Falling Off the Cancer Roller Coaster

In February of 2004 my wife Shannon and I got on the ‘cancer’ roller coaster. The first plunge was deep and terrifying. Things quickly improved and we zoomed up to the heights of the expected remission.  A year later we hurtled down into another valley as the cancer returned.  Since that time the roller coaster ride has settled down a bit.  Some of the ‘ups’ have been great, with short times without any needed treatment.  Some of the ‘downs’ have been challenging, with chemotherapy that made life miserable.  Through it all I’ve remained seated with the lap bar firmly in place.  I’ve sensed God and others walking on this journey with me.  I looked to the future with hope.

Last month, in the midst of some tough news that the cancer had spread to the lining of her lung, we came home from her appointments with great expectations for a new and exciting drug.  This one is gene-targeted, which means it was chosen specifically to counteract a known defect in the DNA of her cancer cells.  This drug would surely zap the new tumors and bring us to a better place!  Again, in the midst of the ride, I remained seated with the lap bar firmly in place.  I’m not a fan of roller coasters, but I can tolerate them if needed.

This past week the lap bar let loose, throwing me from the comfort of the train.  After one month on this new drug her blood tumor count (CA-125) had tripled, bringing the numbers to heights not seen in a decade.  A CT scan revealed tumor growth that had occurred over the past five weeks.  The doctor overseeing this new and experimental drug took her off of it and sent her back to her main team to assess the next steps.  On Tuesday we saw the ovarian cancer folks, anticipating which new drug might show the most promise.  Instead, they put her right back on the same drug, explaining that ‘sometimes it takes a while to show effectiveness.’  Growing tumors…ineffective drugs…for the first time I felt a complete lack of control over the situation.  I didn’t feel that I had anything to grasp onto to bring me hope.  My fear of roller coasters came to fruition. 

This is where being a ‘futuristic’ guy can be pure hell.  I’m wired to plan ahead and dream about the possibilities the future holds (‘Futuristic’ is one of my traits from Strengthfinders…click here for a full description).  It’s what I love and do in my work every day.  Through these years of the roller coaster I’ve always held hope that the cancer would be held at bay indefinitely.  For one brief moment this past week that hope was ripped away.  Shannon holds great hope for this drug.  For a short time I didn’t.  My ‘futuristic’ brain went crazy on the ramifications of growing tumors and ineffective drugs.  While intellectually I knew that God walked with me, I sure didn’t feel it.  I felt alone on this journey, flying from the comfort of the roller coaster to fall to the depths of despair. 

Yet as I fell, hands reached out to pull me back onto the train.  Time and time again I heard, “I’m praying for you.”  I got to talk to my dad (who experienced his own journey when my mom passed away back in 1979).  I received wonderful supportive e-mails from my mom and siblings.  The staff I worked with surrounded me with hope and comfort (and allowed for a few tears).   I even received a ‘text bomb’ from assistants to the bishop from other synods (who were gathering for an annual retreat), with text after text of prayer and support.  I’m not alone.  God’s cloud of witnesses walks with me every step of the way.

This morning I read my daily Bible verses and heard words of hope from Revelation.  I needed those.  Once again (for this moment at least), I am seated with the lap bar firmly in place.  Shannon and I have been through this before.  Experimental drugs hold great promise and she has a history of responding well to them.  

This roller coaster ride is not yet finished.  There will be many more ups and downs on this journey.  I know I will need people’s hands holding me firm when I feel the lap bar breaking loose.  Some days will be filled with great hope.  Others will overflow with tears.  In the midst of it all, I am not alone.   Please help me remember that!