Keep The Faith

There is a short phrase in the Easter story that caught my attention this year: “...but we had hoped…” These words from Luke 24 were spoken on the road to Emmaus and they are filled with lament from those walking that road.  Sadness that things had not turned out the way they thought they might.  We had hoped. Words that appear in the very same chapter as the impossibly joyful words, “ He is risen !” And while I believe and rejoice in the Jesus resurrection, it's those words of lament on the Emmaus road that often surround us these days. We had hoped.   With all of you, we had hoped that there would be less suffering and war in the world and that refugees could find their way home; that our cities would be less violent and their vulnerable populations could flourish; that environmental injustice would end; that the Church would reclaim it’s witness to the unending love of our risen Saviour … We had hoped. Jura Creek near Canmore, 2023 In the life that Kathy and I walk, we...

 A few summers ago, we had a surprise encounter with an out of province couple that we had rubbed shoulders with regularly in the 2010s. Of course we defaulted to the standard icebreaker question, "How are you doing?" Rather than give us the rote icebreaker response, she paused and said,  "That's a complex question. I have learned to ask people, 'How are you doing today? ', and today I am doing alright."  As we learned the back story, that response made sense. She and her husband had tragically lost a young-adult son and they were on their way to the place of his death to mark that somber anniversary. "How are you doing?" in that context is a very complex question. I'm know all of you can relate. Life is complex. Keeping the faith is hard. Aside from its use as an icebreaker, "how are you doing?" has anwers as nuanced as life itself. There are so many layers. For Kathy and I, life is lived in the context of God's relentless l...

I replied to a recent comment on this blog that “we all live our lives on a fault line.”  Perhaps I should have said, “on multiple fault lines.” Fault lines between lament and joy, between faithfulness and drifting, between hope and despair, between… Kathy and I  have once again, this week, found ourselves squarely on one such fault line. On one side is hope-draining discouragement and on the other side is a reliance on God’s promises. After more than 2 months of advocating and many prayers said by friends and family, I was scheduled to finally begin taking a new, unfunded drug on Feb 23. Not long before my appointment in the treatment room, I received a call that the new drug had not arrived at the cancer centre. A clerical error had been made and it had been decided that I would need to wait another month for Isatuximab to join the chemo battle. Another fault line. One where we experience tremors originating from what we know about how quickly my cancer gains strength. On ...

A friend recently commented that when I wrote about chemo medications there was a lot of “ mibs and mabs. ” It’s true. I’ve previously taken Bortize mib and Ixazo mab and others. My current medication is Carfilzo mib and after a few months of waiting, wishing, advocating and praying, I will finally start receiving Isatuxi mab on February 23. With the reality of the new drug now less than two weeks away, I am doing some of the obligatory reading about receiving Isatuxi mab . As I do this, there is a nagging voice that is likely familiar to all of us, “Be careful what you wish for.” Isatuxi mab , like most of the mibs and mabs, has page after page of potential side effects. It is a frightening list. As a cautionary step my doctor will be prescribing a handful of additional meds until we know what the reactions will be. I have been scheduled for extra time in the treatment room for each of the first four weekly infusions so that I can sit there and be observed. Immediate help wi...

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...