Big Little Miracles
I chose the title for my blog months ago and had perfect intentions to write by August. My problem was not writer’s block. It was lack of story resolution. I have prayed and longed for a happy ending since my husband’s cancer diagnosis in August of 2022. Around every corner was the duality of hope versus disappointment, success vs failure and the nuanced definitions of all the above. Bob and I have constantly asked ourselves, “What are we learning? What can we take from our experiences these past 2 and some years and how can we deconstruct it for good purpose?”
It is impossible to fully comprehend or convey the personal journey of any cancer survivor. No blog, film, podcast, book, or private conversation can encompass the magnitude of the daily war. When the patient is a spouse, it is an entirely different trial for the caregiver than attempting to save a child, parent, sibling, or close friend. One no more devastating than the other, just very different. As a spouse you have that marriage relationship to protect and many a union does not survive the fallout. From the beginning we always used the pronoun “we” regarding what needed to be done with or for my husband. We were, and are, one in this journey, wholly connected, “for better or worse”.
I had to take on all Bob’s responsibilities in the home, with his work that could not be covered by the office, our finances, and in his outside relationships, along with my regular overscheduled routines. Unfortunately, I often felt the need to care for the people that were trying to care for us as well. I felt like I earned a mini nursing degree dealing with physicians, drugs, appointments, and insurance. It was all consuming as I navigated the emotional and physical needs of our family while attempting to keep my husband functioning and alive.
I have so many friends and relatives who have struggled with disease, illness, trauma, and death. The longer we live the more people we lose along the way. It is a tragic fact of life and one that is emotionally softened with time as a fundamental reality none of us can escape. I have a heightened appreciation for every person I have known who has struggled with a serious disease, either personally or as the sole caregiver. I waitressed for only 3 months in my twenties and have been a generous tipper ever since. Nothing like experience to foster instant empathy. I wish I could wrap my arms around every human I’ve ever prayed for in their crisis and let them know that I get it!
Leukemia is a disease of the blood and immune system. A common cold could rapidly become lethal. Pre-remission I was always prepared to drive to the ER with Doctor’s numbers on hand. I was riddled with anxiety in fear that I would come down with something and share the germs. In shock, we hunkered down following all the orders and managing the best we knew how. The very first chemo treatments killed the disease but were only a first step in preparation for the stem cells and more debilitating chemo.
Because the cure was as brutal as the cancer, and the yo-yo effect of feeling we had turned a corner only to be dragged back to the start, it was impossible to gain secure footing in our progress. Bob was hospitalized 3 separate times, 12 weeks total. His lowest weight was 143 after the last 5-week hospital stay fall of 2023. He is 6’3 and was 190 pounds when he was first diagnosed with AML. In his 70’s, he was the oldest Stem cell transplant recipient at Cedars and was accepted because of his exceptional physical aptitude and good health. He has been a champion golfer and athlete all his life with a Mensa IQ. Seeing him deteriorate in every aspect after the infections in the hospital and the undiagnosed autoimmune attack in his spine that caused multiple falls for months with the experts telling us he just needed to exercise more, was a perpetual nightmare. Ultimately, he lost the ability to walk, was readmitted, and after weeks of testing, the nerves that refused to fire were discovered and he was given IV bags of immunoglobulin that finally began the healing journey.
The amount of chemo and radiation needed to kill the bone marrow in preparation for the treatment ravages the mind and body. It is a miracle anyone survives it. Stem cell transplant is the only real cure for AML available. Several years ago, there was little hope for this disease with a 5-year life expectancy, so we had to take the chance.
The painful neuropathy, nausea, fatigue, hopelessness, chemo brain and negative drug reactions are in our rear-view mirror now. I survived lifting him from falls, often with the help of neighbors and family, and managing the bizarre onslaught of household repairs of 2023. I sometimes felt like I was living in a chapter of Job waiting for the next satanic bomb to fall on my head.
Despite all the daily trauma, I felt the reality and presence of God. I was committed to my sense of humor in the midst of the mania. There were tears and depression too, but deep in my soul I knew we would get through this season. I coached myself as I coached Bob to remain positive and shared the prayers and thoughts with him that others continually showered over us. There were many evidences of God’s merciful hand cupping our lives with strength and tenderness. He showed up in little miracles that had large impact in the healing process. We could feel lonely, but never alone.
Our younger daughter was able to be our stem cell doner as a safe match because she had yet to become pregnant. Their decision to wait for family took on a new God designed meaning. She later gave birth to a beautiful baby girl almost a year after her Daddy’s transplant.
During Bob’s 6-week transplant stay I visited him daily to help care for his needs. At the end of one of those days in February 2023 a grey-haired gentleman with an easy smile stood next to me in the valet line. We discussed tipping amounts and continued our conversation while waiting for our cars. As we shared information, I discovered he was a Care Ministry Pastor at Shepherd Church. Our churches are miles apart in Los Angeles, but we had mutual relationships. Most importantly his church was hosting the memorial for recently deceased Pastor Jack Hayford, my first, and the most influential pastor of my adult Christian walk. Bob found God through our marriage and Pastor Jack’s teaching. I have every letter saved from my old pastor in the 80’s and 90’s. He took a personal interest in his congregation and made a huge difference in my life. This was no accident. Pastor David Kendrick handed me his card and we arranged a time for him to come to Bob’s room and pray for him. That “chance” meeting brought the first sense of relief in 6 months.
It was difficult to remain centered in my faith and often hard to pray. We needed prayer warriors to lift us up in our weakness. In July of 2023 I finally took the advice of my girlfriend and hired a home health worker from a local company. A beautiful Kenyan woman named Brendah appeared on our doorstep. Her infectious smile could light up the Hollywood Bowl. I immediately embraced her in probably too long of a much-needed hug. She was thoughtfully reciprocative. Oddly enough our church youth group had just returned from her hometown in Kenya and a missionary trip to help the needy. Coincidence? I think not.
Brendah didn’t share her faith immediately, but it wasn’t long before we both professed our mutual love for Christ and began praying in the kitchen together. We often prayed, laying healing hands on Bob every morning lifting him up to God and surrendering all. She shared our story with her pastor friend in Africa who talked with her every morning during her drive to our home from South Central and we added another country to our list of warriors.
Brendah was my angel and my rock for several months. She will remain our friend forever. There were times of direct answers to our prayers and many moments of joy as she became a family member in our home. One day, when she was taking out the garbage, she felt something wet drop onto her forehead. When she touched it, the consistency was clear and oily. I believe God anointed her from above in a miracle moment of His blessings on us all.
Once I gathered one of my girlfriends with Brendah to pray over Bob in quiet spirit, song, and God’s holy direction. It was an ethereal hour that brought peace and rest to our weary hearts. As I bade farewell to my friend, we knew in that moment Bob would be fully restored.
Knowing a thing and retaining that confidence are two different animals, however. It was a struggle to rest daily in that trust. Bob and I simply continued each day with a new resolution to not give up. There was no other choice if we wanted our lives returned. We had other friends come to pray from our church and the well wishes, love, support and gifts of kindness from friends and family bathed us washing away the fear a moment at a time. There are not enough thank-yous in the world to express the depth of our gratitude.
In August this year Bob’s nausea stopped from one day to the next. Was it our session with the therapist, the change of just one pill removed the night before, an answer to prayer, or all three? From that day on the sickness subsided and his appetite and tastebuds have returned. Nice to eat food that doesn’t taste like a cardboard box!
August 23, 2022, Bob shared his Leukemia diagnosis with me. We were barely out of Covid lockdown mode, and the isolation was thrust back upon us. We are just now peeking out of the door with a braver assuredness. It warms my heart to share that we have indeed reached a resolution I’m comfortable stating is a positive one. My courageous husband is Cancer free with a revived sense of hope and commitment to fight for full recovery. We are happy and accepting of our future regardless of what it may look like. God has been beyond good from start to finish and our constant prayers and those of our loved ones have been abundantly answered.
The road has been long and arduous, but patience, perseverance, the affection of our children and grandkids, plus the generous love of others has prevailed to carry us safely to the other side. We are truly blessed. People tell us his recovery is a miracle, and I don’t deny it. Bob is working part time, can walk now with a cane, his weight continues to increase, and he can enjoy meals out and a little travel. Our grandchildren can interact with him, and he is engaged and present. We have been to church a few times, he has had lunch with his buddies, and he can drive the car by himself. All simple things we used to take for granted but appreciate now beyond measure. I am feeling more rested and less afflicted with fatigue. I can think a little clearer and feel happiness again. There is more work to be done and more changes to be made but I know without a doubt, God willing, they will happen. My man will swing that golf club with assertiveness again.
When I roast my marshmallows, I like to place them inside the fire until they flame up. After a good burn I blow until they smoke, and the white sugar is blistered and black. Only then is the center deliciously caramelized sweet and creamy with a satisfying crunch in the bite. Our suffering and walk through the fire has been painful, but the beauty of tested unconditional love, astonishing personal strength and patience, vulnerability and willingness to grow has all resulted from our trial. Our bond is stronger now than ever before and we know nothing will ever shake us apart. We have been traumatized but not broken. We also know that when our time comes to leave the earth the one left behind will be okay. Life is simpler, purer, slower, and a tad sweeter after all.
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.
Isaiah 61: 1-3 NIV