Here we sit waiting for the labs to confirm that chemo is a go. Today's infusion will take 6-7 hours.  It is our first time in this infusion center and everyone seems so thoughtful and kind. The area is set up with individual cubicles, so our opportunity to interact with others will be limited, but not totally impossible.

It is interesting how words can bring comfort and sadness at the same time. As we were getting settled in the medical assistant said, "Welcome to your second family." It really does become that way each time a treatment is given. We are thankful for the people we have met, and the stories that have been shared. Yet, like everyone else here, we are hoping for the words "You are healed!" to be shouted from the roof tops.

Week before last we had two first hand glimpses of that victory shout. The first was at the Proton Therapy Center where Stew was having a special test done. As we entered the check in/waiting area, we noticed a large circular gold gong on a stand by the stairway. As the morning progressed we learned what it represented. It was beautiful.

About mid morning a nurse came down the hallway with an older gentleman and asked for every one's attention. She announced that his treatments were successfully completed, read a poem, and handed him a big gold mallet. He turned around with a huge smile and hit it as hard as he could. Everyone began to clap and cheer. Tears filled his eyes as he walked down the line of nurses, receptionists, and others that were there to shake his hand or give him hugs. As I glanced around the waiting area I could see similar tears and smiles of joy gracing the faces of those watching.

The other was in the waiting room at Dr. B.'s. While Stew was having labs drawn, a gentleman sat down next to me and began to share his story. He had been diagnosed with cancer of a different type than Stew, undergone chemo, hit remission, and received a stem cell transplant. He now had an appointment to see if all was going well. When his name was called, he stood, gave me a thumbs up, and entered through the door that would lead him back to where he believed good news awaited.

A while later, the door to the examine rooms opened. Out he came, looked around the waiting area, saw us still sitting there, and almost floated over to where we were with a huge grin on his face. It had worked and he was being released back to his own doctor. His happiness was almost tangible. He thanked us for our prayers and said he hoped the same for us.

These are the things hope are built on. God is the foundation, but moments like these help to keep it alive.

So thankful for what the Father did in both of these men's lives.  So thankful that the Father gave us these miraculous healing glimpses in the midst of our circumstances. What a gift it was to be able to celebrate together!

Reminders that joy isn't only found in your own answer received, but that it is found in each moment of victory, no matter whose the victory is, are precious. Joy is found in celebrating gifts of life. It is found in the heart of the Father. It is found in honoring what gives Him joy.

And, when eyes are open to see it, to see Him and be thankful...we are made stronger. For it is "the joy of the Lord that is our strength." Praying for eyes that continue to see His joy before us.

Thankful for:

Early morning rain.

The ding of incoming texts last night and this morning from those who remembered this was Stew's first day of the new chemo. We read each one and rejoiced at the prayers, love, and thoughts given. We were like little children opening a gift.

Crackers and juice provided by the clinic. They have already been used.

Pillows and blankets...infusion centers are cold!

Katie's (Dr. B's PA) just now visit: Antibiotics, medicines, precautions, etc, will be ready for us on Monday for our trip to see Ben and family next week. Loved her happiness for us.

Family!

You!

Our Father...

With hearts full of love and gratitude,
Faces-to-the-Wall,
Stew and Deb

Waiting with a smile.


Our home away from home.


Benadryl taking effect. :-)

"I AM the One Who calms the storms...

Last Monday we met with Dr. B. , our stem cell transplant doctor, to hear what he had to say about the mantle cell in Stew's body, and any recommendations he might have.

Truthfully, as we parked our car and slowly navigated our way through the halls of Medical City to Dr. B.'s office, our walk consisted of clasped hands, moments of silence, "I love you's", and attempts at everyday conversation. We were walking with two other companions... fragile hope and unspoken silent prayers. You see, even though we had not shared it with others, we knew God had spoken to our hearts on April 4, 2017, the words "Rough days are yet to come...but believe this when I say I am the One Who calms the storms." 

"Rough days yet to come":
During our meeting the doctor shared the specifics of the test results:
The cancer is growing.
The lymphomas have doubled in size from what they were 2 months ago.
There are more.
Their density has increased by 50%.
They could begin involving organs.

He shared that medically we really only have one option that will give Stew more than a 1 out of 5 life opportunity. It is a targeted therapy that carries with it a different type of risk. This chemo regimen, depending on the amount given and how Stew's body responds, can possibly bring remission or, because of what it does to the blood cells in his body, it can make a stem cell transplant no longer viable.

So, a new two day chemo begins this Thursday. Two rounds will be done, and then more testing for remission.

"The One Who calms the storms":

After being offered this treatment possibility we learned our insurance did not cover it. Stew then met with the Benefits Counselor and an "urgent" exception was filed. As unbelievable as it may sound, it was approved the same day!! Talk about God miracles...:-)

Thankful for reminders all the time that our hope, our answers are not found in the hands of man, though God can use them. But, ultimately they are found in the heart of God!

We discussed our desire to see our Tennessee family at the meeting and we were told to "go ahead." Such happiness in our grandparent hearts. Dr. B. did add the recommendation that we be gone no longer than three days, but we can handle that. Three days are a gift!! Any amount of time is a gift!

With love and appreciation for the Father, our family, and you,
Face-to-the Wall,
Stew and Deb


The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save, he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love, he exults over you with loud singing. Zephaniah 3:17

Runaway Day

Sometimes you just need a day to runaway. That is what Stew and I needed this weekend.

Last week was filled with  appointments; an instructional class on stem cell transplants, tests, evaluations, labs, a bone marrow biopsy, and meetings with our stem cell coordinator, financial person, and social worker. A tentative schedule was laid out for us, to even include a week to visit family.

Even though the final results weren't in, the thought process by the professionals seemed to be that the chemo should work and we would move into the mobilization stage.

Friday morning the phone rang. Stew's test results were already in. Katie said she was sorry to have to tell us the test results over the phone, but she knew we were preparing to leave for the hospital soon for another round of chemo and she wanted to let us know chemo had been canceled. She compassionately shared that the mantle cell lymphoma in Stew's body was continuing to progress, lymph nodes were still growing, and his bone marrow tested positive for the cancer. So, no chemo treatment. No remission.

Our initial reaction was one of being totally stunned. We held each other with no words. Not because we didn't know it could happen, but because it actually had. So, after telling our family the news,we decided to "run away" to life.  Our friend, Barry, kept the boys (Boxers), Amy took Charlee (our rat terrier), and we left. How thankful we are for their willingness to step in at a needed time for what was truly a last minute decision!

This "run away" weekend was so needed.

It was a sweet moment of time to step away from cancer and simply be.
It was an enjoyed mini escape from doctors and negative news.
It was a quiet continued celebration of  life.
It was a time of gentle strengthening with the Father even though there was very little prayer.

Tomorrow we have an appointment with Dr. B. He is reviewing  Stew's records again and will give us his opinion as to if there is anything else medically to be done.

We will be walking into his office fully aware that in our first meeting with him it was shared this chemo was our best hope medically. We are also walking in there knowing that even though God has blessed us with  Dr. B. as our doctor, He has even more so blessed us with Himself and His Presence.

The battle has gone on for a long time, and so many of you have stayed with us in unwavering prayer and support since the very beginning. Thank you so much. Because of you we are strengthened and encouraged.

Please add to your prayers healing for Stew's legs. There are times when they simply don't work the way they should and he now needs to use a cane to walk. His words, "they become floppy."

Love,
Stew and Deb
Click on the link below if you would like to see a short video of our weekend.

Runaway Day

Home again!

We're home... and it feels so good!

This morning we were able to see "C", one of the nurses who took care of Stew when he was in the hospital three weeks ago. She is an absolute bundle of joy with a smile that lights up a room. It made our day when she saw us, came rushing over to say hello, and gave us both a big hug! The people who work on the cancer floors are gifted with such grace. None of them come into our room without a big, truly caring smile. What a difference they make!

It is back to Medical City Dallas on Tuesday for labs and the power packed injection. Pet Scan will be scheduled before the next/final round of chemo.  We are praying, believing, and expecting an "all clean" report. Thank you for agreeing with us.

Stew and I were sharing before he went to sleep and the thought struck us,..
     here it is almost 10 months later and...
          he is still here...
                we still have the gift of doing life together...
                         we are so blessed!

Thank you for your prayers as "We"...you, Stew, and I...walk by faith, not sight...together!(More about that later from Stew.)

With gratitude and love,
Stew and Deb
Face to the Wall!

Unexpected much appreciated visit from friends this morning. Can you believe that I taught those two special young men in kindergarten?

My love

Hand sanitizer: a very needed and required addition to our daily lives. :-)

                                                                                

There is even a "fish" on the floor of our  hospital walking path to remind us of the One Who is always with us.

 

Round 2, Day 2

Good morning,

Day 2, Saturday, went amazingly well! Thank you for praying.

Stew is handling the chemo infusion even better than last time and has had no in-hospital reactions to any of the treatment. The benadryl and steroids added to the protocol seems to help with the body's initial response while the chemo is being administered. In fact, yesterday he walked 52 laps around the nurses station for a total of 2 miles. Not all at one time of course, and some laps slower than others, but he did it. He set a goal and made it.

The nurses would just smile each time they heard the rattle of his IV pole come around the corner. Family members visiting other patients commented on his "racing"around the hallway, and many kind words were shared.  Stew's perseverance in doing this opened the door for brief conversations and the opportunity for the offer of prayers.  No one turned them down. One family even told us the full name of the person they were visiting, the cancer they are fighting, and how they are responding.
A powerful reminder of how everyone has a story that needs to be shared, and one that is more than worth being heard.

A thoughtful friend of ours, Clarke, who has walked closely with Stew in this journey visited Friday evening and again yesterday afternoon. They now have weekly ongoing cribbage tournaments. It's a game Stew really enjoys, and Clarke has begun winning!  He makes Stew smile, his presence and stories brighten up the day, and their prayers together build strength and hope.

With gratitude, love, and prayers for you and yours,
Stew and Deb
Face to the Wall

Round 2, Day 1 Thoughts

You are on my side
You go before me
You stand behind...

Nothing on this earth can ever separate me from your love...

"On My Side" Kim Walker


Today's (Friday's) admittance to the hospital found us on a different cancer floor with different nurses. We just assumed we would be in the same area as last time. After all, we had become familiar with it. I knew where the showers, towels, extra blankets, pillows, exercise bikes, and patient/family free snack center was located.

Stew had developed a camaraderie with those caring for him, and we had walked many times around the nurses station sharing laughs and conversations while we were there three weeks ago. 26 times equals 1 mile by the way. And, even though it had only been a three day stay, we felt we were returning to a comfortable place. At least, as comfortable of a place as it can be when you are having chemo.

But, God had gone before us once again, and was about to take us to another place where we would see His kindness and know His loving care.

So, we should not have been surprised when in the course of a conversation his nurse mentioned she had worked in the stem cell transplant center for 19 years before changing to what she was now doing on the infusion floors, but we were.  As Stew and I asked a few generic questions about stem cell treatments and care in general, we learned some of what may be ahead for us.  We saw just a glimpse of the challenges, life style changes, and the extraordinary length of time the process truly takes as the body fights its way back to health and wholeness. It was definitely a reality check.

Yet, God knew we needed to hear from just one person who had experienced or knew something about what we were praying wisdom for, and He opened that door.  He had us walk past one place of comfortableness to another place of faith and rest in Him.

By that one conversation He increased our hope and revealed to us once again His kindness and pro-activeness on the behalf of His children. He truly is "on our side", and when we "let him" He reveals it to us over and over again.

Oh, and a side benefit, Stew got to wear a pink and white mask. 😉 You can't tell it, but he really is smiling. As our daughter said,  "Only real men wear pink."


But, I still think blue is his best color!



More tomorrow...

With love, prayers, and gratitude,
Stew and Deb

Faces to the Wall

Weepy Days

                                                                                               

I use to think  my tears had to be hidden, denied, or choked back.

I use to think my tears were a sign of weakness, lack of control, or emotionalism.

I use to think my tears were a cause of embarrassment, shame, and failure.

I use to think this only about my tears, not anyone else's.

Stew use to think some, not all, of the same.

Years ago, when we read Psalm 56: 8, we slowly began to realize our tears were important to God. He valued them.

And, He knew there would be "weepy" days.

Today was one.

Today:

 We received a text from a friend we have come to know through chemo days. After 5 different chemo protocols, her chemo treatments are done. Not because she is in remission, but because she isn't. She is only 36 years old.

We learned that someone who has been a part of our lives for 10 years has stage 4 cancer.

We were informed that a friend of ours has been diagnosed with dementia.

We realized Stew has now lost 45 to 50 pounds, depending on the time of day.

We read the following words in the "doctor's report ": I had a lengthy discussion with the patient regarding the overall prognosis...He has residual disease in his abdomen and the suspicion that his cecal disease is worsening. The patient has extensive bone marrow disease... In general, patients with mantle cell have poor long-term disease control.

Weepy days are not just birthed out of sadness, but gladness, too.

Today:

Our day began with this early morning text from a new friend:

And, I will give you treasures hidden in darkness-secret riches. I will do this so you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel, the One Who calls you by name. Isaiah 45

The day lilies in the backyard bloomed in a beautiful display of yellow and purple hues.

We received a text from our son.

We enjoyed dinner with Amy, Chad, Noah, and Shiloh.

Noah and I sat on the bench and simply visited.

Shi and I danced and sang in the park.

Stew pushed me on a swing, and we laughed like children.

We took a slow stroll around the lake with family.

And, this evening we read the following in a text from another person God has gifted into our lives:

Yes, it was a weepy day, but God already had us covered from beginning to end by His Word shared through others. Nothing catches Him off guard!

Update:
*The past week and a half has been a bit rougher for Stew. His platelets hit a new low and an infusion/transfusion had to be given last week in an attempt to build them back up.
*On Friday, April 28th, he will be admitted to the hospital for three days as he receives the next round of chemo.
*Then, in the following week or so, another pet scan will be given to see if his body has achieved remission.

With each new challenge that comes his way, Stew truly radiates more and more peace and gentleness in his countenance. It is as if he glows. This man of God, my husband, is my hero.

Thank you for your continued prayers. You are a joy to us both and we love you.

Faces to the Wall as we trust in our Father,
Stew and Deb

Family

Family!