From Jason...One Year Ago Today

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 3^rd 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.”