A Pleasant Oasis of Joy

What a roller coaster of a week. We figured there would be good days and bad days along this journey, but the slope of this ride took us for a wild and unexpected turn over the weekend and into day 1 of round 2. To put this in context, I went from feeling like a renewed and liberated Andy Dufresne at the end of Shawshank Redemption ("Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies") right into Rick Moranis in Strange Brew ("Sorry I ralphed - if I didn't have puke breath, I'd kiss you"). Today I now feel like a determined and jacked Rocky Balboa ("It ain't how hard you hit; it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward"). Maybe it's the steroids talking, but I feel like a champ right now (and hopefully my abs will be ripped like Sly in no time).

To translate into real medical terms, last Thursday I had to have another spinal tap since my first one was inconclusive. So we wanted to schedule this before chemo in order to get any potential side effects out of the way. The procedure itself was smoother than the one a couple weeks prior (which was tagged on after day 3 of round 1), but by Saturday my spinal headaches started to go south. Sunday I didn't get out of bed until 3 pm, and I barely made it to the hospital for treatment on Monday before I lost my cookies. Twice. I surprisingly shocked the nurses who were trying to get my blood (you'd think they've seen this movie before at the cancer center), and Courtney was also thrown back by both vomiting episodes prior to getting round 2 underway. For the record, she didn't think my Strange Brew line was very funny in the moment (I'll have to work on my movie quote timing).

The good news is that we don't expect any further lumbar punctures as there is no evidence of lymphoma in my spinal fluid. And we were amazingly able to immediately get back into radiology on Monday for a blood patch to fix my spinal headaches, which is basically the same procedure but rather than taking fluid out they inject my own blood back into my spine to fix any leaks and re-establish equilibrium to shake off the headaches. And boy did it work like a charm - almost instantaneously. What a relief as I was a bit of a mean pickle over 2-3 days.

Now round 2 is complete, meaning we're already one-third through treatment! And so far I've taken all the chemo drugs quite well. My hair started falling out late last week, so I trimmed the beard and Courtney helped me shave my head (I posted my new do in the gallery above). But I've also gained back close to 10 pounds as my appetite has been robust.

Speaking of food, Courtney and I had a wonderful lunch in Ohio City today at our favorite healthy, locally sourced, non-GMO, gluten free and friendly Town Hall. While the food itself hit the spot as usual, our conversation and reflection on this current season is what added the real spice to our day. To sum it up, we are both filled with awe and outright joy with exactly where God has us in this moment.

With a cancer diagnosis, it's quite natural to go to a dark place and feel the weight of uncertainty. And many of our closest friends have reached out with encouragement and scripture to help us navigate through the early innings of a challenging season. And the support and specific acts of kindness continue to overwhelm us with gratitude and love.

But here's the most profound thing for us so far. We are finding that my cancer is not a desert or dark place but rather an oasis of joy and contentment. Courtney and I have never been stronger in our marriage, and we've never felt more connected and in sync with the Holy Spirit. It's as if there has been a bright light of clarity shining directly over us to stomp out the shadows, and it's nothing that we or frankly anyone else has done to generate such a feeling. Therefore, this can only be God in all His glory and for His glory showering His presence and peace over us. You can't convince me that it's anything but supernatural.

In John 16, Jesus talks about sorrow turning into joy by comparing a mother's pain before and after giving birth. "But when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world. So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you."

This text was shared with me this morning from one of my long-time mentors who just got back from meeting his new granddaughter last week in Chicago. And wouldn't you know it, her middle name is Joy.

So I had a couple bad days, and I'm sure I'll have a few more before this fight is over. But no one can take our joy, now or forever more.