Ah, ah, ah, ah, Stayin’ Alive

I am dying.

Let’s just sit on that statement for a bit, shall we?

It’s much easier to type than say out loud, I’ll give you that.

We all are, right?  It’s just a wee bit more obvious for some.  There is an aggressive cancer that is threatening my life, and if gone unstopped, will continue to do so.  That sounds severe - I'm not near my death bed.   We are still praying for that miracle through the intercession of Father Antonio Margil, but because we never know our future or when God plans to call us home, we plan for both a miracle and my death.   We are thankful to have the expert doctor in the field, and a wonderful team of doctors at MD Anderson who are helping us not just with chemo, but nutrition, massage, pain management, and other things. 

We will go through a few rounds of chemo and then have a scan.  We need your prayers for the efficacy of the chemo now, so the scan will show improvement, and, if so, they will continue with this method.  The next chemo is scheduled for February 6, and will continue every other Monday.

A month ago we knew my health was bad, and are thankful we received the care we needed.  My recovery has been slow, but we are reaching a point where it’s easier to hope for a pretty good quality of life.  The first round of chemo started off with me pretty anxious.  That day, it ended with me grateful and excited.  As much as I hate the drugs, they weren’t as bad as I thought they were going to be.  I read the sheet with all the possible side effects and couldn’t help but be concerned.

As I received the 5-FU, the 46 hour drug, I spent a lot of time sleeping (still recovering from surgery as well, plus the pain medicine still had drowsiness as a side effect).  I also was reminded of a side effect that is easily forgotten.  Chemo haze, fog, cloud, you name it.  It’s a world where everything makes sense to you, of course. It is not until you come out of it, you realize that it’s different from normal, but it felt completely so at the time.  It’s hard to explain.  It’s the best to "walk out of it" - like a walking outside today.  It is a gorgeous day in Houston.

I’ve had some pretty bad days since then - partly due to figuring out what foods I can eat through trial and error.  Wrong food = 24 hours of regretting it.  For the vast majority of the time, however, I have been on the up-and-up.  Walking around the house a little better, not always relying on the walker for short trips to the kitchen, and I was able to make it to Mass this Sunday!  It’s been so great to feel better, eat better, move better.  I am thankful.

I want to go back to this death thing for a quick minute, ok?  When you are in my state, you have to start having some of the hard conversations with your spouse, you fear the worst, you hope for the best, and everything in between.  You start to hope for eternal life, and you recognize the amazing gifts on this earth surrounding you.  You have an opportunity to plan some details, talk to other friends who have lost their spouses. I will add that one of my very specific prayer requests is to be protected from unnecessary anxiety and fear, and I have been.  That being said, emotions are naturally all over the place.  You hug your kids a little closer, smell their hair, recognize their gifts, and still yell at the oldest for making obnoxious sounds and the third child for messing with his little brother.  You make plans for the future, but still wonder what the future means.

I love and remember what life was like before, but obviously can’t go back to that, and I’m still far from death.  It’s it’s own little world.  I call it the space between (Everyone in my generation start singing a song just now?).  

As I write this, there’s a young lady who is in hospice preparing for her death.  Come to find out that around the time I was typing this, she passed (please pray for the repose of her soul).  She was 21 years old, had an atypical acute brain aneurysm, and collapsed. She had a critical surgery, and things looked optimistic.  She was communicating yes and no with her fingers, she could have breathed on her own at that point, but they kept her intubated for other reasons.  Things went down hill after that, up hill again, and up and down a few more times.  Right before things turned for the worse, doctors were optimistic and were even going to remove her ventilator.  What a roller coaster of emotions for her family.  After talking with the doctors, learning everything they needed to know, and to others who had undergone a similar experience of loss, her parents made the heartbreaking decision to remove her from life support.  She was under hospice care for two days before she passed.  A close friend of hers shared with me that her immediate family sat around her yesterday.  Her two sisters sang “Lord I need You” to her, and when she opened her eyes, her Mother would whisper sweet words of encouragement telling her to go and be with Jesus.  As they were praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, she passed.  

How do we prepare for death?  This dear young woman had less time than me, but more than plenty.  Her family said they experienced small miracles with every good turn that she took.  I hope it helped them prepare for it and give them all closure.  We all know death can come suddenly, or achingly slow, but, as it turns out, we can’t avoid it.  I can’t offer advice, but some things come to mind.  Any Catholic will tell you the best way to attain a life of holiness is to frequent the Sacraments when you can.  

The other two things are:

1. Love well and,

2. Trust in the Mercy of God

It is so simple, my friends.  Why do we complicate things?  Also, I love that Catholics have a patron saint for everything, even a happy death.  It’s St. Joseph and there is a Novena available to him for such a prayer request.

I will end with these two thoughts.  We will have either an unexpected or anticipated death.  God knows which and that’s enough.  What matters is not hoping for a time to prepare for death, though it does have its perks, what matters is how we live now, today.  Love well, my friends.

Lily and I have been passing her prayer bear back and forth as we pray for each other.  

Sometimes she let's me have it at night.  Here's her sweet bear and Father Antionio's relic.  

Finalamente, some of you have asked about the kids what they know.  They do not know everything (in what world is that a good idea?).  They know just enough to know that Mommy is sick and we need to pray for her recovery.  We have a dear friend who is a child-life specialist who is walking with us on this journey.  I am so grateful that in your prayers for me, you also remember our children.