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The 'Other' Days

Some days the writing comes easily so I write. This is why a quick review of my blogs displays a general overtone of faith and hope in my life. Because I write on the good days when everything makes sense. On those days I feel comfortable staring cancer in the face and saying, "bring it on".  But on the 'other' days, days like today, I want to throw expensive things out of windows.

I need to remind myself that these feelings are Okay. It seems half of the Psalms in the Bible are comprised of King David whining to God about how much life sucks and how God seems so far away or crying out for rescue because nothing makes any sense. Considering I feel a connection with the story of David in the Bible, it seems fair that I get to share in days similar to these. In fact, God said David was a man after His own heart, even though these days came. So I share these days with you because, well... it's life. So I write this, not out of anger, but out of blunt honesty that stings as I quickly type the words.

It just needs to be said that faith is always countered by it's opposition - doubt. I admit that I have faith in something that I cannot see and every once and while, my vision gets fuzzy and the doubt starts to creep it. And as much as I despise it, I can't argue that every day marked by hope and faith has a day of worry and loneliness lurking behind it.

So for all of you who wonder at my seemingly eternal positive demeanor, this one's for you. Here's a nibble of a 'full-disclosure' biscuit that tastes like crap.

November 17th, 2009

The day has been set.

I will be returning to the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor on November 17th to undergo an MRI to measure any changes in the tumor. I will be meeting with "Other Dr." as well as the head of the neuro-department. He is the equivalent of 'Dr. Awesome' at U of M.

As far as I can tell, 1 of 4 things will happen.

Possible Outcomes:

1. Tumor grows: It seems unlikely that much growth could have occurred considering it has taken awhile (10 years?) for my tumor to reach its current size, but technically growth is possible. It also seems unlikely that this will be the case because I have not experienced any progression in my symptoms. For example, if I was having increased problems with paralysis/numbness on the right side of my body or if I was experiencing aphasia, these would be signs of symptom progression, but this has not happened.

If 'tumor growth' is the case, I will be a sitting duck for criticism from my doctors who feel certain that I am making a serious mistake by not undergoing conventional treatment. I will also look like a fool for sticking with my guns on alternative treatments. I'm OK with that. Learning to be OK while looking like a fool is a rather freeing experience. I suggest you try it.

Outcome Analysis: Doctors become more adamant about undergoing conventional therapy. I either cave under their pressure or they write me off as a religious fanatic, a hippie or a moron.

2. Tumor is the same size: I suppose there is a chance that nothing could have changed. The tumor could look exactly like it did 5 months ago. Due to the slow-growing nature of the tumor, from a short-term perspective, it may not matter whether I have changed my diet or undergone radiation. Whatever action I have taken may not have had enough time to cause the desired changes. Medically speaking, this is probably the most likely outcome.

Outcome Analysis: Stare down. Spaghetti Western Style. (Thinking about growing a bushy mustache for intimidation purposes just in case this happens)

3. Tumor is 'changing': This is where we get into the nebulous 'spontaneous remission' zone.  Technically, the tumor could be changing in some way, but I'll have to trust the Doctor's words about exactly 'how' it is changing. In other words, I won't be able to tell what is going on because I slept through my 'How to read an MRI' class during the one semester I spent as a Pre-Med major in college. The tumor might be breaking up or changing in composition. It could also be increasing or decreasing in intensity or grade, while not actually changing in shape. This will probably be the most difficult decision to cope with since I only have the doctors' words to trust, all while knowing what their desired outcome would be; conventional treatment.

Outcome Analysis: Stick to my guns and keep on praying for wisdom about what to do next.

4. Tumor shrinks: If I can visibly see and receive Doctor confirmation that the new MRI shows the tumor is smaller, I will jump up on the patient examination bed and deliver a freestyle rap consisting of lyrics such as 'drop the system I've been dissin' like the toxins I've been pissin'. I don't have all the rhymes worked out yet, but I have over a month to work on it. (Side-note: Need to teach Amy how to beat-box)

No, but seriously, I'm not going to make a big deal of it. I'm not going to get in anyone's face telling them I was right and they were wrong. After all, they will not be interested in hearing what I have been doing over the past 5 months. Every testimonial I hear including alternative treatment progress usually ends with a doctor who isn't interested in the details. I will simply say that I cannot boast in anything that I have done, but boast in a God who heals, a wife who has stuck by my side, Micah-the-Magician, and a support system consisting of thousands and thousands of people (this is you) who are willing to pray for me and encourage me as I walk down this narrow road.

Outcome Analysis: Doctors scratch their heads at the undeniable results and say "Keep doing what you are doing and we'll see you again in 6 months". I smile and celebrate by giving you the good news from the patient room via Twitter / Facebook Update.

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As you can all imagine, we are praying for option #4. I am praying for complete healing from God, yet I also understand that above all else, I pray that the outcome will glorify Him, even if it is bad news for me.

So, I have been telling people that we need to be 'praying for shrinkage' which always gets the well-deserved chuckle. So feel free to tell your family and friends that we are 'praying for Shrinkage'.  If we get positive results, I'll purchase the domain www.prayforshrinkage.com and post the MRI scans as memorial to your prayers.

I am also considering a day of voluntary fasting and prayer a few weeks in advance. I'll give you more details as the date approaches.

Love you all.

No Place Like Home

Not too long ago I was able to return to my hometown of Papillion, Nebraska. There were two purposes for the visit. The first was to attend my 10-year high school reunion. The second was to speak at a local church regarding this crazy story that is unfolding in my life right now. It was also a wonderful chance to go back and visit my old friends as well as my parents who still live there. I drove past my old baseball fields, the place where my boy scout troop met and the old southern baptist church I grew up sleeping through.

It's so strange going back there considering the changes each time I return. I can remember the cornfields and stretches of prairie grass or farms that have recently been turned into Super-Walmarts and Panera Breads. Apparently someone told me that U.S. News & Word Report ranked Papillion as the 3rd quickest growing, most popular or most whatever town in America. However, I find that U.S. News and World Report gives rankings for just about anything so I am actually going to hunt down this 'mystery ranking'. One sec...

While you wait, here's an interesting tid-bit of info: Papillion is French for Butterfly.

Got it...

Alright, so I've solved this mystery. Papillion IS indeed ranked by US News and World Report on June 9th, 2009... as a 'Best Place to Retire'! I love US News and World Report's strategy. Call everything "best of something" and forever more people will be linking to the article and talking about how much they love the magazine because the magazine loves them in return. I'm should employ this strategy within my own life.  My favorite blog reader is you!

So quick background to catch you up regarding my home. I was born in Papillion, but months later the Air Force moved my family to Kintbury, England for about 4 years. This is as cool as my story gets when it comes to living in far off places. I just wish I was old enough to remember any of it... Apparently I learned to speak with a British accent and would run around the house yelling 'mummy, mummy' instead of mommy. My parents had me in a strict comb-over with my white hair parted like the red sea. They would dress me up in 3-piece suits and I was addicted to my rubber boots or 'wellies', similar to the boots that just recently returned to style. My mother reminded me that I used to throw a fit if I couldn't wear my wellies to church and of course the only church in town was this massive cathedral.

I can only imagine what was said about the Wenzels when we rolled into church together 6-deep, "Here come those yankees with their wild untamed kid in his rubber boots..." 

My Gracious Partner(s)

I'm in Los Angeles right now working on a project with Francis Chan (via Flannel) that we'll be shooting in October. And I'll be honest, it's good to be back at work doing what I love to do. Below is a quick phone-photo of Santino Stoner (right) and Corey Petrick (Center) as we took some time to hang out at the "Tom's Shoes + Trovata Family Reunion". This was a wonderful experience for me as Santino (Sonny) and Corey have each moved to LA as we begin to expand Dot&Cross. In other words, it's fantastic to see our company growing but at the same time, I miss my boys.

As Blake and John, the respective owners of Tom's Shoes and Trovata, recounted the journey that they've each been through over the past 3 years, it quickly reminded me of the Dot&Cross journey and the family that has been developed along our journey. So, despite the fact that this picture is of poor quality and only a fraction of our company, I wanted to use it as an opportunity to say 'Thank You' to my work family and also share a nugget I've been wrestling with regarding the issue of grace.

So I had this dream...

I had a dream a few weeks ago. It was very short but has stuck with me every day since. To be honest, I don't know why I haven't posted the details yet. I guess I've been replaying it over and over again in my head trying to figure it all out.

I was in an airport and walked to my gate to wait for the plane to depart. There were two guys at the gate also waiting to board the same plane. Oddly enough, they were dressed in karate uniforms or 'Gi'. These are the typical karate outfits with the baggy top and the signature thick belts around the waist. One of them was Caucasian and the other was Asian. Don't know why I need to mention that, other than the need to disclose all details.

Side-note: I know this sounds strange and possibly eerie considering all of our joking about how 'Kung-Fu saved my life' which is where this story began, but at the time I hadn't quite put the meaning of their outfits together with my story. I didn't see any correlation until after I woke up and was talking to Amy about the dream and she pointed it out. I just figured it was a couple of dudes traveling back from a karate tournament. I mean, if I had a Kung-Fu outfit I'd totally wear it on planes. Nobody would mess with you in that awkward moment when someone goes to claim the armrest.

So these two guys approached me and kindly, yet bluntly, told me they believed in the power of healing and asked if they could pray for me. Knowing full-well that you do whatever martial art experts tell you to do, I quickly agreed. Each of them put one hand on my shoulder and one hand on my back.

Feeling somewhat silly to interrupt these kind gentlemen, I stopped them and said, "Um, just so you know... if you are going to pray for my healing, you should know that I have a brain tumor. Maybe you could pray specifically for that."

They removed their hands from my shoulders and back, and put their hands on my head and neck. They began praying silently and I could feel a great peace come over my body. It was a very comforting feeling.

There were no words spoken after this moment.

The two guys took their hands off my head and neck and looked at each other as though they had both encountered the same experience, or some type of mutual understanding. Then they both looked at me.

When they looked at me I understood 2 things:

1. I understood they both knew what was going to happen to me. They didn't hint that I would be healed or that I would die, but it was certain they knew the final outcome of this brain tumor.
2. I understood that I could not ask them the outcome. Even if I did ask, they were not going to tell me.

Then I woke up.