I am sitting in the recliner at the Cancer Center waiting for today’s infusion.  It is the only one that I will have this month.
     Though I have yet to hear personally from my hematologist at Mayo, Dr. Leung, he has already contacted the doctor and staff here in Lexington to change my chemotherapy treatments.  I am moving from two chemotherapy drugs, to only one.  That means only one trip to the hospital now each month.  One of the chemotherapy drugs I had received three times in each cycle.  It also means no more steroids except through the IV once a month.
     I wanted to wait to be 100% sure that the results of the Bone Marrow Biopsy were as I read on my patient portal before I shared the good news publicly.  If you have seen me since Friday, you could probably read the results in my face.
     The final diagnosis from the Bone Marrow Biopsy is “No monotypic plasma cells identified (MRD-negative).”  Minimal residual disease.
     That was the hope.  Dr. Leung had indicated to us when we were at Mayo last week that two MRD-negative results changes things.
     It was a surprise last fall to me when after only six months of treatment that I was MRD-negative.  I believe that it was to the staff at Mayo, too.
     I had trouble remembering the acronym MRD.  I thought about RMDs but I am not yet at a required minimum distribution! 
     The only way I could remember the acronym was to remember the T-shirt that my kids once wore—that old saying M R Ducks.  C M wings…
     I have written parts of this blog in my head over the last week.  I had no clue that it would be difficult for me to find the words to express how I feel.
     I have had a strange feeling since last Tuesday.  It is one that I have felt only a few times before.  Every one of us knows what it is like to receive bad news that was life changing.  To receive good news that is life changing isn’t often in our frame of reference.  The day that Teresa said yes, the days our girls were born, the day I met Jesus, and a few others.
     But those weren’t news that I received.  Those were times that I experienced good news.  This is different.
     In God’s timing, my devotion for our “Six Weeks to the Daybreak” Lenten prayer booklets was the devotion for this past Sunday.  The title was “He Touched Me” from the old Gaither song by that name.
     I shared in the devotion how God has touched my life in the past year.  I recalled the words of a blog that I had written just after I decided not to have the Stem Cell Transplant (SCT) in September.  In that blog I said, “Have I been healed?  I have no clue.  What I do know is that I have been healed enough that I am coming home.”
     I have asked the same question multiple times in the last week.  Not to anyone else.  Not even to God.  What I do know is this: I have been healed enough for two consecutive MRD-negatives.  God has answered the prayers of His people, especially His children.  I have expressed my gratitude to Him and now I do to you.   Thanks for praying.  I believe that your prayers have made the difference.
     I asked the doctor’s assistant how often that she has seen these results in a patient.  She just smiled and said, “You are the first one whom I have seen who chose not to have the SCT.”   Two MRD-negatives wasn’t in her radar.
     The Benadryl took affect and I had a short nap.  It wasn’t long before it was time for the treatment.
     After leaving the hospital I was hungry because I’d had no breakfast, other than some graham crackers and peanut butter that my volunteer friend, Joe, brought.  He gave me the widest smile when I told him the good news.
     I decided to stop at Gatti’s, the first time I had done that alone in quite some time.  I pulled in the parking lot and thought, “Good choice.”  Very few cars in the parking lot.
     “Few cars” doesn’t always equal few people.  I missed the school buses parked in the lower lot.  Fifth graders were everywhere.  I should have prayed for their teachers.  The fountain drinks nearest to the food had the following taped to all but two drinks, “out due to manufacturer shortage.”  The only two drinks available?  Ale-8-1.  I couldn’t help but chuckle. 
     I sat down to eat some salad and opened the computer to finish this.  It was open maybe 15 seconds before all I saw was a blank screen.
     I headed home and had no sooner let out Oreo than Dr. Leung called.  He confirmed the good news and the backing off of the chemotherapy.  I could tell that it was one phone call that he didn’t mind making.
     In our initial consultation with Dr. Leung last spring, I asked him if there would ever come a time when the regimen of chemotherapy would be reduced.  He said that it would be very unlikely even after the SCT.
     I asked him this afternoon how often he sees this kind of thing happen.  He said in about 40% of the patients who have the SCT.    Obviously that percentage is considerably lower in multiple myeloma patients who either do not qualify for a SCT or choose, as I did, not to have it.
     Dr. Leung told us last week that the data shows that two MRD-negative results indicate that a recurrence is unlikely in the next 4-5 years.  He never used the word remission when discussing where I am with this cancer.  I take recurrence to mean that at least that the Multiple Myeloma is at bay.  He did share with us that it is highly likely that there will be a time when I will be MRD-positive.  He said that it could be years before that may happen.
     What I also know is that today is the only day that any of us has.  If the MM is at bay for 4-5 years and I have only 12 treatments a year to help maintain its submission, what more could I have anticipated?  As we have done through this, I will take each day as it comes.
     I have been tempted today when people have asked me, “How are you today?” to respond with “better than I deserve.”  Most people would think that I am just responding like Dave Ramsey.
     The truth is that I am better than I deserve, far more than financially.  Who ever deserves God’s blessings?  It is by His grace and His grace alone.
     Lord, that you for the magnificent news.  Thank you for so many encouragers who have been and still are walking with us through this.  I am at Your disposal to use as You see fit. I have tried to be since Your calling on my life.
 
     I am sorry for the book.  I had a lot on my mind and heart.  A couple of things. 
 
1.) The nursing staff at Baptist wasn’t any better than the staff at Mayo in inserting an IV.  I think it has more to do with how many times I have been stuck than the proficiency of the staff.   Then again, when they finally called in the “expert,” she found a vein on the first stick with very little pain.  Maybe that ought to be her main responsibility!
 
2.) I realized today just how well trained I am as a husband when I lowered the lid in the male/female bathroom.

     The news this evening is “so far, so good.”  Tomorrow afternoon we have the most important appointment, the one with Dr. Leung, the hematologist who oversees my care.
     I feel like I am back writing as a sports editor like I did when I was in high school.  In a sports story the final score is usually written in the opening paragraph and then the details in the body of the article.
     I have given you the final score of today, now some details.
     Honestly, it was one of my harder days in terms of treatments.
     The day started with a PET Scan.  The scan itself isn’t difficult.  Getting ready for it was.
     My practical theory of male nurses vs female nurses bore out today.  Twice.  Getting the IV inserted was the most difficult that I have had during these last 15 months.  Three sticks before he found a vein.  Each one, including the one that finally worked, was more than the Biblical “seek and you will find.”  It was more like the Biblical “searching for the lost sheep.”
     I had to fast since last evening for both tests today.  I figure that may have had something to do with it.  I came as close to passing out as I have in a long, long time by the time the IV was in place. 
     After the PET scan I headed to the waiting room for blood work.  It was a long walk from one end of Clinic buildings to the other using the subway.
     Teresa knew by the paleness of my face that things hadn’t gone as hoped.
There must be close to 100 chairs in the waiting room and most of them were taken.  I was finally called to door #2.  It had the “Let’s Make a Deal” feeling, though there were no prizes behind any of the three doors.
     The female tech/nurse took more time than I anticipated.  She finally found the vein she wanted and her first stick was successful.   I do realize that the needle to draw blood is a smaller needle. 
     We headed to the Bone Marrow Biopsy.  I do appreciate how the staff at Mayo tries to schedule appointments as close as possible, rather than over 3-4 days.
     As I was waiting to be called back, I asked to go to the bathroom.  When I walked into the hallway there was a ruckus going on.  There must have been 15-20 people in the hallway, all dressed in scrubs.
     When I got closer I realized there was a cart of candy and the staff was permitted to take what they wanted. 
     I learned later that this was done during Covid to lift the morale of the staff.  It was taken away after Covid and there was so much complaining that it was brought back.  The candy is free of charge.
     As one who has spent his life in the candy business, it did my heart good!
     I was taken back for the biopsy with the IV still in my arm from this morning.  No more sticks other than the biopsy while under sedation.
     Well, not quite.  The IV was no longer working and another one was needed.  I like threes.  Seeing Reed Sheppard hit seven of eight of threes in the second half on Saturday was a good thing.  Three has many Biblical references and most of them are good.
     Being stuck three times to insert a second IV was not so good.  On this day it was male nurses six sticks.  Female nurse one stick.  I intend to thank the nurses at Baptist Health when I go back next week for the next cycle of chemotherapy.
     The final appointment was to meet with Dr. Brito, the endocrinologist.  I really like this doctor.  I mentioned that in a blog last fall when I first met him.
     Because he was the first doctor with whom we had met after the PET Scan and the blood work, he was the one to give us the good news, at least on two of the cancers.
     The PET Scan showed no signs of a new cancer. 
     The blood work indicated that the left side of my thyroid is working so well that it is producing enough that I will not need any medication at least for now.
     Dr. Brito confirmed that it was likely a good thing that the thyroid cancer was removed when it was because of the location of the cancer to the nerve that runs to my vocal chords.  Waiting six months as originally intended might have brought a different result. He even mentioned that he thought my voice was stronger than it was before the surgery. 
     Dr. Brito said, “The results thus far could not be better.”
     I will not be scheduled to see him until next spring.
     Overconfidence has never been a feeling that I have had when it comes to dealing with cancer for the past 23 years.   I surely don’t feel that way this evening and I won’t feel overconfident after seeing Dr. Leung tomorrow, regardless of the results of meeting with him. 
     He can look at the blood work and make an educated guess; the definitive results of the biopsy will take 3-5 days.
     What I do feel is optimistic.  So far, so good.   Other than some pain, what more could I have asked for in this day?
     Well, maybe one more thing.  Supper at Teresa’s favorite restaurant!  And we even got in during the early bird special.
     Thanks for your prayers.

     I knew when Teresa called that one of God’s children was at the church looking for some help.
     When we were in Ashland as a youth pastor, the Social Services Agency was across the street.  It was a very short walk to the church.  When I was in my office and the church secretary called and said, “One of God’s children is here” I knew to come down immediately.
     Susan, not her real name, though I really don’t know if the name she gave me was her name, was about 55.  She carried her belongings in a pack, along with a portable camping chair.  I’d never seen one of God’s children carrying around a chair.  She was sitting in it when some folks arrived for church on Wednesday evening last week.
     I spoke with her for a while.  It was a cold night and she wanted a room at a motel.  I asked her where she normally stayed and she said near Richmond Road.  I asked her why she was on Reynolds Road and she said because there aren’t any churches on Richmond Road.
     The last few weeks on Wednesday evenings the Bible Study videos had been on God’s grace that reaches out to the lost, or the marginalized, or the ones who are hurting, regardless of how they became lost.  What was a person to do when a lost person shows up at the church?  God has a way of testing us at times.
     I agreed to take her to a motel near Nicholasville Road.  Sharon rode along in the back seat of Teresa’s car, between two of the grandkids’ car seats.
     When we got to the motel the clerk asked for her ID.  Susan didn’t have one.  Someone had stolen it.  Hum, I have heard that one more times than you can count on one hand from someone close to us who is about Susan’s age and station in life.
     She then says to me, “The Sportsman Motel on Winchester Road will take you if you don’t have an ID.”  Somehow I wasn’t surprised that she knew that. 
     I asked, “So, I assume that you are expecting me to take you to the Sportsman Motel?” 
     With Sharon still in the backseat, we headed to the Sportsman. 
     About the time that we get to the Woodhill Center, Susan asks me, “Could you stop at the Speedway and get me two big bags of Doritos?  They are only about $8.00.”
     I said, “You know we brought you a take-out supper from church.”
     Her response was, “I don’t eat very much meat.”
     We get to the Sportsman and go in to check her in.  The clerk spoke about as much English as I did whatever might have been his native language. 
     During our discussion, Susan asks the clerk, “Is room 110 available?”  Could it be that she had been in that room before?  I didn’t even have to wonder about that.
     We finally got her checked in.  As I was leaving, I encouraged her to get her life in order, much implying her walk with the Lord.  Her response was as you might expect.
     I headed back to church with Sharon still in the backseat.  You might guess why and what we sprayed on the front seat when we arrived at the church.
     We consistently deal with a family member who is much like Susan.  Always the victim in their mind.  
     One major expectation with Susan and with him: Entitlement.  Susan felt like she was entitled for us to get her a room at a motel.  She felt entitled that we would take her across town.  She felt entitled that we ought to buy her two big bags of snacks. 
     Two things came out of this encounter.  One is obviously how we try to deal with and/or help one of God’s children who is in need, often because of their own bad choices.  If I had the answer to that, I’d be rich from the sale of the book explaining how.  It is a very difficult thing to deal with folks who are unappreciative, though Jesus said to give a cup of water in His Name.  That I tried to do.
     The second thing is my/our attitude toward God’s grace and mercy to us.  Surely there is never a time when I feel entitled to God’s grace, love, mercy, forgiveness, healing or any of His blessings. 
Though those blessings come from His hand, I am never entitled or worthy of them, regardless of how close I may be to Him or how obedient I have tried to walk with Him.
     Lord, help me see others as You see them today.  By the power of the Holy Spirit, please check my heart if there is any time that I feel deserving of Your blessings in my life.  Help me to be grateful for Your blessings, Your grace, Your love, and a multitude of other things in my life.  Help me to deal with others as You deal with me.

     I had a message on the church answering machine last week; I wrote the man’s name on a scrap piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket.  He asked if the church was willing to help folks who live in the neighborhood.
     I get a lot of those kinds of calls, but this one seemed different.  When I got home I put the piece of paper on my desk and it wasn’t long before it was under a pile of things.
     Saturday morning I saw the scrap piece of paper and I called the guy.  We will call him Tom.  I left a message and he called me back almost immediately.
     Tom was concerned about a neighbor across the street who had his leg amputated due to a mowing accident.  He asked if we might be willing to help build a ramp.  We agreed to meet on Sunday morning after church if I could get a couple of guys to go and look at the project.
     When I called him back to let him know that we were coming, I got some insight into the heart of this man.  Tom says to me, “I have been watching him try to get out of his house.  He gets out of his wheelchair and crawls on his hands and knees down the steps, and then tries to get back in the wheelchair.  I couldn’t stand it any longer.”
     Well, that’s about all it took for me.
     On Sunday we went to Jose’s house and met him.  Jack and Harold scoped out the project and determined the plan and the materials, while Tom and I talked.  I got more insight into the heart of this man.  He’s about my age and has a heart for others.
     We “hit it off” as is said.  I told him that I would likely not personally help with the project because I was planning to head to Mayo Clinic and I had a lot to get done.  I assured him that Jack and Harold would be much more skilled.
     Tom isn’t involved in a church right now, though he has been.  He knew the lingo.
     As we were ready to leave I turned to him and said, “I do not believe that your call nor our meeting was a chance encounter.”
     He said, “I don’t believe in chance encounters.”
     I have this feeling that this will not be the only encounter I have with Tom.  I am praying for the Lord’s will in his life.  Visiting Daybreak might just be in the possibilities.
     Lord, may I see Your hand at work today.  So often I see in a mirror dimly and fail to see Your divine appointments.  Then again, sometimes, like with Tom, Your intervention is obvious.  May I see those “not so obvious ones” and be thankful.  Use me today in what others may see as merely a chance encounter, but that You have helped orchestrate.

     Yesterday after having my treatment, Teresa came to the hospital and we went to see a cousin of hers who is in the ICU. 
     Two weeks ago no one had any clue that today Stephanie, who is in her mid-40s, would be fighting for her life.  She has been on that downward spiral that can come to any of us.  Her family was encouraged yesterday because she now opens her eyes when someone speaks to her.
     The initial diagnosis is possibly leukemia.  The results from a bone marrow biopsy will not be available for a couple of days.  She had a stoke because the doctors believe that her blood had thickened.
     I ask you to pray for Stephanie, as well as for her family.  She needs a miracle.  We serve a miracle working God.
     As I personally know, God has a way of working in the middle of this kind of crisis.  God is at work drawing her family to Him.
     We take far too many things for granted.  When a person responds by opening their eyes and that’s the best news this family has had in a few days, then we need to thank God for the blessings to live what may be a normal day for us. 
     Lord, thank you for the small blessings that come each day.  I often fail to see that they are your gift to me.  Help me be more cognizant of them today.

     It has been a while since I have written a blog.  I am writing this one while I am at the hospital getting this week’s treatment.  I head back to Mayo Clinic next week, so I am going to try to write a few blogs before then, just to get me back in the swing of things.
     Today’s treatment is the easiest of the four that I have each month.  Just one stick (hopefully!) and the least amount of time for me to be here.
     Like it does almost every time I come for a treatment, reality comes home and I am reminded that I am a cancer patient. 
     Though I am not nearly as strong, nor do I have the stamina I once had, sometimes I tend to function as if I wasn’t dealing with cancer.   The vast majority of the time if people don’t know me, they wouldn’t have a clue.  Even those who do know me often don’t see a lot of difference in how I function.  And that is a good thing, a very good thing.
     I thank our Lord consistently that I am able to function relatively normally most of the time.  Some days are better than others.
     I saw a friend on Sunday whom I hadn’t seen in a while.  It came home to me in something that he said that made me realize why I hear, as I did from him, “that you look really good.”
     It’s a two-fold reason.  One of them I have known for most of the time I have been taking chemotherapy.  I don’t look like most cancer patients because I haven’t lost weight during the treatments.  The steroids do the opposite—they make me hungry.  I took a steroid this morning and it will affect me in two ways: I will be hungry all day long and I will likely have trouble sleeping tonight.
     The second reason came home when he said to me, “You’ve still got hair.”  It might be thinner than it used to be, but yes, I am thankful that I still have some hair!
     Three other folks are in the waiting room this morning and they look to be about my age.
     A couple of weeks ago was a different case.  It was a difficult morning because of the others who were in the waiting area.  The first three patients I saw were all women.  I could never be the “age guesser” at King’s Island, but I had some clue of their ages.
     One I would guess in her 20s, one in her 30s, and one who could be in her 30s or maybe 39 and holding.   My heart breaks when I see someone in the cancer center that young.  It leads me to pray for them.  It also leads me to count my blessings.
     I was blessed this morning when I saw volunteer Joe.  We became as close as you could in these circumstances some months ago when I came on Tuesdays, the day he volunteers each week.  I had moved to Mondays and then to Fridays, but I chose to return to Tuesdays, partially because of Joe.
     I heard him singing before I saw him. He greeted me with a big smile and remembered what I liked as a snack during treatment.  He is such a good man, with a great heart.  In my own struggle with things, he was a bright light in my morning.
     Lord, help me today to bring some light into someone else’s life today.