had fallen as my left clavicle was broken. I probably did this rolling over in bed which was no longer simple or pain free. In any event I believed more than ever I was in God’s hands. There will be more on that subject in my next blog. Right now we stayed the course.

The first time I had Teqcentric without the chemo drugs administered at the same time I had another unexpected reaction. As they were finishing up with my infusion I became really unsettled. I wanted to stand, I wanted sit. I needed to walk I needed to sit. I was going nuts. Then all of a sudden without warning I began to shake. I shook uncontrollably for over an hour. After taking Benadryl and several ‘anti’ this and ‘’anti’ that pills the shaking ceased and I went home. Not only was I shaken by the events of that day, Ann and my medical team were also shaken and “shakin”. As we reflect back on that day and the preceding four months we realized more than ever how much God was watching over us. The prayers of the faithful were working. The sacrifices of so many were felt and appreciated.  Thanks be to God!

Dan You Have Cancer - Chemo vs Immuno

Allow me to explain. Chemotherapy is defined as; the treatment of disease by the use of chemical substances, especially the treatment of cancer by cytotoxic and other drugs. Cytotoxic refers being toxic to living cells. So there you have it. At its basic, rudimentary level the chemicals in chemotherapy kills living cells. The human body, my human body, is comprised of trillions of living cells. When I have chemotherapy I am actually volunteering to have someone stick a needle in me to kill me. It’s a controlled kill but a kill none the less.

Immunotherapy is a type of cancer treatment that energizes one’s immune system to fight cancer. My immune system helps me fight infections and other diseases. The immune system is made up of white blood cells and the organs and tissue of the lymph system. That’s lymph not nymph. Nymph is a mythological spirit of nature imagined as a beautiful maiden inhabiting rivers, woods and other locations. When one fully understands the lymph system it may border on the mythological but it is definitely for real. My creator thought of everything when he made me.

Chemotherapy destroys all new cell creation in my body. Especially fast growing cells. This is why my hair fell out, scalp, beard, eye brows, chest, legs, you name the place, hair fell out. Only my arms seemed to retain any amount of hair that was worthwhile. God tells me in Luke 12:7 that “even the hairs on your head are numbered and that I am worth more than many sparrows”. For several months at the start of 2019 God’s job got somewhat easier as He had no hairs on my head to number. Now that I think about it there were more sparrows around my feeders during that time. Hmmm!

Red blood cells are also fast growing. That fact coupled with the knowledge that I had cancer in my bones was why I became extremely anemic during my 18 weeks of chemotherapy. My hemoglobin levels were in the Bear Market trend of downward from the very beginning. After two rounds my count was down to 9-plus on a scale where 14 is considered to be good. Next three rounds the count went into the danger zones of 7.7, 7.4 and 7.2. This meant I was ANEMIC. These readings brought a new course, a non-elective core course of course, Cancer 106 – Blood Transfusions, towards my degree in medical science. I affectionately called these days Blood Getting Days. Two units of blood would bump me up two points to 9+ but that would start to diminish as soon as they pulled the needle from my port as my body was still filled with enough chemo to choke a horse. Ann says it brought color back to my checks and I was ‘perkier’ so I believe those long sessions were worthwhile.

In a nutshell chemotherapy is the Great Destroyer. It does not distinguish bad from good. It seeks out and destroys all. Not some but ALL. I was only allowed to have six three-day sessions of chemo. Maybe chemo should be called ‘killmo’ since that is what it does. However, if part of me has to die in order for me to live, then whether it is ‘killmo’ or chemo pump it in to me. It’s sort of what God asks me to do. Part of me has to die in order to achieve eternal life. My earthly sinful nature must die by turning it over to God, in order to obtain eternal life. Once my sins are covered by the blood of Jesus they cannot be seen by the Father.

The Immunotherapy I take is a drug called Tecentriq (atezolizumab). My immune system is a collection of specialized organs and cells that protect me against infections and disease. A protein found on many cells can allow cancer cells to hide from my immune system. Tecentriq strips this protein from the cancer cells enabling my immune system to fight and kill the cancer cells. I know it works because my jaw tumor did not change until after I started Tecentriq. Additionally, when I have a treatment every three weeks it takes me seven to ten days to recover from the battle that ranges inside of me.

Since the cancer stripped the calcium from my bones combined with the wide range of places where the cancer attacked my bone I get a bone strengthening shot every six weeks. This drug is Xgeva (denosumab). It has a specific job, it helps my bones. It does come with a price however. The injection hurts like crap. Once in my body and active I ache as if I had the flu for several days. Bones hurt. Joints hurt. My energy is sapped. I am not complaining. If these are the steps I need to take to continue waking up every morning then a few days of discomfort every three weeks is a small price to pay and welcomed.

I promised myself from the beginning that I was going to share all that I go through not for sympathy sake but rather for the edification of those around me. For those that are praying for me you will know the specific things for which prayer is needed. For those, like myself, who had friends with cancer but never knew or understood the process because facts were never shared, I hope that my frankness is lifting that veil.

I do not fear cancer. It has brought me more blessings and closer to God than anything I have ever experienced. I am grateful for that. Now that I am in the fight I will not back down. I will battle every day to keep cancer down, to control cancer, to eradicate cancer from my body. I can only do that with the help of your prayers, the love of God and the peace I have about my future. In Billy Graham’s book “Angels: God’s Secrete Agents”, he writes:

They (angels) were commissioned not only to bar man’s return into Eden, but with “a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life” (Genesis 3:24) lest Adam by eating of its fruit should live forever. If Adam had lived in his sin forever – this earth would long ago have been hell. Thus, in one sense death is a blessing to the human race.

Because of cancer I am able to see the everlasting truth in words such as these. Thanks be to God! Every day I fight.

Dan You Have Cancer - Any Port in a Storm or Cancer Can be Fun!

In a previous blog I explained how it is very difficult to get an intravenous line started in my. This failing on my part has nothing to do with having or not having cancer. It has always been that way. That being the case my oncology nurses lobbied for me to agree to have a port put in my chest. This would save me from going through the struggles of having an IV started each time I needed any medicine or death chemicals dripped or pumped into my body. I cannot accuse anyone of having ulterior motives but it would also make their job infinitely easier too. No more poking, stabbing or goring of this patient’s arm, hand or ankle.  The Friday before my second round of chemo I am scheduled to have a port placed into my chest.

This ‘port’ is about the size of quarter. It is placed just under the skin on my chest. It reminds me of the prime-bulb on a lawn mower, chainsaw or other gasoline powered tool. The port has a tube that extends from the port upwards to my neck where the surgeon will attach it to one of the main blood vessels in my neck.

I report to the hospital early that Friday morning. I check in. I prep in and am laying in a hospital bed with curtain drawn on three sides. The foot of the bed is open and I can see that is taking place this day in the out-patient surgery room. Pretty tame stuff. The attending nurses are kid and very attentive to detail as well as my comfort. Ann’s comfort too. Then it happens! An infusion nurse comes in and sets up to start an IV in me. Before her rear end hit the chair Ann let her know in no uncertain terms that she was not going to be the one to start this patients IV, this day. Ann spoke the magic words, “IV Team”. In a move that one would normally associate with the finals of the women’s individual ice-skating at the Winter Olympics, that infusion nurse was “outta here’’; Gone!; Vamoose!; Made a run for it and beat a hasty retreat to where ever shunned infusion nurses go. After explaining the situation to my attending nurse, she said she would contact the IV Team. Mission accomplished.

The IV Team nurse showed up shortly thereafter. She was somewhat somber and cool towards us, very businesslike.  I can only guess what she had been told when she was summoned to the out-patient operating room. After a few minutes with us she realized that we had a legitimate reason for asking for her presence, that we were more Ma & Pa Kettle than Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck. I was amazed by her because she reached into her Mary Poppins bag producing what I recognized as a Garmin fish finder. I’m sure what she had was way more sophisticated, more expensive and had never seen the inside of a jon boat or the deck of a Bass Tracker. I do know it worked! She greased my arm and within seconds found a viable vein to use. The hardest part for her was listening to the play-by-play delivered by her patient as I asked what kind and how many fish she was finding. She stuck that needle in, hit it on the first try and had a flowing IV in short order. She was carried out of the room upon the praises of her patient and his wife.

My surgeon, who had been pacing the hall that I could see from my bed, was my next visitor. He came in and after explaining exactly what he was going to do provided us with a bit of his surgical history. He had been a surgeon for over two decades but had fallen into the port planting business the past several years. He had done over a thousand of these or was it ten-thousand, maybe a hundred-thousand. My mind was become relaxed as the pills they gave me to relax me were becoming very relaxing. With a spin on his foot and clap of his hands I was on my way to the operating room.

I need to talk about operating rooms. For the first fifty-five to sixty years of my life my experience and my recollection of operating rooms on a first hand observation and by what I have seen on TV has been of cold, tiled rooms, green or blue, somewhat cold, a narrow table in the center with a big round light attached to a moveable arm. This day I was wheeled into what appeared to be an oversized closet. Possibly a very small kitchen as I could see from my prone position cabinets hanging on the wall. Maybe this was the operating room used for cancer patients because statistics showed that until any real legal litigation could unfold, the patient would be no more. In the room that day was the surgeon, whom I previously met, an anesthesiologist, who shook my hand and into whose hands I was placing my life, several men and women young enough to be my grandchildren and one student surgeon, to whom I was introduced but her name resides in the same place in my brain as the number of ports my surgeon had placed. Darn! I just had a thought. When he told me how many he did I should have inquired about his success rate. Next time.

Those in attendance helped me go from my narrow hospital bed to the eight foot long two-by-six being used in the closet operating room this day. “Are you comfortable?” they asked. Break multiple ribs, one sternum and several vertebrae; then lie down on a two-by-six board and tell me how comfortable you are. I replied through clenched teeth, “Yes”. Several of those in attendance this day in the phone booth covered me from head to toe with a sheet. I was asked to turn my face to the right. Upon doing that I could look out under the sheet and see light and the knees of the anesthesiologist. Then a flap was opened that exposed the “field” where the procedure was to take place. A quick rinse, a shave and the application of orange stuff that had to be forcefully rubbed off, followed. All this time there was a din of conversation by everyone as well as the step-by-step explanation from teacher to student. I was not asleep. It was twilight time. “Heavenly shades of night are falling, it’s twilight time…” is how The Platters described it.

From the conversations I knew the surgery was underway. I could feel fingers in my “field”. Then it hit me. It wasn’t sit-straight-up-and-scream pain nor was it the gentle pressure of a loved one hands. It was the cutting edge of a very sharp scalpel being drug across my chest. My subconscious registered as pain. My conscious registered it as really weird pain without the hurt. Had someone asked me what my pain level was at that moment I would have said, “One, no four, no six, no I have no pain”. I do remember saying, “Ouch!” Upon the utterance of that world the room fell silent. Think how it would sound if suddenly without warning the water was shut off going over Niagara. Silence. My surgeon broke the eerie silent spell with the words, “Did you feel that?” No doctor that’s the new ring tone on the anesthesiologist’s iPhone. No I have programed my mind to randomly say words beginning with the letter ‘O’, my next random ‘O’ word is ‘over’ as what this surgery is going to be if it happens again. No I’m sorry I was reviewing the tenets of onomatopoeia in my twilight state and the word ‘Ouch’ came to mind and slipped across my lips. YES IT HURT! YOU JUST CUT ME WITH A SCALPEL!

The surgeon requested that the anesthesiologist give me “a little more”. We were once again back in the saddle heading towards a western sunset only a bit more subdued than before. After a brief recovery time I was returned to Ann at the point of origin. The surgeon stopped by on his way to his 10,001^st port surgery to see how things were going. I do not remember us reminiscing about being wide awake during surgery but what’s a little slip up among friends. He did ask if I had any questions. I don’t know if this surgeon was caught unaware, if he was trying to humor me or if in his haste to get past recent events he slipped up but I asked the same question of him that I ask every doctor who asks me that question. “Will I be able to play the piano when I get home?” He immediately answered, “Yes there is no reason you shouldn’t unless you find it uncomfortable.” I was thrilled. If I was able to I would have gotten up danced around the bed and do-si-doed Ann at each corner. I replied, “Good! Because I couldn’t play it before this surgery!” Cancer can be so much fun! I couldn't choose not to have cancer but I can choose how to live with it. Thank you Jesus for the attitude you have given me.

Dan You Have Cancer - The Pain of Pain

The scan I had during my week vacation at Community General Hospital revealed not only cancer under my jaw, in bones and on my liver but it also shared with those reading the results that I also had a broken sternum and multiple broken ribs. These were explained to me as being possible due to the amount of calcium leeched from them by the cancer.  Knowing this did not account for nor did it make sense of the amount of pain I had in my back. I had a spot on my right side below my ribs and above my hip that was excruciating. There were several things that made it worse. First was the fact that I could be pain free and then suddenly without warning I didn’t know if I should sit or stand, laugh or cry. If you’ve ever walked barefoot through a dark room and stubbed you toes on the coffee table that isn’t there during daylight hours you sort of, kind of relate to my situation. One minute you’re whistling the next minute your saying words you had no idea were in your vocabulary. Sit? Stand? Laugh? Cry? Feel my pain yet. This same spot on my back limited the time I could sit at the kitchen table, sit at my computer or sit pretty much anywhere. It also limited the time I could stand at the kitchen table; stand at my computer; stand pretty much anywhere.  The pain of getting in and out of cars was greatly surpassed by the pain of riding in a car. Every dip, rumble, pot hole, manhole or patch in the road provided me with more pain and discomfort than I ever imagined having. I always felt bad for Ann as I knew she was trying to avoid the road hazards that caused such discomfort but her chances of doing that were equal with her chances of hitting the Irish Sweepstakes. To be more relevant I should say Power Ball or Mega Millions. I believe this pain was nerve related, generated by a combination of the cervical fractures I had in my spine and the tumors growing there.

My oncologist sent me to a pain doctor better known as a palliative care physician. I had originally spoken with others from the same practice in the hospital but this was serious stuff now. Quality-of-life they call it. The theory goes that one heals better when they are not in pain.  I whole heartedly subscribe to that theory, even more so now that I look back on it through a clear, pain free mind. In the moment everyone seemed more concern about my pain level than anything else.

“Daniel, how would you rate your pain?” Do you mean right now or when I can’t stand, sit or see straight because it feels like someone is using my back for a dart board or worse yet rattan cane practice. “Zero means you have no pain and ten means well let me just say; do you have a living will and medical power of attorney papers with you?” The more I was asked this question the more obstinate I became in answering it. I became so irritated with the question I refused to provide a straight answer to it no matter who asked. I never said I had pain greater than four (4) only because at some point in a hospital hallway while I was lying on my back, yes, yes, yes in severe pain, I looked up and there on the wall was a poster asking, “What is your pain level today?”

I could relate to the dark green face on the left and to the light green face labeled 1-3. Yellow moderate even made some sense. From there on I struggled. What If I said my pain today was 10 and tomorrow it was worse. Where do I go then? Does that invalidate all my other pain ratings. Can I be charged with “Pain Fraud” or perjury by my palliative care physicians when that happens? Oh, the pain of it all! God have mercy! Cancer sucks!

I hesitate to tell anyone how much pain I have for several reasons. First I think Gibbs has a rule saying to share that information is a sign of weakness. Secondly, as soon as you say you have pain someone with more college loans than you or I have wants to give you a pill to ease the pain. Not make you better but make the pain go away. For me most if not all of those narcotics provide me with my very own version of Nightmare on Elm Street. Sleep, which is brought on and lengthened by those magic pills, unleashes ugly, flesh-eating monsters that always chase and catch me in the dreams I can’t wake up from. I’d rather have the pain. Pain and prayer.

Taking this all in my palliative doctor prescribes a mild pill, an opioid that lasts for 4-hours. The four hour time frame described was right on. I’d take the pill. Forty-five minutes later I could feel it working as the pain rapidly subsided. I was the pan free for two hours and forty-five minutes until I could feel the effects of the magic pill wear off. What I learned through this process is that there is truth in advertising. The TV and magazine ads say take our product if you are taking opioids as the will make you constipated. This is the truest thing I’ve ever heard on a TV commercial. The price of each hour an opioid relives your pain is equal to one full day of being full. Bowels shut down. Close up shop. Leave town. Go on vacation. Whatever, they cease to work. So the algebraic equation goes like this:

excruciating pain + opioid = excruciating pain relief + pain and discomfort of another kind

Needless to say I only used the opioids for about two weeks. They tried to counter the opioids damage by giving me one that was milder over a longer period of time. I still couldn’t say how bad my pain was because I made pain a relative thing in my life. I simply refused to accept it. When I hurt badly, I thought of something else. When pain came knocking at my door I refused to answer it. When it showed up in my in-box I redirected it to Trash. Doctors and nurses had a difficult time excepting or believing that but that is exactly what I did. Other than Tylenol I didn’t take any pain medication after Ground Hog day.  I told anyone who asked that I really could not say what my worst pain was as I had yet to experience it. Four was my apex, my zenith on the pain scale.

Dan You Have Cancer - EVERY DAY I FIGHT!

[Picking up where I left off on June 10^th with the “Dan, you have cancer: The Beginning” blog.]

To continue with my story:

It felt great to be home from the hospital. Food was better, sleep did not improve. I was still spending nights either in a recliner or my TV room chair with the heating pad. I felt better mentally because Ann no longer had to run back and forth to the hospital. I came home Friday January 11 knowing that Tuesday January 15^th would be my first day of chemo.

I was looking forward to chemotherapy. “Hello Dan? This is your common sense calling. Are you there? Have you lost your mind? No one looks forward to chemo! Do not tell others or share this information as it could be used as grounds to have you committed. Dan? Are you there?” This was the battle raging inside me at that time. I had been told by people in the medical profession, in fact people in the cancer medical profession, in fact very smart doctors in the cancer medical profession that my life expectancy could be measured in weeks or months. The way I weighed this news was that for each day nothing was done to abate or cure the monster inside of me, was a day that the monster was winning with no kickback from me. I wanted to, I needed to, get into the fight. I was looking forward to chemotherapy.

Through my years on planet Earth I often wondered just who I was. How tough was I. I never served in the military, so I did not have that measuring stick. I was never in immediate life threatening situations, so I did not have that measuring stick either. I was hit virtually head on in my truck and was told by many that my actions that day probably saved three lives. That accident happened so fast I’m not sure it is a measuring stick either. The outcome that I controlled was more reflex reaction than gut wrenching resolve. I did raise seven children and was the provider for my family for forty plus years but I’m not sure that qualifies as a true test as those challenges were spread out over those forty plus years. Maybe now I’ll have a true measuring stick to figure out just who I am. What I am capable of. I am about to find out.

Everyone I ever knew who had chemotherapy hated it. It made them nauseous. Tales of repetitive throwing-up were freely shared over and over. I was facing that with tremendous trepidation because of my broken ribs and fractured sternum. How was I going to handle barfing for long periods of time when I already couldn’t stand to cough or sneeze? I needed to do something no matter how painful, gut-wrenching or futile it may be. I had to start fighting. I was already fully engaged on the prayer front. It was my physical being that needed to join the fray. Remember, it’s not the size of the dog in the fight that matters; it’s the size of the fight in the dog! This dog was ready to tangle.

On Tuesday January 15^th I reported for Round One, Day One. My chemo sessions were to be scheduled every three weeks for three consecutive days, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Tuesday consisted of a bag of saline, a bag of anti-nausea medicine, a bag of steroids and two bags of my very own special “cocktail” mix.  Sort of like McDonald’s special sauce and just as lethal. Wednesday’s menu was the same only one bag of chemo, easy on the sauce please. Thursday was a repeat of Wednesday’s fare. Monday’s time expenditure for me was eight plus hours. Wednesday and Thursdays I was only there for about three and a half hours.

Even something as simple of pumping your body full of deadly chemicals, so deadly that the nurse giving them to me had to wear gloves, a mask and a protective robe when handling them, could not transpire without unforeseen events. Starting an I.V. on me has always been a challenge. That is not a good thing for someone entering the chemotherapy protocol. When you have cancer it means that you will be stuck with needles in more places more often than ever thought imaginable. So Day One of chemo or day one of chemo, depending on your outlook, is going great guns until my nurse has to start an IV for me. I explained all the past difficulties I have had with the process. I think I spooked her because after two tries she sent for help. The IV nurse came and had the exact same problems as everyone else. Could not get anything started. She couldn’t even find a viable vein. “Take that Dan!” cancer screamed at me. Wait a second I need this all to work. Hand slaps, dangling arms, tourniquets, hot compresses you name it the IV nurse tried it. Nothing worked. I could feel her tension and frustration with the situation mount as failure built upon failure. My dooms day clock kept ticking. My IV nurse got up and took a walk.

Upon her return she sat down in front of me and taking my left arm gently into her hands, she breathed a deep sigh of not resignation nor determination but of... I cannot exactly say what it was. As I now look back and having gotten to know more about Nancy it wasn't a sigh but a prayer. It was her relinquishing control of the situation over to God. I said, “Stop. Nancy, take my hands.” Looking at her I told her she was not to worry, she was not hurting me. I was not angry at her. I knew she was doing her best. I let her know that we were in this together. Now looking like the weight of the world was lifted from her shoulders, she again took my arm and almost immediately without further drama she found a vein, inserted an IV and had blood, my blood flowing without further incident.

Once the IV was established and the drip, drip, drip of the poison that was to stem the tide began its journey to the places it needed to be inside of me. My nurse returned to discuss the immediate future of IVs in my life. She suggested that I consider having a port. I have had port wine, sailed from a port, know of several ports on my computer and loved the Peaches ‘n Port at Momma Leone’s in Manhattan. But my own personal port? Explain on. My nurse Jamie explained how it is a device that is implanted under the skin of my chest and allows a quick access to my circulatory system without the need for constant IV sticks for blood draws, chemicals or even some medicines. My first reaction was to say no, I’m not having any unnecessary surgery’s. I told her I’d think about. For the short term they decided to leave my IV in for the rest of the week. That worked but was not a solution. After sleeping on it and praying about it I agreed to have the surgery before my second round of chemo.

Praise the Lord the chemo did not make me nauseous. It didn’t make me feel like singing or going dancing either. The best way to describe it to someone who has never gone through it is to imagine how you felt when you had the flu really bad. No not like that, I mean really, really bad. The ‘I can’t lift my head off the pillow, every joint and bone in my body hurts, leave me alone to die’ feeling. Now double, no triple the depth and anguish of that feeling. That’s how chemo felt. I will tell you though my mental approach to it made it infinitely better. I decided it was not going to rule me. It was there to help me. If this is what it takes to get better and beat cancer then let me have it. It was during these days that my prayer warriors took on the battle for me. I felt the effects of their payers every day.  I did not choose to have cancer but I could choose how I reacted to it. I decided to fight. EVERY DAY I FIGHT!

Dan You Have Cancer - Prayer Part 4

Previously I wrote about one-on-one prayer between the Holy Trinity and me and what it means to be the one for whom prayers are being offered. I now would like to offer what I have learned about the people who pray for others. I stated that I believe there to be a three way prayer circle also. This circle contains God, the person offering the prayer and the person who is to be the recipient of the blessings achieved by the prayer. I hesitantly say that part about the one receiving the blessings because I have come to the realization that the person praying for another can be blessed as much as the person for whom they are praying.

When you or I tell someone we are praying for them, say it with boldness, mean it with all sincerity. I realize more than ever that I am entering into a ‘Holy Contract’ with that person when I tell them I am “praying for you”. What? I am supposed to mean it and actually do it when I tell someone that I am praying for them. Yes! I now see it as a binding contract between me, that person and God. I am taking a public vow, a public promise to help carry that person’s burden. I am joining with them, standing at their side, watching their back, and in many case carrying them towards tomorrow when they cannot get there on their own. I know as I have now been on both sides of this equation. When I woke up in the mornings of my darkest days and did not see myself making it to evenings tide, it was those prayers, those sacrificial prayers and those prayer warriors that lifted me, carried me and lowered me to the feet of Jesus. I thank God and praise Him for your sacrifice.

When I went to bed at night I’d toss and turn. When I’d give in and set awake in the dark for hours at a time because rest and sleep were nowhere to be found, it was the Simon’s in my life that unselfishly carried my cross for me. My Simon’s unselfishly lifted my beam upon their shoulders so I could find rest. I thank God and praise Him for your sacrifice.

I thank God and praise Him for the sacrificial prayer offered by those whose overflowing prayer list had room for just one more name, Daniel Delp. I thank God and praise Him for your answering of the call to place others before yourself. I thank God and praise Him for your obedience, for doing the very thing for which God created you (Esther 4:14).

Praying for someone is the number one thing you can do for a person. Nothing else even comes close. When you or I pray for someone, something always happens. What I usually see happening is that the answer to our prayer is granted or the grace needed to accept the answer is provided. Not always an explanation or a why but a knowing grace that reaffirms who is really in control in the situation. I understand now more than ever that when I pray for another, I am acknowledging that God is responsible for that person and that He is allowing me to contribute through my prayer.

We are priestly people (1 Peter 2:9). Our priesthood is about offering sacrifices to God. We offer our time. We offer our mental and emotional investments in someone else’s life to God through prayer so that He can do as He pleases.

Dan You Have Cancer - Prayer Part 2

I previously wrote about one-on-one prayer between the Holy Trinity and me. I stated that I believe there to be a three way prayer circle also. This circle contains God, there person offering the prayer and the person who is to be the recipient of the blessings achieved by the prayer. I hesitantly say that part about the one receiving the blessings because I have come to the realization that the person praying for another can be blessed as much as the person for whom they are praying.

Many times throughout my life I had prayed for others. I have prayed for family, friends, strangers, institutions, weather, name almost any subject and chances are that you will hit upon something for which I have prayed.  That does not make me special or a saint, just someone that realizes that there is a higher power in the universe that knows me, cares for me and is willing to listen to me. Having cancer and being forced to spend long hours and days just existing caused me to think, to contemplate many different things. One of those things was, just what it means when someone says, “I’ll pray for you.” “You are in our prayers.” “We are praying a novena for you”?

The first thing I realized that the prayers of others said for me were in fact sacrifices made, by those friends and acquaintances, for me. These prayers are sacrifices because there are so many other things to occupy our waking moments. To take time before God to lift me and my malady up before Him is a sacrifice. One friend of mine, when I first saw her after my diagnosis, said that I was at the top of her already over flowing prayer list. She said that her list kept growing and growing and she didn’t know where the time was coming from to fit it all in. I encouraged her in that I was keenly aware of the prayers being offered for me. I felt their effects every day. I also got her attention and told her that maybe this, this prayer life of sacrifice for others, was exactly what God had in mind for her the day she was created (Esther 4:14). She said she was encouraged by that very thought.

Simon of Cyrene helped carry the Cross of Jesus on the way to Calvary. As Jesus grew weaker and weaker on the Way of the Cross, help was needed. A bystander suddenly became an integral part of the process. Simon’s work, Simon’s sacrifice helped lighten the weight upon the Savior. When others said they were praying for me they were partnering with Simon of Cyrene. They were lightening my burden. They are helping me carry my cross. They were easing the weight pressing down on me.

Some friends took one of their own to see Jesus. He was lame and trapped in a body that no longer functioned as it should. The friends were seeking healing for one of their own. The crowd that surrounded Jesus that day was pressing and impenetrable. There was no way the friends could have gotten to Jesus through the crowd. Instead of being defeated against such long odds they did the next best thing. They lifted their friend to the roof of the structure where Jesus sat. They cut a hole in the roof and lowered the crippled friend to the very feet of Jesus. Jesus told the man his sins were forgiven. When questioned about His right to forgive sins Jesus went a step farther and told the man to stand up, take your mat and go home. So the lame friend did just that. He stood up, rolled up his mat and went home (Luke 5:17-39). I wasn’t there and scripture doesn’t tell us but I sort of think that as he left that house that day there were some singing, shouting and high-fives all around. This was accomplished through the faith of a few close friends that knew of the healing power of Jesus and brought their friend to that power. This is the same action we take and that was taken on my behalf when I was told I was being prayed for. My friends were not stifled by the power of cancer and its ability to kill. They and their belief in the healing power of Jesus took me and my cancer to the roof and lowered me to the very feet of Jesus, depositing me there to receive His healing.

I felt the mental and physical power of pray as the pain of cancer was taken from my body and the anguish of my spirit was released, replace by a peace that passes all understanding. I felt the weight being lifted from my life as I knew that I was not in this battle alone. Others were unselfishly helping me carry the burden. I felt it. It is real. Prayer works. Keep praying for others. For me.

Dan You Have Cancer – God’s Voice through Contemporary Christian Music – Part 1

In my last blog I mentioned how God uses songs and music to reach us. I said, “He spoke to me time and time again through the lyrics penned years before by men and women being obedient to His call”. One such instance is Rich Mullin’s song “Where You Are”. In this song Rich Mullins and Dave Strasser talk about Daniel (Belteshazzar), Hananiah (Shadrach), Meshael (Meshach), Azariah (Abed-Nego), and Jonah.

Mullins reminds us that when Daniel was put into the lions dens to serve as their next meal, they did not eat him, they didn’t even bite him. “…So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no injury whatever was found on him, because he believed his God” (Daniel 6:23).

Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-Nego were placed into a fiery furnace as punishment for not worshipping Nebuchadnezzar’s god or golden images he set up. Nebuchadnezzar had the furnace heated to seven times hotter than normal. It was so hot that the men who were instructed to put the three Hebrews into it were themselves consumed by the fire and died. Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-Nego fell to their knees in the furnace and were saved. When Nebuchadnezzar looked into the furnace he said, “I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire; and they are not hurt, and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God” (Daniel 3:25). This amazing story goes even further. If you have ever sat next to a campfire it is impossible to go home without taking the smell of the fire with you. It’s in your hair, in your clothes, it’s everywhere. In the case of Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-Nego “the hair of their head was not singed nor were their garments affected, and the smell of fire was not on them” (Daniel 3:27).

The story of Jonah is just as amazing. Because of his disobedience Jonah found himself in the belly of a fish. Not a place where one usually finds oneself but there he was regardless. Jonah Chapter 2 captures Jonah’s prayer to God. God heard Jonah’s prayer from the belly of a fish beneath the surface of the sea. Jonah was saved and so was Nineveh.

In a lion’s den, in a fiery furnace, in the belly of a fish, is there no place we can go that God isn’t? Is there anywhere we can be that is out of God’s sight? Can cancer hide me from God’s sight? Can cancer shield my prayer from God’s ears? Is there any depth to the cancer abyss that I can sink to where God cannot see, hear or touch me? No, no, no, no and most assuredly NO!

Psalms 139 answers these questions for me. Psalms 50:15 implores me to “Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.” Jeremiah 29:11-12 states, “For I know the thoughts that I think towards you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me and I will listen to you.”

The apostle Paul assures me, as he did the Romans, when he wrote, “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39). I’d like to add cancer to this list. He is so much greater than cancer and is there to guide me through all the time.