Brett,
I am sorry to hear the worrisome news. I am hoping for the best for you. I know what you mean about being tired of the hospital scene, but now that I go in so seldom I actually kind of miss MD Anderson and seeing some of the people there. Of course I never miss having that scope stuck through my nose.

Take care,
Danny G.

Brett, the wait is awful, hang in there and keep looking up!!! God Bless, Carol

Brett-
I'm sorry about your news. We just had a scare, too. Perservere. We will be praying that it turns out well for you.

I think we all have a love/hate relationship with our medical/oncology team and the hospital scene. Each time we walk that fine line/hear the drum roll I think about Ed's first day (when they made his mask/did his simulation for radiation). There was this relatively young guy - maybe 25 at most 30. When they took Ed back - I couldn't go for that part. The young man burst out in tears and apologized for not telling Ed directly. He made me promise to tell Ed that even when Ed got so sick of needles, hospitals, treatments, surgeries, etc. - NEVER give in (more accurately "up"). He went on to say that he had recurrent cancer for 5 years - Non Hodgkins Lymphoma - tried every type of trial, transplant, everything - just so he could have one more day with his kids/family. He said he knew he may not see a cure but for every day he allowed them to try something to help him, he was really helping someone else to have just one more day.

I'm praying this will be a false alarm and we'll all give a sigh of relief. Our creator sure has some interesting plans for us, don't you think? We'll all band together and get through it. Leave the worry to us and you focus on being well!

hey Brett,

you wrote, '...then again it could be a whole lot worse, but it's too early to tell.'

hold that thought and do those things that mean the most to you. be selfish. smile and hopefully the world will smile with you.

cu,
larryb

Brettt
Not much more I can add to above posts , just wanted you to know our thoughts are with you.
May Your God Go With you.
Marica

You guys are fabulous! Thank you for your kind words, good vibes and prayers.

You know, once we're post-treatment, I think we all carry the fear of recurrence around like an extra 15 pounds of body fat from which we can never rid ourselves. Whether it's at the surface and driving us crazy or down deeper and tightly controlled, it's always there. We may smile, look good, and be a picture of zen-like serenity, but it's there. And I think that fear controls our behavior like dysfunctional episodes from our childhood might control our family interactions. Whether you decide to never touch a potential carcinogen again or you go fatalistic and decide you better enjoy what life you have left, it drives our decision making process. I guess one of the things that irritates me the most about all of this is I can't really plan for anything except the next oncology appointment. I mean, I'm 41 years old and the thought of planning for retirement at this point makes me laugh out loud. Even if this biopsy turns out to be nothing, then that only extends my planning interval from weeks to months -- my next follow up visit. Living in the moment is fine, fun and sometimes fullfilling, but it doesn't get the mortgage paid off...

I guess I'm bordering on ranting again. I just wanted to jot down an observation about living with this stuff. Thanks again!

-Brett

Brett,

I hear you loud and clear. I am actually starting a class tomorrow...that runs for TEN MONTHS! This is the first time in many months now that I could even fathom looking that far down the road. When the class is over, I am once again eligible for life insurance! The paradox of life right now is that I want time to move faster but my fear wants it to move slower so I can savor every second of it.

Hoping for the best possible outcome for you.

Ed

We have to plan for the future but we cannot plan for the future. Having cancer is sort of being married to a practising alcoholic, your life is controlled by insanity you cannot change. OK, maybe it is not a very good comparison, or maube it is.
I still feel like I am a healthy person that has been kidnapped by this weird disease - or now two of them - and as if it should be possible just to shake it off, and go back to being ME again.
I don't like the new normal, where normal means that when you are just getting used to one miserable thing, another jumps out of nowhere and attacks you with a sledgehammer.

Ed, good luck with your class, I hope it is something you really enjoy! I had actually been looking into signing up for something (teaching ESL) but this new complication is going to postpone it for a while.
Leena

Leena,

I would like to tell you about one of my life-long friends, Carmen. One day he called me and after a brief pause just whispered..."I have cancer." We prayed together an then we talked. He was having a backache and went in to see a doctor. He is a Vietnam vet and was a Marine. He found out he had Hep C and suspicious spots in both kidneys. Within hours he was scheduled to have both kidneys removed. I urged him to go to MDACC for a second opinion before he had the surgery. MDACC saw him in one day as he was scheduled for surgery later in the week. In the end, he was hospitalized for 5 days, had one kidney removed and part of the other. He hasn't called me the past couple of months but secretly I know he is coming up on his FOUR year anniversary.

You're the greatest and remember...the sledge hammer moves much slower than the human body can react! I miss ME just as you describe but I still see glimpses of who I used to be from time to time.

Last Sunday Susan and I went to a Kairos prison closing. I have tried to get more involved in prison ministries for over 20 years. Let's just say I ran with the wrong crowd and paid my dues at a very tender age. I see now how He has added more character to me over the years and even though I have often wondered why...I know what I am to do with it.

May your future be filled with many more blessings and may he bring you to more and more crowds filled with His love. (And may the sledgehammer pass close by while narrowly missing you )

You are a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day.

Ed

Brett,
You make a good point about planning for retirement. When I was diagnosed one of the first things that I said was, " at least I no longer have to worry about outliving my money!" Let's hope that we all live long enough to have that problem.

Regards,
Danny G.