Big Day at Hopkins

So this afternoon we had our appointment with Dr. Donehower at Hopkins. He was fantastic! We loved his attitude, his manner, everything. He was on time for our appointment, and spent over an hour with us. He basically told us the same kind of information about the disease and the treatment that Dr. Ahlgren at GWU told us. Since the cancer has metastasized, it's not operable at this point. The game plan is to go through a chemo regimen, 2 to 3 months of outpatient treatment, and go through another CAT scan to see how much the tumors have shrunk.

Dr. Donehower had several good things to say about this fight. First off, it's a marathon, not a sprint. There are going to be good days and bad days, good scans and bad scans. We talked a little about the mortality curve (he told us not to look at it ourselves) and about the fact that there are always survivors out at the right-hand side of the curve who defy statistics and live a full life. We asked him what kinds of things make patients outliers and he reaffirmed a lot of what we're doing already, which was great to hear! He said that exercise, good diet, and a good spiritual life were all things that help make permanent survivors.

The only flip side to Dr. Donehower was that the chemo regimen he proposed isn't as effective as the one Dr. Ahlgren at GWU has developed. We told Dr. D. that we wanted to work with Dr. Ahlgren's protocol, but to have the treatments at Hopkins. He agreed to talk further with Dr. Ahlgren and collaborate with him on it.

Dr. D. also told us that the chemo and anti-nausea drugs available today don't have nearly the same impact as what I'm used to seeing. I had a good friend in college who was struck down by a rare type of cancer. I watched him go through rough rough chemo, and that's the impression I have of this treatment. Dr. D. assured me that this treatment shouldn't impact me nearly this badly.

This disease for me right now is so strange. I feel fantastic! I have a little stitch in my side when I take a deep breath (or sob uncontrollably...) and that's basically the only reminder that I'm not well. It's so weird for me to think that there's this growth inside of me that ... well you know. I took another 40 minute bike ride tonight, and I can feel myself getting back into shape.

There've been a few times this past week when the full reality has caught up with me. We were coming back from church Sunday, and a song by MercyMe called I Can Only Imagine played on the radio. For those of you who don't know it, it's a song about meeting Jesus on the other side. The first few times I heard that song on the radio after I was diagnosed, I couldn't listen to it - couldn't accept the full gravity of this battle. For some reason on Sunday, God told me I was ready, and we parked the car on a side street on the Hill and listened to the whole song. The feeling of peace and release for me was overwhelming. At that moment, I could feel God's arms around me holding me tight. Earlier in the day, during communion, I had prayed that the Body and Blood of Christ heal me as I accepted my salvation through His death. That same sense of peace was overwhelming.

I believe now more than ever that God is with me, watching over me, and that he will heal me! I can't thank you prayer warriors out there enough for helping the Lord work in my life! This gift of healing and Salvation is truly awesome, and I feel it today like I never have before. God will see all of us through this, and He will heal this disease in me.

Thank you all for your support through this. Your emails and notes mean more to Jen and I than you can imagine. I know that you all want to do something to help, and I'm sure that a time will come when we ask you for help through this. For right now, your encouraging words and stories of success mean the world to all of us.

God Bless, and good night!