I'm writing this from a maelstrom of emotions.
Most cancer patients describe the anxiety while waiting for scan results as excruciating. And it is common enough that we have a special word for it - scanxiety. Again I am so fortunate that my doctor understands that and has called me with results or as was the case yesterday scheduled an appointment for the day after the scan to give me the results.
At my appointment to receive the results from Monday's CT scan I got unexpected news. The lesion in my left lung is still growing. When the CT scans are compared quarter by quarter the increase is very hard to see but when compared back to the baseline scan in September the growth is unmistakable.
What it means is that my miracle drug - Imfinzi (durvalumab) treatment is on hold for now. I'm being scheduled for a CT guided biopsy in the next week or so. And then I will meet with my oncologist to discuss the options. Just when I'm starting to think about the future again, I"m plunged back in to the turmoil of appointments, treatment decisions, and a new schedule.
Almost everyone I have talked to asks if I knew. And the answer is no. But something prompted me to ask for special prayer on Sunday morning. I did know that I was sleeping much more. Morning naps occasionally on top of the usual afternoon nap and nine to ten hours of sleep at night. I had put it down to the reduction in dosage of synthyroxine. Too there is my cough. Over time it has changed character. I described it to the doctor the last time I was in, as sounding like an old bellows coming from somewhere deep. And when I stop breathing out - sometimes - the breath seems to keep going. Maybe there was a premonition.
Last week as I was reading the scripture for the Wednesday Lent service (a little thing that I selfishly kept for myself instead of scheduling readers) I was reading from Job. I introduced the reading as being "from my old friend Job." There was a chuckle from the congregation. By Sunday morning the story had grown. Job had become "my brother." So as I read this passage this morning there was an instant identification:
“But ask the animals what they think—let them teach you;
let the birds tell you what’s going on.
Put your ear to the earth—learn the basics.
Listen—the fish in the ocean will tell you their stories.
Isn’t it clear that they all know and agree
that God is sovereign, that he holds all things in his hand—
Every living soul, yes,
every breathing creature?
Isn’t this all just common sense,
as common as the sense of taste?
Do you think the elderly have a corner on wisdom,
that you have to grow old before you understand life?
Job 12:7-12 The Message (MSG)
I went for my usual morning walk and wouldn't you know it an eagle soared overhead. Unusual in my neighbourhood. I realized that even in this apparent setback God knows what is happening and what He is doing. I was reminded of the coin I carry in my pocket "We can't control the wind. We can only adjust our sails." So I've sailed out from behind the lee of the island and the sailboat has heeled over with strong wind in a new direction. I'm trimming my sails for the next round.
As usual I'm looking for the blessings. Glad we found the enlargement now - not in six months when the Imfinzi treatment was scheduled to end. Grateful for a doctor who took the time to go back through the extra scans to see what was happening. The biopsy is to determine whether we are dealing with lung cancer or metastasized breast cancer. I have to chuckle when the oncologist says, "Angus. Your case is complicated." Yup and God gave me just the doctor to sort it out. Once we know what we are dealing with, there are a range of treatment options. We haven't explored them in detail but knowing they are there is a comfort.
I'm grateful for family. Two young men who picked up the phone within minutes of getting my texts and listened to me cry and struggle with the emotions. One of whom is in a situation where he is only allowed his phone for 30 minutes a day. For Sandra who took the night to digest the news and then called to help me work through it all. For friends who emailed and texted their prayers for me assuring me of their support.
After some uninspiring experiences with the local hospice dropin grief group, I found a church program through GriefShare.org. There is a local group meeting in a nearby Baptist church. The group will meet twelve times and I'm on meeting five. The group is helping me recognize the challenges of working through grief but it is giving me practical tools to cope with the huge loss in my life. How to ask friends for help; how to write a grief letter sharing the emotions that I"m feeling; why I sometimes say and do strange things; and how to deal with well meaning people that say stupid things.
One of the things that I had been struggling with was resuming my practice of regular Bible reading, prayer and meditation. Yvette and I used to do pray together every morning to start our day. Often by phone when I was working but in person when we could. I had tried a few times but had been unsuccessful. The regular daily workbook exercises have brought me back to that discipline and it has been good to reconnect with God.
When I was younger I fell in love with watercolour painting. The spontaneous uncontrollable nature of it appeals to me. Add the translucent quality of light that many watercolourists capture and who could resist. I had taken Art classes in high school and did a watercolour workshop once. But when kids came along I put it aside, telling myself that I would pick it up again when I retired. So when I started looking for things to do while healing from my cancer treatments it was a given that I would pick up the brush and start again. Except I didn't. I carried the supplies around with me - back and forth across the border. I would get them out, look at them and put them away again.
I noticed a pamphlet one day while I was waiting for my radiation back in June for a program "Art in the Afternoon" sponsored by the Cancer Center. Yvette saw it in my stuff and encouraged me to try and go. With her illness and death I didn't get to my first session till mid February. With fear and trembling I went to the first session not really too sure what to expect. Would it be Mickey Mouse crafts or a bunch of high brow artists? I took my watercolour stuff but the project that day was printmaking. Since that was something that I had enjoyed in high school I took a stab at it.
Held every two weeks "Art in the Afternoon" has become a staple in my schedule. The small group does something different each time. Led by an art therapist the materials are high quality and she encourages us (without forcing us) to explore our relationship with cancer through art expression. I've used it as an opportunity to explore grief as well. Our third session was watercolour. Art is an outlet for my creative energy and a restorative to my soul. Sitting around with other cancer survivors - mostly advanced and metastatic folks - has been good. Finding solace from art and talking about our journeys there is a bond that transcends simply doing art - drawing us together. I have fallen in love with watercolour again. I find I'm spending time every day with brush in hand practising and trying to capture something that I've seen or felt.
Thank you for your prayers. Without them this would be a much more difficult journey. I sense that underpinning, that foundation that allows me to move forward with confidence.
Thanks.