In looking over the responses to last night's blog (The October Surprise) we are humbled and deeply grateful. Thank you for caring and praying. At the same time, I sense there are some things I probably should have made clearer than they were:
1. I am super sensitive about not sending unwanted email. We recognize that you may choose to stay in touch in other ways, and your comment that you are praying will not automatically add you to the email list.
2. Relying on Facebook for updates will not be effective. In an effort to manage communication as simply and securely as possible, we don't plan to post regular updates on Facebook. Those will come through the email list I mentioned. If you want to receive those, please ask.
3. Commenting directly on the blog rather than Facebook is good, but please identify who you are; otherwise we won't know.
Finally for those of you who half a lifetime ago (that's your life, not mine) were part of one of my writing or speech classes, let this post come as a gentle reminder of what I told you often, and what you have no doubt discovered to be true: The day will come when nobody cares what grade you got in my class, but they will always care how effectively you communicate!
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The October detour started with a full body itch and jaundice. Less than a month later, Valerie had a diagnosis of bile duct cancer. In between were more medical tests, appointments, and procedures than anyone should try cramming into a couple of weeks along with introductions to three new doctors, all of it happening at a mind-numbing pace. We find ourselves once again in the midst of a new unplanned and unexpected adventure, occasionally (and I suppose unnecessarily) wondering what the Lord who loves us has in mind.
Valerie, who has a lifetime of experience following the Lord into the unknown, has a deep peace and confidence that God knows what He is doing in these current circumstances; So do I, but of the two of us, I’m the one more likely to have questions for the Almighty. It’s not that I don’t know the right answers; I do, and I’ve shared them with many others. In the last few weeks multiple friends have started dealing with fresh cancer diagnoses. When it comes to things like cancer, I recognize the tension that can exist between what is known and what is sometimes felt, and that tension has had me thinking lately about the theme of this blog.
What does it mean to talk about discovering joy in the midst of a cancer diagnosis? In the wake of Joan’s diagnosis over twenty years ago, a basic biblical truth impressed me more clearly and deeply than it ever had before. I think it is one of the simplest and most important things I have ever learned. All God ever gives us is one day at a time, and every one of those days has been recorded by God before even the first one came to be. He is a present tense God, and each new day comes as a gift with an invitation to walk with Him through it.
I don’t know why the Lord surprises us with sudden detours, but asking why is almost always the wrong question. Advent will look a bit different this year, punctuated with fifteen radiation treatments and likely followed by oral chemotherapy. We are on a journey these days rich with opportunities to experience God more deeply and intimately than we otherwise would, and to do so one day at a time as long as He gives us days.
A P.S. for those who want to stay in touch: We’ll be sending occasional email prayer updates on how Valerie is doing. If you want to receive those, all we need is a current email address. The most efficient way to contact us is email or phone/text to either of us or commenting directly on the blog. My presence on Facebook is infrequent and irregular, and Valerie no longer uses that platform at all. 😀
The last twenty months have been an unexpectedly wonderful adventure as we have walked this interim journey with folks whom we have come to love. Some of the walk and the work has been hard; I guess that's normal. Ninety-six ferry rides later, (some of them were actually on time) that adventure came to a happy conclusion this last weekend as the church enthusiastically welcomed their new pastoral couple and allowed me the privilege of participating in his installation (which, by the way, is a terrible term; a pastor is neither a refrigerator nor software). 
When we boarded that 96th ferry on Monday morning, it was with great memories and deep joy. The memories are not focused on cancelled ferries or crowded freeways or the common occasional frustrations of ministry. They center on a bunch of new friends and on the incomparable privilege of witnessing the work of the Lord among them. I shudder at the thought of what I would have missed if I had simply said "No."
Ten months ago I posted a picture of me at the VMC ER waiting for a hospital room, a visit prompted by a GI bleed. This picture is after this week's repeat trans-jugular liver biopsy at UWMC. The intervening months have been a multifaceted adventure with multiple medical procedures and a second GI bleed hospitalization. Along the way I've been richly blessed by the prayers of faithful friends and family.
I've always believed that people who agree to pray also deserve to be kept up to date, and I have to confess that I have not done as well in that department as I'd like to. Valerie has done much better than I have in that regard, but with an ever-changing medical schedule and a continuing search for elusive answers, I've left some good friends praying in the dark. I'm hoping this post will provide enough background and current info to help correct that. If you want more (or less!) info, feel free to holler.
First, a bit of history: For a few years before the first bleed, I had been tracking a slowly sinking platelet count. For me that triggered memories of Joan's blood cancer adventures. Particularly in her last months, her lack of platelets was a major issue. Low platelets can be a production issue (bone marrow, as in Joan's case?), destruction issue (malfunctioning immune system?) or a storage issue (where are they hiding, and why?) An enlarged spleen pointed toward the storage answer.
The doctors then looked for a reason for the enlarged spleen. Assorted tests and the first bleed led to a tentative diagnosis of portal hypertension (increased blood pressure in the digestive system), a condition that does fit the enlarged spleen, low platelets, and GI bleeds, but is usually the result of alcoholism and liver damage. But my liver seemed to be functioning normally, and I don't even like the taste of alcohol, so the focus of the search shifted again to seek a reason for the portal hypertension, a question that has not yet been fully answered. My GI doctor had only seen one other case of non-cirrhotic portal hypertension, and that one was caused by a parasite (one more negative test for me!) Meanwhile he has referred me to a liver specialist at the University of Washington to help with the search for answers.
Three months ago I experienced a second bleed and hospitalization (along with an incidental positive covid test) and was blessed with four units of other people's blood. Since then the medical schedule has been much busier than I would like. Most recently that has included an endoscopy last week in which the doctor removed a benign duodenal polyp and banded five veins that may or may not have been the source of the bleeds, and this weeks repeat liver biopsy, this time at UW. On the schedule going forward are a zoom visit next week with the UW liver specialist and another liver MRI the following week at Valley Medical Center.
The good news is that for a guy whose calendar has been dominated by medical stuff, I feel pretty good in spite of energy returning more slowly than I would like in the wake of the last bleed. Usually I like to wait to pass along information until I have something definite to share, but the nature of this odyssey is such that I don't know when or if that time will come. Meanwhile, know that your prayers and concern are deeply valued. Once again a significant part of our joy comes from God's gift of praying people like you. Thank you!
