Lymph Journal #13

1/19/20

Another strong day.  Two good and vigorous (well, that’s a bit of a relative term) walks were undertaken successfully.  The weather has turned a bit gloomy but both walks were completed without employing an umbrella.

When life takes the sort of turn as now you’ve got to rehash all your supposed theological notions about God’s will for your life.  This is not an expression of doubting that God has my best at heart but more about the nuts and bolts of how it all plays out. I find my baseline is predicated on the character of God as the one who redeems.  Certainly the Christian tradition upholds the Redeemer but sometimes I think we forget that redemption goes way beyond the cross and is wrapped up in everything God is working out.  Did God determine cancer, did God allow cancer, does cancer happen to people at random – well, with the Redeemer at the center it doesn’t matter that much to me because I find Him working in it and have great hope that the most redemptive outcome will occur – whatever that might be.

I’ve often argued (but, of course, ignored my own advice) that we ought to cultivate the matrix of redemption in how we live our lives.  We ought to learn to consider ourselves and call on God’s wisdom as well and ask, “At this point, in this place, with this situation – what is the most redemptive thing we can do or say or be?”

But, back to the walking.  This afternoon’s brought me by the local organic farm with all its organic odors that, a few days ago, I couldn’t get near for fear of losing lunch.  Today, no big deal.  My smell sensitivity is a good indicator of how I’m feeling.  I remembered to plug into the iPod today.  On the return leg of the journey two songs played consecutively.  One I first heard years ago when our son Carl faced serious surgery and recovery and I spent 30+ nights with him in Hasbro Children’s Hospital.  Somehow it “spoke” to me then and would encourage me whenever I (pre-iPod days this) got a break and listened to it at home.  Fred Hammond is the artist – he’s been a fave ever since – and Don’t Pass Me By is the song  The second song I heard (in the sense of really being able to listen to it) today and is on my dear friend Danny Plett’s new CD – the song is Always Jesus.

            Be it on the mountain peak

            Or be it down into the deep

            When my dancing turns to weeping

            Or when fear fades into peace

            Always Jesus.  Ever you alone

            Be it ever true, may my longing be for you

Now it will not be my custom to sell stuff here but both these are available on iTunes.  For a total expenditure of $1.98 you’ll more than get your money’s worth!

Lymph Journal #12

1/18/2012

Well you may have noticed there was no blog entry yesterday.  Yesterday was a wipeout.  I just felt plain old crummy.  Sleep was elusive, food was offensive (until late in the day when Diane fulfilled my strange desire for French toast), mental effort verging on the overwhelming- welcome to the roller coaster ride of chemotherapy.  I was able to recall the German for rollercoaster (Achterbahn) when speaking with my doc following the first of this weeks two blood test draws – thanks German 2!  The doc shared more information regarding results of my bone marrow testing – extensive “infiltration” crowding out the good stuff.  These were “sobering” words (which is a more polite way of saying “scary”) on the face of it but the medical theory goes – if the chemo kills the lymphoma then the bone marrow has room to come back and thrive.  Certainly the level of invasion into certain bones explains the earlier (now gone, praise God) excruciating hip pain I was suffering at the time of diagnosis.

Today I’m feeling so much better.  Just got back from a morning walk.  A good night’s rest, keeping well hydrated, and an appetite.  Today’s craving was a fried egg sandwich – yes, with ketchup – and I was feeling good enough to prepare it for myself.  Ate the whole thing and it stayed there!  We also had an early morning call with our daughter Hannah who is attending Azusa Pacific University (studying nursing so she’s quite interested in my condition on the personal and professional level).  Friends of us here are friends of an official at APU and had contacted this guy to keep a watch out for Hannah.  Good thinking – wish we’d thought of that.  One unexpected upshot is that the school has given her additional aid in the light of our circumstances – way cool!

OK, so here’s one aspect of  the roller coaster I’ve never heard or read about before – the world of dreams.  The last few nights I haven’t had much to remember but those first days after the heavy-duty chemo – whoa! 

Night one was one of those dreams that seemed to go on all night (despite the bathroom breaks that come built into a night’s rest on chemo).  I was on an island.  It was a beautiful island – beaches, streams, inviting forests, grottoes and hills – populated by a wide variety of people (no one I knew, however).  But I was trapped there.  There was absolutely no way off.  No boats, no planes, too far to swim – I was stuck and so was everyone else.  They were all occupied with pointless tasks or busy doing dumb things.  One family somehow got hold of a newish car and promptly bashed it into a building on the first drive.  The only “industry” of the island was dismantling a former amusement park.  I woke so absolutely frustrated by this dream.  It probably doesn’t take a psychology degree to make application of it.  The next night I couldn’t help but wonder where my dreams would take me and whether or not they might be a bit more encouraging.

They were.  In this set of dreams I could actually act, effect things, make decisions that resulted in results.  I cracked the remaining secrets of the JFK assassination (I could tell you but then I’d have to….), cared for the child of friends of ours (Micah and Heather – Ezra is a heck of a lot of fun to hang around with), ate oriental style octopus, and (my favorite part) drove my famous brown “87 Toyota 4WD pickup from Point Judith, RI across ten miles of open ocean to Block Island (where I did have to moor it offshore to avoid paying for parking).  Oh the delight, the freedom, the joy of being one who acted rather that the previous night’s role as trapped victim.  Again, you probably don’t need to have that PhD to get it.

To close off.  Feeling OK beats the heck out of feeling crummy.  I’m growing in my sympathies for those in chronic situations of discomfort.  Knowing, really knowing that the love and promises of God are real beats abandonment.  Along with that knowledge, having the partnership of friends, family and a fabulous wife can carry one through so much.

Lymph Journal #11

Another good day today – decent night’s rest, physically feeling s normal as it’s likely to get and a brilliant sunshine.  I’m thankful for living in a very bright cheery top floor apartment with decent views of the surrounding hills and a nightly sunset show.  Of course, this is Germany and this is winter so that show doesn’t always come off but it did today.

Life has definitely taken on a different pace these days.  Carl asked at dinner – and I really appreciated this question because it’s real – “What do you do all day?”  The lad is used to seeing someone with an agenda and now that is sort of by the boards. 

So what do I do all day?  Each day has its pet project.  I got the bed linens in the wash. Check! Then came the big event of the morning – a walk downtown to put some money in the bank (exchange rates are the best in 16 months and we have a few bills on the way).  Over the past few days I’ve made some brief forays onto relatively horizontal routes through our part of town.  Our apartment, however, is on the edge of the city of Kandern’s “bowl” and to reach Hauptstrasse (the German equivalent of Main Street) means downhill about a half mile.  You do the math – that means the return is the uphill equivalent.  In normal circumstances it’s par for the course living here in the southern Black Forest region.  Octogenarian ladies pulling wheeled grocery carts regularly do this trip with well coiffed aplomb.  But they could kick my butt at this point so today was a trial run.  Accompanied by my concerned (rightfully so) bride we set out stopping by Die Post (post office) on the way.  While Diane mailed a card I furtively lurked outside the establishment like some banished smoker without his cigarette (avoiding germs when possible).  Then on to the bank and, along the way, meeting and greeting in the safety of open air sidewalks a few good friends.  Banking accomplished it was time to storm the hill.  Well, we made it and it felt good to know that freedom of movement is available.

Lunch followed – I’ve actually re-acquired a degree of appetite albeit fractional in comparison to Kraines family tradition.  Some reading time, a little lie down, some more reading time, etc. and the afternoon progressed. I made a few calls to family and friends back in the States. I’m finding myself more comfortable with moments of doing absolutely nothing - which is good because I think there are more of those on the way.

And then there’s time with Diane.  Thank you God for her and thank you that we have good chunks of time to talk or pray or just enjoy the relationship that’s been built over the years.  There are some terrifically sweet moments in this.

So, what did you do with your day?

Lymph Journal # 10

A good day today - feeling much less "hammered".  Perhaps this is cluing us in on the pattern of what to expect with the treatments. Just got this note on Facebook in response to our claiming prayer support from continent except South America and Antarctica:

Just read your blog entries for the past week. We wonder if we can fill in the Antarctic encouragement slot seeing as Alec has spent three 6 month periods living in the Antarctic and has stood at the South Pole! We have the photo to prove it. Praying for an encouraging week ahead for you all, despite the challenges you will be facing. With much love.

Come on S.A.!

One more of many blessings this weekend - I found out that the Friday night BFA Boys Varsity basketball game was dedicated to me and the situation.  "3.2.1.Kraines!"  They won!! Thanks so much - you bless my heart and soul.

Lymph Journal #9

1/14/2012

Feeling a bit “hammered” today.  The cumulative effects of surgery and various therapies seem heavy even after a great nine hours sleep last night.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised and I can’t help but imagine part of the physical process is eliminating dying lymphoma cells. 

I was able to get out for a few short walks – it helps but both physical strength and mental acuity are not anywhere near what I’m used to.  Diane continues to be such an encouragement and help and I can’t effectively express how grateful I am to her.

We received a good old photo encouragement from former colleagues at the Narragansett Pier School – thanks guys for upholding the tradition of offbeat genuine encouragement to members of the gang in challenging times.

Lymph Journal #8

For those of us of a certain age we might remember this educational film.  A 1957 (my birth year) Frank Capra produced science film for a Bell Labs school instructional series.  I remember it well because a few years after it was produced I got to be on the crack Narragansett Junior High Audio-Visual team and it was my responsibility to thread the trusty 16mm projector and sync the film speed and sound bulb so Hemo the Magnificent’s lips appeared to work better than your standard Japanese monster film dialogue of the day.

Hemo was the hero.  Hemo (globin, if you never saw the film) got the oxygen to where it was needed in the body.  Today I got another two units of blood with all its lovely hemoglobin.  I can’t help but be drawn to the biblical assertion that “life is in the blood”, that the blood on which I depended today is a pale shadow of the Blood on which our faith and healing are based.  I remembered, again in the waking moments that seem to set the tone for my days thoughts, of one Communion service when the Pastor (John Goasdone for those who know him) likened the remembrance of the Cup to a sort of “toast”.  Ever since I have lifted my communion glass in remembrance and tribute to the mystery of God’s great love for us.

Before the fill-up this morning I was called into the doc’s office.  Here’s what I updated family with as a result of the conversation:

We're through the heavy-duty part of the first round of chemo - so far so

good.  The doc has indicated that he senses responsiveness through overall

appearance, lack of swelling in lymph nodes (there before) and reduction in

the pain I was experiencing before we started.  I seem to be tolerating the

chemo with no nausea which is a huge relief.

Looks like a course of a total of 6 treatments plus 2 bonus Rituximab blasts.

All this has been affirmed at a meeting of the area "Tumor Board" (how would

you like to be on that committee)? Autologous (self-donated) stem cell

therapy may also come into play to increase effectiveness of the chemo and

rebuild the blood - we're evaluating and playing the experts of Basel,

Switzerland off against the experts in Freiburg.  

All in all to say that the care has been nothing short of excellent and

language has been little to no barrier.  The community here and all over the

world has been supportive, Diane's a wonder and God is faithful.

It’s been a long week and I have to say I’m pretty tired but I think it’s been pretty productive.

Backpack Update from our friend Anne Bach:

Dear Russ (and Diane :) and Carl :)  ),

I just got home from a parent-teacher-conference and read your blog. Since I'm a teacher in the German school system I think I can help you out with your question about rigidly rectangular backpacks :) .
Most German elementary school students have those - they are considered better and more suitable for their backs than a sloppy soft sided backpack. At the latest in 5th grade kids want to have a nice and fancy looking backpack rather than a kiddy hard cover schoolbag though :D .Since they leave the elementary school after 4th grade here in Germany, many parents think they are old enough to have a regular backpack. Hope this helps answering your question ;) .

Lymph Journal #7

1/12/2012

This morning’s thoughts began with a reflection on how certain sicknesses and circumstances exert a force bent on shrinking one’s world.  Don’t take this as a pity party – it’s not meant to be.  The usual routines through which you establish your days get set aside, conversations drift from routine inclusion of the future to more immediate urgencies, favorite foods might now seem unappealing, the geography of life is less expansive – yeah, it happens – it happens to all of us many times in our lives. 

One flip side of this experience for us has been a radical realization of how large our world has become.  We’re still waiting on South America and Antarctica but all the other continents have checked in with people offering encouragement and prayer.  People who share what they’ve been through, people who have shared how their lives have been intersected by ours and the promise of prayer and thought are all such an encouragement.  And, this very day, a dear friend and supporter in the States is undergoing cancer related surgery – our prayers are with her – especially after receiving her card today acknowledging the “same boat” status we’ve attained.  God bless you M.

So, these things shrink your world and they expand your world.

Today was the first dose of the toxic portion of chemotherapy.  Having heard stories both horrible and not I wasn’t sure what to expect.  Things seemed to just go rather routinely.  I was given what the therapy called for over the course of a few hours, finished Josh Harris’ Dug Down Deep (a sort of systematic theology book with a personal bent), listened to some music and watched the drip.  It was a quieter day in the chemo club room – no dissertations on marmalade.  The real bright spot was when, towards the end of my session, a grand older lady came in, IV paraphernalia dangling from her right wrist.  She was on either side of a robust looking age eighty (my best guess).  Regal, whimsically so, in no way proud or haughty.  She was just infectiously, genuinely happy to be there, to be awaiting treatment, to be in a room that she could (sorry for the cliché) light up with her smile.  And, to any of us who were not in a chemical stupor at the moment, she did.  I don’t know her secret but she had the gift!

We’re getting the routine down pretty well with these appointments.  Diane has been terrific – well in every way – but in particular with getting me back and forth for (x)hour long treatments that usual become (x+[?])hour long sessions. She’s learning the ins and outs of the city of Lörrach, we’ve coordinated the drop-off, pick-up points and she can go home in between to work being only about 20-25 minutes away.  Driving in the early morning in a German city is fairly challenging stuff.  We discovered 7:30 is about the worse time on a weekday.  It’s semi-dark.  There’s a bit of ground fogginess about.  The vehicular traffic is heavy and it includes not just cars but mopeds skittering in and out and lots of bicycles.  Then there are hordes of pedestrians at the crosswalks and hitting the Walk buttons at the busier intersections and throwing a logical flow of traffic lights into disarray.  Many of these walkers are the ubiquitous schoolchildren trudging to school in the dark with their rigidly rectangular backpacks that usually are wider that the child. Really, they look like hard colored boxes with shoulder straps – I have yet to figure out when the German schoolchild actually abandons this model and goes with the soft-sided.  I’m sure there must be a rule or custom.

Tomorrow I’m scheduled for a transfusion to pump up the hemoglobin – now that’s something to look forward to – no joke.