March 24, 2025 - 25 Years

     I began writing this last Monday while waiting for my first appointment at Mayo Clinic.  I am finishing it while taking chemotherapy this morning at Baptist Health in Lexington.  I apologize for not sending blogs last week, but my computer decided that it didn’t want to connect.  I finally got it fixed today.  I also apologize for this blog’s length.
 
     I was a sportswriter in high school for the local newspaper, so I am writing this like I was covering a basketball game giving the most important information first and then filling in the details.  If you watched the Colorado State vs Maryland game yesterday, the story would lead with the buzzer beater that Maryland hit to win the game.
 
     The buzzer beater is that Dr. Hicks confirmed that the Bone Marrow Biopsy for the third time in a row is MRD-negative.  That means that the multiple myeloma cells are so few that they don’t register. 
 
     The results are three for three.  All three cancers are in check.  Feel free to stop here if you don’t want the details!
 
     Over the past two years I have had moments when God spoke to my heart.  He did through a great niece on Sunday as I faced what was lying ahead when we got to Mayo.
 
     Carly is a special child and very special to me.  Her mom sends us a video of Carly encouraging me and letting me know that she was praying for me. 
 
     It is pretty humbling to be prayed for by an 11-year-old.  It is also more than moving.  (I watched it again this evening.  It might be hard to sleep unless the lump in my throat goes away.)
 
     Teresa and I had an uneventful trip to Rochester a week ago Sunday, arriving about 10:30 their time. 
 
      As I drove down Broadway and could see the Mayo buildings that were silhouetted in the clear, dark sky, I sensed the same feelings that I have had almost every time I have come to Mayo Clinic—apprehension mixed with hope.
 
     2025 marks 25 years that I have been coming to Mayo.  I can’t say that it seems like yesterday since that first visit.  Lots of water under the bridge since then.
 
     What came to me Sunday night after seeing the Mayo buildings was that I am more than a blessed man.  As serious as the sarcoma was 25 years ago, I would have signed up then to live another 25 years.  The Lord willing, I might exceed that.
 
     My first appointment was to have blood drawn.  The young tech was very proficient, as well as personable.  When she finished wrapping my arm I said to her, “You can be my vampire anytime.”  She laughed as did I.  In the midst of lots of pain here, there is also lots of hope and joy.
 
     My next test was a PET Scan.  The nurse was a believer and we talked about where she went to church.  An hour and a half later I headed to the big one for the day—the bone marrow biopsy.
 
     Things went as expected and we got back to the hotel with just a sore hip. 
 
     As do some other medical facilities, Mayo posts the test results as soon as they are available, usually before I see the doctor.  I have found this to be true: I know just enough to know that I don’t know enough to be elated or worried.  But I read them anyway!
 
     I was smart enough to know my PSA was perfect.
 
     We ate at Teresa’s favorite restaurant thanks to one of you. 
 
     I was zonked after the day, so I headed to bed early.
 
     I got up early and ate some breakfast.  A teenager rolls in and stops to eat at the table next to mine.  Yes, he rolled in in his wheelchair.  He was a nice young man.  He maneuvered his chair himself.
 
     I chose to ride the shuttle this morning and saw the young man waiting for the driver to put his wheelchair on the lift on the shuttle.  I got on the shuttle and could hear the lift.  When the young man was secure I heard him say to the driver, “Thank you, sir.”
 
     When I went through security and the officer asked, “Do you have any guns, knives, or explosives?” I gave him my pat answer, “No, just these hands of steel.”  He cracked up.  I told him that I would try to keep my hands of steel in check.
 
     As I sit waiting for an ultrasound that is intended to give the doctor insight into my thyroid, I am sitting in the waiting room adjacent to another teenager, a young girl maybe 13 or 14.  Unlike most folks at Mayo, she is wearing a mask.
 
     The tendency to complain about a hurting hip goes out the window when I encounter two teenagers who are at Mayo needing treatment.  Lord, help me be grateful.  I prayed for both of them.  My health struggles started at 46, not at 16.
 
     I met with Dr. Brito, my endocrinologist.  He is one of my favorites.  He has a persona that enables you to trust him.  There was no indication that the thyroid cancer had returned.  From the blood work, it appears that the left side is overcompensating, which I guess is better than undercompensating.  He was concerned enough that he wants to see me in six months rather than a year.
 
     Dr. Brito did give me a compliment that I can’t remember hearing before.  He said, “You look really good—for your age.”  I think it was a compliment….
 
     We headed home.  The ride back was as uneventful as the ride up.  We hit two days of good weather in between significant storms.
 
     I am finishing this, as said at the start, while I am taking chemotherapy.  I usually come on Tuesdays, but I came today so I could see Dr. Hicks, who is in Frankfort on Tuesdays.
 
     My nurse today we will call nurse L.  It’s my first time having her because she goes with Dr. Hicks to Frankfort on Tuesdays.  I have had several nurses in these two plus years.  I would take nurse L every time.
 
     First stick on the IV.  She knows exactly what is to be done with myeloma patients.  She is extremely competent.  She has a winsome personality.   I feel as comfortable as possible in the Cancer Center.
 
     After Dr. Hicks gave me the details, I couldn’t help but ask him how often he sees patients with three straight MRD-negatives.  He smiled.  He looked at me and said, “You are a blessed man.  I have seen consecutive MRD-negatives.  I have seen patients with multiple cancers.  You are rare.”
 
     And so as I contemplate what I thought to be the case, with IV fluids dripping into my veins, I must admit that the guilt that I have felt is poignant this morning.
 
     People often ask, “Why me, Lord?” when they get bad news.  I am asking, as I have often in this, “Why me, Lord?” after getting the best news that I could receive.
 
     All I can say is that I am still trying to understand God’s grace.  That is the only answer to the question.  It has nothing to do with deserving; it has everything to do with God’s mercy.
 
     Someday when I stand on the other side, hopefully I will understand.  But for now, I see in a mirror dimly.
 
     What I do know is that I am a very blessed man.  Right behind is that I am a very grateful man.
 
     As I have tried to do for the past 25 years I intend to live each day to the fullest.  Each day is a gift from God.  Lord, help me to use each day wisely.
 
     And so I will hug my wife, my kids and grandkids, others in our family, and others I love when given the opportunity.  I will cherish the privilege to be a pastor.  I will work at our business.
 
     And maybe, just maybe, I might find a day or two to see if I am smarter than a fish at Beaver.