Encouraging Music

When my dad first got sick, and later my mom in the middle of my dad’s treatments, the song that I found strength in was “My Redeemer Lives”.

The very same God That spins things in orbit
Runs to the weary, the worn and the weak
And the same gentle hands that hold me when I'm broken
They conquered death to bring me victory

Now I know, my Redeemer lives, I know my Redeemer lives
Let all creation testify, Let this life within me cry
I know, My Redeemer lives

A friend encouraged me with the verses that talk about God not giving us more than we can handle. Those two things helped me through that time. The song God keeps putting in my head since finding out about my dad’s recurrence this time around is “It Is Well”.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

I usually don’t like the song because they sing it so darn slow at church, but now the lyrics have more meaning. It’s like an old-English way of saying ”God, I know that even though it all feels pretty crappy right now, in the end I know in my heart that ultimately it is well with my soul because you have everything under control, and You are already victorious!”

My mom told me that my dad has recently been really enjoying the following song:

Christ in me is to live, to die is to gain
Christ in me is to live, to die is to gain
He’s my King, He’s my song, He’s my life, He’s my joy
He’s my strength, He’s my sword, He’s my peace, He’s my Lord.

We have my mom to thank for being a music-centric family.

Successful Stent Procedure

Praise the Lord, and thank you for your prayers. My dad's stent procedure was successful, and went smoothly. The doctors were ahead of schedule so he went in early, and we are now back home already. There were two potential outcomes from the procedure, and the better outcome happened, so praise the Lord for that. The doctor said the tumor(s) were causing atleast an 80% blockage, so we also praise the Lord that everything happened quickly enough so that the stent could still be placed before complete blockage.

The PET scan is scheduled for this coming Friday, and we will find out the results by next Tuesday. Please keep this in your prayers. Thank you.

Back to Blogging

Last time around, people kept up to date on my dad's progress from his blog, http://macklin.blog.com/. We found it to be a very efficient way to let everyone know what was going on, so naturally he has already been asked by many people whether he would blog. It was very time-consuming for my dad last time, so he decided not to do it again. Instead, I will post updates here for him.

Please feel free to check back for periodic updates and prayer requests. Thank you for all your love and support throughout these years for my dad and our whole family.

Stent First

On Thursday, 4/22/10, we found out my dad's cancer came back. The cancerous growths were found near one of his kidneys, and were causing his kidney to have to work extra hard. To even consider beginning chemo again, the kidneys need to both be fully functioning, so tomorrow he'll go in for a procedure to put a stent in at about 5:30pm and hopefully help ease the extra work his kidney has been doing.

After that will come a PET scan, which will help determine whether or not the 6 nodules seen in his lungs are cancerous, or other types of growths. The PET scan date is still TBD. Based on the results of the PET scan, my dad's chemo treatments will begin shortly thereafter.

Survival Mode

Almost four years ago, I started dreading this call, and tried imagining my reactions and emotions upon receiving it. I would lie awake in my bed at night, oscillating between allowing the tears to flow freely, to resolving to be strong and think positively. But the last time I really remember actively worrying about it was roughly two years ago. It’s strange how time numbs us when everything is just going fine. We all too easily forget both good and bad things that we have experienced.

So when the call came, I was caught off guard. I didn’t react like I imagined I would – maybe I was in shock, maybe I was in denial. My mom told me my dad’s stage 4 stomach cancer came back, and that it had spread near his kidney and possibly his lungs. Even though I knew there was a high probability that this would happen, I guess I just figured that if he reached 5 years since his initial diagnosis in June 2006, he’d be pretty much in the clear. I think I stopped worrying because this June is his 4 year mark - he was more than halfway there, and our family had defined our own sense of normalcy since his surgery, multiple rounds of chemo, and radiation in 2006 and 2007. It was naive of me to think the possibility of recurrence was diminishing the closer we got to the 5 year mark.

Maybe I forced myself to think this way; my own mind’s way of protecting my emotions. I like to call it survival mode. I did it when my mom was in the hospital for a month going through grueling physical, occupational, and speech therapy to recover as much functionality as she could from a freak-mistake during her open heart surgery which caused her to have a stroke in 2007. (That also happened to be precisely the time my dad was recovering from radiation, and getting ready for more chemo.)

Everyone said I was strong. Rather, I think maybe I was too weak to handle it all at once, so my body switched to this survival mode, where I just focused on the day-to-day details like going from one therapy appointment to the next, because otherwise it would just be completely overwhelming. It was only much later, many months before my survival-mode-guard came down, before I realized how taxing that period was –I would burst out in tears seemingly randomly, to Kyun’s utter confusion, and I would have to explain that I was reminded of the time in the hospital because a song that I just heard was one that my mom and I listened to every morning while eating our hospital breakfasts.

I’ve decided not to be so bottled up and “strong” this time. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being transparent and vulnerable, scared, sad, and afraid of the future. That’s reality, and there’s no need to hide that part. I’m an engineer, and I’m my dad’s daughter – put those two together and you have someone awful with expressing herself in words in person. Maybe writing it down is a way to tell my parents how much I love and care about them, and along the way, telling other people how awesome my parents are.