I feel like my new motto is, "Keep calm and carry on." That's really all we can do. The last five days have been crazy. Full of tension, tears, questions, and insecurity. But more importantly they have been filled with a lot of prayer because He is more powerful than it all.

On Monday, Pete called to ask if a copy of his CT scan report was available and it was. He headed down to pick it up. Upon arriving back home I immediately asked him what the report said. He threw the dreaded red folder down on the desk and through a quivering voice said, "Nothing good." My worst fears had been confirmed. The cancer grew, despite the chemo, despite the prayer, despite the hope, despite the dietary changes, despite the chemo, despite the chemo, despite the chemo! It's so hard to believe the chemo didn't work at all. In fact, it did the opposite, it allowed the cancer to grow. The new scan report showed evidence of growth in all of the tumors in the lungs as well as evidence of new tumors forming, and new metastases to the liver. The cancer is taking over his body.

The next couple of days were filled with angst. We began searching for the best possible non-conventional treatment option for Pete. Finally, we felt we had been led to one and decided it was the best route to pursue however, lag time between Dr communication and arrival of supplies has caused us to second guess our decision. I told Pete today that I feel like we aren't doing something right. I don't know what it is but I just feel off. Maybe it's lack of faith or maybe it's the fact that I can't see the future, but it's difficult not to feel like we're making the wrong choice. Especially when there's so much money on the line. Of course, no amount of money is worth my husband's bleak future in the event we chose to do nothing. All we can do is try because if we didn't, we could never live with ourselves.

In the midst of it all, we can still see God's hand working. He is faithful and if we didn't have His love and support we would be lost. He is the great physician so we will choose to believe he is going to work a miracle in Pete in some form or another.

This vacation to Kauai couldn't come at a better time and it's obvious God knew that all along.

Thank you Lord Jesus for your everlasting provisions. Thank you for walking beside us. And thank you to family and friends who have been His hands and feet during our time of struggle.

With Love,

The Little Things......

I think this picture speaks a thousand words.

When I posted this picture to Facebook my mom commented, "I believe the smile on Pete's face will work as well or better than the chemo." I think she's right!

Insufferable!

(Transcribed from Tuesday, June 15th journal entry... and again a week later after Google deleted the whole damn thing.) Alot has happened just since my last chemo round that inspired this post; CT scans, a change of heart as far as treatment options, but that'll all come in a later post soon, this is the background for it all so without further adieu...

We shouldn't be made to feel the worst anyone has ever felt in his or her life by the treatment that's supposed to make us better. I can't explain it absolutely to most people, unless they've been through it themselves and we can commiserate, which I've had the unfortunate pleasure of being able to do with a handful of people. More than I would like really, that means it's so devastatingly prevalent. In different circumstances, you would never read this post. I'm usually not so forthcoming with my feelings, being the introvert that I am. I would usually only go so far as to maybe write them in a journal, think about maybe posting them, but probably never doing so. This has been a great therapeutic outlet however; a chance to be brutally honest with myself, and with others. To share my deepest unreserved anguish, frustration, refocusing efforts, perspectives and yes, anger. That being said, today sucked.

Chemo round 7, number 4 on this regimen (FOLFOX). Each of these new rounds have hit me harder, sooner, with each progressing round. Same side effects, quicker onset. Today, getting ready to leave the infusion clinic and on my way out the door, I had to stop in the bathroom to throw up. Ironic since the first two hours of the infusion is a barrage of pre-meds, anti-nausea medication, a combo of 4 of them, supposed to last a few days. I felt sick before the chemo bag was even done dripping. I accepted it for what it was, knowing and anticipating that something would kick in sooner than last time. Time to power through. I ran a couple quick errands before going home, pressure breathing as I drove to abate my roiling stomach and to focus my resolve. I rested at home and found the ceaseless joy that comes from watching my children play and affirming my daughter's wild imagination by indulging requests (demands) for stories about pink fairies, dragons and even one about our dog Sassy and how she used to be able to fly as a puppy. "Sure honey. So there I was..." "No Daddy, you're not in this one!" "Oh, sorry..." So after getting Izzy to pause her movie about butterfly fairies in peril, we made a trip to Home Depot to replace our recently departed lawn mower, a task that should have taken 5 minutes; in-and-out, but got dragged out by giving into 25% off by signing up for their credit card. Sure, we come here enough, why not. Nausea mostly at bay but feeling just generally crappy, we waited and made it home in time for baths, and Dad running to the sink in the garage as to not throw up in front of the kids. Damn this! I'm sick of this! I hate it! I broke down. I'm not ashamed to say it, I cried, while dry heaving. Washing my face in the kitchen sink, Alysha came to check on me. I let go again and we just stood there as she held me. That's what I needed. Right then, in that moment, nothing else in the world mattered but the love, support and encouragement from my incredible wife, my best friend, my caregiver. "I hate this. I don't want this to be our life," I whispered through tears and sniffles. "It won't be," she replied softly and encouragingly.

What I was really thinking at that moment and wanted say, and knew absolutely that she herself was inferring in her simple reply was: there's a better way. We had been discussing it intensely over the previous week, heck, since my diagnosis 5 months ago! We've researched alternative and even complimentary (in conjunction with traditional medicine: burn it, poison it, cut it out) treatments. My case is peculiar in the fact that right now chemo is the only option the experts(?) can prescribe. But it's beginning to push me over the edge of principle logic. The bullshit flag is coming out, red caution lap to assess practicality of continuing...

We've been exposed to various cancer retreat programs, even a clinic in Mexico, outlawed in the U.S. because they're the only ones bold enough to state the fact the pharmaceutical companies and therefore the entire cancer industry (yes, it's an industry, just another business) doesn't want us to hear: 'Our treatment will cure cancer!' I've been reluctant to buy into any of the dozens of overwhelming methods that are claimed to work, but it's illogical against my campaign of logic to deny the truths that i'm bombarded with in Alysha's campaign to inform me and empower us to radically change our lives, our diet and our outlook in order to truly fight the cancer with an effective weapon, not to break down my body and my spirit rendering both incapable of fighting it the way they're intended to naturally. We've been doing alot by eating right, for the most part, but need to truly buckle down and follow a strict regimen that will eventually make a difference. Supplements and vitamins and green smoothies are now routine, but it's not enough. I had CT scans on Friday and results, good or bad, growth, shrinkage or stable, I need a change. Some people, especially the close family and friends that want to see me still be around in 5 years. They won't understand the choice of straying from the paradigm of conventional medicine, that taking a break to at least give something else a chance to see if it makes more of a difference and maybe indefinitely if future scans show improvement where so far, doing chemo has shown none. My most recent labs showed that the tumor blood markers measured the highest level yet! This measures proteins in the blood specific to different types of cancer and the activity in the body. Somethings not working like it should if they've continued to steadily rise. We decided that paying anywhere from $4-15k to go to a retreat where they prescribe their own method of natural healing is not the answer. We've learned all that we need to do. There are countless options, but we also need some professional help in finding the right combination for me. We can start our own treatment plan from home with a little help. Even thought the retreats offer more than just diet and supplement regimens, we can make the essential changes in our lifestyle to intentionally seek and make an absolute priority spiritual wholeness and strength, better routine exercise and time for personal reflection even if it means time away from the family to seek solitude and maybe even indulge in a climb when my body can match my strong drive and desire to attain the lofty heights that make my spirit whole. I can't do all of this in my current state since it all requires a sound mind, body and spirit. The toxins and poisons of chemo need to be cleansed from my system and given time to dissipate. It's time for another break, whether it's a temporary break to resume traditional treatment again later based on empirical results, or breaking the cycle, for good. I need to regain command and control of my life, though i'll never be the one in complete control; there is another One.

Thanks for listening, thanks for caring and showing your endless support, love and prayers to help us go on. It really is a boost to hear your replies when we need a kind word to brighten gloomy days like the ones we've struggled through recently. I love you all!

~Pete

Analogous environment

"I am an analog man, living in a digital world." I heard that line in a song on a classic rock channel the other day driving home from my in-laws house, albeit with my head halfway out the window and the radio blasting just to try to stay awake. I felt pretty in-tune with my environment at that moment, especially when I rode the rumble strip for a while... Most days though, i've been prone to dragging around in a haze, so tired most of the time that I barely have the energy to manage chasing the kids around and picking up the house. That's exhausting in its own right, just ask my amazing wife who's had to do that so much when I was working away overseas. I have all the respect in the world for you darling, for having to do that and staying sane, barely. It certainly takes its toll on me most days that the rest of the world just gets tuned out and muted from my focus. It's taken a conscience effort to "get outside [myself]" as someone suggested to me.

I'm a pretty resistant-to-change, old-fashioned, traditional guy and definitely relate to being an analog dude living in a digital world. I was always resistant and the last to give in when it came to new gadgets, even buying my first cell phone years and years ago, I resisted. Now I have a MacBook (which I despise), an iPad (which is useful so I tolerate and is an easy distraction to give to my daughter to watch 'My Little Pony' on. Ok, I sit and watch with her sometimes too, and after she gets bored and leaves,) but not much else. I keep it pretty simple. I don't Tweet and my Facebook goes ignored for weeks on end. And i'm sticking with that same philosophy now, but it does have a tendency to shut you off from the rest of the world. Hence the time gaps in writing on a blog even though I know there are caring people waiting to hear updates and to hear what i'm thinking and feeling. I like my little shell, closed off from the noise and chaos and hassle of the world. I like quiet and dark and calm. I treasure it and covet it when I don't get it. It's part of who I am but I can't be me all by myself, especially now. So it's an effort to take a deep breath, focus outside of what every ache and pain may mean, and spend some time and energy outward. It's easy with kids. I cherish spending so much time with my children and love role playing and rolling around on the floor and playing tag. Treasuring the few quiet moments in the day to spend with my lovely wife talking about something other than the kids and my health; that means the world to me too. Other than that, we've more or less focused inward as a family too. It's too hard to spend the energy always being social and entertaining, especially now. But we need that in our life, to accept the generosity and to share ourselves with the multitudes of loving and caring and considerate and generous friends and family, near and far.

Alysha has taken a great step towards that for herself as she's just started up her own side business selling Norwex all-natural cleaning and household products. She's jumped into it and has already been very successful in it. I'm proud of her and happy she has another outlet to focus on and spend some time 'outside' of the closed-off nucleus we had created of our lives. It's hard for me to say that I really have any hobbies anymore, though I enjoy working on my bikes now that the weather is so nice though some days don't have the energy to ride, and have encouraged our family to bike more together and to nearby everyday places we would otherwise drive to. (I plan on biking to my chemo appointment tomorrow, we'll see...) My other hobbies were other high-energy sports and running all of which I can't do now. My true passion of mountaineering seems so far out of reach now that I don't know if my lungs will ever allow me to undertake the endurance and struggle of strenuous climbing again, especially at altitude. I long to be in those "high snowy places," to find the solitude and perfect calm and wholeness I only find there. I could see a long-distance hike being possible as I recover but again, all these hobbies were of my single life and take away from being with my family for long periods, though I still feel torn when desiring to undertake those activities.

A truer aspect of this rambling, is that God has a plan for me. Plans to use me to His glory. It's one of the hardest things that i've continually tried to be good at in my life: submit. Being the analytical, linear-thinking, in need of control person that I am; it's difficult to sigh and relinquish the reins to a higher power that you believe and trust in even when you know it is what is best. I certainly stress and worry myself enough with everyday things and now with the enormous added weight of a potentially terminal disease forcing itself on me, it's too much for one person to bear. My wife most certainly shares the burden, but it's too much for two people, for a family, for a whole group of supportive friends, a whole town. Only God can lift that burden and bring peace and comfort in its place, knowing that we're protected and will be stronger from the trials we face by trusting in Him.

So my goal now is to be more in-tune with the world around us, to see and appreciate the beauty around us, in my family, and in the generosity and caring spirit of those who have gathered around us in support. We've been doing that to some degree since the beginning, but to seek it and to see it with a clear perspective and a humble heart, we deliver ourselves from being trapped within.

Thanks for everyone's continued support and prayers.

~Pete

House of Cards

It's your favorite guest blogger; Pete! Here for another installation of my musings and dark ramblings. This one's been a long time coming, but alot, and nothing has happened since my last post. So some changes in perspective and a little help in the positive thinking department from starting Qi gong (chinese breathing & healing meditation techniques used in Kung Fu):

My life feels like an Allstate commercial. You know, the one with the animated car driving through various hazards that appear; wicked storms, avoiding falling rocks, trees, power lines, maybe a squirrel or two. I didn't get any warning that said 'Hazards Ahead' in my life. More like bad MapQuest directions that take you to the middle of nowhere on a windy mountain road that dead-ends, leaving you wondering; "How the Hell did I get here?!" Navigating life's obstacles had typically been fairly straight forward till now: hit obstacle, devise plan, execute. It's even still felt that way since my diagnosis; this is what it is, this is what we can do, this is what we can't do, ready... go! That is until 2 weeks ago, sitting in another oncologist's office, this time down near Phoenix at the Western Cancer Treatment Center of America. There I heard the first realistic perspective on this whole thing since my primary Dr. told me back when I was first diagnosed, "Now you'll be fighting for your life." The Dr. at CTCA more recently was giving me their treatment plan after being evaluated and bluntly stated that "at this stage, we don't talk about a cure, we talk about remission, about managing it and controlling it. I can't guarantee you'll die at 80 from being hit by a truck." Until then, I had been visualizing the treatment as a flow-chart, like milestones to meet and move on to the next or go a different direction, but with a definitive end objective: be cancer free. I know there's no cure, but being over and done with it, totally free so I could go on with my life, that was my successful mission ending. I realize now that this is my life, it will be with me in some form for the rest of my life. There's no 'conquer and move on'. The hard truth is that it will shorten my life, sooner or later, and that pisses me off. Worse things could happen however, more sudden things that wouldn't give me the chance to do or say the things that have needed doing, or saying. On the flip side, now there's a black cloud following me around, whether present or not, it's in my head, always looming as a dark reminder. It follows me as I navigate my new life as if i'm driving that cartoon car through a giant house of cards wondering when it's all going to crash down on me, if one wrong turn will bump the wrong card and bring the whole thing down.

This isn't a defeatist attitude brewing, it's merely another challenge: master the maze, learn the tricks of getting through it stealthily and confident that I won't disturb the delicate balance that exists around me. Making informed decisions about treatments, seeking the most productive methods for addressing each facet of the problem, not just medically, but nutritionally, mentally, emotionally & spiritually. That's our tactic, and like the Rodney Atkins country song goes: "If you're going through Hell, keep on going. You might get out before the devil even knows you're there." That's my new motto... that, and "Everybody Wang Chung tonight." 

~Pete

Oh the Unknown

So, I've been up since 3:30 a.m. with a heavy heart. The moment my shoulders started to ache with tension and pent up anxiety I decided I better get out of bed and get moving. Do you ever wonder why bad things happen to good people? That's the age-old question, isn't it?
This morning I have been overwhelmed by the hurts of not only our family but those of others. For example a friend of mine whose precious two month old baby has just been readmitted to the NICU. My mind has been overwhelmed with prayers for their little family. How does this happen? How does such an innocent, helpless being become so sick? And how do my friends continue to trust in the greatness of our God as they watch their little one suffer?
Last night I was enraptured by one of those investigative news shows. The topic was none other than,  drug trials. Pete got up and left the room the moment he knew what it was about. However, I kept watching. As it unfolded the reporter revealed how people in the poorest countries are being used for these drug trials. In their desperation they are lured in by the high pay ($150 to $400 per trial) and many times are not fully aware of the risks. They interviewed people in the slums of India who had taken part in the studies and many of them could not even read. The injustice of it all was so overwhelming.
And sometimes I feel the same about our situation. My mind can inevitably go to the darkest places if I allow it to. Yesterday, Pete was on the phone and I heard him say something like, "Everyone here is just talking about quality of life instead of the fact that they're going to cure me." He was referring to the attitude of the physicians here verses the hope we have for the Cancer Treatment Centers of America. When I heard that I immediately thought, "Wait, I thought you were convinced you were going to beat this?" And then I realized maybe he wasn't as convinced as I thought he was. For a split second, I looked at Izzy and thought, "What would I do if I had to tell her that her daddy went to be with Jesus? How would we move on?" It would just be so unfair, wouldn't it?????
I would typically end this post with some reassurance, but I'm not sure how to this time. So how would you remind someone of the goodness of God in these situations? 

Cancer Treatment Centers of America: Goodyear, AZ

So, after not being so happy with the choices given to us by the local specialist, we have decided to take it up a notch! We'll be headed to the Cancer Treatment Centers of America in Goodyear, AZ for 5 days on Wednesday March, 7th. My mother-in-law had originally suggested seeking treatment at the center but we  declined due to our desire to stay close to home. However, as we move further into this process, we have come to the conclusion that a more advanced, integrated approach to care is necessary for Pete's specific case. The center in Arizona is an all-in-one stop for cancer care and we are very anxious to see what it has to offer Pete once we are there in person.
During our five day visit at the center we will be visiting will all the specialists including an oncologist, radiation oncologist, surgeon, nutritionist, and naturopathic oncologist. In addition Pete will have the port placement and receive his next round of chemo all before we return home. The fact that we will be meeting with everyone in one visit will hopefully eliminate all the "sit and wait" that we have been experiencing with the local specialists.
Please pray for us as we take this next step towards full recovery. We are very nervous about leaving the kids as the most we have ever been away from them is one night. They'll be cared for by my mom and step-dad so we know they'll be in great hands. Thank you again, for all your prayers and support.

With love,