Introduction

Welcome to “Nothing New.” The goal of my blog in the past has been to stimulate discussion about all things related to CBC, the Christian life, and the world at large. But it has recently been hijacked by my cancer and treatment. This means I have to eat some crow (which I hate) because early on I boldly claimed I would not allow my condition to take center stage in my life.

But it is taking center stage on my blog – for a while. I am rather torn about this development. I am uncomfortable making this all about me – because it’s not. It is strangely therapeutic for me to blog about this, however, and I cannot express even a fraction of my appreciation for everyone who reads and leaves their funny, weird, and /or encouraging words in comments and emails.

So please join with me in dialogue. I always look forward to reading your comments. (If you'd like to follow my cancer journey from day 1, please go to my post on 6/25/08 - Life Takes Guts - in the archives and follow the posts upwards from there.)

Monday, May 4, 2009

A Perfect Finish

Four months ago, I was in pathetically poor condition. I could barely stroll around for a mile before getting jello-legs and needing a nap. And hauling Cooper in his carrier further than from the car to the front door was pretty much out of the question. So, for reasons I’m still unsure of, I made running a 5K my first major goal in reconditioning. I ran in the Toad Suck Daze 5K this weekend and since it was a major milestone for me, I’d like to share with you my glorious experience.

It couldn’t have gone any better. The night before the race, Shanda gave me a nice massage – making sure my muscles were loose and I was relaxed for a good night’s rest. In the morning, I discovered that she had done some research on her own about race day diets and she cooked a light breakfast for me with just the right amount of protein and carbohydrates. Cooper laughed and played quietly while Shanda helped Parker and I get our numbers pinned onto our shirts. Tanner gave us big hugs for good luck. Just before leaving for the race, Shanda put her hands gently on the sides of my face and with a kiss told me she how proud she was of me.

Parker and I left for the race and got there in plenty of time to warm up and calm some of our pre-race jitters. The weather was perfect – sunny and 73 degrees with just a slight breeze. Once the race started, Parker and I soon settled into a comfortable pace. I was worried about the crowd at the beginning, but as it turned out they quickly split like the Red Sea before us and we were able to run our own race without any concern for those around us. The cooling breeze was always at our back and there were plenty of community folks lining the streets cheering us on – including one older gentleman in particular who stood at his sidewalk with his dog and encouraged us, “Keep it up! You’re almost there!”

After a while, Parker decided he would run on ahead of me – which was fine. I’m proud of him. I knew he’d finish the race strong and would then be there waiting and cheering for me at the finish line. As I entered the stadium for the final lap, I noticed the bleachers were packed with people, all clapping and encouraging the racers.
Craig O’Neill was there as emcee and I could hear him say something over the loudspeakers about a young man and his recent battle with cancer. The crowd all stood to their feet, cheering and yelling as I crossed the finish line. It was amazing! Shanda and the boys were there at the finish line to greet me with big smiles and high fives. We celebrated my accomplishment together and then hung out with a good number of friends who were also there running or watching.

At least that’s sort of how I imagined it would be.

Here’s how it really happened.


I went to bed early the night before while Shanda stayed up and folded laundry. I think maybe we said good night to each other before I fell asleep. In the morning, I slapped some cream cheese on a bagel because I read on the internet somewhere that this was a good breakfast for racers. I believed it, because, you know, it was on the internet. And I drank some PowerAde because they have some cool commercials. Cooper cried in the background while Shanda and I had a small argument about whether or not we should put our numbers on ahead of time. Apparently, those safety pins could do irreparable damage to t-shirts if worn while riding in a car. Parker and I headed to the race. I’m not sure if Tanner knew we left. I think I heard Shanda yell “Good luck” as the front door closed behind us.

The weather was awful. It was raining. Pouring, actually. Parker and I got to the race in plenty of time to get drenched before the race even began. It was a chilly 55 degrees and I was just a little concerned about the lightning overhead. Once the race got started, I couldn’t figure out my pace. I started out too fast and was hurting by about halfway through the race. I was worried about the crowd at the beginning of the race, and as it turned out it was worse than I planned. Parker and I got hemmed in by a group of runners and couldn’t find a good rhythm because we were always trying to avoid collisions. Several of the residential streets were flooded and we had to run in water that was a good 6 inches deep. Nobody was outside to cheer us on except for one old man who stood at his sidewalk only about a quarter of a mile into the race and mocked us, “Keep it up! You’re almost there!” while his dog barked menacingly at us.

After a while, Parker decided he would run on ahead of me – which was fine. I’m proud of him. As I entered the stadium, I noticed that only 5 people were braving the rain and sitting in the bleachers. With half a lap left to go, I tried to finish with a kick and pass the runner in front of me. It turns out that some 60 year old woman had a better kick than me and I never did pass her. I crossed the finish line with absolutely no fanfare or cheering (except for one race official who mustered out a congesgted “way to go” in between his sneezes). Shanda, Tanner, and Cooper did brave the rain. But after they watched Parker cross the finish line they headed to the stadium entrance to watch for me. Unfortunately, I had already entered and they missed seeing me finish. I hunted them down and I think internally they were considering how awesome of a dad and husband I was. We celebrated by drying off and I picked up Sonic drinks and a breakfast burrito while Shanda and the boys headed home.

I’m not saying my experience was miserable. I had a good time, even in the rain. And I enjoyed sharing it all with Parker – who has taken quite a liking to running. I just built up the event to such an extraordinary degree that it was inevitable for the real experience be a little disappointing.

But I’ve done some reflecting the past couple of days. I’ve been reminded how Paul compares the Christian life to a race and I’m sure he would agree that life isn’t always what we expect it to be. Some parts of it can be disappointing. Sometimes we get a thorn in our flesh that God won’t take away. Sometimes we get cancer. Sometimes it rains on race day. But if we consider heaven our “finish line” then we will never be disappointed. No matter how much we build up our expectations of heaven, it is going to be infinitely better than we can imagine. It is impossible to overestimate the gloriousness of heaven. That provides me the strength to keep running.

(Hey, that was kinda fun – blogging again, that is. I think I’ll get the blog up and running again sometime this summer – maybe with a design makeover. Thanks for checking in!)

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Moving On

But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on….

I openly acknowledge that I am taking these verses (Phil. 3:13-14) out of context. They are about salvation and spiritual maturation. But I have taken these words and made them my own as I recover from 6 months of cancer and chemo.

I’m moving on.

Don’t get me wrong – I still have a lot going on related to my cancer. I have weekly visits to do labwork. I’ll be seeing my doctor every two months for thorough checkups. I’ll be getting PET scans and CT scans done frequently. I am still relatively weak and I am in the long process of rebuilding my strength and stamina at the fitness center. My hair is just now coming back in (it looks fuzzy and gray right now). And on top of all that, I am participating in the grand waiting game. My doctor says that if my lymphoma is going to come back, it is likely going to come back in the first year, with a smaller chance in the second year. After two years, I can be pretty confident it’s gone for good. Although two years is not long for most cancer patients, it seems long to me.

But I’m moving on. These issues are no longer central issues of my life – they are peripheral issues. I refuse to let that two year waiting period hang over my head – causing me undue worry and stress. I’m moving on. Cancer and chemo were so much the focus of my existence for 6 months that I am glad to push them to the side now. They no longer get to define who I am. I’ve written about this “identity” conflict several times now and it’s the reason I took a break from blogging, to tell you the truth. I was tired of being the cancer-blogger guy. I’m moving on. If the cancer returns, it returns. But in the meantime, I’ll be living my life as if it’s gone.

So…. While this post has been about me and my cancer, future posts will likely be about other things, if I remember how to write about them. Stay tuned if you are still interested.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Happy New Year!

I've been home for nearly a week and I haven't checked my blog, email, or facebook in during that whole time. I think it's because I feel like I've closed a chapter in my life and I'm ready to move on. I haven't closed the overall story of my cancer, mind you. I still have a long way to go. I will be seeing the doctor and getting scans about every 2 to 3 months. And my body will need some time to recouperate. (Right now, I experience muscle fatigue and shortness of breath just walking up one flight of stairs.) I may need a transfusion or two and my hickman catheter still needs to come out. But I have definitely closed this chapter of daily doctor's visits and/or hospitalizations and daily struggles to just to survive the cancer and chemotherapy.

Honestly, I feel a little lost as I close this chapter of my life. My schedule of classes at CBC doesn't start for another couple of weeks and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. I've invested so much energy into my treatment the past 6 months. Despite my efforts (and blog posts like this one), I let my cancer define too much of who I was and now I'm having to redefine myself a bit.

I will be taking a break from blogging for a while - at least until February I think. When I return to blogging, I'm not sure how much will be related to my cancer/treatment/recovery - probably very little. But in this one last post, I must say thank you to all who have read and left encouraging comments. Plenty of others read my blog to stay updated, some of whom I know and others I don't. Many of you prayed for me. A simple thank you on a blog seems woefully inadequate. Please know that I appreciate all of you - much more than I know how to communicate here. At this point, my prognosis looks good. But should I have the unfortunate experience of my cancer returning, I'll need all of you even more.

I remain convinced more than ever that God is good. May you all experience His goodness and have a wonderful 2009!