A Calming Storm

Every one has a story to tell. 

Every story is different.  

I'm learning through this journey that the actual story (the details, not the 'idea' or concept) is important.  It's where we eat and sleep.  It's where we struggle and relax.  It's where we yearn and where we forfeit.  The story is where we live.  It's not so much about beginnings or endings.  Sure, the start of a story is crucial (as it is where the characters and story arcs are established) and endings are just as prominent (because the arcs are pulled together and a sense of 'closure' is felt)... but the meat of the story (the actual story) is where life is lived. It's there that we grow, where we change and how we change/gain perspective.

One of the peculiar aspects of brain cancer (and the subsequent surgeries/treatments) is that everything on the outside can seem so normal (aside from a pretty impressive incision/scar) with regards to appearance, physical abilities, et cetera, but there exists a monumental change underneath.  (As I re-read the prior sentence, I felt the need to insert this next part) I'm sure this is not unique to brain cancer; it is just our experience right now and what we are familiar with. I've done a poor job of telling this part of Ashley's story as we've moved through the active treatment phase.  I don't know if I've neglected it out of forgetfulness or if it was because I didn't want it to be the case for Ashley.  In any event, Ash and I have had a few conversations recently that have served as a reminder that things are different.  We've talking about the changes and how expectations must adapt to those changes.  Whether it's the fact that she has cancer (at this stage in life) or that it may take a little longer to process information/communicate or even that she is so fatigued and exhausted from treatment that she can't do the things she wants to do... there's a daily reminder that things are different. 

My point in telling you that last part is meant to serve as an encouragement to look out for those around you.  Be mindful that everyone has a story to tell and that every story is different.  I struggle so much with making quick assumptions about people or writing others off who don't look like I expect them to look or behave in a way that doesn't line up with how I govern myself and my family.  Our journey, up to this point, has been such a wake up call that this world is torn.  People try to find comfort and peace in so many different places.  The world is under siege by an enemy who will use every resource available to draw our attention away from our Creator.  Disease, strife, pride, etc... they are all in play.  There is a war being waged, and we're all involved whether we realize it or not.

I pray that my eyes would be opened to those around me who are in the midst of a story that is filled with struggle.  May we all be bold enough to see those stories and step in to offer encouragement and point them toward Hope.  It is our calling as Christ followers to do so, and it may be the very thing needed to keep the enemy at bay and to spur that person onward to Jesus.

The Lord is using Ashley to affect the hearts of many around her, and I could not be more thankful for that.  This is never the story we could've imagined writing; nevertheless, it is the story we are in.  Praise God that He has made a way for us to share it.  Praise God that He is almighty.  Praise God that He has made a way for redemption.  Praise God that He is Holy.  Praise God that He provides.  Praise God for His grace and for His mercy.  This is 'our' story.  We may be the subjects that are telling the arc, but God is the author.  It is only by His grace that we have breath, and it is only by His mercy that we are upright to tell it.  Jesus is the only reason we can boast of being where we are.  Speaking of where we are...

Yesterday.  12JAN18.  It was the end of Ashley's treatment phase.  She finished chemotherapy back in December and radiation was completed yesterday.  We've been waiting for this day for a while.  The anticipation built as the week carried on... we'd countdown every day leading up to Friday with how few treatments she had remaining. We were able to coordinate having our girls join Ash as she rang the bell to cap off the end of this period.  It was perfect!  

I cannot say enough about the doctors, nurses, therapists, techs and maintenance personnel we've had the pleasure of working with.  I truly believe that God has used all of you to help carry the burden during this time.  UAB is an incredible place to be treated.  I hope that all of you reading this blog never have to go through cancer treatment, but if you do, talk to me about UAB... it is a special place with special people.

On Friday we completed a chapter: the stormy waters of a diagnosis, a 'failed' surgery, a longer than expected hospital stay, seizures, the change in the daily life, the chemotherapy, the radiation... I'd probably classify all of that as the prologue and chapter one.  Nevertheless, it is the end of a turbulent season and the stormy waters are 'calming down'.  We will have one month off before we retake images and blood work.  It will be four weeks of trying to rest, recover and regain strength lost.  This next chapter will be one of reflection.  Once we retake images, we'll start the next phase of treatment which is essentially maintenance chemotherapy for a year (though it sounds daunting because of the time involved, it is manageable and shouldn't be too intense).  You know, as I wrote that last sentence about the year of maintenance chemo... in a weird way it brought some comfort as a husband, because we have a 'plan' on the table for a year and anything using the word 'year' right now sounds great.  It could wind up being a different ballgame altogether that we wind up playing, but right now... I'll take anything that involves 'years'.

Some ways that you could pray for us:

• Ashley's strength/stamina to return
• Weaning off of the steroid and other meds (that there would be very little side effects)
• Seizures would remain minimal to none
• Our girls would continue to understand as much of this as they can
• Rest for our entire household

Thank you for continuing to rally around us during this journey.  We know that it is a long journey and the support you show is very much appreciated.  You, too, help shoulder a burden that would otherwise be overwhelming.

For Honey (Ashley's Mom, My Mother-in-Law, Our Girls' "Honey"):

I want to take a minute to thank you.  There is absolutely no way that we could have gotten through this first chapter without you selflessly serving our family in the way that you have.  Thank you for temporarily moving away from your husband and home in Texas to join us in Alabama since just before Ashley's surgery [Yes, that's over 12 weeks now].  Thank you for sleeping on our couch.  Thank you for helping to raise our girls.  Thank you for getting up in the middle of the night to help feed our infant.  Thank you for carrying Ashley to and from radiation.  Thank you for enabling me to return to work.  Thank you for everything.  Never a complaint, always going above and beyond.  You have truly been the biggest blessing to us.  Thank You Honey.