Lymph Journal # 65 - Beautiful ugliness or vice versa

5/30/2012

Happy Birthday to our daughter Hannah!

Day by day I’m feeling a bit more normal.  I’m sleeping well at night.  I eat at least my three squares a day and I’ve no need for the anti-nausea pre-medication before each mealtime.  I get hungry between meals and, usually, do something about that.  I get in my daily walks and just received the pair of Nordic Walking poles that make me oh so trendy and offer the chance of making my walk times into more of a workout for the whole body.  Diane and I walked far enough the other day for me to experience soreness in my diminutive bottom which means I’m pushing things at a no pain no gain rate – it felt good to be sore!

I attended church the other day – it was Senior Sunday and I got to read the names out for the traditional Bible gift BFA Seniors are awarded by Black Forest Christian Fellowship.  This week is exam week and grad will be Saturday afternoon.  Last Saturday a few former students came by to visit me on our balcony – many formers students seem to drift through here around either Christmas or grad season – and I was reminded of my calling here.  My constant hope is that what happens in my Worldviews classes has an impact beyond the classroom and helps these kids to navigate life well after high school. 

The weather has been stunning this past week.  Warm, dry, breezy days and suitably crisp nights – a perfect sort of late spring/early summer.  A few nights ago I sat outside around 10:30ish.  Our latitude and longitude give us light fairly late into the evening – there was a clearly discernable horizon line between sky and surrounding hills. Over that horizon was a bright crescent moon – simply beautiful – and I sat there in a state of revelry.

In those moments of heartbreaking beauty I began to consider again the passage of these past few months.  What was brought to mind was the stark contrasts within cancer and its treatment.  In it there is profound ugliness.  Disease and death are ugly consequences of our rebellion towards our Creator – they are the revolting fallout of the Fall.  All the attendant indignities of diagnosis, treatment (“successful” or not) and possible (well inevitable, ultimately, for each of us) death – there is nothing pretty about it.  The process holds for the cancer patient (and for many other situations) moments of staring eyeball to eyeball with all that ugliness – some of you have been there, I know.

Yet, as I sat there on that beautiful night and thought of and even revisited the profound ugliness I had the realization that, as a disciple of Christ, there was – sort of off to my side, not quite within view in the depths of the uglies – the one man who had not only cheated death, not only beaten death but the one who had ultimately defeated the ugliness of death.  Red Sox fans are familiar with the phrase, “Reverse the Curse” in reference to the long drought in World Series successes (86 years!) following the selling of the Bambino (Babe Ruth) to the Yankees in the off season of 1919-20.  Well that’s small beans compared to the One who did Reverse the Curse and trampled death and all its related stings.  And He’s the One who was and is there as life offers the ugly moments – there in all His beauty.

There have been other moments of beauty in the ugliness of cancer.  I love my wife and have for many years now.  But the context of cancer has deepened our relationship, has made more vital the time we can be together and has caused me to recognize her beauty to a greater degree than ever.  She is the best, I married well, I rejoice in her beauty.

Certainly a deepened appreciation for my kids and grandkids adds to the beauty.  Family, friends, and calling in ministry – all the things that bring significance and purpose to life are multiplied by the ugliness of cancer.  And there is the experience of walking on the brink of ugliness.  As a child of God it ultimately doesn’t matter if you slip over that brink into eternity or God brings you back from it for another season of life.  You’ve “been there”.  It can’t help but profoundly impact your whole person and understanding.  I realize that especially when I talk with other members of the “cancer club”, the fellowship of those betrayed by their bodies.

So, ultimately, the whole experience is a gift – a gift I frankly would still refuse if I had the choice but for which I am, in many but not all respects (yet), thankful.  I pray I’m done with this “gift” and will live my life with the benefits and responsibilities it has brought without having to open it up again. 

If you’re a fan of the funk/disco/R&B combo band Earth, Wind and Fire you might know that one of its members, Philip Bailey (the great falsetto voice of EW&F), has also produced some good Christian music as a solo artist.  So here’s my musical recommendation of the day.  When I heard it for the first time in the hospital following the stem cell transplant I was brought to tears that still threaten leakage whenever I hear it since.  The title is I Am Gold (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoXcCjFtBes) on YouTube (or for $0.99at iTunes).  Check it out – I’m listening to it now and a bit misty am I.

Count it all joy

When you’re feelin’ the pain

For new wisdom you’ll gain

Tribulation worketh patience in your life.

I’ve been tried in the fire

And the flames get so high

That I can’t see the sky for the smoke in my eyes

But each time I’ll survive

Makes me not ashamed to stand and testify.

Little child, you’ve had more than your share

Of all the heartbreak you can bear

And it seems like life is so unfair.

Through it all you learned to stand up tall

cause God above won’t let you fall

and he hears His children when they call.

I’ve been tried in the fire

And the flames get so high

That I can’t see the sky for the smoke in my eyes

But each time I’ll survive

Makes me not ashamed to stand and testify.

I am gold

I’ve been tried in the fire

I’ve been tried in the fire

I can climb higher and higher X2

And the song continues in this direction.  So, if you’re a fan of 80’s funk (and who isn’t!) give it a listen.  And cultivate eyes that seek beauty and the Beautiful One in the moments of life’s ugliness. 

Lymph Journal # 64 - One week home

5/24/2012

Well, I’m one week home from the Uniklinik so it’s time for a progress report.  I got sprung last Thursday morning – a day earlier than I had expected but most welcome.  The trip home was a joy and yet pretty much drained me for the day.  Friday felt better – I even managed a short walk outside to the end of our street and back.  I was able to remain upright as we entertained a visiting pastor and his wife (former missionaries, now pastoring in RI) for dinner.  The next day (my birthday – made it!!!) I felt more strength returning and walked a total of 2+ km (on mostly level ground).  This was all quite encouraging and I was confident that recovery would continue apace.

Then Sunday came and I seemed to have lost all ground.  I was back to that feeling of a fish washed up on the shore wishing I could breathe my water again.  I had no strength and, I must say, it was a bit worrisome.  Monday felt the same and I contacted my local oncologist to move my appointment from the next day forward to this very Monday.  He welcomed me right in.

I was convinced poor red cell counts would account for my incredible lethargy.  I was mistaken, blood values came back favorable.  What he did do for me was set up an infusion (my handy Frankenport is still available for usage) of vitamins (pronounced here as wittameens) in a lovely yellow solution.  The technician said I was in much need of “power”, underscored by her arm raised, elbow crooked and tight fist, and that these vitamins would help.  I gladly accepted.

A few hours later I headed for home not really feeling the power. 

Tuesday, however, I did feel improvement.  No longer did raising my arm or walking to the bathroom seem to require much deliberation and self-cheerleading.  I walked outside again.  Yesterday was another leap ahead.  I was back at the doc’s for a blood test and that showed improvement from Monday.  (I do need a boost on immunoglobulin and I’ll get that next week before we travel).  Dr. K and others on staff agreed I looked better and I managed taking the stairs at the office.

That afternoon I went out for a walk and found myself walking “downtown”, which also means downhill, to Hauptstrasse.  The upshot of this meant a walk home uphill.  It worked.  I got home a tad sweaty but I got home and cooled off reading on the balcony where I didn’t promptly fall asleep.   I know this might be less than fascinating to the loyal reader but, baby, this is progress and I’m still pretty pumped.

I held off recording this in order to see what today felt like.  Today feels good.  I’m about to set off downtown again and do the monthly banking (exchange rate is pretty good today) and fill some prescriptions. 

Another big adventure in the small world of recovery!  For those who pray, please continue to pray for growing strength.  Pray also for my wife – she’s strong and compassionate and committed but it has to be wearying for and on her.  So for power all around I pray.

Happy Birthday, Russ

It's my turn to wish my beloved a very happy birthday. Although I am no writer- like my talented husband, I have some thoughts.

Those of you who have read his (our) blog over the last few months through his battle with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma have gained some insights into who Russ Kraines is- even through the most difficult of times. If you didn't know previously, you now know what attracted to me to him- his wit, intelligence and absolute devotion to Jesus - that have been evident through his blog.

It has been my privilege to be his friend (at least two years), sweetheart (we dated for five years), and wife (32 years in February)  for over 37 years. In all the years, he has always treated me with upmost love and respect. When we married-  we vowed in commitment before God to love and enjoy each other for life! God has blessed that vow. At age 22,  I didn't realize the depth of that vow - or what paths God would take us through. But through it all, we have drawn closer to God, our Father and to each other.

I am thankful to you Russ, for standing firm in the faith and always pointing me to God's character and the Truth of His Word-- the Bible- when things were good and when things were difficult. Thank you Russ, for being Christlike in your love for me- and in your love for our children- and your giddy appreciation for our grand-children-they always bring a smile to your face!  You have served and loved our family with deep devotion and care. Thank you for being husband and father -and teacher - who is respected and loved. Thanks for encouraging me always and drawing ever closer to me through these years- our lives are so intertwined- I could go on!

Happy Birthday to you- dear Russ! I love you more than ever! ~Diane

P.S. So thankful you are HOME for your birthday

Lymph Journal # 63 - Back from the brink

5/16/2012

Well, I’m back, back from the hardest two weeks of my life.  When all the information promises that following stem cell transplantation there will be a time of everything collapsing, well, it’s an underestimate.  I have never, ever been so hammered physically, ever come close to that from which I’ve begun to emerge.  I’ve been trying to construct the proper and accurate word picture to describe things.  I won’t be able to do it justice, but let’s try.

The nearest I can come is that I had to travel a deep, dark passageway from feeling OK to feeling, well, nothing and then on to emerging again.  Absolute weakness was probably the clearest hallmark of the passage.  I needed to crawl through but the energy spent on pushing myself six inches took all the strength I had. 

Here are some measures of that:

I haven’t read a book in two weeks – if you know my reading habits this tells a story.

For a week I couldn’t rustle up the energy to watch and DVDs – how can veg’ing seem like a monumental hurdle?

To write a one sentence email was beyond me for much of the time – Thanks to all who wrote emails of encouragement – I read them but could not respond.

Mealtimes became (and still are) a huge hurdle.  Grace was no longer asking God to bless my food, it was asking Him for the strength to swallow some.

Walking the length of my floor was exhausting (I’m now doing stairs!).

So, there I was, slowly crawling through this tunnel day after day.  And then, the tunnel collapsed.  Last Friday with virtually no immune system I got hit by some fever producing something.  It was a long day and night.  The docs were pretty concerned with talk of ICU. Infusions of antibiotics and fever reducing meds got me through the night and I feel things broke for the better in the wee hours of Saturday morning but that was not until a I had a real heart to heart with my Maker.

It’s common in Christian circles to talk of surrender to God – and that is a good thing.  We’re engaged in the long process of letting God revolutionize our lives from the inside out and may we be willing participants in that process.  But Friday night wasn’t about this or that area of my life that needed surrender, it was about my life.  For the second time in my life I had to truly surrender everything.  Once before it was when my son lay in ICU and I was beside him through the night.  In both cases I reached the point of absolute helplessness and absolute trust in God.  It wasn’t about medical care, willpower, positive thinking or dumb luck.  It was God’s call and my deal was to admit that, to welcome that and embrace the conviction that God is good. 

So my prayer was a blessing on my family and “permission” for God to do whatever.  It’s interesting that Diane was experiencing something quite similar back home at the same time.

Well, I’m still here and that is pleasing but if I was no longer on this side it would not take away from the goodness of my God.

That’s about all I have energy for right now.  I do want to give a huge shout out to my Class of 2012 students who filled a bag with get well cards.  I sat down and read them yesterday (I really couldn’t before then) and was so encouraged.  I sure do miss having had second semester with you guys.

By the way, Friday’s looking to be my Independence Day!

Lymph Journal # 62 - An old vision

5/3/2012

Today is autologous stem cell transplant day.  The past few days have been positively brilliant weather wise – the air intoxicatingly rich after overnight T-storms.  I’ve gotten outside quite a bit when untethered from the Nordic Walker and just imbibed the air.  Strangely enough, I‘ve had no signs of allergies so far this year – early days but maybe all this might have an unforeseen benefit?

Nights have not been brilliant – last night especially.  A side effect of the last chemo treatment can be real irritation in the tract running from mouth to stomach.  I consumed much ice during the treatment and that has mitigated the effects on my mouth quite effectively but the burning further down began yesterday (24 hours after treatment) and grew more uncomfortable overnight.  Added to that was the IV alarm deviously programmed to blare and flash Kein Fluss! (no flow!) whenever I approached dreamland.

Of course all this adds up to thinking time and what I began to think on was a sort of, for lack of better word, vision I once had on my way to work back at the Pier Middle School in good old Narragansett, RI.  I cannot remember if there was any particular challenge facing me at the time – I was just driving into the parking lot (usually one of the first) and backing the Toyota pickup (I miss you still) into MY spot when it came. 

It consisted of a voice, a voice that I would likely attribute to a generously proportioned, barrel chested orator of African-American roots.  This voice could speak and did peak with authority.  What the voice spoke was familiar.  In the cadence of a gifted speaker from the roots mentioned the words were those of the Twenty-Third Psalm.  That’s it.  Loud, clear, bold – as refreshing as cold water on a stifling day. I walked into school pumped for the day although truly clueless as to why I needed to hear that.  The apostle Paul’s admonition to not neglect the public reading Scripture of comes to mind – sometimes what we really need is to hear and to listen.  Sometimes we have to be loud.

Well, the voice did not return last night but memory of it did and I once more thought through the Psalm.  Here, intertwined with the King James Version are some of the thoughts that came last night.

 1The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. – the Almighty looks out for me with care, protection, affection, and vastly superior wisdom.  I won’t want, I don’t want, I can’t want, I will never want – not really.  Sure there are temporary limited wants but the shepherd, the Good Shepherd trumps and purely answers them all.  When I reflect on the richness I have in the Shepherd, in His intentions past present and future – how can I want?

 2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. I’ve seen many a green pasture over these past few months.  The green pastures of the Psalmist’s region were probably decidedly less abundant than the physical pastures I see in Germany but the metaphoric pastures can be a bit sparer in the middle of cancer treatment. But the Shepherd has plunked me down in many a pasture along the way and I have drunk of many still waters.  For a person whose mind likes to keep busy, for a person who loved the day to day of the classroom, for a person who’d rather shoot  flowing rivers that placidly paddle a lake this has been a switch.  But the Shepherd has led me to stillness many a time and it has been wonderful.

 3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.  The Shepherd has done great works of restoration especially in the area of truly integrating what I know to be true from Scripture with what I experience as truth.  The Shepherd is good at His word.  And paths of righteousness – well the Shepherd can clear and has cleared out a lot of clutter.  There’s always room for more to go.

 4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.  We, all of us, are walking through the Death Valley – no choice here.  Sometimes we know it better than others. But to do so without fear – that’s the goal and we can because we follow a Shepherd that has beaten death and His guides of correction, encouragement and steerage allow us to follow well and to know that Death has lost its sting.

 5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.  I love the almost smug nature of this picture.  Sitting down to a great meal in the face of my enemies.  To boldly do this and then to take it a step further and be anointed and toasted beyond – this is no meek, half-heartedness on the part of a struggling shepherd – this is the GOOD Shepherd having a satisfying blast that happens to be wonderful for me as well.

 6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.  I SHALL NOT WANT – game, set, and match!

So, I didn’t have my “vision” last night.  It was at least eight years ago.  But now maybe I know why I did.  Don’t be afraid, in the privacy of your car, or bedroom, or walk on the beach or through the forest (be careful – to a degree - in public spaces) to make your boldest declarative stab at reciting the powerful words of Scripture.  If you don’t someone else just might!

Lymph Journal # 61 - Maybe, just maybe!

5/1/2012

Today just might be, and I certainly make it my prayer, my last day of chemotherapy – ever.  After this I’ll spend some time still hooked up to IVs but today is the last day of 6 straight days of chemo – High Dose blast-lymphoma-to-kingdom-come (where, by the way, it won’t exist!) chemo.  If the plan works, if complete healing happens this will be it, barring future bouts with some other cancer.

It’s a lovely spring morning.  The air has been freshened (outside at least as we’ll see) by last night’s storms.  It’s May 1 – a holiday in Germany – stores closed, most people off work, the traditional types in our area go hiking today.  I’m temporarily untethered from the IV pole so I hope to get a short walk in on the outside.

Today’s chemo involves a chemical that can wreck your mouth.  The solution is to chomp on ice cubes during the infusion and for a half hour afterwards.  I watched my roommate go through this few days ago.  I’m getting much advance warning from his treatment – he’s going through a stem cell transplant as well.

I’ve read the pamphlets, talked to the docs and nurses and viewed the German DVD about stem cell transplantation.  They’ve been thorough in their descriptions with one glaring exception that we picked up on reading blogs of people who have gone through this.  That exception is the smell.  After today’s chemo, I’ll have a day of “therapy pause”.  Thursday I get my own stem cells back.  Thursday I begin to stink!

Thursday I’ll smell like, of all things, a giant vat of creamed corn.  I know this because of the blogs but I know it better because my roommate got his stem cells back yesterday and it reeks of creamed corn in here.  I hope his aroma passes fairly soon because if both of us are hard at it, it will smell like cleanup day in a bad Midwestern institutional kitchen at the end of Celebrate Local Grain Week.  My body, at least resembles a side dish that one might have with vats of creamed corn. IV fluids plus cortisone have caused me to bounce up around 6kg (13.2lbs) in water weight.  I look and feel like a jello mold (albeit a tough, dry-skinned jello mold). 

But, and this for me is one big but, I have not experienced any nausea.  Wow – seems like much you ever read about in side effects involves nausea and I admit a bit of trepidation regarding it coming into High Dose but so far so good!  If they served creamed corn my record would probably break. (Never been a big fan, I only like corn chowder with lots of bacon in it but I’m real good with sweet corn). Maybe it would be nice to have a few Mid-western ribs to go with the jello and corn!

Just got back from my morning freedom walk.  Made it from the Uniklinik to the Freiburg Rathaus (Rat = advice + Hause = city/town hall) and back in forty-five minutes – not bad!  I’ve taken one anti-nausea pill and the nurse is preparing my bowl of ice so may it begin and, even better, end, really end soon!

Carl and Diane should be by soon for a holiday visit.  Thanks for your prayers.