Pray More (Please)

Just a quick little note to ask for more prayers. Apparently my cold times two, ear infection and trapped fluid, swollen and sore throat, canker sores and laryngitis weren't enough for our family to muddle through, because Adam now has some sort of stomach virus and has been vomiting on and off all night. PLEASE pray for a quick return to health for him, and a bubble of protection around the rest of us. The last thing we need are four puking kids. Thank you for your prayers....

MRI and Other Things

I know some of you have been waiting to hear from me all day long; I'm sorry for dragging it out. The truth is that Adam called me from CHO with the preliminary MRI results several hours ago. I've been a combination of busy with freelancing work, dealing with Isaac and a cranky Brady, out of the house and mulling over the information we received, and am just now getting down to the business of sharing.

Preliminarily --meaning the radiologist's read, as our primary hasn't yet had a chance to review the films-- the MRI results look good. Very good, actually. Despite plentiful warnings that the scan would likely look the same as the last one since radiation can take a while to create visible change in tissue, the radiologist's report claims that the spinal nodules are no longer visible. In addition, the spot in his brain leftover after surgery --the spot that the surgeon theorized may be scar tissue-- is still present, but smaller. So all in all, it's as good as it was gonna get.

The only thing I can say is thanks be to God for all of that. I said more than once over the course of the past weeks that I suspected the treatment was working, not only because he showed none of the outward warning signs we were told about, but because I've been so absolutely hammered by illness.

But even as I feel a tremendous sense of gratitude over a bit of good news, I'm cautious. I'm not fully overcome with joy because we've been burned so many times over the course of the past months that it's hard to be truly and completely enthused. So I guess you could say that I feel a quiet sense of contentment. That's as good as it gets for me these days. But I'll take it and try to rest.

In other news, today's audiology report showed that he's lost a little hearing in his left ear (but still tests within normal range), and that he has a mild to moderately severe loss depending on pitch in the right. Though it hurts my heart to think that this wretched, evil disease has taken part of one of his senses away, I'm not surprised by the results, and am grateful --deeply so-- that it's not any worse than it is.

The next step is the consolidation / stem cell transplant cycle, which will begin next Monday. Please, please keep praying that God will do His work and heal my Logan. He's been through so much and is such a light in this world. I'll link to a video later on, just to let you have a glimpse of who he is, even now after enduring 8 months of brutal treatment.

I have a crying baby who needs me, so I'm off for now. Thank you so much for standing with us and for continuing to intercede over the crucial weeks to come.

Just... here.

Lately, whenever someone stops to ask me how we're doing, I pause before I respond.

Just... here.

Not because I don't want to share --I wouldn't writing right now if that were the case-- but because just as it's hard for you to know what to say to me, it's hard for me to know what to say at times, too.

Logan's MRI was yesterday. We'll likely hear back on it sometime Monday. Obviously, our prayer is that it will show significant reduction in the tumors and NO regrowth, but we also know that even a stable read would likely be okay, as the visible effects of radiation can take a while to show up.

Next week, he has a slew of pre-transplant cycle appointments, including a kidney function test at Stanford, an audiology check and an EKG at CHO, and a run-of-the-mill dental appointment that will likely show that he needs some fillings.

The doc decreased his decadron dose to half, so he's been much sweeter than before. He hugged my legs, looked up at me with his enormous blue eyes, grinned and said I love you more times yesterday that he had in months. It was like ointment to the sore, soft place in my heart that cracks open, bleeds and then eventually heals following every setback. I've missed my sweetie, so even though I have to be careful to not get too close --since I now have conjunctivitis, if you believe it-- I've enjoyed the sweet, fleeting cuddles and the return of that precious voice that melts many a heart.

As for prayer requests, there are plenty. First, and above all, please pray for complete healing for my Logan. Pray that God will crush any remains cancer cells and blow them from Logan's body like dust in the wind, and then seal him up tightly so they'll never, ever be able to return. Pray that the MRI will give good news and reason to be hopeful. Pray that the tests will all go well next week; that his heart and kidney function will be normal and that he'll be officially cleared to move on to the next step. Please pray for wisdom for us as well as the medical team. Finally, please pray for health for the rest of our family. I've been absolutely hammered by illness over the past month, and need to be well if I'm going to be helpful.

Thank you and a very pleasant weekend to you as we approach Easter.

Go Write.

I tried to go to bed a while ago, but kept feeling that pull to come and post. I want to go to sleep, darn it! I'd think. And then I'd hear Go write. But I resisted, repeating But I want to go to sleep now, which was of course followed by Go write. The back and forth went on for 20 minutes or so until I sighed, gave up and came downstairs to the quiet of my family room and the brightness of the computer monitor.

Tomorrow is something of a momentous day because it marks Logan's final day of radiation. I know -- it flew by, didn't it? Six weeks from start to tomorrow's finish, all in the books. Praise God that he stayed well enough to stay on schedule. Despite having a cold for the past week and a half, his lungs remained clear, so we were able to keep moving forward. A prayer truly answered.

Please pray for those final toxic beams to be extraordinarily brutal on the cancer and equally extraordinarily gentle on the surrounding, non-diseased tissue. Of course, we don't know what the future holds, but as of now, his hearing isn't as diminished as we'd been told it would be by radiation's end. Though he tends to speak more loudly now and says What? What did you say? more frequently, I was quietly overjoyed yesterday when I whispered into his right ear -- the one that Dr. T told us would be left profoundly deaf following radiation -- and he responded in like with a whisper of his own. Just a touch of good in a sea of very bad. But a very beautiful bit of good it is.

There's actually a lot of good lately, to be honest. It's not that our situation is any different. We're still facing a lot of uncertainty. We're still facing one of the worst ordeals parents can face. But I've felt myself regain a sense of peace that I'd lost. I've felt more hopeful. Maybe it's a function of the long prayers Adam and I have said together in bed each night before falling asleep. Maybe it's the prayers that all of you and an ocean of others have offered and are continuing to offer up on our behalf. Maybe it's the little notes I've gotten this week from both strangers and friends long ago lost that are making a difference. More likely than not, it's all of the above. But regardless of what it is, I'm thankful. I needed an ounce of peace and I got it. I needed notes of hope and support and they came. So thanks to God, and thanks to all of you.

Please continue to hold us all up in prayer in the coming days. Please pray for restored health for the rest of us. I took Brady to the doctor this morning, and discovered that he has an ear infection and croup. My own swollen throat has mostly de-puffed, thankfully, but my voice is hoarse and I still don't feel as if I'm in the clear quite yet. Entering the weeks to come, we desperately need our collective health to be intact.

And of course, as always, please pray for Logan's healing. I can't begin to describe the intensity of my own prayers; how I plead with God to touch him and make him well again. How I rehash the healing scriptures in my mind and whisper Lord, I know You can heal him with just a fleeting thought. Please heal him. How my pulse quickens with the desire that my prayer be fulfilled. I know it can happen. I believe it's possible. I believe. I hope. I have faith; though only a mustard seed's worth at times, it's there. I pray that amazing healing will happen and that we'll have an incredible testimony to joyfully share in the days to come. I confess that my eyes well with eager, hungry tears as I write these words. And I ask you, beg you, to join me, to intercede.

Thank you so much for standing with us and for being part of Logan's very special team. Blessings.

A Not-So-Chance Encounter

I have much to say this sunny Tuesday afternoon, but wanted to boil this post down to a single anecdote to make it as salient as possible. As I've said before, I don't believe in coincidence. I believe instead that God puts people in our paths when we need to meet them. And that's precisely what happened for me last night.

As the afternoon wore on, my throat and neck felt increasingly swollen and sore. Unable to take the discomfort anymore and concerned about the potential roots of the pain, I headed for the local ER at 6 PM. A victim of a mild version of asthma, I've always been squeamish about breathing issues. A woman named Karen handled my paperwork, and during some casual chit-chat, I mentioned that one of my babies was dealing with cancer. She said that someone would call me back soon, and that was that. But not 'it'.

Later, Karen came by my room with some paperwork. As I John Hancocked the documents, she asked about Logan and his cancer journey. I always approach such discussion with caution, not wanting to scare anyone off by immediately drawing attention to my blog and blue wristband, but I sensed rather quickly that she would respond well and parlayed the information. I felt good knowing that someone else would be praying for my sunshine.

Then she shared that her sister's dear husband had been recently diagnosed with throat cancer. I expressed my sympathies and hopes that he would improve, and she again returned to her post. I immediately sensed that God wanted me to ask you all to pray for him, and chided myself for not asking his name. I uttered a quick prayer asking for an opportunity to ask, and the request was granted when, after discharge, the nurse directed me back to the check-in area to sign some papers I supposedly hadn't signed. I approached Karen, who told me that no, I'd already taken care of my paperwork. Recognizing the opportunity presented to me, I asked her brother-in-law's name.

So please, if you will, in addition to praying for my sweet Logan's healing, pray for Ken in Florida, who is suffering from throat cancer. I believe that God has led me to make this request, and hope that you will join in and offer up some healing prayers for this man I don't know who is clearly a beloved member of his family.

Thank you, and have a lovely afternoon.

Up

It's not that I want to be awake right now. Maybe it's the coffee I decided I just had to have at 5 PM, or maybe it's the fluid that's drained from my head and settled into my chest. Maybe it's the light from our backyard neighbor's front porch glaring into my window, piercing what would otherwise be still, quiet, restful darkness. Maybe it's the knowledge that in some ways, all I want to do is cry right now but I know I can't because doing so would make the head congestion so much worse. I guess I can't put my finger on a singular reason because there are many. So, late this Sunday night, I'm just up.

I'm not as unsettled by the notion of being alone with my thoughts as I once was. I can sit in silence and appreciate the peace inherent in the experience. I don't know if that's because my days are so hectic that part of me treasures the quiet times more than I ever thought I would, or because the past eight months have inexorably changed who I am. I guess it doesn't matter. Like I'm just up, it just is.

Today was a challenging one. It was a tough one for Logan, who is clearly engaged in a battle with not only his headcold, but his medications. I've found myself breathing I hate Decadron many, many times over the past months, and my dislike of the steroid continued today as he raged and ranted at everyone, everything. He cried at Target when there were no new Pixar die-cast Cars available. He cried again when Adam took him to the section where books are housed and there weren't any new Cars books to be had. He ranted about stopping to have lunch on the way home and raged when, after he told Adam he wanted lemonade, he wasn't given milk. He raged even harder when we refused to dump the lemonade and buy milk instead. It's painful for me to look back on the sweet, happy go lucky, easy child he was, and to realize what he's become thanks to the drugs and the evil, evil disease. He's almost like an animal at times, thrashing and angry. And it breaks my heart into a million pieces because that crazed beast is nothing like my sweet-tempered, generous, loving son.

Of course, at this point, my heart has been broken so many times that the sensation is different. Now heartbreak feels more like numbness, like hopelessness. I watch him suffer through the side effects of his treatment and think to myself, I can't imagine him ever being my Logan ever again. It's like he's gone. I believe that he could be himself again; granted a wiser, older, changed version of himself, but still Logan. My Logan. We just need God to intercede. To touch him.

I ache for that touch so fervently that the very thought of it makes my eyes well over with tears. So please, keep asking for it. Health, healing, faith and hope.

A good night to you. **** I'm back, a few hours later, with an upgraded request especially for our serious prayer warriors. I feel as if I'm under attack right now. This illness I'm battling is increasingly uncomfortable and increasingly frustrating. I call out to Jesus and acknowledge that He is still upon His throne despite our issues. In the past hours, I've felt another painful lump develop, this one in my throat, and I know from experience that it will become very, very painful before going away. A similar sort of condition plagued me two years ago, and persisted for six months, yet no one was ever able to diagnose it and I was tested for every condition and disease possible. With important days to come in the near future, please pray that evil will get behind me, in the name of Jesus, and that I'll be made well. It's clear to me that the other side doesn't want me well, clear-minded and actively praying for my little love, so I'm asking for your help to fend it off. Thank you for taking up armor on my --our-- behalf.

Discouraged

It's hard to feel hopeful and energetic when you're sick, and when said sickness simply lingers for weeks on end. That's where I am right now. After my initial headcold nearly three weeks ago which led to an ear infection which led to a plugged ear which still hasn't resolved which led to a severe sore throat which led to a canker sore in the roof of my mouth which led to swelling in the back of my throat, I have... another severe headcold. It's like a bad dream, and I'm stuck in it. I want to pray and believe and be hopeful, but it's hard because I've been praying for health for these past weeks and my illness just lingers.

Even worse, my sweet Logan is severely congested, too.

Please lift us up as aggressively as you can. We need health. We need stamina. We need hope. And right now, my tank is sorely lacking of all three.