The Day After

It's been an utterly draining 24 hours.

But before I get into my feelings in earnest, I want to thank all of you for reading, praying, hoping and believing, and especially for doing those things when I'm not strong enough to do them myself. Your words of support are invaluable, a salve to my aching, breaking heart.

And that's how I feel: Heartbroken. Deceived, disappointed, discouraged. I don't understand any of this. I don't understand why Logan has done so very well with his treatment if it wasn't working particularly well. I feel like I was given infusions of false hope, so I feel betrayed. It's hard to feel betrayed by God. I don't want to feel that way. But I do. And no matter how many pretty platitudes exist to put a band-aid on my pain, they don't help a single bit.

Of course, if I close my eyes and try to collect myself enough to 'get it together', my mind goes back to the notion that this is a spiritual battle. I know that not everyone here is on board with that theory, and that's okay. But it makes sense to me, in light of the incessant string of good news/bad news that's been our lives for the past half year.

Evil acted first by giving Logan the cancer. Then God acted by sending us to a doctor who would do what was necessary to find it in time. The other side acted again, filling my heart with terror and robbing me of peace as we awaited the results of the biopsy, and then again after we knew the severity of Logan's condition. Then God countered, blessing me with a sense of peace that I know I couldn't have mustered on my own. All was quiet from the other side until cycle 2, when there was a mistake made that led to a serious infection that left my sunshine on oxygen and with a belly as swollen as my then-7 months pregnant one. All the while, I struggled with faith and with hope and with believing that Logan would come out of this alive. I had many low moments during cycle 2, even before Logan became very ill. I'm ashamed to admit it, but at one point, I remember standing in my kitchen with Adam, furious with God over the cancer and the stress and our fractured family unit. Adam was talking about doing this or that for Logan, and in my anger, I blurted out 'why bother? He's going to die anyway'. It was an awful, horrible moment and it fills me with such shame to confess it, but in the interest of playing out the past several months in my mind in my ongoing quest to see God in the situation, it has to be here.

I had a turning point following a conversation with our pastor. After we spoke, he stood beside Logan and prayed for him in a quiet tone while I crafted a post that to this day, remains one of my favorites: Does Prayer Pack a Powerful Punch? I was overwhelmed by the response to that entry; by the renewed promises of support and prayer. And then not 45 minutes later, I could see God acting again, in the form of sudden, dramatic improvement in Logan's condition. And it solidified my shaky belief that prayer is powerful, and impelled me to grow Logan's prayer army as aggressively as I could manage. MORE aggressively than the cancer that was attempting to rob my Logan of his human life.

We received more good news in the form of an excellent report post-MRI #1: The tumor had reduced by 50%. I remember the unadulterated joy I felt. I also remember how the other side tried to contaminate my joy with thoughts of doom and death, but I resisted: After all, God had just spoken powerfully and I had hope.

Cycle 3 was a breeze; he sailed through it like a ship on calm seas. The wrinkle came the day before Thanksgiving, when Logan and Abby inadvertently pulled his chemo port loose, and he had to have it re-inserted. Another strike from the other side, trying to take away the joy of a holiday together as a family. He had the port replaced on Thanksgiving Day, and recovered quickly enough from the procedure to make it out for an evening dinner. Another one for God.

Cycle 4 also went off without a hitch, and we were blessed that Logan was home with us the morning of December 14: The very morning that I went into labor with Brady. He was able to meet him along with Abby and Isaac later that afternoon, and my heart was filled with joy to see all four of my babies gathered together. Praises to God.

But the other side was lurking, waiting to strike. And strike it did the following morning, as Logan developed a blood infection that sent his temperature soaring. But God anticipated the move and acted first, clogging Logan's central line and forcing Adam's parents to take him into CHO for his usual blood draw. It was there that he spiked the fever, and Philippa put him on medications immediately to help with his pain and to tackle the infection. Thanks to the quick action, he avoided a serious infection and was home again the following Tuesday, December 21. Home in time for Christmas, and with time beforehand to spend together doing fun holiday activities as a complete family. My prayers were answered.

Shortly after Christmas was his second MRI. The initial report we received was less than ideal; it showed that the primary mass hadn't changed, though the contrast was a little better. We were devastated... for a week, until Philippa called back with a different report from our oncologist saying that the mass looked much better and that he was very pleased. We were filled with hope. For the first time in a long while, I could see a future with my entire family, with all of my dear children at home long into the days to come, driving me crazy and bringing me peace, love and joy.

And then that vision was shattered yesterday, courtesy of the third MRI. But you all know that, and the pain is too fresh for me to rehash it right now.

I guess I wrote all of that out to paint a picture of the battle that's been raging all along. It's all very clearly a point/counterpoint kind of path, with one side striking a blow, followed by the other, and on and on. Which means that it's God's turn to strike a powerful blow. I'm holding fast to that, no matter how many people think I'm strange for doing so.

God is a God of healing, of power beyond our expectations. No, this hasn't gone the way we'd hoped and prayed it would, but I'm asking you all to stay steadfast, to not be discouraged. To keep pressing forward and onward. Logan's life is one worth saving, and I'm going to continue to plead with God to restore his health, to make him whole and well. And then to rise him up in this world as a beacon of light for all to see. And it won't be because doctors were able to use modern medicine to heal him. It will be because God acted in amazing, inexplicable ways to make him well.

I do believe that prayer can change things. I honestly do, and there is scriptural evidence to prove it. Ninevah, for one, and there are others. That's why I press for prayers and for the addition of warriors to Logan's team.

Seek and you shall find; ask, and the answer shall be given. Knock and the door shall be opened unto you.

Those ancient words are true.

To end this entry, I'd like to ask that if you happen to know of a healing scripture or two, that you'd post them below. I'm compiling a list, reading them, accepting them, believing them and owning them. I'm praying them over my sunshine and believing that God will heal him.

Thank you for sticking with us.