Harold responded
with a cautious agreement then followed with this question, “What should I say?
“Whatever you
are thinking or feeling,” I replied. “People just need to hear your voice.”
That discussion turned
into an informal interview.
Sharon: Harold, how are you feeling?
Harold: I feel great. I’m in a good place.
Sharon: What does that mean?
Harold: It means I really have faith that I’m going to be taken care of.
Sharon: What does that faith do for you?
Harold: I don’t worry all the time. Recently I realized I can go most of a day without remembering I have cancer. I take my pills at the appointed times and forget about the rest.
Sharon: You feel that good?
Harold: I really do.
Harold: I feel great. I’m in a good place.
Sharon: What does that mean?
Harold: It means I really have faith that I’m going to be taken care of.
Sharon: What does that faith do for you?
Harold: I don’t worry all the time. Recently I realized I can go most of a day without remembering I have cancer. I take my pills at the appointed times and forget about the rest.
Sharon: You feel that good?
Harold: I really do.
In the days since
that discussion I’ve realized we often “interview” those we care about. Our
questions are expressions of interest and concern. Sometimes it is hard to
start those conversations for fear of offending or causing more pain. In our
experience that doesn’t happen. We welcome your questions as well as your love
and prayers.
And then there
are doctors.
They jump right
to the point. Today was Harold’s first office visit since starting chemotherapy.
His doctor hit him with a barrage of questions designed to determine his tolerance
for the chemo pills and to look for signs his condition was getting worse. After answering “no” to all of the questions, Harold
humbly said, “I’m sorry Doctor. I’m really trying to find some pain, but I
don’t have any.” There was a pause, and then they both burst out laughing.
Harold went on
to explain that he had gotten up early to go on a two mile run then had spent
the rest of the morning doing carpentry work. “It’s that Jones factor,” his doctor
exclaimed. I really wish I could bottle it. It’s working better than the
immunotherapy did.”
And today’s lab
results indicated that something really is working. Harold’s tumor markers that
spiked so dramatically at diagnosis, then came down during immunotherapy only
to start back up again, have now dropped into the normal range. The ups and
downs of our eight month cancer battle have taught us to be cautious with good news;
but any way you look at it, today's lab results are encouraging.
“So Harold, how
are you feeling?”
This is Harold
writing:
I really do feel
great. There are moments that remind me
that I have had brain surgery but not very many.
I would like to thank my Father in Heaven for his tender mercy that is shown to all who come unto him. Sharon has been such a support and loving companion. She has written most of the blog and her spirit of optimism and talent of expression comes though with great clarity. My family has been extraordinarily loving and have given of their time and talents and service to me, both when I have asked for their help and when I have not.
I would like to thank my Father in Heaven for his tender mercy that is shown to all who come unto him. Sharon has been such a support and loving companion. She has written most of the blog and her spirit of optimism and talent of expression comes though with great clarity. My family has been extraordinarily loving and have given of their time and talents and service to me, both when I have asked for their help and when I have not.
I am thankful for all the friends and
associates that have given a kind word, a thoughtful card, a prayer where I
merit mention in their petitions to the Almighty along with their own
challenges. I thank all who have taken
an interest in my welfare and that of my family. May you all be blessed and may we all be granted peace this
Thanksgiving season as we recognize the blessings we’ve already received.
