Prayers of Children

A couple of Jenn and I's best friends from Berkeley live in Vallejo now, so we don't get to see them or their three kids very often.  I got an email from them this morning saying that their family prays for me constantly.  I was told that their oldest (he's four) had this to say during family prayer time: 

“wait, i have one more thing to pray for.  Father God, thank you for bryan and thank you we got to meet him once.  i pray he wouldn’t have cancer and that he would feel better.  in Jesus’ name, amen”

So cute.  Thank you, God, for all those that continue to lift me up in prayer.

Transplant!

I met with Stanford's Bone Marrow Transplant team last week, and they recommend I move forward with an autologous transplant in September.  Here are some takeaways from the meeting:

• I don't need to make a hard decision.
  They are recommending I do a stem cell transplant using my own harvested stem cells.  They say that my case is pretty straightforward and they think the auto transplant is the only real choice to consider right now.  I was worried they'd recommend I go the allogeneic transplant route using stem cells from a donor.  That procedure has an extremely high risk of complications, so I'm glad I don't have to make that decision at this point.  They said I could consider an allogeneic stem cell transplant down the road, so getting an autologous stem cell transplant now doesn't close any doors.
  
• Offering me a stem cell transplant now is a good sign.
  The reason why the autologous stem cell transplant is the obvious recommendation at this point is because I'm healthy, still really early stage in the cancer (no kidney/bone damage, barely any anemia), and responding well to treatment.
  
• The transplant itself doesn't seem too terrible.
  There will be appointments and tests in the six weeks leading up to the transplant date.  At some point during that six week period, they'll give me drugs to cause my body to produce a large amount of stem cells.  They will eventually harvest those stem cells before nuking my body hard to try to eradicate any remaining trace of the cancer.  They then give me back my harvested stem cells to rebuild and restore my immune system.
  
  The procedure will be out-patient, and I'll only need to spend one night in the hospital (the day after the transplant itself).  I'll be immuno-compromised at various points in time, so I'll need to stay in except when being transported for regular doctor visits.  They'll provide a mask for me to wear.  I'll need a caretaker for at least the first 30-days after the transplant, but they say it's more for things like food-preparation and driving me to appointments; I should be able to do most things myself (though I'll be very fatigued).
  
  I'll probably need to miss 2 months of work at minimum, but probably closer to around 3 months.  Praise God that Google gives up to 90 days of fully paid medical leave though, and if I need more than that, I can still get partial pay.  What a blessing!
  
• In the meantime, I should finish up two more cycles of chemo.
  Last Friday I started my fifth 28-day cycle of chemo.  I aim to wrap up my sixth cycle of chemo at the end of August so we can move forward with the transplant.  

Anyway, I'm sure I'll get more details in the weeks to come.  For now, I'm actually a little excited about the transplant.  I'm sure the physical effects won't be fun, but the whole procedure sounds fascinating.  I'm also looking forward to getting as much of the cancer wiped out from my body as possible.

Things that I'm looking forward to:

• I want to dye my hair before shaving it off.  I'll probably have my hair a different color for a week or so before they need me to shave it.  There's probably no better time for a change.  :)
• I will get a port installed in my chest for the chemo.  A kid at our church, Jon, has been going through chemo and has a port.  We'll get to be twins!  It's also pretty cool having a hole sticking out of your chest.  I'm sure I can gross a few people out with that, which should be pretty funny.
• Recovery time.  I've been working while on chemo, and while I can handle things physically and mentally, it's still a bit wearying to do both.  It will be nice to shut off work for a bit and focus on recovery.  Not to mention the nurse told me to stock up on books, movies, and video games since I won't be able to be too active during the first few weeks of recovery.  

Chemo Brain

So I think I've found my first chemo-related symptom, Chemo Brain!  Over the past couple of weeks, I found myself struggling over finding the right word, and it's been a little frustrating.  It hasn't been anything major though; I'll just be having a conversation and there's a word I'm trying to come up with (not a big or complicated one), but I won't be able to come up with it and will just get stuck there.  Apparently it's a pretty common side effect of chemo.  It sounds like it goes away over time, which is good.

I have an initial consultation with the Stanford Bone Marrow Transplant team tomorrow.  We'll see what I find out!

Thanks for your continued prayers and encouragement.  :)

-b

We Can't All Be The Hero

The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter's hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do. 

-Jeremiah 18:3-4

I had the pleasure of meeting with our church's newest associate pastor for coffee.  (Funny enough, I've actually known him since 2006, so I've probably known him the longest of anyone at our church.)

He's been great at checking in on how Jenn and I are doing with my cancer diagnosis.  We had a very encouraging conversation.  In particular, one thing he said was extremely thought-provoking.  To paraphrase, he said something along the lines of:

"You know, everyone likes to think of themselves as main characters of the Bible.  We picture ourselves like Job when trials our way.  We picture ourselves as David or Abraham or Paul.  What if that's now the role God is having us play?  What if we're meant to play one of Job's children that were killed when the house collapsed when the great winds came?  Maybe we're the parents or siblings of Israelites that were killed fighting the Philistines.  We can't all be heroes."

It's very tempting to think God's sovereign plan revolves and hinges on us.  I mean, to be fair, each of us are are part of God's glorious plan to seek and save sinners and to bring glory to Himself.  There are probably a near infinite number of possibilities that God could have ordained and orchestrated the past, present, and future events of this world.  I mean, think about it.  God could have had each of us born on the other side of the world, or a thousand years ago, or not at all.  He could have made you a different sex or born to different parents.  Yet, in His omniscience and sovereignty, He decided that the plans He laid out were perfect and would bring Him the most glory.  That God would include us in this divine story is awe-inspiring and humbling.

Yet, not all of us (or even many of us) will play roles like the heroes of our faith played throughout Scripture.  We may not experience supernatural deliverance from trials like Daniel in the lion's den.  We may not get to communicate directly with God like Moses did on Sinai.  Some of us may play the still very important roles of living a faithful, mundane life here in Silicon Valley.  For others of us, God would have us be examples of unwavering faith in the midst of great persecution and loss.

For me, at least at this point in time, all I know is that God has me in the role of young adult with a currently incurable cancer.  While I pray for healing - either through medical advancements or through supernatural means - I am fully aware (and accepting of the fact) that God may not heal me.  And that's okay; God, in His wisdom, has planned this out for me.

It would be easy for people in my situation (and even more in situations that are far more difficult) to question how this is fair.  I'm reminded, however, of Paul's words in Romans 9:20-21.

"But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use?"

God is the sovereign, all-wise potter; we are but the clay.  As the potter, He gets to decide the purpose for each lump of clay.  We might be tempted to doubt the goodness of the potter when bad things come our way.  However, the potter isn't just a potter; He's our loving, heavenly Father.  Even more than our earthly parents, God knows what's good for us and delights in giving them to us.  It's because of this that we can have the confidence that "God works all things for our good, to them that love God, to them that are called according to His purposes" (Romans 8:28).

Is it a struggle to believe that God is working things for good in the midst of this cancer?  Sometimes.  I know though that I am but a man with finite knowledge.  It may sometimes be hard to see how God is working things for good in the midst of cancer, but I know that God is doing far more than I can see or recognize.  I just merely have to cling to what I know - that God is good and that God loves me.

Steady On

I just got back from an appointment with my oncologist.  He said that basically things are going as well as we could have possibly hoped for.  Praise God!  He also said that I'm the only one of his myeloma patients that isn't experiencing side effects from treatment.  Wow, praise God again.  My cancer number is down to a .6, but he said that we should start seeing a plateau and the numbers won't drop as quickly.  We can continue to pray that the number goes down to zero though!

I was saddened to read of another myeloma patient that recently passed away.  He blogged regularly, and it was helpful for me to know of some of the day-to-day struggles that might come with the disease.  In each of his posts, he expressed hope (and even confidence) that he would beat cancer.  I'm not sure this was empty bravado or what, but even up until his last post he was stating he would beat cancer.

I know many cancer patients have the same mindset.  Don't get me wrong; I do think there's benefit from positive thinking (I've even ready some scientific studies which showed optimistic people had better outcomes than those who were always down.)  But ultimately, it's a little sad that we human beings cling so tightly to this sense of control.  We want to be in complete control over every aspect of our lives.  It's this desire for control that causes some to think they can beat cancer by sheer force of will.  More than anything though, I think this just shows how rebellious man tries to run from a loving, sovereign God.

Accepting my cancer diagnosis became easier when I was able to accept that I cannot control everything.  This cancer - and how it responds to the chemo - is largely outside my control.  Some may say that since things are beyond our control, all life's events depend on chance or fate.  I choose to believe in an all-powerful God orchestrating all things for good, and I will continue to pray that God would remove the cancer entirely.  Even if I am not ultimately healed of this disease, I have peace knowing that God is omnipotent, God is in control, and God is good.

You can't manipulate God

Hello friends,

I'm still feeling pretty good!  I thought I was feeling queasy yesterday after taking all my pills, but it turns out I was just hungry.  :)

Over the past couple of weeks, I've had many people tell me that they pray for me regularly.  A couple of people have honestly told me they haven't been praying as frequently as they could be, and they've apologized for that.

While I appreciate the sentiment, it really got me thinking.  It's easy to get into the mindset that if I receive a right level of prayers I'll be healed.  Or, if I would only pray for the right things, I'll be healed.  It's subtle how that type of thinking seeps into our prayers, but when we think that way, our prayers become more like a magical spell.  With the right combination of words, maybe we can bend God's will.

We can't manipulate God.

I do believe that prayer is powerful and effective.  I do believe that God answers prayers.  However, our God is omnipotent and sovereign.  He does whatever He pleases and has planned out all events from before time began.

Why do we pray then if God will ultimately do whatever He wills?  I don't profess to fully understand, but I recognize a few things.  First off, God commands us to pray.  1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 tells us to pray without ceasing.  Philippians 4:16-18 tells us to make our petitions to God.  In Luke 18, Jesus told parables so that people would learn to always pray and not give up.

Secondly, we're told that prayers are effective.  James 6:16 says that the prayers of a righteous man are powerful and effective.  Jesus says that God listens to godly men (John 9:31).

Finally, we're told to pray according to God's will.  1 John 5:14 says that we can have confidence that God will answer us if we pray according to God's will.  Jesus Himself submitted himself to the Father's will when praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, asking for the cup to pass from Him.  "Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done," He prayed.

In some mysterious way that I don't understand, God uses our prayers to accomplish His will.  One of the amazing things about prayer that I've seen first hand is that through prayer, God molds and conforms our desire and will to His.

So friends, thanks for your ongoing prayers.  I believe God is using them in a powerful way.  Nonetheless, don't feel bad if you're not praying as often as you would like.  God wants us to be faithful in prayer, yes; but we also need to guard against somehow thinking that sheer numbers of prayers or the right combination of words will somehow force God to offer healing.

I'm still alive! :)

Hi everyone, I know it's been a long time since I've posted.  I know people that I don't get to talk to on a regular basis worry when there are gaps in my posting.  Sorry if you've been concerned; I'm actually doing really well.  This will be a bit of a miscellaneous, stream-of-consciousness type of update:

• Praise God, my protein electrophoresis test is showing that the paraprotein levels are coming down.  I started out at 2.2 g/dl at my diagnosis, and my latest test showed a level of 1.03 g/dl.  "Full remission" is if I get to 0, but I'm already showing at least a partial response to this intial treatment.  The doctor says that we're still planning for 6-8 months total of this initial treatment, so I still have 4-6 months to go.
• Every time I come in, the nurses always seem surprised that I still feel pretty normal.  They seem shocked that I'm still at work.  One of them even said, "We call you superstar because your labs are always so good!"
  
  I guess it's a huge blessing that I haven't felt many side-effects from the chemo.  To date, the only noticeable things are that my taste buds seem affected (sweet things don't taste as sweet) and I have trouble sleeping Friday nights (after I take the chemo drugs and some steroids).  It's sobering to be reminded that things will probably be noticeable at some point.  For now though, I'm learning to be grateful for my good health and for each new day of being alive.
• This morning while in the infusion center waiting for my shot, I started wondering how the other chemo patients viewed me.  Most of the patients in the infusion center are getting intensive IV chemo (which takes several hours and is more taxing on the body).  Most of them are older as well, and you can tell that they often aren't feeling well.
  
  Do these people view me with jealousy, wishing that they didn't experience any side effects from the treatment?  Do they look on me with pity for being young, knowing that they too probably started out similarly?  One thing I do know is that they're definitely empathetic.  I never would have been able to empathize with cancer patients prior to my diagnosis, but now that I have cancer myself, I can relate to other patients on a whole new level.
• Tom Brokaw was on Dateline (you can watch the episode online here) talking about his battle with Multiple Myeloma.  I found it fascinating, but I'm sure my loved ones found it at least a little bit troubling hearing how challenging it's been for him.  There were several things about the episode that I found interesting:
• Tom Brokaw had no warning before his doctors told him the diagnosis.  They kind of sprung it on him.  I am so grateful that I had several tests that caused me to start to suspect I had cancer before I got the confirming diagnosis.  I don't know how I would have handled that bomb dropped on me out of the blue from a doctor.
• Brokaw did not want to tell people about his diagnosis.  I don't really understand that.  If anything, I struggle with not being able to wear a badge telling everyone I have cancer.  I don't want people to be surprised when I'm out for doctor's appointments or when I get sick because of my weakened immune system.  More than that, however, the prayers and encouragement from my friends and family have been invaluable to me.  To each his own though, I suppose.
• Brokaw lost two inches due to myeloma.  NOOOOOOOO!  :'(
• He kept stating that in spite of his diagnosis, he lived a lucky life (also part the title of his book that he was promoting).  I truly believe he feels that way.  However, I keep asking myself how he would respond if he got diagnosed at my age, before he was able to lead a distinguished and fulfilling career, before he was able to have the children and grandchildren that joined with him during his battle with cancer.
  
  The temptation is always there for me to look at someone like Tom Brokaw (or even more poignantly, people without cancer that have lived full and happy lives) and feel gypped.  However, every time I'm tempted to think that way, I also realize that there are so many others struggling with so much.  For as sappy and as trite as it sounds, God has unique, individual plans for each of us.
  
  I can relate to Tom Brokaw saying he's led a lucky life.  There's an important nuance that differentiates us though.  I don't believe luck has anything to do with my state in life.  I have lived a blessed life because God has given me more than I deserve.  My sin made me an enemy of God's, and no amount of my own good works could change that.  Through faith in Christ's death, burial, and resurrection, I am imparted Christ's righteousness and I can be at peace with God.  The fact that I can spend eternity with God instead of suffering eternal punishment is all the proof that I need that I am blessed no matter what other circumstances I may be in.
• The Dateline special made me grateful for living in the Bay Area with access to doctors and specialists.  Tom Brokaw spends a lot of his time in rural Montana, and he had to travel hours to visit doctors.  I realized that countless others are in the same situation.  For me, I drive twenty minutes for my blood draws and shots.  I can go to Stanford to see myeloma specialists.  What a blessing.
• Tom Brokaw mentioned that his cancer has been incredibly burdensome on his family.  I know firsthand that it's been hard for my family to come to terms with my diagnosis, and I can only imagine that it will only get harder.  Still, he mentioned that this has brought them closer together, and I'm seeing that too.  I never had any doubt how much my family (and friends!) loved and cared for me, but it's still great getting those constant reminders.
• The special also showed KathyGiusti, founder of the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation.  It's pretty crazy that she herself got cancer at a young age and seems to be possibly cured (she received a stem cell transplant from her twin sister).  How providential that God would give her a twin that would be healthy, and how great it is that she had a medical background (and her twin had a legal background) so they had the expertise to start a research foundation.  The MMRF is doing some really great work in finding a cure for myeloma, and I thank God for them and pray that He blesses their efforts.
• My nurse today said, "No would who looks at you would know you have cancer!"  She meant that as a good thing, but something about that felt odd.  It feels surreal having regular conversations with people who don't know about my condition.  Do I bring it up when they ask what I've been up to or what I have planned for the summer?  Do I tell them when they ask why I have to leave work early Fridays when I go to the infusion center to get a shot?  It's all really weird.
• I'm realizing that people also don't know how to ask me how I'm doing (and I can't blame them!)  Some people say that we don't have to talk about my condition when we get together because I must be sick of talking about it.  (For the record, I don't mind talking about it; I know that people genuinely care and want to know how I'm doing, and that's reason enough to talk about it.)  Others tell me that I'm totally going to beat cancer because of how healthy I appear.  Others will ask the same things and make the same small talk each week.  (Again, I still appreciate it because I know they care.)  The challenge in that case is - I could appear fine for a long time, but it doesn't change the fact that cancer is now a part of my life.  The doctors really don't know how my Myeloma will progress in me, so part of me feels bad that these people will probably always be asking the same things over and over.  As long as they don't get tired of it though, I won't either.
• I spent this past weekend in Denver, getting to spend time with my buddy and his wife.  Sure, we made a lot of morbid jokes about cancer (but when you have cancer, you might as well laugh about it).  Aside from that though, those were probably the days I thought about my condition the least.  (We walked over 20 miles that weekend, some of it in heavy rain and even some snow).  I thank God for a bit of normalcy (and thanks to Shab and Kyle for the hospitality and for keeping me entertained).

Ok, hopefully that tides people over for a while.  :)  Thanks for your continued prayers and encouragement.  If there's ever another extended hiatus in my posting, you're more than welcomed to reach out to me via phone/email, or we can grab food or coffee if you're near me.  I'm more than happy to share what's going on; I just feel that if I posted daily, my posts would all start sounding the same.  ("I'm still feeling pretty healthy, but it's still hard mentally knowing that I have an incurable cancer ... etc.")

-b