A Baptism of Frailty.
Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth. – Mike Tyson
Give us this day our daily bread… – Jesus
Amy and I had a great 2 year plan, until I was diagnosed with cancer in September. Then we made a cancer plan. And a few weeks ago I had a massive rash breakout revealing that I was having an allergic reaction to treatment. Talk about getting punched in the mouth… What exactly does one do when the thing you need is the thing hurting you?
Among other things, we let our knees touch the earth and remember we never were in control … of plan A … or plan B … or plan whatever we’ve arrived at (The Abels’s household is well into the Greek alphabet). One day at a time.
Yet, good news follows the frightening news...so much has happened in the past few weeks – here’s the highlights:
What has happened:
Nov 1:
Go back to work at UPS for the first time since this whole journey began. It is hard to convey how thankful I am to all my coworkers and supervisors who all had to take on extra tasks to allow for me to be back in weakness. I’m incredibly thankful. From covering shifts to making sure I can get off for treatment, to timely words and encouragement. I’m proud to be connected to the lives of my people at UPS.
Nov 2:
Realize being a husband, father, 50 hr/week UPS employee, and planting a church may be too much to do at once. Also, I have cancer! I’m a slow learner at this point. However, I needed to work at least 30 days for reasons I don’t need to go into. And we did.
Mid-Nov:
Quit chemo due to an allergic reaction (rash from elbows to knees – an unwelcome, yet impressive feat. We go all out in our house). This was scary as the drug I was reacting to is the drug they plan to keep me on for 2 more years after transplant.
Nov 22:
Reintroduce the same chemo drugs to great success. No reaction so far and only a week and half left!
Nov 29:
Begin the strange sensation or neuropathy – the death of nerves in fingers and toes (and in my case, lips and forehead?) due to the chemo treatment. Some say this kind of neuropathy is reversible. Some say it isn’t. So, if you see me drooling in the corner or stumbling around, help a brother out!
Dec 13:
Go back on disability from UPS to rest and prepare my family and my body for the next steps. After two days, I can’t convey how much better I feel getting the rest that I need. So thankful for this time.
What happens next:
Dec 16:
We make a final decision whether to do the next leg of this journey in Sioux Falls at Avera Medical Group or at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN (about 3.5 hours away)
Jan 10 or 17:
Four days of scans, bone marrow biopsies, procedures, and possible radiation to make sure I am cleared for stem cell transplant.
Feb 7 or 14:
Either go inpatient locally at Avera for 3 weeks of isolation in the hospital or 4-6 weeks outpatient at Mayo. We are leaning toward Mayo.
Transplant looks like this (they use negative numbers before chemo and positive numbers after):
Days -7 through -3: Receive shots to generate stem cell growth.
Days -2 through -1: They collect stem cells...enough for this transplant and a future one if necessary.
Day 0: High dose chemo to destroy all cells in your blood. This kills your body.
Day 1: Rest.
Day 2: Reintroduce collected stem cells. They also call this part the rescue…your body is dead barring a crazy procedure where life gets put back in your bones.
Day 5-ish: All your blood dies…and you don’t feel so good for awhile.
Day 14: Should feel good and head home. Without an immune system.
Day 15+: Tread lightly as my the transplant continues to take root and generate new blood cells.
Future months: Try not to get sick and sent to the ER.
Questions people have been asking:
1. What are they saying about survival rate? How long will you live?
They won’t give concrete answers to this. But in the course of conversations at Avera and Mayo, they are hopeful for 7-20 years. No guarantees, of course. And that could include more procedures down the line. Also, they could find a cure in that time. This particular wing of medicine has been making leaps and bounds in advancing treatment.
2. How do you feel?
Day to day is great. I get tired by the end of the week. And, as stated above, I have recently begun to have relatively constant tingling and/or numbness in my mouth, hands and feet. Doesn’t hurt or slow me down at all.
3. Are you still on a crazy vegan diet?
My friends, I am. And it has been huge for me. I have more energy than I’ve had in the past twenty years (even though I run out of energy by week end). Fruits, vegetables, grains, and nuts.
4. Do you talk about cancer in front of your sons (Charles @ 3.5 and Owne @ 9 months)?
Yes. In measure. We use the wordcancerand ‘Daddy has stopped eating certain things to help my body heal.’ From his earliest days, we have spoken to our boys as people and respected them with the truth. Even so, if you are telling a story in front of them where someone dies, please refrain from using the word cancer in the same sentence. No need to avoid the word cancer in front of them as we talk about it weekly.
The Next Season:
So here we go. While I am reminded regularly these days that things change quickly, we see the next three months as a season in itself.
A baptism of frailty.
It’s strange to be christened with weakness. It’s almost as if I’ve arrived at some heaven’s apothecary. After I request a remedy, Jesus goes to the back and reaches to the back shelf… “I’ve got just the thing, Dave. Here is a mixture I’ve used on myself... this is weakness. Take it morning, noon, and night every day for the next three months. And don’t be afraid.”
I do not fear being the weakest person I know if it is prescribed by Jesus. (I do not prefer it, let’s be clear!). But to be attended to by God himself... this is a gift. A gift any who welcome him can experience. That God would tend the wounds of a mere man like me. Hard to neglect these things as we look toward Christmas.
Here’s how we are praying right now and ask you to pray with and for us:
That God would heal me supernaturally. That I would go in for tests in early January and they would say – you don’t have cancer! What a miracle! If this happens. I’m going to talk to everyone I can about Jesus. Get ready.
That God would sustain Amy and the boys. We will be apart for at least three weeks maybe six. I shed some tears about this. I know, I know... think about blah blah... You got to realize I love my family... this will be hardest on me.
That anyone who has been touched by weakness themselves might come talk to me about it. I’m a professional weak person now. I don’t think I’m much good at it, so if you aren’t very good at being weak and are... we should be friends. Or if you have wisdom to share, it is most welcome. No pity, please.
And thank you.
We actively receive the prayers that are offered for us. So many people have written or given to us – it’s crazy. I apologize for not being able to keep up with responses as I would like to. We did build a sauna (my dad, my son, and I) that gets used almost every day to detox and refocus. Such a gift. I’ll attach pictures next time around.
Next update will come much sooner…
Your friend,
Dave (for Amy, Charles and Owen)
We pray for you as you pray for us.