Physically. What a ride! Last week things looked good. This week the numbers were bad. My doctor is "concerned" but not "panicked" (his words). The shot/pill combination I'm using is not the optimum he would like to use because it takes a while to get the newest meds. He proceeded with an older combination because he had it on hand. The newer meds are on the way. I am to use the older meds until they arrive. Estimated time of arrival is mid-January. I go to KU Med Center this coming Thursday(12/27). I will update after that visit which is primarily about a bone marrow transplant but could also influence what meds I use. When the doctor first walked in the examining room he asked somewhat facetiously "Why aren't you sick?!?" He went through his routine questions to see if I have any symptoms of the disease. None. He went through his routine questions to see if I have any side effects from meds. None. I feel pretty normal. Long days do drain me so I have cut out evening musical rehearsals. I barely made it through the Winter Concert last Monday. I was literally weak in the knees as I was directing the last song "Silent Night". Otherwise I can put in a normal day. One good note, at the request of my lovely wife Velda, my meds have been adjusted to be more proactive about my anemia. Now, hopefully, I will not have to have an occasional blood transfusion when my tank (a.k.a. red blood cells) gets too low.
Spiritually. It is hard to maintain our theme of rejoicing in our trials and glorying in this sickness. There are two reasons for this. First, this is not a natural reaction but correct for followers of Jesus. Second, because I don't feel sick, my sickness is not at the forefront of my thoughts. Because I can perform my normal duties each day, I get up and think about what I need to do for the day. The sickness is an afterthought. To correct this, I took Velda out for a date night after my appointment today and when we returned home I led our family in our theme song (Psalm 3:3-4). I have many friends who are keeping up with this episode in my life. Those of you who are followers of Jesus can help me. Instead of telling me that you have heard the unfortunate news, try saying that you have heard the great news of the opportunity that God is giving me. (Romans 5:3-5; 8:28, II Corinthians 12:7-11a, I Thessalonians 5:16-18, James 1:2-4) I also would like all of you to quit telling me that I can beat this. If that were true then when this is over I would proclaim to the world "Look what I've done". I have no plans of fighting this. I plan on putting myself in a position to allow God to do the fighting for me. When this is over, whether I live or die, I plan to say "Look what God has done!" If you don't start responding correctly I will correct you like a wrong note from a singer. Gently first but increasing in intensity if repeated. I look forward to further interaction with all of you.
Home on the Range: The official blog of the Creers in Salina, Kansas
Dear Eddie & Velda--I can relate to your story of Velda's importance in this whole journey. My mom had this same disease, and was treated at the Myeloma Institute for Research and Therapy, in Little Rock--considered the premier myeloma center in the world by some. During her long hospitalizations, my dad lived with her in the hospital, sleeping on a futon. His Alzheimer's caused him to wander, and get lost. At one point, the staff said he'd have to find someplace else to stay, because they couldn't be responsible for him. Mom told them, in no uncertain terms, "If he goes, I go!" They found a way to let him stay. The support of Velda is indispensable, and a true blessing, so you're BOTH in my prayers--and the kids, too!
ReplyDeleteBryan Thompson