Keep The Faith

A second post this week feels a bit like I am spamming you, but I know that some of you, perhaps many of you have responded to my prayer requests regarding access to a chemo drug called Isatuximab. We heard late this afternoon that the drug company has allowed me access to the drug on a compassionate basis and that details are being worked out with the Cancer Centre in Red Deer! We are so #thankful. The drug company that has granted this compassionate access is called Sanofi Genzyme and the commercial name of the drug is Sarclisa (though in the treatment rooms they will only use the actual drug name--Isatuximab) Thanks to all of you for your support and prayer.  The book of Isaiah spoke to a nation but as an individuals, thousands of years later, we also find comfort in these words from Isaiah 41:10: So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

I have a few books on the go right now. One of them is Suleika Jaouad’s account of her battle with leukemia: Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted . I am certain that this won’t be the last time my writing finds its beginnings in this book, but today I feel most connected to the idea of “life interrupted.” I won’t (for now) dig deep into what a life interrupted by cancer has meant for us or deal with the more philosophical question of whether interruptions are actually interruptions at all, or whether they are life itself. Instead, let me simply update you. My treatments this month were interrupted and put on hold because of illness. Chemotherapy has made my body particularly open to viruses. Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV) took advantage of that opening during my last chemo cycle and hit me, and subsequently Kathy, pretty hard. I was hospitalized for a short time and was preemptively treated for pneumonia. I am #thankful that recovery was quick for both of us and that...

Cycle two, Day 8 of the third treatment protocol attempting to keep the plasma in my body from duplicating and behaving erratically. This day will once again involve a "healthy" dose of steroids and an IV needle delivering a chemo drug known as a proteasome inhibitor. We had hoped that by this time that needle would also carry a second drug using a different mechanism to attack the cancer. That is still pending. To be honest, this chemo treatment has been more challenging. I haven't written much. Interesting, intelligent sentences are harder to find in this chemo fog. The steroids alter my moods, and while the anti nausea meds have done their job to hold sickness mostly at bay, the cumulative affect is three or four days each week where life is lived in black and white rather than full colour.  A while back I heard a podcaster talk about a conversation she had with Amanda Held-Opelt about life after the death of her sister and well known author Rachel Held-Evans. Held-Ope...

  Life comes with so many choices. I did not choose cancer. But for most of the four and a half years that followed diagnosis, Kathy and I have tried to choose thankfulness for the good days and gratitude for the good people in them. We’ve tried to have a posture of faith which focuses more on God’s goodness than on the ravages of cancer. We are learning to live and grapple with the difficult questions and doubts that never go away. Truth be told, however, I’ve had a tough time with that lately. Being well….staying well, is such hard work, physically, emotionally and spiritually. It is getting harder. Right now my will and energy to be a fighter lack zeal and even more so my ability to reflect on how blessed I know that I am. I often feel defeated. I am tired of the battle. There are lots of tears. My Oscar-the-Grouchmeter is red-lining.  Into that life-draining fog this week came our advent devotions.* The author Skye Jethani spoke about the choices that lay in front of the m...

Things have happened quickly these past two days ( #thankful ). I have just returned from starting chemo treatments again, this time in Red Deer ( #thankful ). There is some urgency in getting this going to keep the cancer from getting too strong. My chemo is supposed to be a triplet of drugs, but today I get only two of them as we still hope, pray and wait for funding for the third drug. We wait... Advent is a time of waiting. Waiting for something incredible and immeasurably more important than the funding of a drug. We want to live each day anticipating, remembering and celebrating Emmanuel. God is with us! Blessings to all of you!

I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer. (I can hear you all saying, "Thanks for that, Captain Obvious! ").  When it comes to myeloma, my dullness becomes even more pronounced. Many people in my situation overheat their keyboards googling information, and wear out their doctors by asking questions. For me, that just doesn't work. Almost every time I have researched, attended a conference or read the latest newsletter from Myeloma Canada, I have found myself in the dark places of this disease. The places where you learn the incredible complexity of  blood and bone marrow cancer. The places where you see the catastrophic damage both the disease and the treatments do to your body. Dark places that end in death. You might be picturing an ostrich, bearing a striking resemblance to me, with his head firmly planted in the sand. You would not be completely wrong, but I think of it more as learning things on a "need to know" basis. The confirmation came this week of an...

Generally I would be a guy who likes patterns and cycles in the natural world.  They are predictable and reliable.  The pattern that myeloma follows is starting to become real to me and, perhaps because there is nothing "natural" about it, I'm left with a knot in my stomach. We are doing okay now, but we are in the early/mid stages of another relapse. The timing has caught us a bit off guard but the fact that it is happening, like most patterns, is predictable Relapse. Treatment. Remission. Relapse. New treatment. Remission. Relapse.... Each remission is more difficult to obtain and usually lasts for less time. Eventually treatment options are exhausted and myeloma "wins." Our backs are not against the wall yet, but the need for a third line of treatment has come much sooner for us than we had hoped. Please say a prayer for Kathy and me, that this cycle not disorient us or cause us to lose faith but rather, has us living and loving well in each new day. Please p...