David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. This very day I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds and the wild animals, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.”
1 Samuel 17:45-47 NIV
Everything I’m about to write is from a place of shock and anger, much like how David felt when he heard Goliath trash-talking God and His people. David called Goliath a disgrace. And instead of fearing a nearly 10-foot-tall grizzlyman, I can see David spittin’ on the ground and twisting up his lip in one nasty snarl, saying, “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (verse 26).
I feel that same way, David, but the Goliath that’s trash-talking God now is cancer and I’m ready to throw stones.
The day before Mother’s Day, I was supposed to take my mom to our favorite mother-daughter restaurant to enjoy a good cup of coffee and French desserts together. But we took her to the ER instead, and Goliath reared his ugly head.
Backtrack: My mom had surgery in November to remove a tumor on her thymus glad (the thymus gland is in the chest, between the lungs and behind the breastbone/sternum. It’s just in front of and above the heart). The doctors were confident they removed everything. Since then, she was getting stronger every day and started resuming her normal activities (aside from the fact that she needs to use oxygen until her diaphragm adjusted; details are in my last blog.)
But two weeks ago, she started feeling intense soreness in her chest, shoulders and arms. Her family doctor suggested it might be a virus, so she received some medicine that helped the pain subside for a time. She also had some CT scans but it would be a few days before we’d hear the official results from her oncologist.
Even so, she was able to see the scans and notes in advance via her hospital app, and found some things that didn’t look right. Maybe it was just me, but I think we were all just trying to ignore the elephant in the room until we heard from the professionals.
So on we went. Aside from the soreness, Mom was doing really well. So well that, the evening before she went to the ER, we celebrated Mother’s Day a bit early and went out for some Mexican food.
When I woke up the next morning and started getting ready for our Mother’s Day brunch, I found Mom in so much pain, she couldn’t move without crying out. The pain was worse than her surgical recovery in November, and she couldn’t move her arms even an inch without crying, so we rushed her to the ER. This was when a doctor finally looked at the CT scans and told us what was going on.
A tumor had resurfaced. Perhaps the same one from before, as it’s in the same location, but this time it had deteriorated and fractured the top of her sternum bone (the Manubrium). Looking at the picture here, you’ll see that the Manubrium connects to her collarbones and shoulders/arms, which undoubtedly caused all her soreness from the last few weeks. (Looking back on it, Mom said she heard cracking sounds in her chest but didn’t think much of it until now.)
And we also learned that there were more spots in each lung. The strangest part is that none of these things appeared in her scans even two months ago, and her blood tests didn’t show a thing!
The shock is unreal. Unreal.
And so my mom spent the next five days in the hospital while the nurses found ways to lessen her pain. She also took biopsies to properly understand everything. On Wednesday night, her oncologist came to see her with the results:
An advanced, aggressive cancer had deteriorated the Manubrium from the inside, and had spread to her lungs. “Surgery is not an option,” he told her, “and neither is chemotherapy.”
Nobody wants to hear this about a loved one. No matter the “size of your faith,” this sucks.
But God is not done yet.
He has made a lighthouse of Hope for us. There is a specific kind of immunotherapy that’s effective on this type of cancer, and in fact, it has saved my cousin’s life. Yes, our Hope is in the Lord, and as we pray for miracles and healing, we also pray for practical solutions that God has blessed mankind with through medical technology.
So: Next steps. That’s the million dollar question now.
Here’s the thing. My mom’s biopsies were sent to Washington for extensive testing before figuring out a game plan. The testing is called Next Gen Sequencing (NGS), which is a new kind of DNA testing that has revolutionized genome research (genome being the entire genetic makeup of a human being). Essentially, with NGS, “an entire human genome can be sequenced within a single day” to provide a cancer treatment plan unique to the individual based on their DNA.
Sounds awesome. Everybody with cancer needs this kind of awesome, which is why they discharged my Mom from the hospital with incredibly intense painkillers and told us to wait for 3 weeks until her oncologist would tell her what to do next.
Yep, 3 weeks. That’s a lot of time for Goliath to trash-talk while we wait and pray. While Goliath says God did not do a miracle before, or that we did not have enough faith, or that the doctors messed up, or that our only hope is in the outcome, I stand with a stone in a sling and spit on the ground. I snarl up my lip and say, “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?”
Our hope–my mom’s hope–is not found in the outcome of all this. It’s found in God, our ever-present help, our friend, and our champion who goes before us with a sling and a stone.
As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet him. Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell facedown on the ground.
1 Samuel 17:48-49 NIV
Signed,
Allison the Adventurer
Help us out by donating here
Medical bills are not cheap in the US, and insurance has been fighting with us since this all started a year ago. We could also use some help with meals. Our church has set up a MealTrain profile to make it easier for us to receive help. The website is great because you can:
- Sign up to deliver a meal or get a deliveryman to deliver the meal, whatever floats your boat
- Donate financially to help us cover Mom’s medical bills (all proceeds will go directly to medical bills)
- Donate Doordash or Restaurant gift cards
We are deeply moved by the generosity of those around us. This is a reflection of God’s character and shines on us with warmth while we fight cancer, Round 2. Thank you for helping my family, from the bottom of my heart!
Allison
