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 |   My journey through (and beyond) the valley with Cancer as my companion. |
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Dear Friend: This is not a Blog about writing! (I already have one of those.) This is a blog about a journey I am taking with illness. I have recently been diagnosed with Cancer. My goal is honest therapy as I progress through, and beyond this new reality in my life. I hope that, somewhere along the way you will find some words that will help you too. While this is, in fact, an interactive Blog, I hope that you will scroll slowly down this page. For you see, the front of this Blog IS my journey. The entries are conversations that are held along the journey.Yes, there is a lot on it--before actually getting to the Blog entries. But, I hope that by the objects and words which appear before the Blog itself, you might come to understand just a little bit about me, and my journey, and some truly amazing friends who have agreed to journey with me. I hope that you, too, will choose to accompany me on my walk--through the Valley. I invite you to join me, and discover the wondrous truths, meet some truly amazing people, and share those "memorable" moments this journey will undoubtedly present. Come along, won't you? In His Care, ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Would you like to help me help others? I found this amazing organization, and I am proud to be a sponsor. I hope you will check it out. It's called The Network For Good.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "RISUS OMNIA - INCRUMENTUS PER DEDECUS - SAPIENTIA PER DAMNUM" ("Every thing is funny - Growth through humiliation - Wisdom through loss") ~Leunig~ The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse. ~Helen Keller~ "If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people." ~Virginia Woolf~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "There is strength in truth." ~The Barton Family Crest~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.” — Helen Keller, American social activist, public speaker and author (1880-1968) I have moved the list of my thanks for those who have helped to make this little Blog so very special. I hope that you will take a moment to read the list, growing every day, and let these fellow travellers along this journey know that you appreciate the contributions they make to our walk together.
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please feel free to click on the Blog Rings icon below to be transported to some of the very best of the Best Bloggers around WDC. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** If you are new to WDC, or to our Blogging community, I highly recommend the monthly edition of "The Blogville News". Feel free to click below, and let scarlett_o_h know that a Blogger sent ya! Hey! We've started a Christian's Blog Ring on WDC. Click on the logo, and join us! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Budroe
 Ring LeaderI have three publications at the moment. Here is a link to purchase my latest one. Buy a great read, and help a fellow writer out, Okay?  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| When last we were together on the journey, I had just come home from the hospital. On the way home, my friend Tom (who brought me home from the hospital) stopped by his house. His Mother-In-Law offered to take me to get the 31 different prescriptions I had grasped tightly in my little, freshly-free paw, and to do perhaps just a bit of shopping. This was one week prior to Thanksgiving. I went into the hospital just before Halloween, and was released just before Thanksgiving. Now that's a long time, friends. She and I left their house, and we made a bee-line for Chik-Filet!! I have always used that food as a celebration food for myself. It started when I would come home from a successful "turn" in the truck. It was now past 1800 (6PM), and the new (yet independent) Diabetic had to eat! She had NEVER had a Chik-Filet Sandwich--IN HER LIFE!! Lor-Dee, how do those folks survive?? When my Brother-In-Law was released from the hospital following a quadruple bypass surgery, the first place he stopped on his way home was the local Cadillac Dealership. He said he wasn't going to regret, for one more day, never owning a Cadillac in his lifetime! Evidently, it had been on his mind while he was in rehab after surgery. Yep, you bet he bought one! Meanwhile, back on MY side of the tracks, those sandwiches tasted wonderful!! I didn't even mind the Diet-Coke!! It was a good thing I ate a meal, because our next stop was (Sorry, Dave!) WalMart! "They will fill these prescriptions for $4.00 apiece!" Well, my Doctor sure sounded like she knew what she was talkin' about! WRONG! I was about to have a stroke, and didn't even know it--yet! I handed my Prescriptions (Rx) to the little Pharmacy dude (Chad-maybe aged 12!), and we decided to do some shopping while we waited the 45-60 minutes we were told it would take to find a truck big enough to fill my scrips. P and I were about to go on a shopping excursion at the Super WalMart!! I now have a very special name for WalMart that only my closest friends know. I dare not publish it here, or I'll tarnish my halo er sumthin'. A 48-Pack of soda costs a buck. A six-pack of "Diet" soda costs a billion bucks! Regular sugar is for mere pennies on the pound! 50 ounces of "the Yellow stuff" costs $4! A side of prime beef costs $20. One 4 oz. skinned chicken breast (single, ya see!) costs $5 ! Not only am I cookin' for one, but for one diabetic as well. I'm tellin' you, it's nothin' more than a conspiracy! Yes, I know I can cook in volume, and freeze. Yes, I know I can buy a side of beef and butcher it to taste. But, why do I have to, just in order to eat properly? Besides adding a few hours to my weekly preparation time, it serves only to remind me that I am cooking for one, sick, person! Why should I have to go through all that special work, meal after meal? Why is it that I can't eat what everybody else eats? There's nothing worse than having to prepare a special meal for just one person! It's a bother, and it's just too much freakin' work! Depending on my Blood Sugar levels, I must eat between 3-5 meals a day, have a minimum of 3 snacks--including one at 0200 in the morning! It's always something! Little special patient must have ________. I hate it!! No, I'm not schizoid. Just think about it. Watch your mouth. Watch your attitude. This applies to everyone concerned, by the way. That includes the patient, as well as the other people in the mix. It may arrive long before you do, and linger long after you leave. These are not merely the thoughts of a Cancer patient, friend. This is only one of the countless things a Cancer patient may well hear. Even the quietest whispers can be heard. Body language can be read. Terminally ill patients notice these things. Now, please don't get offended. I apologize for the seeming "head-hopping", but I believe the point needs to be made, and understood. If you have cared for such a patient you know how many permissions have to be given, how many exceptions have to be made, and how many times you are inconvenienced by the non-stop needs of another. One of the most difficult things a Cancer patient must deal with is what the title of this entry is all about. Coming home is not necessarily the happy time you might think. You have considered. You have made the preparations for the patient. You have the world in your rolodex. The Pharmacy is ready to receive the prescriptions. You have an organizer for the drugs. You have written down all the appointments that will consume your life for the next little while. The family and friends have discussed the arrangements, and everything is set. All you need is the patient. Meanwhile, the patient is havin' kittens just thinking about coming to this place. Like the patient, you see, the place will never be the same, either. It could be the hospital bed. It could be that you have "made" a room downstairs, out of consideration for your loved ones needs. Your thoughtfulness, and your love have caused you, you truly believe, to lovingly sacrifice for the needs and comfort of the patient. That will most likely prove, at some point on the journey, to be untrue. You will begin to have, and harbor, bad feelings about the entire deal. You will get angry, and frustrated, and short. Patients notice things like this. Just a trip to a grocery store took me through this entire scenario, from both the perspective of the patient AND the perspective of the care-giver. I've been there before, but this time we are talking about me. We picked up a few things, and I spent over $150.00! Because I was feeling good, I carried BOTH bags! We checked at the Pharmacy. "Five minutes, okay?" We carried the groceries to the car, and deposited them in the glove compartment, and returned to the Pharmacy. I eventually noticed, as the little techie doodie went through all the drugs, he purposely kept two bottles separate. "Sir, I thought I would tell you about these two drugs." The prescription was for 30 pills each, for these two. "Umm, Sir, the total charge for these two drugs is $839." I'm not quite certain which is worse to experience: watching someone have a full-blown stroke at the WalMartTRB (my name!), or being the person HAVING the stroke at the WalMartTRB!! Let us say that I was born AT night, not LAST night! Surely, there has been a terrible mistake. "My Doctor told me each of these scrips would be $4!" I said it with passion--convincingly, I thought. "Your Doctor is an idiot!" I really did NOT see a point of argument here. "Are you telling me that these drugs are NOT $4 a scrip? "You are not an idiot!" "What is the real deal?" I figure at this point I have just been conscripted into the Truth Brigade. "Think of it, Sir, as the weekly Deli Specials. We do have a list, and some drugs are on it. Most are not. And, those drugs that are on our weekly list are also dosage-specific. For instance, Lor-Tab (or equivalent generic) 7.5/500 tabs (the most common prescription dosage, I learned during my accelerated session with Chad) is NOT (my scrip, you see!) on the current list. You have a prescription for Coumadin 10mg. That is not on the list. But, Coumadin 5mg IS on the list. I cannot alter the drug prescriptiion to give you the 5mg for the $4 price, and I cannot give you the number of pills equivalent to the 30 your Doctor ordered, because that would be altering the dispensation of a medical precription. (He later did, incidentally, for an additional $4 payment. They will do this, but you must ask!) Your Doctor has no idea about this list, Sir. You should tell her." "I think you can rest your head about that, Chad." "By the way, hold those two other prescriptions until I speak with my Doctor." "Yes Sir. That will make your total $309.86" I had more bags from the Pharmacy than I did from the Grocery. Somehow, that did very little to calm my "calm-required" mentation. For anyone who takes drugs: Have your Doctor call, and confirm the Rx is ON the list, and the dosage--please--BEFORE you leave their office with a double handful of useless prescriptions. WalMart is instituting a strict "NO STROKE" policy, I hear. I learned that the most expensive drugs are only available to the sickest people. I learned that generics, and lists are muy importante. I learned that being totally disabled, and diagnosed with Cancer was just about to become a very expensive proposition, indeed. It doesn't cost very much at all to stay well, friend. It can be very, very expensive to GET well. And, if your are called on a journey that is down "Terminal Lane", you will never afford it. Warren Buffet, Bill Gates, and the Emir of Bugtussel--combined--couldn't pay the way for one of 'em down this road! I know it may just be me, but I gotta tell you the absolute truth. One of the things I am learning is that there are just a whole GANG of programs, activities, and businesses in this here country that have just plain got things completely upside down! It starts with our dear Uncle Sam. Everybody else on the planet is following his sicko lead. And, if you DO have insurance (I don't), you will be amazed at how quickly the numbers begin rolling, the commas start multiplyin', and the bills coming into your mailbox just make you stagger! Who can afford to be sick in America? And, even more significant, who can afford to be terminally ill? Cancer patients notice these things. By the time they do, they may well not notice it much, as they are already pretty much filled to being stuffed like a Christmas Goose with guilt. In my particular case, for the overwhelmingly major part, I do not have to worry about sending someone else to the Bankruptcy Court. But, most terminally ill patients do have others who expend huge sums of money on them, or about them, or on their behalf.You talk about an attitude - buster! The normal stress, even in the good times, over things finanacial can really put a "normal" family right on the edge of complete nuclear meltdown. Add to that a person who can say only "Thank You!" for causing such added financial strain on even the very best family, and you have the potential for a terminal disease within itself, folks. Who wants to be a burden, much less the single cause of complete family, finanacial, emotional, or even physical ruination for those they love? Not only do we know it, but we absolutely see it when it rears its head. Believe it or not, those are just a few of the reasons "Home, Sweet Home" can become a very spooky house to Cancer patients. These are by no means extraordinary examples. It happens every day. Perhaps (as is true with me) it has happened in your family. The patient feels guilty for causing it, and you feel guilty for feeling it. Yep, that right there is a recipe for a really ugly scene. Next time, I think I'll talk a little about what to do about that, if that's okay. It's really important. These feelings, for both the patient and the care-givers, are completely normal! How we deal with them, however, can create hurts that last a lifetime, tear families apart--even as they are on the way to the poorhouse! I came home to a very spooky house--and I live alone! But, the same conversations that I just described have been going on around here, too. I just have the walls to holler at. So far, they haven't hollered back. If they do, I'll let you know. But I'll probably only tell you after I go back to WalMartTRB, and get me some of those $400 pills--you know, the little blue ones! |
| I believe that it is almost time to move this Blog, and our journey together, onward. Before I do, however, I would like to publicly respond to a private communication I recieved recently from a friend. I was asked, "What do you think the moment of death is like?" I have an answer. Well, to be precise, I have two answers. One comes from someone else, who said it so very well that I tremble to dare consider any other. Yet, I do have a different personal picture of what the moment of death will be like--or at least what I hope it might be like. I will work on that, and give it to you to share later on in this Blog. For the moment, though, I would like to give you a picture of the moment of death that has meant so very much to me in my life. I hope that you will gather something from it that will perhaps alter, just a little, the way you view death--for the death of others, and perhaps even yourself. This Is an interpretation of the famous poem “Death Sermon” by Poet Laureate James Weldon Johnson, entitled "Go Down, Death!". I witnessed Whitney Phipps perform this piece for the Gaither Homecoming Friends “Heaven” Album, and I knew that I wanted it done in my funeral. It has been personalized just for that purpose. Weep not! weep not! He is not dead; He's resting in the bosom of Jesus. Heart-broken friend--weep no more! Grief-stricken Sister--weep no more! Left-lonesome family --weep no more! He only just has gone home. Day before yesterday morning, God was looking down from his great, high heaven, Looking down on all his children, And his eye fell on Brother Bud, Tossing on his bed of pain. And God's big heart was touched with pity, With the everlasting pity. And God sat back on his throne, And he commanded that tall, bright angel standing at his right hand: Call me Death! And that tall, bright angel cried in a voice That broke like a clap of thunder: Call Death!--Call Death! And the echo sounded down the streets of heaven Till it reached a-way back—to that shadowy place, Where Death waits with his pale, white horses. And Death heard the summons, And he leaped on his fastest horses, Pale as a sheet in the moonlight. Up the golden street Death galloped, And the hooves of his horses struck fire from the gold, But they didn't make no sound. Up Death rode to the Great White Throne, And waited for God's command. And God said: Go down, Death, go down! Go down to Clarksville, Indiana, Down in “Ole Town”, And find Brother Bud. He's borne the burden and heat of the day, He's labored long in my vineyard, And he's tired-- He’s weary-- Go down, Death, and bring him to me. And Death didn't say a word, But he loosed the reins on his pale, white horse, And he clamped the spurs to his bloodless sides, And out and down he rode, Through heaven's purly gates, Past suns and moons and stars; On, Death rode, Leaving the lightning's flash behind; Straight down he came. While we were watching round his bed, Bud turned his eyes and looked away, He saw what we couldn't see; He saw Old Death. He saw Old Death Coming like a falling star. But Death didn't frighten our Brother Bud; He looked to him like a dear, welcome friend. And he whispered to us: I'm going home, And he smiled and closed his eyes. And Death took him up tenderly, like a baby, And he lay him gently in his icy arms, But Brother Bud didn't feel no chill. And death began to ride again-- Up beyond the evening star, Into the glittering light of glory, On to the Great White Throne. And there he laid our Brother Bud On the loving breast of his Lord, Jesus. And Jesus took his very own hand and wiped away Bud’s tears, And he smoothed the furrows from his pain-worn face. And the angels sang a little song, And Jesus rocked him in his arms, And kept a-saying: Take your rest, Take your rest! Weep not--weep not, He is not dead; He's resting in the bosom of Jesus. Soli Deo Gloria! Budroe |
| I would like to continue this discussion, just a little bit longer. A few things have come into my mind since I began it, and I would like to share them with you, if that is okay. I will try very hard to be brief. (An extreme challenge, and I admit it freely!) The first thing that comes into my mind comes from you. So, to a very large degree, you are causing this palaver (Sorry, Deb--it seems to be becoming a new favorite word!). I hear many people sincerely ask the question, sometimes with a sense of utter incredulity, or pure mystification: "Why do you believe in God?" This question has come from patients on their deathbed. This question has come from my own step-children. This question has come from members of congregations. It has come from the tortured hearts of folks who have suffered the loss of their most beloved loved ones. What I am trying to tell you is that this question very rarely comes up when it does not matter. Perhaps, you have even asked this question yourself, of yourself. I won't go into the countless possibilities of those circumstances which bring this question to the lips. Nor will I go into the countless possible explanations that could be given to attempt to answer this question. There are numerous ways of attacking the question, and the answer. Nature, history, evidence, testimony, etc. all have their place. But, in the life of the person dealing with Cancer, there is no time for such discourse. It is, however a question that I sincerely hope you will address before you are called upon this journey. The answer matters much. The answer I give is a simple one, and it is being reflected very clearly in your comments. I feel its truth in the heartfelt responses you give. I know what it takes to be so honest at such times as this, and I think that your willingness to share your burdens, and your grief is purely a sacred and holy reality. I thank you completely for your willingness to share those realities here. I hope that, as we continue the journey, you will continue to share those realities. I believe in God because I have seen Him at work in my life. I have endured tests, and trials, and struggles, and sadnesses that have, in some cases, been profound, and profoundly life-changing. The impossible has been accomplished. Unexplainable miracles that simply defy natural law, physical law, medical reality, or legal definition have taken place before my very eyes, and within my own body. My heart has been touched by His Peace. I have personally known His Grace. I have felt His Mercy applied to me. My Mother, too, refused to give up on a baby boy born premature--by 2.5 months--in 1955! I was nearly two years old before my Doctor finally, finally told my Mother I would probably survive. I survived a ten-story fall--onto a concrete sidewalk in 1960. I was diagnosed with terminal Cancer in June of 1976, and flown 1,800 miles to a second confirming opinion. I had six months to live. I was medically retired from the U. S. Army because of it. Of course, that created quite a problem when, 108 days AFTER that second confirmation, the very best and brightest medical professionals in the world could not find one iota of Cancer in my body. (That's when I became a Chaplain. I figured that if Dad was willing to give me my life back, then I would be kinda smart if I dedicated it to Him!) The list goes on. I believe in God because I have seen Him work in MY life. I could spend (and I hope I will!) eternity telling you of the times I have witnessed God's work in the lives of other people. But, some of those people are telling you now, here. I join them. I hope you will read their stories, hear their faith, feel their conviction, and share their hearts. I KNOW God lives. I'm proof of it. The second thing I wish to mention came, to me at least, as a "reminder surprise". As I am loath to do, I spent several moments yesterday (okay, and today too!) editing my entry. Trust me, I have to or they wouldn't even make what little sense they do! I was re-reading the second part of this discussion, and I had one of those amazing moments that I call "learning something for the first time--all over again!". It had to do with the "boys" talking to Dad, remember? This was, in fact, the Heavenly Court, the Sons of God--the Angels, y'all. The Captains of the Heavenly Host were coming to the Throne of God to give a regular accounting to the King of Creation for their ministry "on earth, and in Heaven". Not only on earth, but in Heaven, too, y'all! And, they were giving an account for the ministry they had been doing. Now, in the Hebrew text (original), the tense is really important sometimes. It's way importante here. The original text gives the verse in such a way as to say that the Council of Heaven was giving an account to God for their ministry on earth, and in Heaven--as they were, and would forever, be doing it! Ministering Angels, helping Angels, protecting Angels, healing Angels, teaching Angels, Angels of Praise, Angels of Mercy, Angels of Peace, all giving account (in what seemed to be a regular, or on-going basis, mind you) to Dad for their ministry on Earth, and in Heaven! Singing Angels, too. And, yes, Angels of Death. I wish I could tell you about the goosebumps flyin' all over my body as I write these words. Do I believe in Angels? Umm YEAH! Do I believe that God is alive today, and still on His relentless pursuit to return His kids to the relationship that He, the Eternal God of Creation established with them as their "Abba" (Daddy is actually the closest English translation we have) in the Garden of Eden? Yes! Yes! Yes! The third thing I wished to address with you is a personal statement. In June of 1996, I received a phone call from my Aunt, my mother's only surviving sibling. At the time, I was working very hard on the preparations for the final worship service at the Main Post Chapel at Fitzsimons Army Medical Center in Denver, which was being de-commissioned by the Army (thank you SO very much BRACC!). I had just, moments before my cell phone ringing, accepted a position as the Chief Technical Support Officer for CompuServe (remember that one?), and was walking to my car. She told me, through her tears, that my oldest sister was very sick, and in very deep trouble. At the time, she was the Executive Director of the United Way in Louisiana. If you check your records, you will find that Louisiana had just been visited by Hurricane Hugo only months before, and she has spent months trying to coordinate (successfully, by the way) disaster relief services, agencies, and tens of thousands of volunteers to address the myriad issues that were being faced. Long story shorter, we flew her home, to our Doctor, and our local Hospital. She was in the final stages of very advanced, and particularly humorless Cancer. It had struck very quickly, and she had been attempting to deal with it herself, alone, far from home, to "spare her family". She went as long as she could, then her Secretary called my Aunt (she had met her some months earlier at a UW Victory Campaign, shortly before the Hurricane hit) and told her the devastating news. As the "man of the family", my Aunt called me. My Sister would move to Heaven only eighteen days later. During one of her last days here, she and I had a conversation. "Brother, I have for you a question." "Well, Sister-mine, I have an answer. The answer is twelve, so make the question fit. Otherwise, we may have a very short conversation!" Yes, even then. That's the relationship we had had every moment since my birth. Now was not going to change that. "It's a toughie, Brother." "Okay. Let 'er rip!" "Why me?" I was thinking to myself that, when my Sister says its a toughie, she don't mess around. "I mean, why would such a loving God allow such a thing as this to happen to me?" I took a moment to at least attempt to compose myself, and to talk myself from running as far away from my Sister as I could. The questions just really do not get any tougher than this one. And, in all the times I had this question put to me, it had never come from someone I loved so dearly. And, I can tell you without fear of successful contradiction, there was nobody on this planet I loved more than this Sister. We called her "Jo". I was sitting beside her bed, holding her hand. I looked into her face, expecting to see fear, or anger, or something. She was as calm as could be. I knew, deep within myself, that this was, as much as anything else, a bit of a test. She was still, at this late moment, teaching. "Well, Jo,", I began, looking into her loving face, "in just a little while, if the question still matters (and I don't believe it will), you can ask Dad that very question yourself, and He will love you enough to give you the answer that matters." "I could give you a thousand possible answers, Jo. But the only one which truly matters is the one Dad will give you. But, you know that we are taught, and we believe, that our last breath on Earth is followed by our first breath in Heaven. We are taught that, in Heaven, all things are known. In Heaven, we know the Heart and Mind of God, because now we can handle them." "I do not know God's answer, Sister. But, I can give you my answer, if you want to hear it." She smiled at me, and said, "Of course, Brother. I want to hear your answer." Crying now, I said to my beloved Sister, "Why NOT you, Jo?" "For every moment of my life, I have seen you learning, living out, sharing, and giving your faith to everyone you have come into contact with. It was you that taught me what Faith truly is. You have required me to live KNOWING my Faith. It has been you that has challenged my faith, tested my faith, strengthened my faith, grown my faith, and most importantly of all--expected my life to reflect my faith!" (And, please believe me, all these things were true statements! I got the scars ta prove it!) "So, why not you? I believe that God is still 'driving the boat' here, even now. And, if He loves you so very much that He would give you this last measure to grow, and perfect your faith, it wouldn't surprise me in the least!" As it happened, the Scripture verse I had chosen for the final Worship Serivce at FAMC had been James 1:2-4. It was, I felt, appropriate for the grief that we, as a Church family, were experiencing at the closing of our beloved Chapel. Little did I know how important it would, in only days, become. And, I had NO idea it would, a decade later, be the beginning of perhaps the most important journey of my life. I picked up my Sister's Bible from the bedside table next to her, and read those verses to her. Of all the possible responses I have ever gotten to any answer I have ever given to that question, I had never gotten the response she gave me that day--before OR since. I'd like to share her response with you now. "Okay. I accept that." She gently squeezed my hand, looked into my eyes with the most wondrous and profoundly moving love I have ever seen (but then, Dad's just like that, isn't he?), and smiled. "Thank you, my beloved Brother." "Thank you, my beloved Sister." Do I believe that, even now, my beloved Sister is one of those Angels, watching over me, guiding me on this journey and guarding my heart from fear, or doubt, or anger, or rebellion, or hopelessness? What do you think? Hang in there with me, Jo, and stay real close. I promise, I'll try not to go faster than my Angels can fly. Thanks, Dad. I love You, too. Your Kid, Budroe |
| I don't know for sure how far this discussion will go. As I said in the beginning (yesterday's entry), it is just something I am thinking about. I've had occasion to think about it before. It is obvious to me that you have thought about it too. I want to thank you for your valuable and timely contributions to the discussion. Yes, it IS possible to discuss a topic to death, and I will try not to do that here. But, from the comments you have left, I believe it is a discussion worth at least having for a time. The first thing I want to tell you is that, despite the lack of adequate funding for (among so many diseases which we face) Cancer, there is just a ton of good news out there, too! People are surviving Cancer that, only one decade ago, would be a "hopeless" diagnosis--or, as the medical poobah's like to say, "terminal". Medical Research has had quite a lot to do with these results. The Markey Cancer Center, at the University of Kentucky's Albert B. Chandler Medical Center, have discovered, patented, and delivered an amazing drug that has already been proven to reduce the number of new on-set Ovarian and Breast Cancer patients by over 40%! In the news only a couple of weeks ago, came a story about the FDA doing final clinical studies on a drug which, if approved, could reduce the number of new on-set cases of some of the types of Cancer known to be within the Lung Cancer family. Treatments, from the Mammogram (you know, Ladies, where they put you in one room, and your breasts in another, then smash 'em with an anvil?), to new Chemo-Therapy modalities, to serious attention to "Quality of Life" issues all around us are bringing Cancer into the light of the public awareness in a new and (dare I say it?) exciting way. Hospice is now not only an accepted practice, but a preferred one for those facing "end of life" issues. Counselling has broken new frontiers in the past three decades. Public awareness of the potential causes of Cancer are being openly discussed, advertised, and legislated. Public Service Announcements, Seminars, etc. are making this topic, while not perhaps acceptable dinner conversation, at least publicly (and perhaps most importantly--privately) permissible. I think that the thread running through these particular examples is really simple. People are TALKING about this! And, over the course of my writings here, I do sincerely hope that we will feel that, at least in this "safe" environment, we can talk about Cancer and many other related topics freely, genuinely, and with mutual support, respect, and encouragement. So far, that wish has been fulfilled in just astronomical proportions, and I thank each and every one of you for your important contributions--even if your contribution has been only to read this blog. We have, I feel, already established a very close community here. I hope it will grow to what it needs to be, and will include all those who should be here. And, please feel free to contribute in whatever manner you wish. Because, this is a topic that, like it or not, is important to us all. We have survivors of Cancer here. We have family members who have lost loved ones to this insideous disease. We have said "Goodbye", way too early, to beloved friends, lovers, spouses, parents, and children. We do not "KNOW" this disease, but we are familiar with it. And, at least here, we can share our grief, our questions, our hopes, our fears, and our faith. "And, further the deponent saith not!" Warning: Sermonette ahead I love my house. It is an historically significant structure, listed on the National Registry of Historic Landmarks. (Go ahead, and Ooooh and Ahhh. I'll wait.) This structure, in 1928, was converted from a barn to a garage. In the 1950's it was again converted to a three-car garage. Okay so it IS a little house. Originally, the barn was a part of the property of Colonel George Rogers Clark (You know, of Lewis and Clark fame? CLARK County, Indiana?? CLARKSVILLE???????) <Sigh> Don't feel bad, friend. Many people don't know much about it. As a portion, miniscule though it may be, of the original structure is still part of this structure, it qualifies. It is, as you may suspect, an extremely small house, as houses go. It has six rooms (counting the main room twice, as living room and dining area), no insulation, and takes up an amazingly small footprint. This house has been here, in various and sundry configurations, representations, and ulitilizations for many generations. (Wow!) As the times have changed, the edifice has changed, too. But the basic structure, and the foundation thereof, have remained the same. Individuals, like me, have been kept warm here, all the way back to Ole Colonel Clark's work mules I might imagine. Families have lived here. They all have a story, and this house has become, forever, part of their reality. I rent this little house from the most amazing lady it has ever been my priviledge to call my Landlord. Her house sits next to mine (hers is the "big" house, while mine is most often lovingly referred to as the "little" house.) I will tell you about my landlady in a future post, I think. Let me just tell you that this lady is NUTZ about Christmas! She's got at least 50,000 lights up on the property. And, since my "little" house is part of the property, it is, umm, shall we say "adorned"? I hope that you will be able to recall your History lessons (See, you KNEW you should have paid attention!) regarding Col. George Rogers Clark and Captain Meriwether Lewis. (What do you call a guy named Meriwether??) If not, just feel free to use Google to your heart's content. So, where does this little revelation take us? I'm sure that many of you can see some possible truths of Faith here. If so, I hope you will write them in your comments for us all to share. But, I'd really like to go to a place that perhaps isn't quite so obvious. God is. This is what I believe. He has always been, and will always will be. Regardless of how we choose to clothe Him for our own acceptability, He has not changed. Over the course of history, God has been, unshaking, unmoving, and unrelenting in His pursuit to return to the relationship He had with His kids in the Garden of Eden. Over the course of history, God has interacted with His kids on a really rather regular basis. It is one of those interactions that I would like to just briefly discuss, as I try to wrap my brain around the question that is our topic. Okay? Remember a fella named Job? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** In a nutshell, Job was one of Dad's kids. Historically speaking, that puts Job and I (and you) on equal footing. Dad really loved Job. Dad really loves me, too. In fact, Dad is crazy nuts in love with me. Just like he was with Job. It seems that, one day, things were kinda slow in Heaven, and Dad was hangin' out with His kids. They were talkin', and laughin, and just BEING together. Just outside the circle, Ole Clubfoot came slitherin' up. We know, from "The Directions", that all of Dad's kids noticed him as he came stinkin' up the place. It's pretty specific, because we read in Job 1:6, "Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came among them." (All Scripture is taken from the NKJV, unless otherwise noted.) Well, Ole Stoopid showin' up kinda put the nix (for the moment, anyway) on the party. Dad wasn't much liking the fact that he was there, and so Dad stopped the Party, and had a chat with him. Satan was in Heaven. Evidently, he can have entry to the gates, from this reading. That's an amazing concept. At least, at one point, he COULD have access to Heaven, anyway. It was obviously an event which got Dad's fullest attention. Remember that Satan is a created being of God, but he is not human. He is a supernatural being who is inferior to the God who created him. It's kind of important. Dad, noticing the stench, begins talking to Ole Ugly in verse 7: "And the Lord said to Satan, 'From where do you come?'" A lot has been made of this verse. Seminaries LOVE this verse--especially with first-year students. Do you really believe that an omnicient God would NOT know from whence Satan came? It wasn't, however, a rhetorical question. Dad was in "Teaching" mode, and the classroom was quiet, listening, and observing. One, even a supernatural (albeit inferior) being does not ignore a question from Dad. And, in Heaven, there is no lie allowed. So, in his usual, defiant style, Satan answers Dad with his foaming mouth and lying tongue. "So Satan answered the Lord and said, 'From going to and fro on the earth, and from walking back and forth on it.' " What, perhaps, you might miss here in Satan's answer, is the sense of urgency and haste which is present in the original Hebrew text. No angel, fallen or holy, is an omnipresent creature, but they do move rapidly. In "The Directions" we learn that Satan is "Prince of this World" (John 12:31; 14:30; 16:11). That means there is no resident angel, fallen or otherwise, superior to him so long as he is here--well, there was this one guy, but I digress. Satan is also the ruler of demons (Matt. 9:34; 12:24). The Earth is his domain where he prowls like a "roaring lion, seeking whom he may deour!" (1 Peter 5:8). Okay, hang in with me here for just a little longer. I sware I'm making a point. :) We got "The Sons of Heaven", we got Dad, and we got Ole Ugly. This is a Heavenly confab, not an earthly one. In fact, Satan has to show up IN Heaven, FROM Earth to get to the party. And, now, enter the man, Job. While all this high-falutin' confabulatin' is goin' on in Heaven, the simple man Job is down here on poor ole Earth, just doin' the Job - Dad thing. Now, if it could ever truthfully be said, Job "Never DID Nuffin'!" But, Job's life is about to be caught up in heavnly matters, and heavenly strategies. The first five verses of the first chapter of the book of Job talk to us about the man, and his life on earth. Now, we move the conversation right into the middle of Heaven, where Dad is holdin' a meetin' with th' boys, His Heavenly Court. Neither Job, nor his friends EVER knew about this. In reality, the Angelic Host had (Job 38:7;Ps. 29:1; 89:7; Dan. 3:25) come to God's throne to give an account of their ministry throught the earth and heaven (1 Kings 22:19:22). Just like a Judas goat among King Jesus' boys, Ole Clubfoot was with the Angels . Now he was feelin' his oats, after that whole mess with the Garden. And, he came to dare Dad. (This is ALWAYS a bad plan!) Satan had fallen himself, so he knew it could happen. He took one-third of Heaven's host with him during his little tantrum. He knew that free will, free agency, and personal choice existed on earth AND in Heaven. Nothing could possibly have made him prouder than seeing Adam and Eve, as they left the Garden. And, he was on a hunt for more meat. Because? Well, because that is just how it is. That is what happened. And, then Dad does this most incredibly amazing thing! He looks at Ole Stoopid, sees the deception in his heart, and then gives him what he wants!! Job:1-8 says: "Then the Lord said to Satan, 'Have you considered My servant Job, there there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, one who fears God and shuns evil?' " Man! You talk about throwin' the lambs to the wolves! Why would Dad do such a terrible thing? We know that the belief that Ole Stoopid had was that, if Dad took His hedge of protection and prosperity away from Job, that he could get Job to curse God to his face! Ole Ugly knew what he could do. He thought he knew what he could get Job to do. But, even like every other time, Ole Cornbread Head forgot what Dad could do! And, Dad knew Job's heart. Did you hear how Dad was just braggin' and lovin' up on Job? What Ole Stoopid did NOT know was the relationship that Dad and Job had. Now, the agreement was that Job had to live. But, sometimes, livin' ain't quite the same as LIVIN', if you know what I mean. Satan thought that Job had what he possessed because Dad gave it to him, without merit. Dad knew that Job had what he had because of the outrageous love thing between them. But, look who God said Job was!! That's the most amazing part of the entire story to me, personally. Job wasn't perfect. He was blameless. Big difference. Job failed, but not when it came to loving (fearing) Dad. And Dad responded by giving Job the desires of his heart! We know how that particular story ends. The good guys win. Was what Dad did to Job fair? Do you think Dad could have been surprised by anything that Job might have done? I mean we sure know that Dad was payin' close attention, because he quotes back every word Job spoke to him during the entire book! Dad just KNEW that Job, even if he die, would never curse His name to His face. He knew His kid. I know my house. Dad knows me. Dad, most importantly, knows the construction of me--a lot better than I know the construction of this little house. It's been around for a long time. I've been around for a little while. Dad's been around since before forever began. If Dad knows me so very well that he will allow me to walk this journey, then let me remember that Dad wouldn't set me up to fail. He might well set me up to win, however. And, forever is just not long enough to win with my Dad. I'm nothin' special, but my Dad is. Maybe that's just one of the things I have got to still really understand, like this little house. If my Dad loves me, and knows me well enough to show me Himself through this journey, then all I can say is "Bring it on, Dad!" Why, me? I don't know. I don't have to know. Job had no idea! But, Job knew that Dad knew, and that was enough for him. I pray it will be enough for me. I pray it will be enough for you, too. In His Care, Budroe |
| Some time ago, one of my new friends here at WDC asked me if I could answer this question, sort of. Actually, he asked more about why Dad allows suffering, especially when the one suffering is one of the "Good" kids. I've been thinking about that a lot, today for some reason. I don't presume to infer that I am one of the "good" kids. I also am not trying to infer that my question, in and of itself, somehow compels Dad to sit down and explain His vast Eternal Plan to lil ole me, okay? I'm just one of His kids, wonderin'. You can believe me when I tell you that I have faced this question countless times in my professional life, and entirely too many times in my personal life. I'm probably gonna ramble now. If your ADD starts twitchin' it's really okay. One of the beautimous things about Blogs is that you can read as much, or as little of them as you want to. You can come back, later. Or you can just click the back button, or the "next" button and arrive, almost instantaneously somewhere else. I won't have my feelings hurt if you decide to do either, I promise. But, I've got some things about what I believe is an eternally important question in my head, and I want to at least try to get them OUT of my head. Having said that, let's talk as we walk, shall we? If statistics are to be believed, and I am at best a skeptic, you know someone who has had, now has, or will have Cancer in your lifetime. The chances are better than 1 in 3 it will be you. Yeah, sorta makes the question a bit more relevant, huh. Way back, when I was but a wee la.....oh, shut up, I was TOO once a wee lad!! I got piktures n everthin! Okay, lets say 1966, for instance. Now, that better? In that year, the numbers were slightly different. The chances were 1 in 20. What, still too far back for ya? Okay, how about 1975, when the chances were 1 in 15? OH, come ON! I got socks older'n that!! Well, okay, how about 1990, when the chances were 1 in 9? <SIGH!!!> Surely, you remember the year 2000? You know, when the chances were 1 in 5? The World's population is growing. The world's population of people over the age of 50 is growing fastest of all. (Yeah, we Boomers you can thank for that!) In the year 1996, my last active duty year in the U. S. Army, there were 121 known different "families" of Cancer. According to the National Organization for Rare Disorders (N.O.R.D.), today there are over 200 known "families" of Cancer, and there is no end in sight. Is it any wonder that so many people are affected? Is it any wonder that so many are victimized? Is it any wonder that so many die because of this insideous pandemic? In the very same time period, the number of people dying from heart disease, for instance, has steadily diminished. Go ahead and think about that for a moment, I'll wait. As someone who spent several years as a Surgical Coronary Nurse, you might suspect this news would gladden me. In one very real sense, it does. However, as that same person, I also happen to know a little bit about the subject. (But, only a little bit, I promise!) :) Heart Disease has been declared a "finite" disease--in my lifetime. "Well, Budroe, what in the world does THAT mean?" "Wow! Spiffy question. I'm very glad you asked. And, since you did: What it basically means is that there is no malady, illness, injury, deformity or process of the heart and its associated systems which we do not completely understand, and have the ability to repair, given accurate information and sufficient time. I'll repeat that: "NO" as in "none". Whatever is botherin' yer heart-thingey, it can be fixed--with enough accurate information and sufficient time. That includes up to, and including, transplant. Now, on the one hand, that would seem to be a pretty impressive medical statement to make. And, in fact, it is, and should be heralded from the rooftops, the world over. No person need die from heart disease, given accurate information and sufficient time. Technology has taken us not to new levels, but to new Universes in the diagnosis and treatment options for the family of diseases generally referred to as "Heart Disease". It has, and continues to be, a major blight on healthcare the World over today. But, even as it is true that many, many people are dying from Heart Disease today (and, incidentally, its related illnesses), the research is pretty much done. The knowledge of the heart is pretty much "in the bag"! New research is on-going for technilogical improvements to increase the success rates, and the mortality/morbidity rates for Heart Disease. But, we just have about "jumped the Shark on this one. So, if all that is relatively accurate, the other side is the Cancer question. If NO new heart diseases are being discovered, and research is technology-driven, then how come over six times the money is spent each year on Heart Disease research, than on the Cancer research, where cancer families have nearly doubled with no end in sight? For over thirty years? Yet, Heart Disease research outspends Cancer research almost 7 to 1. I just don't get it. End of rant. So, why me, Dad? Perhaps, had I been given the Blessing of Heart Disease (rampant in my family), I would have easier, better, quicker, and cheaper solutions. I could have better drugs, and a faster recovery time. (Presuming, of course, that my detractors over-state their view that I have NO heart! But, I digress....) I'm thinking about that question right now. I think I've got some pretty sound answers to it. I'll post those in the next few posts. I would ask that you just think about the possibilities with me. The first possible answer is the Scripture verse at the top of this Blog. If you read it slowly, and contemplatively, as I did, you might see a couple of really radical statements in it. But, that will probably be the last option I will discuss. I wonder how you have dealt with this question. Have you come up with any answers that work for you? Care to share? In His Grace, Budroe |
| Well, yesterday I shared with you my Holiday respite via the wondrous world of music. I extended it just a tad...into this afternoon, actually. There is a lot to be said for just BEING, sometimes. I let my memories, and my memory just float most of today. I tried really hard not to concentrate on any particular thing. I just wanted to observe, evaluate, and absorb most of those things that I came into contact with, today. I felt the weather, and ate (and tasted) the food. I played the XBox (Beginning Year #2 of the NCAA 2006 UK Football Dynasty as RETURNING/DEFENDING NATIONAL CHAMPIONS!! (The crowd goes cuh-rayzee!! Back to you Brent!)) Yes, I was completely child-ish about it; I called friends (my poor friends!) and told them the glorious news--a lot! I did housework, and tried to crank the heat a little bit--just because that's what reasonable people do when there is almost NO temperature outside! (Less than 20 degrees at Chateau de Budroe.) Th' weather-person thingey says we'll be warm this week, with rain on Tuesday and Wednesday. I sat and sorted through a lot of things. I read papers that need to be signed and notarized. I stacked bills (some really amazing bills, mind you. Manly! Bills!), and read through some recently received Holiday cards. I listened to the music of the Season. I studied my Bible a bit, too. I updated some things, and looked over my schedule for this coming week. And, then, I nearly panicked. There is a ton of stuff coming up this week in my life. A lot of it has some really "big deal" significance. Any one of several things would qualify, but there are like 8. I calmly wondered how I let that happen. Then, I realized that several of these appointments were set before I left the Hospital some weeks (YeaY!) ago. Some things will have to be discussed, and some decisions will have to be made. I will have a repeat Colonoscopy at some point this month. Social Security Disability and SSI will be processed, and State Disability will be addressed. Hospice will visit "officially" for the first time, and we will address the requirements for this journey having my little house as home base. Doctors and Disability Week! Yeah, I'm a little stressed tonight. I'm thinking of a couple of very special friends from here that are facing much more difficult weeks than I, and I am trying to spend most of my energy tonight lifting them up to Dad. I just wanna make sure their Angle guys/gals are all "Saddled Up!", and ready to ride. I think there may be some frayed wings by this weekend, for sure. But, they, we, and I will do all that is required of us. And when we do all that we can--all that we know how to do--the very best we know how to do it, then Dad is sure to do what we cannot do! That's just how crazy in Love with His kids he really is! Ya see, we don't HAVE to do it all. We just have to do all we can. Dad does what we can't. That's the deal! On time, in time, EVERY time! That's my Dad. I hope you will have a legendary day tomorrow, and a terrific week that is just so good strangers will slap ya. I'll let you know how it goes. Think good thoughts for us all, okay? Thanks. In His Care, Budroe |
| Now, now. Don't go callin' the butterfly patrol! I'll explain! Today has been a day of good things! I slept well, had a great day, normal numbers, lots of energy, and plenty to do! After dinner tonight had been "put away", and the Dishwasher running, I sat down about 30 minutes ago. On my computer, I have Radio365. https://www.live365.com When I was but a wee lad, we used to listen to the radio during the Holidays. (It was easier than switchin' all those 8-track tapes!)  But, we were just wee lads-n-lassies; the choice of music was always left up to the oldest adult present. My Mother was one of the real champions of Christmas, even though we were way too poor to really celebrate it like other children did. One of the things we COULD afford was radio. We also had, as it happened, a sometimes-semi-operational Emerson 13" Black and White Television that would work, sometimes, and let us watch one of the three network stations. (If, that is, I could be "correctly aimed", and serve as the antenna!) Horizontal and Vertical holds were ignored at certain times. Let it roll, just don't interrupt the Music! I remember the excitement of some of the Specials that the networks would air during those early Holiday Seasons. We would make plans, as a family, to be in front of the Television for some of them. The Kraft Music Hall Special Christmas Presentations were "must see TV" in my home. We never missed the Mitch Miller Christmas Special, or Lawrence Welk's Christmas Special (just so we could watch "The Champagne Music Lady", Norma Zimmer, sing "Ave Maria or "O Holy Night!". Do you remember Freddie Martin and his Orchestra doing "The Merry Christmas Polka!"? Bob Hope always had a very special Holiday show, with the troops somewhere in the world (but usually Vietnam) that would make us proud, and break our hearts at the same time. Perry Como would thrill us with his simple, easy, and outrageous Tenor voice. Edit: And a very thanks to my pal Nada for reminding me of the joyous hours spent listening to Andy Williams at Christmastime. How could I have left such a performer out of this memory? Although I didn't hear his work while composing this memory, I certainly should have remembered his talent. My apology for the oversite. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir, with Dr. Gerald Otley Conducting, would do Handel's "Messiah" (especially "All We Like Sheep!"), while the Boston Pops would entertain us with "Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer". Or, perhaps Leonard Bernstein would take the New York Philharmonic and Oratorio Chorus through their paces with Bach's "Passion". Singers like Danny Kaye, Burl Ives, Johnny Mathis, Nat King Cole, Wayne Newton, Dean Martin, Joey Bishop, and everyone's favorite, Sammy Davis, Jr. would sing all the Holiday songs we loved. How many times would we hear "Silent Night" in one Season? And "The Velvet Fog", Mel Torme would make it officially Christmas when he sang the song he wrote: "The Christmas Song" (Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire) (I swear that's the title, look it up!). Alexander Shreiner would bring the Tabernacle Grand Pipe Organ to life, and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir ( da MoTab, Y'all!) would make passers-by come to a halt, just to watch them for even a moment, at the front window of a Television Store display. (Yes, children! Once there were entire stores which sold nothing but Televisions, Radios, and Record Players!) Tonight, I heard so many of those same songs, and I had so many wonderful memories of my earliest years of loving this Holiday. Listening to the music my Grandpa, and my Mother would have picked to play on the radio in those long-ago days, through my computer has been really great. And, every song or Artist I have named was playing when I named them. I remember my Papaw "getting lost" in the Music of these Holidays listening to the Radio. I remember my Mother's warm Alto voice singing along to the Television specials. I remember performing so many of these pieces myself, live, for the very first time. One of my secret goals as a performer was to try to get my audience to the point where they could "get lost" in the music, just like my Papaw used to. It was the most peaceful I ever saw him. Sometimes, it actually happened! Goosebumps would be running up and down my arms as I saw Dad show up in a crowd of strangers. And, everyone knew it. Yes, that actually used to happen in groups in America, Children. Do you remember? What memory takes you to those times? For me, it was, is, and always be the music of those days. I have been so completely relaxed (but then who wouldn't be with Bing singing: "Do You Hear What I Hear?"). Things that should have been attended to have gone wanting. Too bad. (That's quite a statement for moi!) It's been a wonderful day! I'm lovin' my headphones right now. I got such a total rush last night with Raven's news, I determined today was going to be a good one. Somehow, today, Christmas showed up for a while. We'll head back to the Battlefield in a little while. Right now, it's just a wonderful evening. I hope you have one just such like this--very soon. In His Care, Budroe |
Hurry!! Stop right now and go visit my special pal Raven's Blog, winter and read her latest entry for December 8th!
No, REALLY! Go read it, and then just go screamin' stoopid NUTZ! Budroe |
| It looks like, about every nine entries or so, there is a need to take a moment to pull off the road, sit on a stone, and chat for a bit. If that's okay with you, I'd like to do just that, just now. Okay? So come on over here <pats stone> and have a seat, and let's chat. There now, it must feel good to get that load off your feet for a bit. Water? Sure, drink some of mine, I've got plenty. A word is, I think, in order here, about "Cliff-hangers" on the journey. I want to try to explain the unexplainable to you. I probably won't be very good at it, but I want to give it a try, okay? The simplest way to explain it to you is to tell you that, in the starkest terms possible, every moment in the life of a Cancer patient IS a cliff-hanger. There has never been a road like this one before, and I have never travelled it, or any near like it. Every step, every turn is new. While I have been a ruthless adventurer my entire life, this is a journey that, more times than not, has my ears laid back in complete fear. The distances, and the values of every step taken on this journey are unknowns to me, and the results have, at least to date, been outside the parameters of what I would call "normal". So far, there has not been a clear Leader defined for this Journey amongst us, has there? We are all looking through a dark glass, trying to see a ray of hope, or good. Sometimes, we get beams so clear and warm it just warms the soul. Sometimes, it feels like we get left in the cold darkness of this journey, hopeless. In the life of the Cancer patient, life changes with just about every event that occurs in a day, not with each day, or week. The strangest things become magnified, or diminished on this journey. The joy of tasting (for me) a Diet Coke and loving it is a very strange mystery, for instance, to me. Why does a regular Coke make me gag now? I can't explain it, but I know it is true. Why does it matter? Because everything matters on this journey. The luxury of ignorance does not apply to the Cancer patient. Everything that is unknown is dangerous, and potentially life-threatening. Every unknown step is not a cozy mystery to be read while bundled up in the Comforter--it is the Enemy, lurking to consume a happy moment, or even a pain-free moment. We tell ourselves, and our children, and all those we love and care for that there are real dangers in our world. We teach them to beware of strangers, while encouraging them to "examine", as Socrates loved to say, the unknown--but carefully. Cancer Patients have good days, and bad days. We encourage them to tell us how much pain they are in, if they feel bad, or if they are feeling down. Hopefully, we rejoice with them with utter joy with each new victory, as well. There is much victory on this journey awaiting us. All we are doing right now, or all I am trying to do, anyway, is to define the parameters of the journey. While I have come to know, at least in a very basic way, those of you who have so lovingly come with me thus far on the journey, I continue to come to know myself. And, believe me, I have been surprised aplenty! I still cannot fully comprehend that it is me on this journey. For some of the patients I have known, that is a real difficulty. From the diagnosis, to their last breath, they contend with all their might that they do NOT have this disease, and mean it! Knowledge is my ally on this journey. The more I have, the better decisions I will make--so long as I can make them. The not knowing, the cliff-hanger if you will, is a moment in the darkness on this journey. The only difference is that, for me, there is no escape. I can be just as angry, or frustrated, or put off by such moments but I cannot elude them. That's part of the journey. That's where "hangin' on" matters, and its where I use a powerful (sometimes) dose of "Suck-It-Up". I want you to know that, if you have felt any of these things at the point of a "Cliff-Hanger", you have felt what the patient feels. That is, I think, a very good thing. If you have known a Cancer patient, you might go back in your memory to a particularly frustrating time and, regardless of the circumstances, perhaps see it in a slightly new light. Was a frustrating moment for you, in reality, a "Cliff-Hanger" for the patient? I cannot tell you, for instance, how many times I wanted to just shout at my Sister Lyn, "I don't KNOW what the new pill is for. Just TAKE the damn thing! What does one more pill matter?" Thank God, I never did. Every new pill was a battle lost for her. She wanted to know the name, the use, the dosage, and the purpose of every medicine she took. My job was to know that information before bringing it to her. The payoff? One time, on a trip to her Chemo (289 miles round trip), they gave her a cup with a pill in it, and told her to take it. She didn't look at the Nurse with a question. She looked at me and asked, "Is this okay to take?" You see, when your strength is gone, and your will is the weakest, all those moments answered, and those questions reviewed, become a link, and a bond of trust. "I may not be able to take care of myself, but my Brother won't let anyone hurt me!" That's not weakness, friend. That is strength of Eternal proportions. There is so much that, try as we might, and as hard as we wish, we cannot do for someone called upon this journey. In fact, there is most often little at all we can do. "There is much that I cannot do. There is little that I can do. That which I can do, I will do, because that which I can do, I must do!" Reading it has some effect. Living it out has eternal consequences. I don't know if there is a more difficult task than walking with a friend, or a loved one on this journey. Many choose, for completely valid reasons, not to. And that is perfectly okay! In my own family, I have walked this particular journey now five times with immediate family members. No two were the same, and one did not ever even closely resemble the next. They all were filled "to the gills" with cliff-hangers. It took a while to learn how to deal with them, identify them, and resolve them. Most of the time, the resolution came when someone asked for help, and got it. Perhaps that's the lesson here. In every instance, someone else had to help direct the next step. I don't much like asking for help, especially when the next step puts me deep in a pit. But, it matters much to know that, even in the pit, I am only by myself, and not alone. The Guide for me on this particular journey is the same one that has guided me most of my life, my Dad. My "Abba" Father God. I have tons of faith, and don't happen to think much of religion. That's a personal part of me that has been developed over several decades. When put on the spot (and I have been!), my statement would actually be that "I have seen nothing which is more destructive to personal faith than organized religion!". (Yeah, my bosses loved it, too!) But, faith enough for this? No way! There is no such thing. I can't do this on my own, by my own faith. This is truly a God-sized task. This is bigger than I am. I can't do this by myself. But then you see, I don't have to. Me and Dad can handle anything in the Universe! And where do I see Dad most, and most often? In you. That's just the way Dad works. No matter how huge the cliff-hangers of life, Dad sends us help in human form most often. Yours are the only arms Dad has to hug me with. I have been amazed at His love for me on this journey--even in this new and beginning stage. A friend hears a word, and believes it. She starts naggin' me and won't stop. She didn't know the fears I had (and have) about writing such a thing as this. All she knew was that it had been impressed somehow upon her that I was supposed to scribble words, and she never once failed in her mission to deliver that word to me. I was the hold-up. And, isn't that just the way it is? Once I relented and dared to write the first words, it was like all of Heaven opened up, and these wondrous people whom I had not met, and did not know, just came alongside, and said stuff like, "Hey, I'll walk with ya a while on your journey!". "I've been down this road before myself. It's not easy, but I made it. Let that give YOU hope, Bud!" That's Dad at His very, very best. How does it end? What happens next? What was my day like today? These are all the cliff-hangers of life, aren't they? Mine, and yours. Thank you so very much for hangin' on with me, and letting me know and learn from you. I hope that, as the journey continues, we'll have more victories than defeats, and regardless of the battles lost, the war will be a most glorious victory for Dad. That will make every scarey moment, every pain, and every doubt worth it. In His Care, Budroe |
| Needless to say, it was quite difficult to even consider the notion of sleep that last night. I was in a safe place, where any contingency could be immediately addressed. Would I really be able to care for myself alone--at home? I wasn't sure, to be honest about it. According to the agreement my Doc had "negotiated" with me, I would have to care completely for myself (without Oxygen or Insulin). I would have to make, eat, and record in my Glucometer (Blood Sugar Meter) every meal I ate. I would have to self-medicate all meds, as prescribed, on time. I would have to exercise every day, as much as I could tolerate. I would have to get at least eight hours rest--every day. I would have to control my Blood Sugar--alone. If I so much as sneezed, my Doc wanted to know about it. On top of that, I would have to make every appointment, without fail to the Docs, the support folks, and to the Lab. On top of all that, I must at least begin the paperwork we had talked about (Wills, DNR's, etc.) as well as file for total disability with the Social Security Administration and my local Service providers. I would also have to attend patient training ("In Service Education") for newly diagnosed Diabetics. I would have to register with the Social Worker, the Chaplain, and others. Could I do all this? Alone? And, the agreement was only for two days. My Discharge day was on a Thursday (one week before Thanksgiving), and I would have to get all my Labs done on Saturday--at the Hospital, with the results called in to my Doc. If ANY numbers were not satisfactory, back to the Hospital, and back to the Unit my little skinny (not quite so) butt would go. Agreed? Yep. I might have thought twice about it if she told me I had to crawl backwards on my knees through a field of broken glass all the way home, but I think I still would have agreed to it. I was somehow convinced that if I did not get off that floor, I would never leave the Hospital. That night, I walked the floor--a lot. I visited every patient, and spoke a few words with them. I was just a patient out for a walk, but I made it a point to visit every patient on the Ward. After all, that is something I used to do every single day. I spoke with them all. Nothing major, I just introduced myself as the patient in Room 13. Some of them were too ill to tolerate conversation for long, but at least I said "Hello" to them. I discovered that three of the patients had been there for days without a visitor. I stayed the longest, about 10 minutes, with those. Nice people, who had been forgotten, written off, and still alive enough to realize it. l hope I never hear of you doing that. You REALLY won't like what happens, I promise. But, you see, in reality, that is a real fear of the Cancer patient. As difficult as it is for us to realize our condition, and our situation, do you really believe that we do not know the cost to others? Now, many patients deal with this reality in different ways, and that depends entirely on the way the situation presents itself. Sometimes, it is a never-ending conflict between the patient and family. Sometimes, things are just cruising along, and then all of a sudden something unforeseen by anyone just happens. The patient is the same family member that they have always been, but they are somehow different. They see it, they feel it, and you can believe it--they know it. Every moment of every day, the Cancer patient realizes the imposition that their disease has placed on others. And, every day that passes (at least for a time), they also know it will only get worse. And, for some completely unexplainable reason, it is generally left to the patient to explain, train, and prepare the family members for what is coming just around the next corner. Every small difference, every new event, every new loss of independence and person-hood is ultimately left to the patient to make right for everyone else. Family dynamics really do not play in my particular situation, as the extremely limited family I have is far removed from my proximity--by design. It is just me in the World, and on this night I must honestly admit to you I was feeling it--deeply. Not so much in the "pity party" sense, although there were a few moments of that, too. I looked at the situation realistically, and I was really afraid. I called, finally, the Nurse and asked for some wonderful new sleeping drugs my Doctor had immediately prescribed when she found out from the staff I wasn't sleeping very much. My new best friend was Ambien, 20 mg. MAN!!! It doesn't make you sleepy, or knock you out or anything. But, when you go to sleep, you are gonna be asleep for a nice, long time! WHOA!! Who put the sleepy dust in my bed, already? Wow! I awoke about 0730 on Thursday morning. It was my 16th consecutive Hospital day, and my 5th day on "the unit". I was all the way, completely, more than, ready to go HOME! The first thing I noticed was that my Doc didn't show up for our daily "Dog and Pony Show". The second thing I noticed was that, for the first time, my Nurse brought me my tray for breakfast. "Good Morning, Mr. Fields. Here's your morning fare." "Oh, be still my trembling heart!" "Bud, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you this morning." I was thinking they were going to actually identify the food I was served, or something. But, from the tone of her voice I knew two things: Something was very wrong, and this Nurse was going to tell me something that I did NOT want to hear. "What's the scoop?" I tried, but failed, to sound happy. "There has been a hold put on your Discharge. We don't know what time, or if, your Doctor is going to discharge you today." "Do you have any idea why my Doctor would do such a thing?" "No, Sir. But, usually when such things happen, there's a pretty good reason for it." "And, you haven't seen my Doctor this morning?" "No, Sir. I am a little bit surprised by that, but she has not been on the floor yet. You are her only patient in the unit at the moment. When she gets here, she never stops at the Nurse's Station until after she has seen you, Bud." "Okay, well I'll entertain myself with naming the constituencies of this tray for a while, and let's just see what happens, okay?" "Okay, Bud. If I hear anything, I'll let you know, I promise." Smiling, I looked into her face. I gotta quit doing that! "Please don't be upset, Sue. It's okay. I trust her. She's a very good Doc." "Yes, Bud. She really is the best, you know." "I know." Shaking her head, and squeezing my hand, my favorite Nurse, Sue, smiled and retired to the Nurse's Station. That was, friends, only one of two meals I did not eat while I was in the Hospital. For absolutely no reason whatsoever, I got a knot in the pit of my stomach. And, it only grew, as time went inexorably forward at a speed roughly equivalent to the intelligence of a Rhododendron. About 0900, Nurse Sue entered my room, collected my food tray, and departed. About five minutes later, the Ward Dietician came into my room to secure my choice for lunch. I gave it to her, and she left. Damn! About 0930, Sue came in with an IV bag. "Your Doctor says your PT/INR is not yet therapeutic. We have to "run" another bag. She'll be on the floor in a few minutes to speak with you." About 1030, in she strolled. Quietly, she sat down in "her" chair, and put her feet up on my bed. "Bud, we got the Pathology Report back on the Colonoscopy stuff you had done yesterday. I'm afraid the news isn't good." "How bad is it?" "It's pretty bad, Dude." "Dudette, didn't we agree a long time ago to always tell each other the truth?" "Yes." "It still stands, Doc. I can handle anything so long as it's the truth." "The Pathology Report came back from the Biopsies they did yesterday in the Endo Lab, Bud. I haven't seen it yet, because it isn't complete. The Pathologist called me, as I had requested--if anything came up. They found everything from Pre-Cancerous Polyps to Stage 3 tumors throughout your Colon, and your Rectum. Colon Cancer has six stages. To be specific, diffuse and multiple dysplasic Adenomas throughout. I'm sorry." I took a moment, and let that news soak in. "What can we do about it?" I asked, thinking I had a pretty good idea of what she would tell me. I was right. "Unfortunately, nothing at the moment. With the Pulmonary Hypertension being so out of control, we cannot risk any anesthetic, so surgery is out. Your body would not survive Chemo-Therapy at this point, and Radiation is not an option at this time. So, we are basically without viable options at the moment." "I see." "The Diabetes is falling into line nicely with the pills. You are able to sustain yourself with oxygen at marginal levels, but you have been in bed since you arrived, with only a few trips up and down the floor. I don't have a pill, or a surgical procedure to eliminate or reduce the PHT. There isn't one. I frankly do not know how to bring it down at all." "Oh, I know how. Why don't you go see another patient, and give me 30 minutes and come back, and let's see if my idea works." "No shit? Are you serious?" "Doc, I'm as serious as my condition!" "Okay." She got up, came over and squeezed my hand, crying. "I'm so very sorry, Bud." "I know, Doc. Me too." She left. I got up, and put on my new fluffy robe and slippers, disconnected my Infusion Pump (now, with fully charged battery, no less--a Cadillac!), and walked down the hall. I told Sue I would be back in a few minutes. She looked, and just nodded her head. I don't think I will ever forget the look on that woman's face. She just looked so incredibly sad. I went to the Elevator, and went down to the first floor. I walked outside, and lit a cigarette. The fact that this entire Hospital is a "Non-Smoking Campus" ('for the comfort and safety of our patients', no freakin' less!) did not either sit well with me, or change my mind. I found a bench, and smoked for the first time since I was home. When that one was finished, I smoked another. By the time I got through with the second cigarette, I was dizzy as a duck, and feeling nauseated. But, I felt more calm than I had felt in a couple of weeks. I slowly (very slowly) walked back up to the floor, the Nurse said "Hang on a minute!". She gave me a hand-full of drugs, and said "Take these!". She handed me a cup of water. I took them. I went back to my room, took off my robe, and re-connected my pump to the wall outlet, grabbed the Oxygen mask, and set the O2 for 5 liters. About five minutes later, my Doc came in with a syringe, and drew a couple of tubes of my blood. "Oh! That's what you did!" "Oh, WHAT'S what I did?" "First time since I admitted you?" "Yep!" "I hope to hell it works!" "Not nearly as much as I do, Dudette." About 30 minutes later, she came bounding back into my room. "Son-of-a..." "Worked, huh!" "How did you know?" "Metabolism has always run really high. My regular Doctor told me NOT to quit smoking. Said my body wouldn't like it if I did." "So THAT'S why you want to go home!" "Yep! I can relax at home! If I feel pressure or stress, I'll just light up. Works every time!" "How'd you figure that one out, Dude?" "Well, Doc. I know my body better than anyone, including you. I also know what the benefits of tobacco are on the human body. They're not ALL bad, ya know." We talked for almost an hour, about everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING!! I was really mad at her, because she had promised to do something on my behalf which she had not done. She switched up her story on me about something (later, okay?), and put me in a very difficult spot. It would eventually get the Hospital Administrator involved, a Nurse nearly fired, and more activity on that Thursday afternoon than I would ever have wanted. But, that's for another time. Yeah, we got time for it a little later. "Well, Dude, you bought yourself two days! As soon as this bag runs, you can go home. All the rules apply. Agreed?" "I agree!' "Cool, Dude! I'll see ya Saturday, IN my office!" The bag would run for another five freakin' hours!! I got visited by the Chaplain, Social Workers, Hospice Coordinators, and a whole host of support personnel. Now that I "had" "THE" diagnosis, it was like a NASCAR re-start! And, about 1400 (2 PM) Tom called, and wanted to know how it was going. I told him why I wasn't ready to go yet. He fussed, and fumed (each, many) and said that he would see me after while. At about 1430, unannounced, a lab tech I did not know came into my room, and took a single tube of blood. Now, THAT was a rare moment! Shortly thereafter, the IV Nurse came in and d/c'd (discontinued) my IV. I was FREE! I took a shower with NO IV lines to cover, or anything!! I was gonna clean myself up, just like a BIG boy!! YEAYYY!!! And, I did, too. Tom arrived about 1500 (3 PM). I sat him down, and told him everything the Doctor had told me. I did that for two reasons. The first reason was because when he came into the room, he knew something was very wrong. You must understand, I am a person who has made several careers out of hiding my own emotions. I do it very well. But, there are some people who can hear you say "Hello!", and respond with "What's wrong?". For reasons I do not even now know, Tom and I have always had such a relationship. I can tell when something is wrong with Linda, but she can't read me for squat!! (Well, that's my story and I'm stickin' to it!) The second reason I told him was because I needed to hear myself say the words. How do you tell somebody such a thing as this? How do you put it in terms that they can understand, and will accept? This was a whole new piece of the trail for me. As many times as I had heard such a deafening declaration in my life, this was ME! I had a lot to do, and a lot of decisions to make, and very little time to do them in. He asked for it straight, and I gave him what probably was the hardest gut punch he'd had in a while. But, to his credit, he took it, and wanted to make sure I was okay. Ya know, somehow, that made me okay--for a while. After waiting almost four hours on the floor for somebody to come and discharge my happy butt, Tom went to the Nurse's Station. I don't know what he said, but I believe the rather one-sided conversation had mention of extreme pain to others, and something about raping puppies--but I could be wrong. Tom would NEVER harm animals. And, at 2040, I walked off the floor, discharged "On Leave" to home. Tom and I walked to his car, I got in, and we headed for home. I had suddenly been assigned a very long walk through a very scarey valley, and no matter who showed up along the way, this was a walk that I would ultimately make alone. In that moment, more than anything else, what I felt was just that--alone. For the three-minute ride home, the only thing I could think of were the last words I said to Sue as I left the Cancer Care Unit. "Don't worry, Sue. I'll be back." |
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