Around the Next Corner

As Dad, Mum and I sat at the oncologist appointment
last Thursday,
and after we got off the phone with Lenny
immediately following said meeting,
it was quite apparent to each of us
what Dad's next step should be.

It was a 'no-brainer' as they say.

Going into the appointment,
had you asked,
I would have said
there is virtually no chance that dad
will go the chemo route.
No way.
That had all but been decided, I think.

But our prayer was,
give us Your Wisdom, God.
Not man's wisdom.
Or our wisdom.
But Yours, God.
So it's not surprising to us at all,
that as we sat there,
we each had a strong sense of Peace
and a strong sense of
'this just makes sense to at least try the chemo.'
We were unified.

100% direct answers to our prayers.
And so many of yours.

SO,
the decision has been made to do
a combination of both chemotherapy
and healthy food intake,
with the oncologist driving that bus.
I think for some,
chemo and the natural way are mutually exclusive.
Must be one or the other.

We're choosing, however,
to do a both/and
as opposed to an
either/or.

We feel peace about this decision.
Supernatural Peace.

Dad and Mum met with their naturopath doctor
this morning,
and he was gracious and kind,
and is willing
to work alongside Dad and his oncologist,
as he moves forward with chemo.

The beautiful thing is,
Dad can stop chemo at any point.
If the side effects are terrible.
Done.
If the three-month tests show no change in the cancer,
then we re-evaluate.
But for now,
Dad's 'around the next corner' 
is going to involve a chemotherapy cocktail.
Two types of chemo plus a huge dose of Vitamin B.
All sent into his system at one time,
and then one of them sent home to 'sip' on
for another 46 hours.

Dad went from being a non-drinker to a mixed drinker.
Just like that!

Seems to me like if we add
'cocktail' to the chemo description
it might seem a wee little bit fancier.
Or happier.
Or, well, something?

Dad's never been a drinker.
As in,
I don't think he's ever had one drink,
not even as a teenager.
Maybe a communion wine from time-to-time across the decades,
but we all know that stuff doesn't pass as wine.
It's deplorable.

So chemo cocktail it is!
With a cherry on top.

I digress.
Anyway.

This Friday (Jan 27),
 Dad has a gene test to make sure he is not 1 in a 1000 that
can't take this chemo cocktail.

If that goes well,
the port goes into Dad's chest on February 6th.
Hopefully, within days after that,
the chemo will begin.
That's something you could pray about if you're the praying sort;
that the chemo would start within days, not weeks.

Dad actually has been feeling quite a bit better
the last several days.
Getting protein back in him has helped.
He's stronger.
Has more stamina.
I think just the weight lifted of meeting with the
doctor and knowing more about the cancer monster
we're dealing with has helped.
Having a plan helps.
But most of all,
I think God's at work.
Not think.
I know.
With confidence.

Often over the last six weeks,
Mum and I have said to each other,
"Does he even have cancer?
I mean, he's looking so good,
and feeling decent.
Not one stitch of pain.
If you didn't know he had it,
I'd say the stranger on the street
would have NO idea he's at Stage IV."
So, who knows.
Maybe the cancer is already gone?
People around the globe have been praying for a miracle.

Dad's already said that
if the tests show no cancer in three months,
he doesn't care if the chemo doctor gets the credit,
he knows that it will have been God that has taken away the cancer.

We cling to the hope of a miracle,
but the reality is, we have a personal God
who will give Dad (and us) the strength to face the days ahead,
if a miracle
is not what happens.

Either way,
all Dad really wants is for God to get the glory in this.
Period.

He wants to finish well.
I can't even tell you how many times I've heard him say this
over the past couple of months.

He wants each of us to get to know God better through this.

And if one - even one - person came to know
Jesus as their personal Saviour,
then I think Dad would say,
"I'd gladly go through it again."
And he'd mean it.
So our next corner is prepping for chemo.
And our next, next corner is the chemo itself.

And in the meantime,
our present-day path is
 to include God on this journey.
Every little bit of it.

This much I know.
God's still good.
And always will be.

Comments

Praying for all of you....especially your Dad as you take this journey together. God is good all the time.
Oh Alysa I'm SO glad that it was a "no-brainer" and you had unity in it. That's one of many gifts God is going to give you in this hard journey.
Alysa said…
Thanks so much, Ann Marie!
Alysa said…
You're right, Rachel. That sure was a gift. The unity. I imagine that can rip families apart if there isn't unity. Love you! Wish you were sitting here, sipping tea, talking to me with your amazing British accent! Love you so.

Popular Posts