2 Corinthians 12:7

Therefore, to keep me from becoming conceited, I am forced to deal with a recurring problem….

I love Star Trek. I watched it as a kid. I loved how Bones was always there with his handy dandy medical device. Just wave that wand over someone when they were injured and poof! Just like magic, the ailment was treated, and the patient was miraculously cured.

As an adult, I was so excited when they came out with Star Trek, the movie. You might remember Start Trek IV -The Voyage Home. The crew of the USS Enterprise needed to go back in time to save the whale. Chekhov had a brain injury, and was lying unconscious in the operating room. Bones rushes up to the operating room to find the brain surgeon with a drill. You can hear the drill as the RPMs wind up, preparing to drill a hole in Chekhov’s head to relieve the pressure. Bones looks at the surgeon and has a dialog that I’ve never forgotten (here’s a clip from my favorite scene https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1i3gp_aN1cs)!

“My God man!

Drilling holes in his head is not the answer.

The artery must be repaired. Now put away your butcher knives and let me save this patient before it’s too late!…..we’re dealing with medievalism here! Chemo therapy…..”

He then puts a gadget on Chekhov’s head. Beep beep beep. Chekhov opens is eyes and he’s healed!

Bones, I wish you were here a few years ago when my wife had to undergo chemotherapy and radiation for her first round of cancer treatment. I really wish you were here for the second round of medievalism when they pulled out the butcher knives and carved out the cancer.

me·di·e·val

[ˌmed(ē)ˈēvəl, ˌmēd(ē)ˈēvəl]

Definition: Very old-fashioned or primitive

I must admit, it does seem rather barbaric, old fashioned, and primitive. A small lymph node with a trace of cancer requires surgery? Debbie and I thought nothing of it, maybe a 30-minute procedure with a small incision.

Man were we wrong. It’s been 8 days since the surgery and I finally feel decent enough to write this blog! Medication every 4 hours to stop the pain, unable to sleep more than 2 hours at a time, talking hurts. Outside of a few short walks I haven’t exercised. All as a result of the surgery that left a 6″ scar wrapped halfway around my head!

Nathan and I have a running joke. Every time one of us gets a cut we fist bump each other and say, “man scar”. This started when he was a toddler and smacked into a piece of re-bar from sledding. It left a heck of a man scar on his face; he still has the scar today! Right before Debbie drove me to the hospital, I gave Nathan a fist bump and told him I was going to get a serious man scar. He smiled.

When the doctor came in, I joked with her saying “I’d like a man scar please. Not a wimpy incision but a real man scar”. She pulled her surgery pen out and sketched a line halfway around my neck. I smiled and said, “are you serious”. She said she was serious. Surgery was going to be nearly 3 hours!

They wheeled me into the operating room. I smugly said, “I don’t feel any anesthetic”. A minute later (it was nearly 3 hours) I opened my eyes.

The next few hours were a blur, but I remember only wanting to see my wife. She stood by my bed giving me ice as I moaned from the pain in my throat where they’d removed my tonsils.

I love you Debbie Stoddard. You are always by my side, no matter what. You have cared for me selflessly and been strong when I struggled with the pain over the last few days. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You are amazing. Thank you!!!!

This picture above shows my “Man Scar” a few hours after surgery. The red tube is my bodily fluids being sucked out.

As Bones would say, “Cutting him open with a 6″ opening and removing a chunk of Stoddard steak isn’t the answer”.

Unfortunately, Bones would have been right. Yesterday we finally received the pathology results. It turns out the “Stoddard steak” that was removed from my neck contained 3 lymph nodes. We knew one of the nodes was cancerous. They discovered another node was also cancerous, but the 3^rd node was cancer free. The cancer had started to spread, and the biopsy of the Stoddard steak revealed this. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the biopsy of my tonsils and the samples from my tongue didn’t reveal any cancer.

What does this mean I anxiously asked the doctor on the phone? It’s good news, Damon. The prognosis for these situations is very good. Unfortunately, however, your treatment isn’t over. We’ll talk more about it on Thursday. For now, suffice it to say that you’ll need radiation of your mouth and throat areas.

But what will they radiate? If there is no cancer, why radiate? Medievalism as Bones would say. Unfortunately, that’s the state of our understanding of this type of cancer and the only known cures are akin to medievalism! The butcher knives weren’t enough to remove all the cancer so now we resort to burning hot coals!! Radiation, that is. Radiation that literally fries all the tissue it touches, much like a medieval torture chamber with burning coals applied to the interior of my mouth and throat. A torture that I’m guessing will last for 4 to 6 weeks.

OK…enough sarcasm. In all honesty, it’s true. Cancer treatment options are still very limited-butcher knives (surgery), poison (chemotherapy), and hot coals (radiation). But it’s the best we have, and I thank God for the doctors that found this and their wisdom for the best-known treatment available to man today. Cut out a piece of Stoddard Steak and fry all remaining tissue that could have been the source of the cancer in the lymph nodes.

My doctor tells me that cancer doesn’t originate in the lymph nodes, it jumps there from somewhere else. Either the throat or the tongue or the tonsils. Since they were unable to detect it in my throat or tonsils or tongue, they are left with no options except to believe that it is so microscopic in the tissues that they can’t detect it. To make sure it doesn’t grow, they’ll nuke the tissue and kill any cells that might have cancer. Unfortunately, they’ll also kill some other cells. Namely the cells that produce saliva and the cells that help me taste food.

Yesterday was a tough day to say the least. I didn’t know whether I should rejoice or cry. Rejoice because cancer is removed or cry because I’m about to undergo some major radiation? Being honest, yesterday was perhaps the hardest day that I can remember in a very long time. Let me take a minute to explain why it was so hard to try and pull all this together.

It boils down to 1 simple word. Fear. Yes, the same fear that I talked about in my last blog, and so exuberantly stated I wasn’t experiencing. But this time the fear is different than anything I’ve ever experienced. This time it wasn’t the fear of loss or the fear of emotional pain. I’ve been through those and I wrote about my journey in my first book. My wife reminded me last night what this fear was about.

THE FEAR OF PHYSICAL PAIN

She reminded me that I’ve never really experienced much physical pain, so this is going to be a battle unlike any I’ve faced. Truth be known, I have faced a little bit of physical pain. It’s been almost constant for the last 8 days. Not severe (at its worst it was a 6 on a scale of 1-10). But it’s been there for 8 days. Sometimes it goes away, and I feel normal. But I’m reminded of it when it’s time to eat (I’ve lost 5 pounds this week because it’s been so difficult to eat). I’m reminded of it when I talk. I’m reminded of it when I try to sleep (I’m a back sleeper but am unable to sleep on my back right now because when I do my throat doesn’t have sufficient room for me to breath and I begin to gag feeling like I’m about to suffocate). So, I sleep on my side, but every few hours I wake up (laying on my back) unable to breathe easily. I get up, drink my ice water, take some medicine, eliminate the water that has accumulated in my bladder, and lay back down on my side. A few hours later, the process begins again.

No, it hasn’t been awful. It’s been uncomfortable, and I’ve been excited that it was about to be over because I was healing. But then I got the call. As I processed it, I realized that what I’ve been going through the last 8 days will start all over again in a few weeks. Except this time, it won’t be over in 8 days. It might be over in 6-8 weeks. I don’t know for sure; I’ll find out tomorrow.

Yes, I’m experiencing fear of the impending physical pain. I held my son last night with tears in my eyes and I told him I was scared of the pain, but that I would be ok. I told him it was ok to have emotions as a boy and I showed him through my own tears that I was experiencing deep emotions. Lord, protect Nathan during this season. Let him learn lessons about you through me and his mom’s battles with cancer that will grow his faith and help him be a man who fully trusts you.

Yes, I’m experiencing fear of the impending physical pain. I held my daughter in my arms as she sobbed uncontrollably, afraid of her dad experiencing this pain. Worried that they wouldn’t get all the cancer and that I might die. I reassured her that I wasn’t going to die but that I was choosing to focus on all of the good versus the bad that could happen. In my fear I comforted her and showed her how I am choosing to handle a situation that is completely out of my control. Lord, protect Noelle during this season. Give her peace and comfort. Help her to learn from her mom and I how to relinquish control and trust you in the seasons of her life when things happen that are out of her control. Help her become a woman who fully trusts you.

Yes, I’m experiencing fear of the impending physical pain. I won’t be able to effectively coach my son’s football team and I likely won’t be able to go salmon fishing with him and my father in law.

CANCER SUCKS!

However, my treatment and prognosis for a successful recovery are much better than the alternative….

A mentor reminded me of all the people who go through what I’m going through and don’t have Jesus. WOW. Where would I be without my faith right now?

My wife reminded me of all the people that go through this and are all alone, without family. WOW. Where would I be without my family and friends right now?

My banker reminded me today of all the people who hear the news and have NOBODY to help. WOW.

Thank you, Jesus, for all the blessings you’ve bestowed upon me and my family.

Thank you that I have a family that loves me, that I have great medical insurance, that I have great doctors.

Thank you that my cancer was caught early, and that the Stoddard steak removed another lymph node with cancer.

Thank you that I have a wife who is caring for me and making sure that I am fed, and my medication is taken at the right time to minimize my pain. Thank you for her example of fully trusting and surrendering to you in her own battle with cancer and how she’s taught me to have faith in her own struggles with pain.

Thank you for my boss who texts me every couple of days and asks how I’m doing.

Thank you for my job that is paying for me to be off work and recover. Thank you for my medical benefits that are paying for the treatment.

Thank you for the men who laid hands on me and prayed before my surgery and for the men who stopped by and said hi to me.

Thank you for my counselor and friend who stopped right before surgery and gave me a flower and prayed over me.

Thank you for my home and my backyard and gas firepit where I can sit and be warm and feel the peace of God that transcends all opportunity.

Thank you for the opportunity to write about this and the opportunity to inspire other people who might be struggling through the platform you’ve given me to reach many people.

Thank you in advance for the lives that will be saved because they randomly read this blog and were inspired to have that lump checked.

Thank you for my wife whose best friend is alive because my wife shared her cancer story, and for her cancer (the same that I have) being cured, and thank you for her encouraging texts to my wife for me as I undergo the same treatment she did.

Thank you that you, Jesus, endured more physical pain than I will ever endure and because of it the sins of my past are completely wiped clean and I have more peace and joy than I ever deserved.

And Jesus, thank you in advance for this new thorn in my side called cancer. Thank you that my faith is re-ignited whenever I’m in pain and see the opportunity to use my pain not only for my personal growth but also for the growth of those who will one day be enduring the same hardship I am currently undergoing.

Thank you that my mom so many years ago taught me through her example to be thankful for everything through her daily journal writing. Thank you that she is in heaven with you and is no longer experiencing her pain.

When I heard the news yesterday, I had a choice to make? I could choose to focus on everything bad that will happen because of the radiation or focus on everything good that will come from it, and I allowed myself to focus on the fear for a short period of time. This fear paralyzed me.

Today, I choose faith. Even though Bones can’t put the magic gadget on my neck and instantly cure this cancer I still choose faith. I choose to be thankful and focus on everything good, right, lovely and pure….and because of it the peace of God is with me!