One year ago today – Monday February 13, 2012 – Kelly and I
received a call in the evening from Kelly’s gynecological oncologist, Dr. Fine,
informing us that that a CT Scan had revealed a large mass on her pancreas
along with what appeared to be lesions on her liver. Stage IV pancreatic cancer was the likely
diagnosis. Within 3 weeks Kelly
underwent 2 surgical procedures – a laparoscopic biopsy and the installation of
a mediport – then travelled to M.D. Anderson in Houston, and then once back in
Dallas received her first chemotherapy treatment.
I struggled with how best to address this “anniversary.” For those of you who have experience with the
disease or who may have done some research since Kelly’s diagnosis, you already
know how long the odds were to begin with, and you know that Kelly has beaten
those odds. But if you’re reading this
blog you know that the struggle isn’t anywhere near over. In fact, one of the worst things about this
diagnosis is that there isn’t a perceived “end” to the struggle. No brass ring that we can grab hold of to
tell us we’ve “made it.”
It’s great to see the doctors all scratching their heads
trying to figure out what to do next. I
mean, the prescribed treatments for this are generally considered “palliative,”
not “curative.” At least that’s what
their experience tells the doctors and nurses.
So no one really knows for sure where to go from here. The original chemotherapy regimen has run its
course for now, having taken too great a toll on Kelly’s bone marrow, and in
the doctors’ estimation it has reached a point of diminishing returns. But it was working.
If you have time, google “FOLFIRINOX” and you’ll get an idea
of exactly what Kelly’s been getting and how bad it can be. Many of you have witnessed it firsthand. Think of the worst sickness you’ve had –
stomach flu, food poisoning, hangover – then imagine that you put that on your
schedule once every two or three weeks, knowing it would last for a solid
week. Plus every day you give yourself
two subcutaneous injections a day. You
lose your all your hair. Now you know a
little bit about what the last year has been like for Kelly. Not to mention the fact that this is her treatment. Now imagine that you get the chance to do
something that isn’t supposed to be nearly as bad – that won’t incapacitate you
for days at a time, that might allow your hair to grow back – and the first
thing that pops into your head is “but the current therapy is working. What if this doesn’t?”
That’s where we’re at.
But while all this was going on, there was Team Kelly. Thousands of T-shirts and this blog, creating
a huge network of witnesses and servants, reaching out and bringing people
together.
So I don’t want to make this a moment of lament and sorrow,
fear and worry. I want to make this a
celebration of what “Team Kelly” has become, what it means to me and my family,
what it bears witness to.
Each time you give my kids a ride home from school, or help
them get to baseball practice; each time you offer us food, or deliver
groceries; the calls, texts, emails, blog commentary; the prayers for healing
and comfort; the prayers of gratitude and praise; sitting there beside Kelly
when she’s getting treatment; bringing lunch to those sitting beside Kelly
while she’s getting treatment; subscribing to this blog, just to know what’s
happening so you can share the burden of worry; each tear you’ve all shed; the
purple shoelaces, and ribbons, customized Team Kelly Nike sneakers; the purple
leg and arm casts; the cards, the flowers, the little notes; the pictures with
your TK gear from locales spanning the globe.
You have done these things to Christ himself. He said so – “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of
these my brothers, you
did it to me.”
I am reminded of
an essay I once read by Andrew Hudgins. In
this article he recounts the Cyprian Plagues during the 3rd century
AD – the formative years for the fledgling Christian faith.
“ In
the third century, the barbarians were baffled and the Romans perplexed by the
devotion the Christians showed to the sick and the dying. Between a fourth and
a third of the population of the Roman Empire died in the Cyprian plagues. In
Alexandria the figure may have been as high as two-thirds. When the plagues
struck the densely packed tenements of Rome, why didn't the followers of Christ
take to the forests with everyone else? The Romans consulted their oracles, but
the priests had died or fled. The temples filled with the dead because there
was no one to bury them. The Christians, because their religion demanded it,
stayed and fed sick fellow Christians, stripped their bedding, burned it,
mopped their sweatdrenched brows, drained their pustules, and, as was often
necessary, gave the dead a proper burial.
Through the fifteen years of the Cyprian
plague--fifteen years!--the Christians ministered to people suffering from
vomiting, diarrhea, deafness, blindness, and unquenchable thirst. When the
pagans saw this, they converted in huge numbers, some moved by the Christians'
selfless love, some by the desire to be nursed if they fell ill themselves and
buried if they did not recover.”
Mr. Hudgins, while a professed non-believer, senses the
essence of our mission more clearly than most.
I’ve made the case in this blog before, and I’ll say it
again – your actions, however small, and your prayers and praise, are
the very presence and power of God made manifest in the lives of my family. Thank you and God bless you all.
And to you , Kelly –
As I look back over
the past year I am amazed at the heights to which we’ve climbed. However hard this road may be going forward,
I know that each new place it takes me will be more wonderful than the last
because you’re there. God blesses me and
our children each moment with your presence in our lives. You make us braver than we think we can
be. You make us remember that
“Great
is His faithfulness. His mercies renew
afresh each morning.”
