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Update on Carol
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Wednesday, April 23, 2008, 8 pm
Well, it has been 18 days since I posted anything. I presume that those who might be left in the "Faithful Readers Club" have long abandoned reading this blog (and I would understand why). However, I am re-emerging for this additional posting.
Allow me to give a quick overview:
First, Carol continues to improve. My "Jim-o-metric Meter" says she has gone from the 2% mark in strength to the 70% mark. Notice that 18 days ago my unscientific (yet accurate) indicator was at 60%.
In addition, the same medical barometer indicates that her GI tract functionability (I created the word, but it is a good one) has improved with equal registration: from 2% to 70%. Once again, you (since you have undoubtedly read and memorized my every word from the April 5 blog) will note that this in an increase from 60% to 70% as well—in just 2 ½ weeks.
Combine this with the fact of the March 24 trip to Carol's wonderful oncologist here in San Diego (Dr. Andy Hampshire) posted on March 27, indicated that she continues in remission.
Thus we are rejoicing as she continues to improve.
She continues to take nearly 60 supplements a day—based on the health regimen of the Oasis of Hope Hospital (Dr. Francisco Contreras). In addition, she continues to receive laetrile shots. She is nearly out of supplements, thus we will be taking a trip to Oasis of Hope (Tijuana, BC, Mexico) in the next few days.
Today we resumed "juicing." We had begun in late September, but had discontinued at the end of the year. In addition, I tried that which many of you do, but that which was new to me: "wheat grass juicing." Wow! Strong stuff. Made my ears stand on end! But it was not too bad (so long as you don't mind eating and smelling grass—and I mean the lawn type of grass)!
Carol’s slowly increasing strength has made it possible for me to be gone (without feeling super guilty), specifically on a New England trip April 6-9. I spoke on the 1730's and 1740's Great Awakening in Northampton, Massachusetts, the very city where much of it occurred, under the pastoral leadership of one of America’s most brilliant scholars, Jonathan Edwards. I visited the graves of the great Solomon Stoddard (grandfather of Jonathon Edwards) and David Brainerd (who was to have been the son in law of Edwards, but died—along with Edwards engaged daughter—before the wedding date).
In addition I toured the sites in Providence, RI associated with Roger Williams who in 1636 founded the first ever Baptist Church in America. (Some dispute that it was really the second one.)
I visited Newburyport, MA where George Whitefield is buried, the great evangelist of the First Great Awakening.
My trip included visits to Williams College in Williamstown, MA, sight of the historic 1806 Haystack Prayer Meeting, which launched the modern American missionary movement. In addition, I toured the two campuses of the great 19th century evangelists Dwight L. Moody in Northfield, MA, which was also the sight of his birth and burial. Additional campus visits included Smith College, Amherst College and Mt. Holyoke, all prestigious universities near Northampton, MA.
From there I went to Enfield, CT where Edwards in 1741 preached his most famous sermon "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." In addition, we went to the burial site of Edward’s parents and saw his boyhood home in South Windsor, CT.
The trip was capped by going to Yale University, which included a campus tour and time in the famous Beineke Rare Book Library where (thanks to scholar Dr. Ken Minkema) we saw many of the original handwritten documents of Edwards. Concluding the day, Yale grad and Oxford Ph.D. candidate Allen Yeh graciously took me to the cemetery where Timothy Dwight IV (grandson of Edwards) who led the Second Great Awakening in 1802 and Timothy Dwight V (grandson of the "IVth") are buried.
You get the picture: I love church history and thoroughly enjoyed my whirlwind, no sleep, 20 hours-a-day tour. But what is more significant: I felt comfortable that I could be gone (that long and that far away) and yet Carol was okay. That is a big step for me. For us.
April 11, Friday was a double-header for the Garlow family. We were celebrating the anniversary of Josh's arrival in our home as a newly adopted baby. In the midst of that celebration, we had a time of family remorse.
Our faithful dog Shadow, a Queensland Heeler (Australian Cattle Dog), 14 years of age (11 years with us) developed a presumably cancerous tumor and had to be put down. We all loved Shadow, but this hit Carol particularly hard. Shadow slept every night right outside our bedroom-to-patio doors, only a few feet from us. Shadow is badly missed. She was the finest of dogs.
April 13, Sunday marked Skyline Church's great 3rd Annual Mud Run. Over 3,200 runners registered (before registration was closed) along with 500 children in the Mini-Mud. Check out www.skylinechurch.org and click on Mud Run photos.
Jacob ran it and did great! Josh ran it as did his wife Lacy. My two administrative assistants—Tracy and Elaine—ran it, thoroughly beating me! I ran it, beating my last years time by 20 seconds.
The race was awesome, complete with 6 or 7 mud pits and an enormously steep slope to climb. The temperature, normally wonderful in San Diego, shot up to a shocking 100 (some say 102) degrees that day. The most common phrase used to describe the run: "brutal."
Now for the neat part. Carol was able to attend. And this marked the first time she came WITHOUT a wig. Her hair is long enough (barely), but she looked so cool. However, most never noticed the short hair due the large hat she wore.
But the day of hats ended officially this past weekend when she showed up for church sans wig or hat! Many did not recognize her. Some walked right past her. She had to make eye contact, smile and greet before some recognized her.
The "coming out" without wig may seem small to the uninitiated. But to those who have had cancer or who have lived with one who has had it, this is a major milestone.
Another big step taken by Carol, signaling her "nearly normal" condition, was getting our house prepared for Open House. We have put our house on the market once again. (It was on the market a short time right before Carol's diagnosis last June.)
We have desired for some time to downsize. Thus almost a year ago, we bought a smaller home, in hopes of getting rid of 50% of our items, and moving. However, Carol's diagnosis caused us to take our present home off the market and to rent out the smaller home to which we had planned to move.
The market conditions are such that selling a home is a challenge—particularly a larger home. Thus we might simply stay where we are for a time, selling the smaller home—the one we wanted to occupy. (It's location and size causes it to be more marketable in the current real estate climate.)
But here is the issue: Carol's strength was such that she was able to prepare the house for showing. It did totally exhaust her. But her strength is improving. She could not have done this even a month ago.
On Sunday afternoon April 20, Carol and I enjoyed some time away and alone at our beach condo. It is nearly always rented out (for which we are thankful), but when it is available, we go down there for a few moments. It was a delight to be there, even if only for a few hours.
Carol relaxed in the condo while I rode seven miles on the boardwalk on my bike. It was dark (8 pm) and, by San Diego standards, cold. But I loved it. It was wonderfully refreshing!
Well, there you have it—an update. Finally.
And again, we say a heartfelt thank you to all who continue to lift Carol in prayer. Our concern, as you all know, is the issue of ongoing remission, without recurrence of cancer. Thank you for your continued prayers.
Saturday, April 5, 2008, 11 pm
Carol and I had a FABULOUS, FABULOUS, FABULOUS time speaking at the Billy Graham Training Center at The Cove near Asheville, North Carolina last Monday through Wednesday.
We spent much time with Cliff Barrows and his wife Ann. As you may recall, Cliff has been the musical director for Dr. Billy Graham for over 60 years. He and Ann are absolutely two of the most gracious persons one could ever meet.
In addition, we enjoyed much time with George Hamilton IV, the internationally renowned country singer and member of the Grand Ole Opry. He is particularly well known for his 1963 national hit "Abilene." He has traveled extensively with the Graham team for decades, and spends much of his time touring and performing in Britain and Ireland.
In addition, we enjoyed one wonderful evening with George Beverly Shea (age 99!) and his wife. It was a delight. He is still quite spry and is so sharp mentally.
To top it off, we enjoyed the company of John Innes, who has been the pianist and platform manager for the Graham Team for 45 years. Watching him perform was worth the trip alone.
The setting was breathtaking, in the wooded mountains of North Carolina. (I will not mention that Kansas—my home state—defeated North Carolina tonight, 84 to 66 in The Final Four.) We were provided an indescribably beautiful "Thomas-Kinkade-type" cabin at the end of a dirt trail. George Hamilton and his wife were in a cabin about 100 yards away. Cliff Barrows and his wife were about a 1/2 mile away.
I spoke three times, and Carol joined with me for the fourth talk where we shared the scriptural lessons from the cancer journey.
However, we were the ones that were spiritually impacted. In fact, Carol and I were enormously impacted being there with Cliff and the others. If you have time, go to www.skylinechurch.org and click on "Sermons" then go to "Simplify - Part 11: The Simplicity of Integrity," which I preached tonight, Saturday night (though the date will show as April 6, 2008). If you click on "PowerPoint" the entire slide presentation is there, including the pictures of Cliff Barrows and the others, along with pictures of The Cove and the cabins.
If you will listen to the sermon, you will see why we were so impacted. Our time at The Cove was a spiritual mountaintop.
Shifting topics: Carol had an appointment with her GI doctor on Friday. She continues to improve. I think she has gone from a "2%" to 60% in this area. We have a ways to go before getting to 100%, but the improvement has been awesome.
Her strength level has improved in like measure—from 2% to 60%—as well. We are very encouraged. She handled the North Carolina trip quite well. Obviously she needs to improve in both areas, above the 60% mark. But we are so thrilled, we cannot stop praising the Lord for how far she has come.
I leave tomorrow (Sunday) right after church to speak at Northampton, Massachusetts in the town where the 1st Great Awakening broke out in the 1730's under the leadership of Jonathan Edwards. I am speaking on that topic, tracking the Great Awakening and its impact. The purpose of the "Awakening America" conference is to go before God, asking for revival to once again impact America.
In addition, I am doing some quick touring of multiple sites: Providence, RI where Roger Williams and Ann Hutchison established the first Baptists in America; Newburyport, MA where the great evangelist George Whitefield is buried; the burial sites of David Brainerd and Solomon Stoddard, in Northampton, MA; Northfield, MA for the location of much of Dwight L. Moody's ministry; Yale University for the outstanding work of Timothy Dwight IV and Timothy Dwight V.
In addition, I'll stop by several colleges: Harvard, Easter Nazarene University, Smith College, Amherst College, etc. I'll be back Wednesday night.
Bottom line: Carol is continuing to improve. Noticeably improve. THANK YOU for your prayers!
Saturday, March 29, 2008, 2 pm
The last blog posting was novel length. To make up for it, this one will be "text message" length.
Last night, Carol rode her bike (along with Jake, Josie and me—Jim) four miles on the boardwalk, from the
Capri-by-the-Sea to Belmont Park and back. Awesome!
End of "text message length" blog posting. Impressed? (Now, if you have two hours, read the previous blog)
Thursday, March 27, 2008, 1 am
This is a very long posting. Be forewarned. There are six big news items to report from the last 10 days:
1. Trip to the oncologist
2. Carol’s bike ride on the beach
3. The spectacular photo shoot
4. Our annual 2008 Easter Letter
5. The memorable trip to Orlando
and then–
6. the upcoming trip to North Carolina
No. 1: The trip to the oncologist–
Major news: on Monday, March 24, we went to the oncologist, the brilliant Dr. Andy Hampshire. Carol had had an MRI a few days prior, along with blood work. The result: MRI looked great, with no visible changes. "No changes" is a euphemism for "no cancer activity," since cancer is ALWAYS changing and growing.
In addition, the CA125 marker had changed only from 5.8 to 5.9, which is effectively no change at all. The goal is to stay under 30. (Remember, Carol's CA125 markers were, before surgery, around 700. Some people have markers into the thousands!)
More than staying "under 30" however is the observance of trends. For example, if it was trending upward: 6, 18, 25, 29 (even though it was under the "magic" 30), that would be a concern.
The CA125 markers are not, by themselves, fool proof. But they are at least one indicator. In this case, both the MRI and the CA125 markers were great.
This was our first "post-remission declaration" visit. It was a victory. Praise God!
No. 2: Carol’s bike ride on the beach–
This is really big news. For the first time in a year, Carol was able to get on a bike. Carol and I went to the beach on Thursday night, March 20. Getting out our beach cruisers, we rode them down the boardwalk, on a beautiful southern California night. I was amazed at Carol’s stamina, considering she has been so very weak.
For you natives, she rode from the Capri by the Sea (1/4 mi. north of Crystal Pier) to Tower 18. Round trip would be about three miles. She offered to let me take off and ride my usual 7 or 8 miles. I declined. I wanted to stay with her.
Following the bike ride, she enjoyed her first time in a hot tub in a year! The ocean air was perfect. The moon was bright.
We praised God for her being able to enjoy these wonderful things!
No. 3: The spectacular photo shoot–
A wonderful 20something lady in Skyline Church, Erica Meier, is a superb photographer. She–along with boyfriend Devon–came up with the idea of doing a photo shoot of Carol and me.
So last Friday, they took us on a jaunt into the country. For you native San Diegans, you will know exactly where we went. For some reason, I had not gone out the two lane 94 highway east past Rancho San Diego's Edward's Theatre, in about 10 years–and had only gone out there once, pheasant hunting with Jake.
So off on the narrow 94 eastbound, into the country (not the eight lane 94 towards downtown) we went! Devon and Erica took us to poppy fields in full bloom. They had us stand, sit and walk. And they had us kiss as the shutter snapped. There were no complaints from me.
From the poppy fields we went to a grassy area where the old wooden fence had been burned out in the Oct fires. This location evoked some memories.
The fires would have swept through this area on Oct 23, 2007 (or possibly the night before) which was the same night the fires came over the top of Mt. Miguel toward Skyline Church and the homes of so many Skyliners.
But Oct. 23 is also the day that a doctor at the Oasis of Hope Hospital sat with Carol and me and told us the news that they had discovered a lesion on Carol's liver. That was a jolting day. This meant that Carol's staging would go from Stage 3 to Stage 4, a very serious step. As some of you may recall, 60 days and numerous tests later, the Stage 3 diagnosis stood. But on that dark night, Oct. 23, and with a much more serious diagnosis hanging over us, we were not merely distressed by Carol's condition, but by the San Diego wildfires as well.
Like many people, we were up all night, on the phone with family members and Skyline pastors. Why do I mention it? Because Erica had selected as one of her photo shoot sites a burned-out wooden fence. That old burned fence represented a night of terror–both medically and with regard to raging fires.
Now six months later, we were posing on that old partially burned fence. Time and rains had healed the landscape, with beautiful plant life all around the fence. Gone were the burned-out plants. In their place was fresh growth. But the permanently scarred fence remained, as a reminder that Oct. 23 had been a very bad night.
And for Carol? She looked gorgeous. New life was emerging in her, as her strength and vigor was returning. Yet there are permanent scars on her body–both externally and internally–that will be with her throughout her life. And there is a type of "scarring" on our memories, of the terror of the 8 month walk in general, and the fear that gripped our hearts that Oct. 23 day with the potential liver lesion threat.
So it was a symbolic moment. Raging fires then. But now beautiful plant life. Scary diagnosis then. But now the promise of physical victory.
It was a special moment to pose with Carol by and on that old scarred fence. Symbolically rich for both of us.
From the burned fence we were taken to a park bench at a trail head. There Erica took many pictures of Carol by herself. The result? Well I have not seen the pictures, but I am told she looked like a model. And I am not surprised, because I witnessed the actual photo shoot. And yes, she looked like a model. Astonishingly beautiful, if I might say so myself.
From the bench, we went to Simpson's Nursery at the corner of 94 and Proctor Valley Road. (Want some fun? Google the "Proctor Valley Monster.")
Many of you know about this unbelievable nursery. I did not now about it. Rather than just selling plants, it is a large, quite sizeable, museum. Antique vehicles are all over the grounds. One large red barn is a classic truck museum. Another larger structure houses classic cars. It is an awesome sight. The travel trailer display is a walk down a "nostalgic lane" for old guys like me.
Standing in front of a 1940's vintage (and significantly rusty) Dodge truck, Carol and I had pictures taken. Then in front of an approximately 1910 era truck. Later in front of a 1950 (quite weathered) Chevy car. What a fabulous place for a photo shoot.
Superb thanks to Erica and Devon for making this an incredible afternoon for not only Carol and me, but for Jake and Josie as well.
No. 4: Easter Letter -
Our annual Easter letter, which covers the last year's events was sent out four days ago. You may have received it. If not, it is below. However, if you have followed this blog for the last eight months, there is little new information in it. Here is the annual 2008 Easter Letter, in full:
The Garlow Easter Letter - March 23, 2008
Greetings Good Friends,
(NOTE: This is sent to all on my contact list – whether extremely close friends, persons we have only met once or, in some cases, individuals we have met only via the internet. Simply put, somehow your email address is in my computer. Since this is my personal family Easter letter [we chose this season rather than Christmas] and you may not know us well, please feel no obligation to read further.)
Once a year, since Carol and I were married 37 years ago, I send out an annual Easter letter. Unfortunately, I have missed several years lately. But I could not skip this year.
This has been the greatest year ever. God is good. The people in my life are a blessing to me. In fact, I have never needed people like I did this past year. And we were blessed!
Carol was diagnosed with primary peritoneal (ovarian type) cancer in June 07, resulting in a seven hour surgery, removing over 100 tumors, which caused multiple stays in the hospital, trips to ER’s, seven weeks of nausea, six rounds of chemo and a sudden 57 lb. weight loss.
In addition to the finest traditional / conventional care available in the U.S. (led by Dr. Afshin Bahador), her treatment was augmented by the spectacular treatment from two other sources: Oasis of Hope Hospital (www.oasisofhope.com )led by devout Christian oncologist Dr. Francisco Contreras in Tijuana, BC, Mexico using some twenty different cancer fighting protocols, and the 4,000 year old Chinese “natural medicine” approach (www.yehcenter.com ) under the watchful care of an equally passionate Christian, Dr. Timothy Yeh. (I will not share more on this, as her story is told in detail on www.skylinechurch.org )
Bottom line: She is in remission, slowly gaining strength, attempting to overcome complications in the GI track, and adjusting to chemo related neuropathy (nerve damage). Key issue now: overcoming the “stats.” Our new goal (and one we invite you to pray with us for): to successfully pass the “five year mark” – Dec. 2012. With God’s help, she is going to sail past the five year mark with great victory.
Our family, church and extended friends supported us PERFECTLY during the last nine months. I am overcome with gratitude. Absolutely overcome. We have been cared for in the most tender and thorough way. This outpouring of love has placed me in a permanently humbled state of eternal gratefulness.
Cancer is horrible. It changes everything. It makes “normal” out of reach. However, it does have some serendipitous impact. For starters, we really cling to God more now. Secondly, (as noted above) I am so aware of how interdependent I am. I needed others. Many others. Thirdly, Carol and I have fallen in love – very deeply. Thirty seven years of marriage plus the uncertainty that cancer brings has resulted in us being honeymooners again. We are very clingy – wanting to be together all the time. I touch her, hold her, kiss her every chance I can.
During the eight months following the June diagnosis, I cancelled everything to become a primary caregiver. One night, while cleaning the carpet after Carol had experienced a serious bout with nausea, I heard God say, “this is the best ministry you have ever had.” And it was.
Josie, now 16 and a sophomore at Valhalla High School, is in gymnastics and wants a driver’s license. I tell her she can get one (and can also date) when she is 30. (Okay, kidding!) She is a very beautiful, fun loving, teasing young lady. We have become very close. Her high school “advocate” helped carry us through the last nine months. Her best “friend” is her cell phone.
Jacob, age 17 and a sophomore at a wonderful private school, Excelsior Academy, played flag football on his school team which won the championship for the third year in a row. (Did I mention that he caught a pass and carried the ball across the line for the winning touchdown in the final play of the final game?) He also did very well in wrestling (through a fabulous coaching staff at public school - Valhalla High School), loves golf, and also wants a driver’s license. He is unbelievably muscular. I stopped initiating wrestling matches with him over six months ago, after I was thoroughly humiliated.
Both of them felt the full impact of Carol’s illness, as she is the epicenter of their emotional lives. Both faced challenges, but are overcoming them well.
Josh, married to awesome Lacy, has two wonderful boys: Lukas & Jackson. He continues to develop as a leader, as head of the Worship & Arts Dept. at Skyline Church, here in San Diego. Lacy, a nurse’s assistant, continues in her spectacular way to bless patients at Grossmont Hospital.
Janie, married to awesome Jeremy, has two wonderful boys: Riley & Aidan. They moved back to San Diego (from Victorville, CA – 2 ½ hours north of us) the day before Carol’s diagnosis. Their living here proved to be an indescribable blessing and help. Jeremy planted a brand new church called Seven-San Diego, located in the Chula Vista area of San Diego. He is a superb pastor and communicator.
The four grandsons are absolutely wonderful and hilarious. They are at such cool ages now. Grandmas love babies, but Grandpas can have fun with little boys – teasing, laughing, playing, rolling on the floor and building tents in the living room. They are a delight!
And a word about “in-laws.” My daughter in law Lacy and my son in law Jeremy are the greatest in the whole wide world! I am so very blessed!
(Pictures of family members are on www.skylinechurch.org – then click on Carol’s picture, and scroll down.)
I am in my 13th year as Senior Pastor of Skyline Wesleyan Church in La Mesa, CA – a suburb of San Diego. My summary of Skyline is as follows: they are the greatest people on the planet. They “loved us through” this past year, going way beyond the call of duty. I am SO GRATEFUL for this church! Frankly, we are enjoying the best of times at Skyline. I love it!
My commentary, The Garlow Perspective, is now on 617 radio outlets daily. I am so, so, so very grateful for those of you who help support this endeavor. (For list of stations in your area, see www.GarlowPerspective.com though my websites are, unfortunately, not up to date!)
Just before Carol’s diagnosis, I completed my 9th book (co-authored) The Secret Revealed, a response to Rhonda Burns’ internationally popular (thanks, in part, to Oprah) book, The Secret. (Info on this is at www.JimGarlow.com) [Sorry to make this a long list of websites!]
I was just beginning a book before Carol’s diagnosis that was put on hold, but am now “re-beginning.” My 10th book (also co-authored) will be called (I think) The Afterlife: What Happens When You Die?
NOTE: May I ask your help on this one? I need stories of “near death experiences.” Do you know of someone who has had one? If so, please let me know their name and email address.
I have not traveled and spoken much this year due to Carol’s illness. However, any writing or speaking, etc. seem rather unimportant when compared to the fact that my wife is alive and well.
Those of you who know me best know my method of maintaining my sanity is by riding my bike on the eight miles of Pacific Ocean boardwalk. (The video team at Skyline made a clip of this - http://www.skylinechurch.org/flamovie/simpil.html ). It is a slice of heaven for me. I thank God for this breathtaking outlet.
Many of you know, Carol and I are spiritually, emotionally and physically refreshed by hanging out at the beach condo. For those of you who care, you can see how Carol beautifully remodeled it, just before she became ill at http://www.vrbo.com/134780 Regretfully, we were not able to stay in it for eight months. But more recently we actually had a night there. We laughed and rejoiced and praised God that we could be together as a family again – with a healthy Carol – at the condo, our haven.
Thus this has been a great year. God is good. People have been wonderful. And, yes, Jesus is Risen!
Grateful - so very grateful,
Jim Garlow
San Diego, CA www.skylinechurch.org
End of Easter Letter
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No. 5: My trip to Orlando–
Little by little, our life is returning to normal. This includes me traveling to things I have not attended in the last eight months.
Twice a year, the General Board of the Wesleyan Church (denomination) meets, almost always in Indianapolis. This meeting however was in Orlando (in preparation for the denominational General Conference, a once every four years event, to be held there this June).
I was concerned about leaving Carol from Monday (March 17) to Wednesday night (March 19). We are spoiled. We have gotten used to being together. We don't like being apart. And I was concerned about her with me being gone so long, so far away.
I arrived in Orlando Monday night. My luggage did not. It, having a mind of its own, chose to stay in San Diego.
At approximately midnight I arrive in the beautiful (swanky?) Rosen Shingle Creek Hotel. However to my horror, I heard these words, "we do not have a reservation for Jim Garlow." What followed was worse. “There is no Wesleyan Church meeting here!"
I was in the right city, but at the wrong hotel, at midnight, with no idea how to find out where to go. I called my Administrative Assistant (who had been directed by email to send me to that hotel) to see what she could find out.
I immediately tried to recall by memory who was on the General Board (some 30 persons), in hopes that I might have some of their cell phone numbers, and be able to reach one of them. One hour and 15 minutes later I was still having no success.
At that time I asked if there were any other "Rosen Hotels" in the Orlando area. There were. I asked if they could begin calling them, to see if by chance anyone of them had a reservation for a stranded and desperate Jim Garlow. The desk clerks began calling, in part to get me away from front desk, I am sure. They did not want a “homeless man” camped out there all night. Finally success! They found another Rosen Hotel that had my reservation.
By 1:30am, I was safely deposited at that hotel. However, my luggage was supposed to come to the hotel where I was no longer. Thus more calls were made to American Airlines. I was assured my luggage would arrive in my (new) hotel between 3 and 4 am.
I asked the clerk that they call me as soon as the luggage arrived, even if it was at the promised 3 am. They assured me they would.
Wanting to "case the joint" so that I would know where to go for the 8:30 am meeting, I asked "where will we meet in the morning?" "Salon 21" I was told.
I decided to walk to Salon 21 so I would have no difficulty finding it in the morning. However, this was a massive hotel. I walked and walked and walked. It felt like a full mile. Finally I found Salon 21, our alleged meeting room.
As I walked into my Rosen Centre Hotel (not Shingle Creek Hotel!) room, I noticed that the TV made a noise and then flashed a bright light for a split second. My first thought was that the TV was turning on. How impressive that this was such an "electronically smart" building that the TV's turned on when the guest arrived in the room.
But I was mistaken. The TV did not turn on. Instead, it made the same noise and flash a few moments later. And again later. I tried to turn the TV on or off with the remote. I was unsuccessful. The TV, ignoring my attempts, kept groaning and flashing. I realized I would not be able to sleep with the noise and subsequent flash.
I called the main desk, asking for help. They assured me an engineer would come right to my room, which he did, at the ungodly hour of 1:30 am. Thirty minutes later, at 2 am, I finally pled, "Can you move me to another room? I need sleep."
They promptly moved me from 1126 to 1127. By 3 am, I was sound asleep.
I awakened with a start at 5:08 am, wondering why my luggage had not arrived. I called the front desk. "Yes, the luggage was there." "Why did you not contact me as I asked?" I asked. "Because I was on a break" was the response.
I asked for it to be brought to the room. They agreed to do that. I dressed and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally the phone rang, with the lady at the front desk asking "why don't you answer the door?" "No one knocked on my door!" I explained. I stepped out into the hallway to beckon the bewildered and observably confused bellman. You guessed it. He had gone to the wrong room, to the room to which I was originally assigned, 1126, the room with the growling and flashing TV.
Finally I had my luggage. It was 5:20 am.
I opened the garment bag. My shaver (which I had failed to empty in some time) had come open and dumped "whisker remains" everywhere.
Most noticeable was my suit. It was a wrinkled mess. Now, I hate to admit this, but I have only ironed my clothes once. (Okay, I plead guilty. I just don't iron.)
But with a massively wrinkled suit, I decided to try ironing, on two hours of sleep. I figured out how to iron the pants very quickly. But the suit coat was another matter. I tried to figure out how one does that. If I could cut the sleeves off, it would have been no problem. Why on earth don't they install zippers that allow the sleeves to be removed for ironing.
With much patience (not something for which I have been known historically) I completed the ironing assignment, rather proud of myself.
Back to bed I went, now 6 am. One more hour of sleep meant that I had accumulated three hours for the entire night, approximately five hours short of what my body seemed to want.
At 7 am I got up and proudly donned my wonderfully and impressively ironed suit. I was particularly proud of the suit and tie because at all the previous General Board meetings, I was virtually the only one NOT wearing a suit and tie. I only wear a suit and tie for funerals. So I did not see why I should wear one to General Board meetings. However, THIS General Board meeting would be different. I, too, would wear the official uniform!
Knowing exactly where to go, I began the seemingly marathon-length walk to Salon 21, well scouted out the night before. So off to Salon 21 I dashed.
But no one was in Salon 21. Irritated (I admit) I headed back down in the numbers–Salon 20, Salon 19, Salon 18, etc. Finally, returning almost to my originating point, I discovered that our meeting was not in Salon 21 (so very far away) but in Salon 9 (so very close), one I had walked by a long time before.
Irritated more, I entered the room, late. When you are late, that means one thing: you have to go to the front of the room. Pastors and church leaders, like those they lead each weekend, sit in the back. So off to the front (late) I trudged.
But then I noticed something horrifying. I was the only one wearing a suit and tie! How could this be? Obviously a great conspiracy was underway! Somehow, in the night, while I was diligently ironing the wrinkled suit, someone must had seen it and spread the word, "Garlow is finally conforming. So let's throw him a curve, and all go casual."
Actually, my Walter Mitty conspiratorial mind was wrong. No one had seen me ironing in the night. They had sent out a memo, two days earlier, alerting everyone that no suits and ties were necessary! No further comment regarding some of the unsanctified thoughts I was experiencing!
And thus began my trip to Orlando. Do you want to hear more? No. And do I want to tell you more? No. I have told you too much already. You now know all you need to know about my Orlando trip.
No. 6: Upcoming trip to North Carolina–
I am speaking at the Billy Graham Center in North Carolina March 31 through April 2, invited there by Cliff Barrows, the man who has conducted the music at Billy Graham Crusades for 60 years!.
Cliff is so gracious, as is his wonderful wife Anne. Cliff's first wife died of cancer, as did Anne's first husband. Thus they have been so sensitive to Carol and me during the recent months. In fact, Cliff and Anne came to see Carol in the hospital during one of her chemo treatments.
Thus it will be a joy to see them. And it will be wonderful for Carol to join me!
And now you have the “full scoop” from the Garlow household.
One more thing: All of the above occurred because of a gracious God and the prayers of so many of you. THANK YOU. THANK YOU SO MUCH. We remain in a permanent state of gratefulness.
Monday, March 17, 2008, 10 am
Carol continues to increase in strength. We are so grateful for that fact.
And she continues to heal in her GI track. The medicine I referred to in the past blogs is working. This is HUGE news for us. Carol has experienced such discomfort and so much inconvenience for the past nine months. We began to wonder if it was "fixable." Thus the improvement in this realm is profoundly gratifying!
My trip to Oklahoma Wesleyan University (I serve on the board there) went very well. Carol did so very well in my absence.
I leave this morning to fly to Orlando (for the General Board of the Wesleyan denomination), returning Wednesday. Though I do not like traveling / trips at all, I now do so with confidence that Carol's condition allows me to be gone. These type of trips were all cancelled for nearly 9 months, thus it still feels strange to take them.
On a personal level, Carol's hair is now about 1/2 inch long. Yesterday, for the first time, I caught her looking in the mirror, attempting to "comb" her hair. I really teased her, accusing her of vanity. It is her first time to attempt to rearrange the quite short hair.
She, as you know, has worn a wig. However, all her family members think she looks so awesome without the hairpiece, they are encouraging her to go without it.
Frankly, she looks awesome with it. She looks awesome without it! Either way, she's hot! (Husbands are allowed to talk that way about their wives—even if they are preachers!)
I discovered a portion of a verse from The Message translation/paraphrase that describes what you did for us over these past 9 months: "Overwhelm them with appreciation and love." (1 Thess. 5:13) That is exactly what you did to us. You overwhelmed us—with wonderful affirmation and help.
And as a result, we are overwhelmed with gratitude! Thank you! Thank you! We love you!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008, 2 pm
I am chuckling. I was feeling guilty for not having posted an update regarding our trip to Nashville. I opened my computer and the first email that popped up was titled in the subject line “Okay…Time Is Up”. The sender, Carol’s cousin from Dallas, was informing me that my time had expired for delaying writing the next email. So, with truckloads of harassment and guilt, I now gleefully write.
We had a fabulous trip to Nashville. Repeating: Fabulous. Carol did really well, I was really proud of her. The electric scooter was a life saver. She would never have been able to walk all the distances in the huge Gaylord Opryland Hotel there in Nashville. She felt a bit self conscious driving it initially. She got over it within 15 seconds. Carol would have been inclined to do wheelies had I not been walking along side her providing restraint. Those things move at a faster rate than I ever anticipated. She handled it extremely well, except for every time we got on an elevator (which was every few minutes). I think she left her mark on the wall on almost every elevator car we boarded. These were not made to be entered at top scooter speed. Bottom line: she enjoyed the scooter—way too much.
She rested a great deal on the days we were there, however, she was still able to get around and meet with hundreds of good friends who attend the National Association of Religious Broadcasters. This is comprised of approximately 6,000 persons who have TV and radio programs across America, along with the owners and managers of those stations, and the “techy” people that do the recording and taping, etc.
I spoke to the executive board of the NRB on Friday. It went extremely well and as a consequence, Carol and I got to spend time with almost all of the major Christian television and radio programmers. I was asked to be on standby to be the speaker for the Sunday morning service, since the scheduled speaker was ill. I was prepared and ready to go right up to 8:40 am on Sunday morning when they informed me his plane had arrived and he was able to speak at the 9:30 service.
Part of the reason for being there was to visit with radio station managers from across the nation who air my one minute Garlow Perspective. I also was able to meet with station managers who do not air it and check out their level of interest. It was extremely gratifying. Every single station manager I met with that was not currently airing it expressed their desire to have it.
Carol and I got to spend time with many very special old friends while we were there. In addition, we made many new friends.
On Friday night we went to the Grand Ol’ Opry. It started snowing that day. Nashville rarely receives snow, but they got 3-4 inches that night. As we walked out of the Grand Ol’ Opry, Carol was very shaky, she had done about all she could do that day. We had to walk about 100 yards in fairly heavy snow. I felt like I was practically carrying her. When we were within about 40-50 feet of the bus that would take us back to the Opryland Hotel, a golf cart came by—in the nick of time—and carried her the last few feet. It was extremely cold as we waited for the bus. That was the only time during our trip that I began to think that maybe I made a mistake encouraging her to try to take this trip. Fortunately, the bus arrived in a minute or two and we got her safely home.
As we flew back into San Diego arriving home Monday night around midnight, she once again began to feel the duress of her condition. We had to ask for a wheelchair to take her from the plane to our awaiting vehicle. However those were the exceptions. Throughout the week she did great, she looked beautiful, she smiled brightly and we had a wonderful time. In fact, we had a spectacular time and it was so wonderful to have her with me.
And some other good news, the weight loss has finally stopped. It had gotten as low as 108 lbs. But she actually slowly moved back up to as high as 113. This is a huge answer to prayer.
I am dictating this from the airport because I have to make a quick trip to Oklahoma Wesleyan University (Bartlesville, Oklahoma—north of Tulsa) for a university board meeting. I have not made this many trips for many many months. So it is good that she is doing so well to allow me to be able to do that.
However, I am spoiled, I want her with me. It is much more fun when she can travel.
Once again, an enormous heartfelt thank you for your prayers for Carol during this time. She continues to improve slowly in her GI track complications and she is learning to live with the neuropathy—chemo induced nerve damage to her feet. Bottom line: we are loving life together.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008, 6 pm
I admit it. I am excited. Really excited. Carol is going on her first trip. A real trip! We are flying tomorrow to Nashville.
In the previous posts, I told about our trip to National Religious Broadcasters Association, comprised of 6,000 TV and radio pastor/teachers, station owners, managers as well as those who produce Christian programming. It is a trade show, yet is spiritually uplifting. We know so many of these people that it is similar to a family reunion.
My one minute commentary "The Garlow Perspective" is heard daily on 617 radio outlets around the country. This event allows me to meet with radio station and network managers from across the nation.
But here is the exhilarating part: Carol is going!
Today I called her gynecological surgeon (who did the massive surgery June 26) to thank him for his outstanding "medical ministry" to Carol and tell him about our trip. He was delighted!
A long time ago—on Saturday, June 23—I asked him "how long do we block out for her healing?" He replied "eight months." We did. And that eight month season is past. And Carol is boarding a plane tomorrow!
Considering how weak she is, I have rented an electric scooter there in Nashville since the Opryland Hotel is so massive (actually many hotels all connected together). She seemed somewhat embarrassed when I told her I had arranged for the scooter. However, I think she will grow accustomed to it very quickly—and have a lot of fun "outrunning" me!
We're off to Nashville! Pray for Carol. We—thanks to your faithful prayers—will have an awesome time!
Never, never, never take it for granted when your spouse can go somewhere with you. This is a slice of heaven!
Monday, March 3, 2008, 6 pm
Carol continues the "up" / "down" process, with tiny steps forward all the time.
Last Thursday and Friday were "up" days, with the ability to do some things. Then Saturday was a day filled with sleep and extreme fatigue and weariness. Sunday she was up and able to go again, as was today—Monday.
Here is the week in more detail, with my usual "color commentary." On Thursday, she experienced cancer's greatest cure: shopping for clothes. With her small size (size 2 jeans seem to fit well), she had to get more to wear. She had held off buying clothes in her current size, thinking she would add some needed weight. However, that has not happened yet, so shopping was needed. (For some reason, shopping is always needed, right ladies?)
Thursday she brought several outfits home, hosting and starring in her own runway fashion show. She expected me to select the nicest outfits, after which she would return the ones that failed to make the cut. However, she looked so stunning in all of them, I simply responded "keep them all." She was revived by paramedics who responded to the 911 call placed when she fainted at my abnormally generous offer.
Okay, she did not faint. But here is what is true: she looked stunning and I did truly say, "keep them all" to which she was shocked. (No fainting. No 911. No reviving.)
But that is only part of the story. She not only insisted that SHE go shopping (which was warranted), but that I go shopping on Friday. To me, shopping is right up there with having a root canal.
Assuming Carol can travel, we are going to Nashville this week, thus she needed new clothes. Fair enough.
But she felt that I needed new clothes. As you know, this will be her first time to travel. Apparently she does not want to be seen with me wearing the clothes that were fine till now.
As I stated in the last post, I am speaking on Friday for the Executive Board for the National Religious Broadcasters Association in Nashville. Apparently they have all contacted Carol and told her I need new clothes! She was determined to take me shopping—my worst nightmare!
I tried to talk some sense into this woman, reminding her that she had surgery last June and should not be out. In my desperation, I reminded her that she had had her tonsils out (admittedly decades ago) and her appendix out, thus she should surely not be out shopping. (Admittedly, I was desperate.) All of this to no avail.
Drug like a Frenchman too the guillotine, we went shopping for me last Friday night. A couple hours and several hundred dollars later, I emerged. To soften the blow of the evening, I treated myself to a huge, fat, 3 trillion calorie Starbucks chocolate chip cookie, while the rest of the family found less appealing (in my opinion) treats.
Now on to other concerns: The "powdery mix" that I referred to in the last blog appears to be helping. It is still early in the process, but our first impressions are very encouraging. That is, we think, there are some improvements. For that, we thank God.
And we thank you. There is not an hour that goes by that I don't thank God for the way you stood with us during this storm. Thank you! Thank you!
For those of you outside San Diego, both Christian newspapers have been so very gracious to Carol. The CHRISTIAN EXAMINER references the changes that Carol's cancer brought upon me. The GOOD NEWS paper ran a lengthy article on Carol's healing, including a (shock to us) front page picture of Carol (and me too!).
This is typical of the wonderful, undeserved spiritual support and encouragement we received during this time. We feel so blessed—so very blessed—by you all. THANK YOU! We praise God for you.
Wednesday, Feb 27, 2008, 11 pm
I don't generally do posting twice in the same day, only 12 hours a part. However, if you read the blog this morning, you will wonder about the results from the investigative procedure Carol had today.
Briefly stated, it was good. We did not get any bad news. In fact, we got much understanding of what is happening.
The physician was quite concerned regarding the places where the colon was put back together after some sections were cut out in the June 26, 2007 surgery.
The procedure revealed that both the colon and the small intestines where put back together very skillfully. That is a compliment to Carol's surgeon. We had thought that there might be a problem at one of those points. There is not.
It appears that the problem Carol is facing is somewhat straightforward: the section of her small intestine that was removed (called distal small intestine) has an important function. It absorbs bile (used for food digestion) and recirculates it through the blood steam to the liver for reusage.
However, that portion of her intestines were removed due to tumors. The result is that the bile travels to the colon, which was also cut in half. Originally six feet in length, the colon now measures only three feet. The absence of the distal small intestine sets in motion this complication (bile going to the colon rather than recirculating back to the liver) which results in numerous colon difficulties and pain.
The solution is for her to take a powdery drink (the rest of her life) to offset this. We are eager to see if this addresses the various complications. If so, it was an easy solution.
On a related note, Carol's emotional journey varies from strong to discouragement. This process has left her considerably more emotive. In practical terms, she cries much more often. This is understandable. She has been through much. I interpret these times as "hold me” times.
Crying can be healing, so I don't want to portray these times as a totally negative experiences. What concerns me, however, are those times when the tears are caused by discouragement. The discouragement pertains to her GI track pain and failure to improve.
Carol is trying to eat more so she can gain weight. Much to our disappointment, she dropped another pound. She is now at 108. Yet when she tries to eat more food so that she can gain, she pays a dear price with the GI track challenges.
Having said all of that, we are very hopeful that the prescribed powdery drink will solve this problem. Pray with us for this to bring about the needed and desired results.
(Note: If what I am describing makes little sense, you might want to read the posting this morning.)
Thank you for your continuing prayers for Carol.
Wednesday, Feb 27, 2008, 11 am
Thirteen days have passed since I last posted. Much has happened.
For starters, many of you have written expressing your desire for information. There has been one common phrase: “we are still praying for Carol.” That is such a huge blessing to us. Thank you for your concern for her. We are so very appreciative!
Carol is making some progress. I suspect the definitive word is “some.”
I am writing these next paragraphs for anyone who is interested in Carol’s current condition, but especially in hopes that I can be an encouragement to the caregivers of cancer patients.
Allow me to cut to the chase: do not expect fast recovery from chemo (at least in some cases).
I thought I had adjusted my mind to a slow recovery, as I had been warned about the high toxicity left in the human body from chemo. But I mentally failed to allow the needed months. I had mistakenly and impatiently thought more in weeks. I must readjust to thinking in months. Although there is progress, it is frankly extremely slow.
Mentally I thought there would be substantial change 60 days after final chemo treatment. I was wrong. Carol’s last chemo was Dec. 4, so we are now 85 days past the last chemo, but its impact is still keenly felt by her. I am adjusting my thinking to multiple months, not weeks.
Secondly, surgery can take a toll. You have noted my comments about the Carol’s GI track being severely impacted by the resection. Without going into more detail than needed, her present condition makes it increasingly difficult for her to go out in public. With her ongoing GI struggle, there are some public situations that have been profoundly challenging and even humiliating for her. She has been a trooper, but going “out and about” can be quite difficult.
Given the combination of these two realities (extensive surgery and chemo), I have, candidly, had to battle personal discouragement. The new “normal” may never be close to the old “normal.” Frankly, that is difficult—at times—to accept.
With her strength level faltering on some days, I found myself back in the functional single parent role. Having become accustomed to her being able to drive again and do some normal functions, this has felt like not merely a step back, but a scary one. By “scary” I am simply wondering internally (and now openly) “will we ever be able to function like we used to?”
I prefer to report good news. But last week was a bit of a “downer.” I did some private groaning. (I guess with this public blog, it is no longer private, is it?)
Last week (Tuesday-Thursday, Feb 19-21), Carol handled portions of the annual district pastors retreat well. We were at beautiful Forest Home, located in the California mountains. And to Carol’s delight, it snowed. (She really loves snow!) However, she was so weak that I had to drive her even the shortest distance between buildings. And the GI considerations made it difficult for her to attend all of any session. She would come to a portion of each, but then I would walk her to the cabin.
However, she was there with me. And that was wonderful. So I know I have no right to complain.
A week ago Tuesday (on our way to the retreat), we went again to Dr. Timothy Yeh, the strong Christian doctor who is highly trained in natural medicine, herbs, and acupuncture. He and his wife are such a delight to us. And they take such special interest in Carol. They are a blessing. In this journey, they (like the other doctors) have become friends.
Last Sunday night, Feb 24, I accepted and spoke at my first speaking engagement (San Jose, CA). I had cancelled everything for eight months—from June to March—as soon as we heard the diagnosis. Frankly, it felt strange getting on a plane again, with plans to speak. (I had made one quick flight to Kansas City for the funeral of cousin Jim Lloyd a few weeks ago.)
My major concern however was not my adjustment. That is certainly small and insignificant.
My concern was that this was my first bona fide away time from Carol. Even though, I was only gone from 2 pm till 11 pm (I flew there and back the same day) I called numerous times.
On one of those calls, she was crying due to GI related pain. That tore at me—lots.
On another call, she was crying. This time it was the news regarding Linda Roberson. Linda is a lady in our church who has been one of Carol’s key “heroes,” as she calls her. Linda, who has battled cancer for six years, has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. This had hit Carol very hard.
Today is a very important day. After facing challenges since last June, Carol will have an investigative procedure today to analyze what is occurring in the GI track. We met the specialist, Dr. Bruce Johnson, last Friday. We were so pleased at his level of competence and compassion. We believe that today is a key portion of her health journey.
The neuropathy (nerve damage) remains unchanged in her feet and some fingers. This chemo-caused condition is unlikely to change—barring a miracle. So (you guessed it) we are asking for a miracle!
Jake (high school sophomore) finished the normal wrestling season, doing very well. It impacted him in all the right ways, causing him to develop a wonderful attitude, along with highly increased levels of discipline. Josie (also a sophomore) has begun gymnastics. She (and we) are very excited about what is ahead for her. Both are in special classes to help prepare them for the (someday upcoming) CA high school exit exam.
We were proud of Jake for trying out for a highly competitive position on the golf team. Most of the golfers are truly serious golfers, preparing for months, or all year. Jake only had four days to try to get ready, once wrestling ended. There were only 12 positions on varsity. Eight seniors captured three fourths of those slots, so the competition was really intense for the last four positions. He came in number 17, so missed a slot on the team. However, the vigor with which he pursued it (with only four days turn around time from wrestling) and the attitude with which he lost the chance to be on the team, made him, in our books, a real winner. It was a superbly positive experience, not only because of Jake’s attitude, but because of the people who came around him to support him in his “crash” attempt to get up to speed.
He has now enthusiastically returned to his “first love”—wrestling, taking advantage of some of the post season opportunities, including a trip to Fresno, CA.
In addition to school and athletics, both Jake and Josie are thinking “driving!” Josie passed the online portion of her driving test and is now signed up for a driving school. Between wrestling matches, Jake is studying for his as well. I am giving all CA drivers a fair warning. Clear the roads—soon.
Janie (our daughter) and husband Jeremy McGarity have launched their new church “SevenSanDiego” as of a couple weeks ago. It is located about 25 minutes south of us, in Chula Vista. They are doing so well. They are a huge blessing to us.
Josh (our son) and wife Lacy are doing extremely well. Lacy is working as a nurse's assistant at Grossmont Hospital, near our home. It is awesome having them close.
The four grandsons—Riley and Aidan McGarity, Lukas and Jackson Garlow—are absolutely fabulous. Carol always loves for them to come over, as some did last night. And with Carol doing better, and with Jake and Josie showing so many signs of maturity, I am able to enjoy my grandsons so much better.
Grandmas love babies. But grandpas love it when grandchildren get past the baby stage.
The grandsons are 2, 3, 4 and 7. They are now super fun. My treat for them is building a tent (carefully placed 2” x 2” lumber across selected living room furniture with sheets draped over the top), then climbing inside and eating cookies. I have been accused of building the tent so I have an excuse to eat cookies. This accusation is false. I enjoy building a tent with them. However, I do not feel called to leave out the cookie portion of the event.
In a few days, Carol will (I pray) be able to make her first trip on a plane. I am speaking for the Executive Board of the National Religious Broadcasters Association. It is only 100 people or so (closed session), but it represents the key Christian radio, TV, media personnel. My reason for wanting Carol to go is that it is in the breathtaking Gaylord Opryland Hotel in Nashville. I want her to see this “wonder of the world.”
I will be meeting people (Christian radio managers/owners) in meetings all day for several days, so Carol will have plenty of rest time, downtime. But I am so excited that she will be going. Pray with me that she is strong, beginning March 6, the day we fly.
Thank you for reading another epistle. We love you all.
I have felt an avalanche of gratitude. I have experienced wave after wave of gratefulness for all of you—both here and outside San Diego—who have loved us throughout this journey.
I have been changed, not merely by Carol’s illness, but by your response to that illness. I am simply overflowing with thought after thought of your love for her (us). I am so, so, so, so, so grateful. So thankful for you all.
Thursday, Feb 14, 2008, Valentines Day, 11 pm
Ten days have slipped by since I last updated you. With me missing many days at a time, and with Carol improving, I am not sure if there are any readers left. If not, I will write tonight for my own therapy?!?
The bottom line: good news! Carol is getting stronger, little by little.
Since our Feb 4 entry, she has been able to go to several of Jacob's wrestling matches. I don't mean to brag (yes, I do!)—but he has done well!
(My only super frustrating moment was when his opponent was a female. I am from the "old school." I have taught my sons that their role is to "be a man" and "protect, honor and cherish" females. I have taught them there are certain places they are not to touch a woman—unless she is one's wife.
And then my son is facing a female—in a wrestling match! Title IX means nothing to me, if it means a girl is about to be beat up by my muscular son. I did not know how to respond, whether to feel sorry for her, for I used to wrestle with Jake until about six months ago when he totally surpassed me, ...or whether I should want him to "pound the tar out of her" to teach her a lesson.
Jake, without consulting me, chose the latter. In approximately 40 seconds, she was slammed down on her back with my son on top of her. Not exactly the way I have taught my sons to treat women.
Lesson? Girls—if you want to wrestle, wrestle with girls! My thought: where was her mother or father in all this? How about not encouraging/allowing your daughter to be placed in hands-on combat with manhandling 17 year old boys! Now, back off my soapbox.)
Carol is gaining in strength. That is so encouraging. She drives to stores and to the kid's schools. I am still getting used to it. It is so thrilling to see her function in many "normal" ways. I don't take them for granted. A few days ago, I called home. She answered the phone—with a strong voice. I was ecstatic!
We had an appointment with the oncologist yesterday. Most of her blood counts are up, coming close to normal. One is still a bit low.
We will have the results of her CA125 (cancer markers) tomorrow. We expect them to be fine.
Carol will have an MRI on March 19 to see if there is any tumor activity. This has to be monitored about every three months.
On Feb. 22, we will go to the much awaited appointment with the GI specialist to see what help Carol can have from her extensive resections in the intestines and colon last summer. This still creates numerous problems.
This next Tues-Thurs, she will try her first overnight (two overnights, actually) away. She and I will be joining all of Skyline's pastors/spouses, along with pastors/spouses from all over CA, AZ, NV and NM at the annual "Ministers & Mates" mountain retreat at beautiful Forest Home. It is cold there, and it snows each year. Carol ordinarily loves the snow. She is a bit concerned about that this year however. The area around the cabins is very hilly and steep. Walking a little bit on flat ground is fine. Walking a lot—particularly if she has "played out" for the day, and on an incline, is problematic. We are anticipating that she will do fine.
On our way to the Forest Home Campground, we will detour well into the LA area (Upland) for a doctors appointment with Dr. Timothy Yeh, the brilliant and godly Christian physician trained in both traditional medicine and natural medicine.
Dr. Yeh was the one that "turned Carol around" on August 18 when she was doing so poorly. He prayed over her as he did acupuncture (something I was not a fan of at the time) and prescribed herbs (something I was also skeptical about at that time). You may recall, he turned me around by challenging my confidence in "man-made medicine" (pharmaceuticals) while not being open to that which God had made for the human body—plants (Gen. 1:29-30).
You may recall from my blogging last August that he was trained by the grandson of the royal physician of the emperor of the Ching Dynasty. Thus he is a product of Chinese medicine dating back 4,000 years. (Some people speak of this in a way that denigrates Western medicine. Carol and I do not do that. We felt God gave us a strategy that included both.)
Dr. Yeh selects the finest herbs from China and prescribes them in tea or liquid form. He contends that God's products (plants) are better and safer than man's (medicines). He likes to point out that an apple—made by God—has 500 to 1,000 ingredients needed by our bodies. No man can make an apple.
One of the factors that caused me to initially have confidence in Dr. Yeh were the wide ranging testimonials of people who were helped by him. I did much character referencing, and discovered that everyone that had contact with him (including my own relatives) verified not only his integrity, but is medical acumen. Simply put, I was won over. Carol was won over by the time we left his office the first time, as she began to feel better.
Carol has not been to him since before going to the Oasis of Hope Hospital last September. We had intended to continue on with Dr. Yeh, but were simply unable to in the flurry of events in Carol's journey. So she is glad to be seeing him again.
In conclusion, Carol's strength level has come a long way. She is certainly not nearly at full strength. She works very carefully and slowly. She spends many long hours laying on the living room sofa. She takes naps multiple times a day—sometimes for two hours at a time. However, there is clear progress, even it is incremental.
We are encouraged. And we have overflowed with gratefulness for all of you, for caring and praying for Carol, and all of us, during this season.
May God richly bless you all this moment.
Monday, Feb 4, 2008, 10 pm
Last Thursday & Friday with Carol at the pastors meeting (California Renewal Project) was fabulous! Carol could not stay very late at the banquet table with me, and she had to rest much of the next morning, but it was so wonderful having her at the event even part of the time.
She looked (in my humble opinion) incredible! The Paradise Point is one of San Diego's finest resort hotels. In my opinion, it is the finest. It feels more like Hawaii than San Diego. Our room was right on the bay.
One of the moms that works with Jake's wrestling team told me that when she asked Jake if his parents were coming to the wrestling match last Thursday, Jake misspoke himself, mixing up "Anniversary" with "Honeymoon," and said, "No they can't come, they are on their honeymoon!" Although our anniversary was the day before (Jan 30), Jake was right! It was our honeymoon—after the eight month "detour" that cancer has brought us.
Speaking of Jake's wrestling, he won twice and lost twice in a major tournament last Saturday. Saturday was his 17th birthday and I got to attend most of the tournament. Jake wrestled really good. I was super proud of him. Enough bragging, right?
I was able to be relaxed on Saturday and really enjoy the tournament as I did not have the pressure of preaching on Sunday. Shawn Mitchell, Chaplain of the San Diego Chargers, spoke for Super Bowl Weekend. He was awesome.
Carol, as you know, really enjoys football. So the Super Bowl was special for her.
I hope you had as much fun at your house as we did at ours during the Super Bowl. I thought I was neutral, until the kickoff. I immediately realized that I was for the Giants, for a weak reason: Carol and I lived in New Jersey during our grad school days, and the Giants Stadium is in the Meadowlands, New Jersey (6 miles from Times Square in Manhattan, and about 20 miles from Drew University, Madison, NJ, where I graduated).
Fortunately everyone gathered at our house was for the NY Giants as well—so no conflict at all.
The game was—what can one say—possibly the most thrilling Super Bowl. Tom Brady kept his cool when under pressure in that late fourth quarter drive. And Eli Manning REALLY kept his cool in those last 30 seconds. A remarkable game!
But the most laughter in our household (and probably in yours as well) was the rating of the commercials. At the conclusion of every commercial, every person had to give an immediate thumbs up or thumbs down vote. (No thumbs to the side, ambivalent vote allowed.) "Hank the horse" won the overall commercial award. How about your household?
I thought Carol would "phase out" part way through the game, as her strength fades easily. It did not. She was there at the last second—rejoicing with us all.
Candidly, she does need a physical touch of healing. I have referenced her GI track quite a bit in previous postings. The fact that in surgery last June 26, the sigmoid portion was cut out of the colon, along with three feet removed from the small intestine, has made life quite challenging for Carol.
We were in hopes that after chemo, some things might improve. However, we were aware that these things were problematic BEFORE chemo started.
Simply put, her GI track does not work well. She needs prayer.
She has handled the discomfort and pain quite well most of the time. But last Saturday night I discovered her crying. When asked what was wrong, she said, "I am depressed—so discouraged regarding my (GI track condition)." That discouragement gripped her again late this afternoon.
On a positive, bright note, we had a belated birthday celebration for Jake tonight. When Carol was with her four grandsons, it was as if there was not a worry in the world. Their arrival brought instant healing. She felt the day was glorious, once four little guys were running around, jumping up on the coffee table, doing somersaults off the sofa and love seat.
Back to her physical condition: We really need God's touch on her—again. We are to see a specialist soon—Feb 22. Overall, she is doing really well. But she just needs further healing. Thank you for continuing to pray. Your really bless us!
Thursday, Jan 31, 2008, noon
Today Carol and I will be going to a gathering of 700 pastors and spouses at a luxury resort on the bay here in San Diego. There will be many speakers, including Mike Huckabee, David Barton and former Ohio Congressman Bob McEwen.
There is a reason I am telling you this. I attended the exact same conference (except that Newt Gingrich spoke at that one but is not here in San Diego) in LA on Oct 16.
During the evening banquet, I looked around the room at 1,000 pastors and spouses. Every (almost every) man had his wife beside him. I did not. Carol was home, very ill. (In fact, when I called home that night from the hotel room in LA, I was so concerned I almost left the conference and drove home. This was my first night to be away from her since her diagnosis of cancer.)
As I sat there, my heart became very heavy. I thought of all the men I knew whose wives had died, and they had to go on living without them. The concern (fear?) of losing Carol hit me that night. As I looked at all the happy couples, I thought, "I don't want to be alone, without her." To state it succinctly, I was sad.
But tonight, we will go to the nearly identical banquet. This time, CAROL WILL BE WITH ME! I will never take that for granted!
If you are one that is enjoying life with your spouse, do not take it for granted. Carol is still weak, and limited in what she can do. We are going to the hotel early so she can rest, so she will be able to go to the banquet and then come hear some of the speakers on Friday morning.
But at least she is able to go with me. That is the direct result of a gracious God, a skilled medical community, and you! You stood with us through this time.
Reveling in remission, we are grateful!
Tuesday, Jan 29, 2008, 11 pm
Sometime I hope to tell you about my weekend trip to Kansas City for the funeral of my cousin Jim Lloyd, who died of renal cell carcinoma. It was a riveting and moving experience. But for now, we will focus on this past Sunday morning, and the minor scare it brought.
I stated in my Sunday eve blog that I would add a bit more detail to the skeletal description. Here is the story.
Last Wednesday, Carol finally came down with the same symptoms that everyone else in the county has had: cold & flu symptoms.
We were concerned for obvious reasons: her immune system is still quite compromised. Her white blood count a couple weeks ago was 2.9. It needs to be at least a 5.
On Sunday morning, she was chilling. When I left for church, I thought she had stopped chilling.
I was wrong. She began chilling so badly she was shaking for a couple hours and could not stop.
On Saturday night, she had a slight fever (99.8). She took it at 9:30 am Sunday morning and it had spiked to 101.8. We had been warned twice by our oncologist that if she ever crossed the 101 mark in fever, to call in immediately. Carol was home alone. She called in. Medical personnel said "come in."
Carol called Lacy, our daughter-in-law, at church to see if she could take her to urgent care. I received word of this while I was greeting after the close of the 9:30 am service, just ready to walk back into the 11 am service.
When I heard that Carol was on her way to the urgent care, I decided to leave right then and be there when she and Lacy arrived. It was suggested that I could preach the sermon early in the service, and then I could leave while they did the worship (at the end of the service rather than the beginning).
I opted not to do this because I remembered three things: (1) how firm the oncologist was about the 101 degree "threshold," and (2) the flashback to when I was told in 1998, while greeting people at the door of the church, that my father had been taken to the hospital (On that occasion, I waited too long. Thanks to Marty and Renee Dean for insisting I stop greeting that day, and they drove me quickly to the hospital) and (3) when a person goes into urgent care or an emergency room, they need an assertive "advocate." (Otherwise the patient can sit there for hours. I was very concerned about Carol being in a room filled with sick people when she was already immune-compromised.)
I left the church immediately as the associate pastors made other arrangements for preaching. I arrived at Grossmont Urgent Care a minute before Carol and Lacy did. We did have to wait for some time (in spite of my three trips to the desk explaining gently that she was a chemo patient and would not benefit from the surroundings; they did at least give her a mask to wear).
The ER doc was great, thorough, compassionate and competent. The nurse we learned, upon visiting, had a son on the Valhalla Wrestling Team with our son Jake. She was warm, caring and professional as well.
They were quite concerned that the rising temperature had been unaffected by Carol's use of Motrin at 9:30 or 10 am that morning, in an attempt to drive the temp down. In addition, the low white blood cell count, they said, could eventually result in pneumonia or even a blood disease. I could tell that the doctor was taking the situation very seriously.
He cautioned us that unless there was an increase in white count, she would have to have a bone marrow sample taken in the days ahead. As you may know, that is when a large needle is inserted through the hip bone—kind of forced through—and a large sample of marrow is taken to try to determine why it is not producing white blood cells.
Some of you know that this is an extremely painful procedure. The doctor explained that he had administered it repeatedly in med school and people always came away saying "that was the greatest pain I have known," not exactly our most comforting doctor-patient conversation.
The physician ordered a blood test, an x-ray, and a urine analysis. However, during this time, her temperature suddenly dropped—to 99.8. This was welcomed news. In all candor, the only explanation we have for this was that a call for prayer had gone out. Thank you for praying!
In addition, the blood test revealed that the white blood cell count had risen to 3.9 (in contrast to the 2.9 readout two weeks before). It was not what it needed to be. However the fact that it had increased indicated that the bone marrow sample would not be ordered.
Approximately 2:30 pm, Carol came home from the hospital.
She is still coughing some and chilling often. Yet overall she is improving.
And her overall strength is improving as well.
Now you know "the rest of the story."
Tomorrow January 30 is our 37th Anniversary. It will be our best. We have gone through 36 anniversaries. But there were days over the last 8 months that I wondered how many more we would have together. So I cherish this one. I cherish everything these days!
Tomorrow will be our best day ever.
Sunday, Jan 27, 2008, 3:00 pm
We had a bit of a scare this morning. As many of you know, I left church before the last service began at 11 am. I received word that Carol's temperature had spiked (101.8) and she was being taken to urgent care. Due to the fact that her white blood cell count had been low, I knew that a temperature increase could be potentially serious. We had always been told that if her temperature ever reached 101, to contact medical personnel immediatley.
Our daughter-in-law Lacy, who was called by Carol during the second church service, drove Carol to urgent care, arriving there a couple minutes after I did.
Suffice it to say that Carol is fine now and back home. Tests were run which I'll cover in a later post.
I will write the full story later, but I wanted to calm the hearts of those of you in that third service and knew that we were at urgent care. We do think that prayer was key in her inexplicably dropping temperature. The medicine, which was taken much earlier, did not affect it. It dropped when a prayer alert went out.
I just wanted you to know: All is well. Full details to follow.
Friday, January 25, 2008, 8:30 am
Carol continues to increase in strength day by day. It is so encouraging to see her be able to do more and more things. She still takes extended naps, up to two hours at a time, sometimes several naps in the course of a day. But overall, her strength is clearly improving. It is wonderful to have her be able to go to certain events with me.
She also is continuing to take 60 supplements a day, part of her Oasis of Hope Hospital protocol. During her most difficult days, she simply was not able to ingest that many supplements. Some days she was able to take 20, other days 40, but almost never was she able to get all 60 down. With her increased strength she is able to continue on the supplement regiment. We are thankful for that as well.
I’m dictating this from the San Diego airport. I’m flying to Kansas City for the funeral of my first cousin Jim Lloyd (see previous posting of Jim Lloyd). Carol wishes very much she could go, she cannot. I return tomorrow, Saturday, after the funeral. This funeral, like all funerals, is a reminder that life is fragile and it is brief. In light of what we have experienced over these last seven months, I encourage you once again to value every moment you have with your spouse and your loved ones. Thank God for the privilege of living and thank you for praying for Carol in a way that has extended her life. We are so grateful for you.
We love you all.
Monday, Jan 21, 2008, 11:30 pm
On Saturday, Carol and I realized that three things had converged: (1) the beach condo was open for one night (Sunday night), (2) she felt good enough to go, and (2) Jake and Josie were out of school on Monday (today). So we excitedly went to the condo yesterday and stayed overnight.
I did exactly what is supposed to happen when we go the condo: I rode my bike miles Sunday night. Then I slept. We all slept late, and did not feel any guilt for it. Then I rode my bike. Then I slept some more.
Carol did what she wanted to do. Rest.
Jake and Josie had their request, which I honored. In our bike riding, we stopped by Belmont Park for them to ride on the amusement rides.
So we had a fantastic time. I don't take these times for granted. It is fabulous for Carol to feel this good. Although she is still limited in her activities, she is definitely improving.
Shifting topics now, to a more somber one.
May I share some difficult news from our household regarding a relative? This loss ties directly in with Carol's cancer journey.
We just received word a few moments ago that my first cousin, Jim Lloyd of Kansas City, died from a four year struggle with cancer tonight. He was three years older than me, but very close. As a medical doctor (in our hometown through much of his medical practice), he fully understood the nature of his battle.
He flew out to see Carol this past December, only seven weeks ago. (He had brought his mother, Luella Garlow Lloyd, to be here for the 90th birthday party for her good friend, Pastor Orval Butcher, Skyline's founding pastor.) When he arrived in San Diego, he immediately crossed the border so he could come to Oasis of Hope Hospital in Tijuana where Carol and I had just spent a week.
During his weekend with us, we had a mini-Garlow reunion (as several other relatives had flown in for Pastor Butchers event). We sat in our living room and visited, told stories and laughed. Finally I turned to Jim, clearly in pain from the advanced cancer, and simply said, "talk to us, Jim."
Although Jim and I share the same first name, we have very differing personalities. He, unlike me, says little and talks slow. I was not sure how he would respond to the simple "talk to us, Jim" request. He was one who never called attention to his cancer. He did not discuss it unless asked.
In addition, he was so committed to beating the cancer that he denied it. He did not deny its existence. However, he did deny cancer's hold on his life. Only a short time ago, he loaded his motorcycle with his wife Lynette and a few belongings, and went (in winter time) from Kansas City to Florida. The trip eventually included a trip up the coast to New York and Boston. He cherished every moment.
Typical of his refusal to let cancer determine his activities, he (having a “good day” two weeks ago) insisted on riding his motorcycle one last time, making a trip to visit his 90 year old mother.
Meanwhile, let’s continue the story back in our living room on Friday night, Nov 30, 2007. I was uncertain if Jim Lloyd would prefer not to discuss his cancer condition in a living room with over a dozen relatives. I wanted to make it easy for him to decline. But he did not.
When I asked him to talk to us, he proceeded to—slowly and thoughtfully, as was his nature—describe his cancer journey, helping us to grasp where he was. He spoke quite freely of the many treatments and surgeries he had undergone.
He referenced a new experimental chemo pill he was now taking orally. He quietly stated that research showed that it only extended life by three months.
Wanting to soften the blow of what he said, I interrupted for the first and only time during his nearly half hour tender description of his condition, "but the 'three months' surely must be the average. That research would include some who lived a much shorter time, and others, then, lived much longer, didn't it?" (implying that he might live much longer).
"No," he responded. Research shows that no one has ever made it past the three month mark." As if I was not getting it, he stated, "100% of those who resort to this last effort pill die within three months." We were silent, feeling the force of his words upon us.
The next day was Saturday, Dec 1. Preaching about the brevity of life, I referred him (and his anticipated short remaining life span) in the Saturday night 6 pm service. Due to the darkened house lights in that service, I cannot see those before me. I did not know he was in the audience. Afterward, he let me know that my sharing about him was fine. He was not bothered to be referenced.
I referred to him again in the three Sunday morning services. He was present in the 9:30 am service, seated on the third or fourth row. Looking right at him, I said, "Jim told me that no person on the special oral chemo had ever made it past three months," making my point about how to properly look at this spectacular, yet fragile thing called life. He told me later that when he heard me say "three months", he wanted to stand up and cry out, "I'll be back in six months!" meaning that he would outlive the prognosis. He did not.
That declaration—about beating the odds—characterized his whole life, whether as a young Marine here in San Diego so many years ago, his time in Vietnam, his passionate love for extreme (and I mean extreme) sports, his determination to raise his two small children after the death of his young wife, Linda, in a car accident that almost killed him as well, and a host of other amazing events that characterized his life. (He later married Lynette, who enjoyed 27 years of marriage with him.)
Carol is not yet able to travel, so I will go alone to his funeral in Kansas City, flying out in the next day or so. She wants badly to go to the funeral, but is not quite able to handle it.
I have told you about my cousin, because the phone call late tonight hit both Carol and me in all the ways such phone calls impact you.
Jim Lloyd was just with us—so recently. Now he is gone.
When the call came, Carol was, ironically, being interviewed in our living room by a reporter for the Good News magazine, a Christian newspaper in San Diego on the topic of cancer.
Thus I took the call. I cried. Through tears, I told her. We were trying to rejoice in his successful home going. We found ourselves more impacted by the grief.
Let me address the other obvious implications. Phone calls like this remind us that remission is not always permanent. Thus living each moment reverently is important. Although Carol and I are committed to seeing her successfully overcome this ravaging disease on the "long term," we fully recognize we are in a continuing battle. We plan to win. Yet we value the "now." We have "this moment."
There is a special bond among cancer patients. Jim Lloyd and Carol understood each other in the December meeting. Jim told people that he came to San Diego last December to be with Carol, to encourage her. They enjoyed moments of sharing. He was so very tender to her.
(He was always a very compassionate doctor. He was drawn towards those who faced difficult circumstances. He was known for his love of his patients. He was totally unmotivated by income, during his entire medical practice. He is one of the few persons who would have done what he did, even if he was never paid a cent. He was a quiet man. But he was one of deep resolve regarding easing human suffering.)
After Jim returned to Kansas City on Sunday, Dec 2 from his visit here in San Diego, he told his daughter Eve (who shared it with me), "the highlight of my trip was spending time with Carol."
So, tonight was difficult. For Carol, it meant losing one of her "cheerleaders," a key encourager.
For me, it meant losing a special one. In my father's generation were eight siblings. Those eight, along with their spouses, produced 29 first cousins. We were quite close. Amazingly close.
A number of us in reasonably close age proximately, were essentially raised together: (to name a few) Bob, Lyle, Jim, David, Sherry, Linda, Janet, Judy and me. We "ran together" continually. We practically lived together. We resided in rural America, where family was paramount. And in a sparsely populated area, we really relied on each other.
We all knew the same people, had many of the same teachers and enjoyed the same church experiences. To those who were a couple years older than Jim, they recognized quickly that he could hold his own. To those of us who were a couple years younger than Jim, he was a hero.
But tonight at 10:25 pm, Central Time, Jim graduated to heaven. We miss him. There is a reason why we spoke of him so much in today's blog. He was one of Carol's caregivers, even if only during Friday-Saturday-Sunday, Nov 30-Dec 2, 2007.
In the midst of our loss, we rejoice over one important fact: As of January 21, Jim Lloyd is fully and forever cancer free.
Sunday, Jan 20, 2008, 4:30 pm
Carol is really doing well. Her strength is returning. My heart jumped for joy when I heard her say to someone a couple days ago, "I have had four good days in a row."
Her strength is noticeably increasing. This is such an encouragement to us. She is able to do a little more each passing day.
We just watched the Chargers lose, but I am proud they got this far! Everyone will grouse about the loss. My view: there are only four teams who made it this far. Way to go!
We are going to the beach condo right now (Sun. afternoon) to stay overnight. I will be riding my bike many miles tonight—thanking God for each revolution of the pedals. Each family member is selecting what they want us to do as a family. Josie's will undoubtedly be for us to all go to the hot tub and swimming pool. (She would prefer for us to live there.) Jake's will be surfing, but we don't all surf, so that request will be problematic. Carol will want us to watch some effeminate movie like Princess Diaries. Ugh!
As I noted in a posting a few days ago, we had not been able to go to the condo for 14 months, due to it being rented out, due to our overcommitted schedule and due to Carol's health. So we were elated that we enjoyed it for two days a week or so ago.
We are once again praising God for this 24 hour time at the beach. The condo is booked for months after this, so we are cherishing this moment, not merely for being there, but for Carol being strong enough to do this.
We are SO VERY thankful for life. If you are not a part of the Skyline Church family, take a moment and see "Pastor Jim's Simple Place" at www.skylinechurch.org. We encourage everyone to have their "simple place."
We sure love you all. Thank you for praying our family back to health!
Thursday, Jan 17, 2008, 1:30 am
It has been a very long day (and night). But it has been a superb day.
Carol had two doctor’s appointments. One was with a neurological surgeon. This appointment pertained to deteriorating discs in her back, a problem that predated the cancer.
All of our back discs begin degenerating from age 3 on, as soon as we walk, according to the doctor. We reach our maximum height at age 20, after which we shrink two inches.
Although Carol’s discs are somewhat advanced in their deterioration, we had very good news regarding the spinal column itself. Bottom line: no surgery. Carol was thrilled.
We then went up one floor to see another one of Carol’s doctors for an extremely important report.
Dr. Andrew Hampshire, Carol's medical oncologist, reported that a team of 15 physicians (2 radiologists, 1 pathologist, 4 surgeons, and 8 medical oncologists) known as the "tumor board" gathered to review every single MRI, CT Scan and biopsy done on Carol's liver.
The conclusion in his exact words: "There is no evidence of any disease! You are in remission." As you know, we had received this report before Christmas. However, it had a slightly tentative tone to it. Questions lingered regarding the liver. In December, Dr. Hampshire told us that a group of doctors were going to meet and discuss her case on Jan 8 to make a firm ruling one way or the other.
Well they did. This time, Dr. Hampshire's tone was firm. In fact, he said, "I can now conclusively and definitely say that you do not and never did have a malignant tumor in your liver. It is definitely 'fatty tissue.'"
Even though we had heard that report tentatively stated in late December, it was so exciting to hear it stated so confidently Jan 16, at 4 pm. We rejoiced.
He discussed what is called "profusion weighted imaging," which helped confirm the "fatty tissue" diagnosis. All imaging was concordant, meaning that there was a consistency on the films. Whereas it was thought that the biopsy needle might have missed its intended target (thus negating the report), the needle in fact had penetrated the very center of the tumor in suspect. This fact made the biopsy report of many weeks ago valid.
In addition, Carol’s body is slowing beginning to produce its own red blood cells. And her CA125 markers are low and holding steady.
What a day of wonderful reports! We were SO thrilled.
Carol seemed so relaxed in the doctor’s office today. She smiled, laughed and joked. And the doctor seemed equally relaxed. He laughed and teased. He visited like we were the only patients he had for the day. It was delight.
So we rejoiced. Carol and I left the doctors office, drove to school, picked up Jake and Josie—and thanked God, right there in the car, as we drove.
I had a Church Board meeting tonight at the church. Carol felt so good she was able to drive "the 8" tonight, her first night freeway driving in seven months. She took Jake, along with Josie, to his football banquet, a special event indeed. Tomorrow night we go as a family to Jake's wrestling match.
We had received Carol's great prognosis before Christmas. Today we received the confirmation of it. This was a great day. A very great day.
I have learned something (which most of you already know). When one of your loved ones is facing a life threatening situation, the things that you used to think mattered so much don’t. Your priorities are quickly turned right side up.
So much has happened. Some of it very frightening, painful and even discouraging. But some of what has happened is wonderful and glorious.
Thank you for praying for us. THANK YOU SO MUCH.
Monday, Jan 14, 2008, 11 pm
"Dear diary, I have neglected you for a week."
Okay—an admittedly weak way to begin a blog. A bit too effeminate for me, thank you.
So—let's begin again. "Good Morning Vietnam."
Not as weak a beginning as "Dear Diary," but it makes no sense, since we are not in Vietnam.
The third time is a charm:
Hello! Carol is doing well. She is still very weak, but making small steps forward.
Here is an overview since the last posting:
Tuesday, Jan 8 - I was in staff meetings from 8:30 am to 6 pm, then had to be gone from 7 pm to 9:30 pm. Very rare (if ever) had I been gone that much on a day—during the last 7 months. Carol was weak, but doing well.
Wednesday, Jan 9 - I was home studying for the sermon, etc. Carol was able to care for her grandson Aidan. She was elated to have him. I did not know if she could handle him for two days (his parents—Janie & Jeremy McGarity were in Atlanta), but Aidan was spectacular, and Carol loved having him here.
Seeing Carol was doing well, I went to the beach for my bike ride on the boardwalk (and on the sand), something I had been unable to do for so many months during Carol’s challenges. It was, as you guessed, wonderful.
For those of you who are not part of Skyline Church and did not see the video produced by our talented video man, Nick Benoit, of my "bike heaven" (the beach), it may be posted on Skyline's home page in the next few days.
It was produced as a part of my sermon series on SIMPLIFY. I had my old rusted (by the salty sea air) beach cruiser on the platform with me during last weekend’s sermon, as a way of reminding everyone to find their "Simple Place." My “simple place” is on the beach, as you know.
Now that Carol is better, she encourages me to get down to the beach. I had not made it there the entire time she was sick.
Thursday, Jan 10 - Carol went with me to Jake's wrestling match: Valhalla High School against Mt. Miguel High School. Jake was elevated from the Jr. Varsity to Varsity that night. And he won.
Okay, for the rest of the story. The opponent in his weight class was a no show. Thus he won by a forfeit. But a win is a win!
Jakes comment at the end of the evening: "I would rather wrestle and lose, than to win by forfeit! I want to wrestle."
We have been totally vulnerable regarding Carol to this point, thus there is probably no reason to go "under the radar." Carol was able to go to the wrestling match, but was so very weak. I thought we would have to leave early. She was totally exhausted when we got home. And she acknowledged that her fatigue was both physical and emotional. For some reason she was inclined to periods of crying.
I don't think these periods need to be analyzed. There would be little value in that. They just "are."
So I would just hold her, and repeat the now-seven-month-old-mantra, "we are going to make it." The gentle holding and the affirming words would bring her out of it. When the crying would begin again, the procedure (holding and "we are going to make it.") would be repeated.
Since both Jake and Josie were out with friends after the wrestling match on Thursday night, this alone time gave me the needed time to focus on the crying seasons. By late Thursday, those times came to a closure.
Friday, Jan 11 - This was Josh's birthday, so Carol was focused mentally on him. However, we could not formally celebrate his birthday till Sunday night. That gave Carol something to look forward to.
Janie, our now 30 year old, and her husband came home from their trip to Atlanta. They sat with us in the living room and we talked for hours. This was a great time for Carol. She can lay on the sofa (her special place) and enjoy the family. She always wants the fireplace going, so we accommodate her requests. That sofa has been her "place" for some time.
Since she is there on the sofa so much, I day by day repeatedly go over and give her a kiss. Well, we have some interesting stories regarding her "sofa sightings."
As you know, chemo causes hair loss. Thus Carol has had to wear a wig for many months. Candidly, she would not have to because, even without hair, she is "one hot mamma!" Seriously (I never thought I would say this), she looks awesome without it. Quite chic, actually. A Parisian touch! An elegance.
However, she has wigs. (And for the record, she is still "one hot mamma" with the wigs!) Back to my story about the sofa.
There are times when she is laying on the sofa, and she takes her wig off. She occasionally forgets to take it with her and leaves it there on the pillows as she leaves the room. When viewed from the kitchen due to the height of the back of the sofa, all I see is the wig. I assume there is a head under that wig and go in to give her a kiss, only to discover that some Indian did a hatchet job and all I got was the scalp! (Is it politically correct to talk about Indians and scalps? I suspect not.)
But the bottom line is this: I cannot tell you the number of times that I have gone to the sofa only to find hair—but no Carol. I then go on a search—for the rest of her.
Well, to continue the story. Last week, I saw over the back of the sofa—not her hair—but her head. The chemo created bald head. I went from the kitchen to the living room sofa to kiss her. I leaned down—and to my shock it was not Carol.
I had forgotten that Jake (at the church youth group ski retreat) had (without my permission) shaved his head. I was about to affectionately and romantically kiss the head of a nearly 17 year old high school wrestler, not something that wrestlers or their fathers want to be doing. In shock I backed away. The whole family, finding out my discovery, joined together in laughter. If I recall correctly Jake did not find it very funny either.
Saturday, Jan 12 - Jake and Josie took the ornaments off the thoroughly exhausted and overextended Christmas tree. Normally we take the tree down much earlier (such as in a “reasonable” length of time), but we do everything a bit late these days.
Carol began to pack ornaments, but quickly "ran out of steam." Shirley Stauber came to the rescue, and helped Carol pack a few of the 2,468 boxes of Christmas decorations. Okay, there aren't that many. It just feels that way.
She watched the Green Bay-Seattle game. Everyone knows that Carol loves football. But Carol really loves—I mean, really loves—snow. We have no snow in San Diego, so she was thrilled to watch the snow fall during the game. Her favorite combination: football with snow!
Sunday, Jan 13 - Carol was in 7th heaven. Why? More football games. She went to one of Skyline's services, then we watched a later (DVR) run of the San Diego - Indy game. It was WONDERFUL—that is, the San Diego victory.
My good friend Shawn Mitchell is the Chaplain for the Chargers. He called me as soon as the game ended. I told him "don't tell me the score. I am watching it via DVR, about three hours behind real time."
So he did not tell me the score. But as soon as he learned we were watching it delayed, he purposely acted very subdued on the phone. Not knowing he was putting me on, I thought "oh no, we lost." When the phone call ended, I dejectedly told Carol, "we lost. I can tell in the tone of Shawn’s voice. There was no excitement. We lost!"
So I watched the entire game "waiting for the shoe to drop." At 10 minutes, I wondered how were we going to lose this? At five minutes, I wondered the same thing. At two minutes, I wondered, what will we do to lose? At one minute left, I was still expecting something horrible to happen. Down to the last few seconds, my stomach muscles were tightened, knowing that tragedy waited.
Then the game was over. For a moment, I thought there was a mistake. I had spent the entire game "in the dumps," convinced that San Diego had lost—expecting the worst. So I was in shock when we won. I actually had missed the joy of winning. I was so focused on losing. (A lesson there folks?)
Shawn later told me that he purposely tried to act like we lost—trying so hard to suppress his real emotions. He was surprised that I did not hear the San Diego Charger players in the background (on the bus to the Indy airport) yelling and screaming in victory; I had not heard them.)
With the win, Carol was ecstatic (and so was I). Charged up (no pun intended) we went into the next game, fully expecting our Dallas Cowboys to be as blessed as the Chargers. We were watching the game with great anticipation of a Cowboy victory. We were wanting so badly for the Superbowl to be a Chargers-Cowboys match-up.
At the end of the first quarter, I went into another room and absent mindedly turned on the TV, forgetting that in the living room, Carol and I were watching the game on delay (DVR). I happened to turn on the other TV at the exact moment that the game ended—in real time—with Dallas losing. I was stunned for a second, then realized I had just jumped from delayed time (first quarter) to real time (end of the game).
I did not tell Carol why, but excused myself from watching the game with her in delayed time in the living room and went to bed to try to sleep off my Cowboys loss, football depression.
From the living room, I could hear her yelling excitedly each time the Cowboys scored. I did not have the heart to tell her that her exultations were in vain.
But, what I want you to know is this. Sunday was a great day (in spite of the Dallas loss) for Carol. She finished the day better than the Cowboys.
I had planned to go to the beach to ride my bike, but I became a bit ill. In addition, Josh and his family and Janie and her family joined us for a "Joshua birthday" evening. Carol loved it. She had a superb day.
Monday, Jan. 14 - Carol went with me to the doctor. You read that right. I did not go with her to her doctor. She went with me to my doctor. What a switch.
Now, we have been transparent for 7 months regarding Carol. Warning: do not read further unless you want to remain within the "interior" of the Garlow household. And I do mean “interior.” You have been warned. Proceed with great caution.
Here's the scoop (and it ain't pretty, folks): Once every five years, us "over 50 guys" are supposed to get—bear with me now—a sigmoidoscopy. To make it sound better, they call it a "Flexible Sigmoidoscopy." Oh great! Just great!
Well, I had postponed. And postponed. Not smart, I know.
I had not had this wonderful experience for 7 years. I ran into a buddy of mine on Friday. He had just overcome colon cancer. He had a staggering surgery and chemo journey. When I told him I had avoided the sigmoidoscopy "blessing" for 7 years, he laid into me "get that done now!"
My doctor had already filled out the paperwork (lab routing) for me to do it. I had just ignored it.
Now for a serious note: There were two reasons I had neglected it during the last 7 months. (This is being exceptionally candid.) One was that with Carol's condition, I did not know how we could handle a negative report—if there was to be one. One member of the family fighting cancer was enough.
Secondly, I (suffering no symptoms of any ailment) was trying to get a stronger life insurance policy in force, which proved to be a lengthy process. Months went by during this process.
I am highly sensitive to this because (and this is highly tender, delicate, previously private matter to us) Carol had completed all her paperwork for an increased life insurance policy in mid June (not knowing what was around the corner).
But just before it was approved, we received the shocking word of her diagnosis. After that, I attempted to get life insurance for her but, as you can guess, was declined repeatedly as I honestly answered the questions regarding cancer.
Thus, I was determined to get that part of my business life in order before having the sigmoidoscopy—especially since it was totally routine—without symptoms of problems.
I called the doctor on Friday, asking when I could be scheduled. I fully expected to have to wait for several months. Instead they said “would you like 8 am or 8:20 am or 8:40 am or 9 am?”
“What month?” I asked, wanting to even ask, “what year?”
To my horror, the schedulers voice said, “This Monday, three days from now?” “But are you sure you can accommodate me that quickly? Aren’t you booked up?”
“No” she calmly replied, with the sound of a steel trap coming down on me.
“But don’t I have to avoid certain food for days before this—and we are only three days from Monday?”
“No,” you just have to—and I think it is best if I not describe what she asked me to do to my body. Suffice it to say, she wanted me all clean for her little procedure!
Monday came—way to quickly. It came right after Sunday this week.
And, I learned a lot about the advances of medical technology today (Monday).
First, the procedure is not nearly as uncomfortable (understatement?) as it was seven years ago. Seriously.
Secondly, now that the video generation is upon us, they allow you to lay there and watch on the screen the insides of your you-know-what! “Allow” you might not be the right word. “Coerce” you might be closer?
I could not believe it. Yesterday I watched the Chargers win. Today—via TV—I was taking a trip down my colon! If I have the choice, I chose the Chargers.
Seven years ago, I squeezed the hand of the nurse so firmly, I was concerned she would be forever maimed—with certain fingers permanently enmeshed together. As I crushed her hand, she kept saying "no problem." I am sure it took her three days to get feeling back into her hands.
As I arrived at the doctors office today, I discovered that the doctor had overcommitted. They said there would be "a wait." For the first time, I was overjoyed to have to wait. I was in hopes that the wait would be for about five years. To my disappointment, it was only twenty minutes.
Finally, a prison guard to escort me into my cell.
However, when they escorted me into the blessed chamber, I discovered that the doctor was not available. I was told that "Nurse Gayle" would administer the procedure. "Nurse Gayle" had the sound of a prison warden to me, at that moment.
Preceding "Nurse Gayle" was a male Asian nurse's assistant whose name I could not pronounce. He saw my Chargers shirt and began excitedly talking about the game. His English was good, but not good enough, thus I could only understand every third word.
However, I assumed that if I agreed with his play-by-play account of the 24 hour old game, he would forget about the reason I was there. Discussing LT and Rivers' departure from the game, and the victory by the second string, sounded like a wonderful morning topic.
I was not so blessed. By the time he was discussing the third quarter, he remembered why I had come to the doctor's office.
In the midst of his game commentary, he directed me onto the table of death, and instructed me how to prepare for this final, terminating event of my life. His instructions must have come directly from a New York Bestseller entitled, “How to Humiliate Humanity.”
I wanted badly to beg him to keep telling me about the Charger victory, even if I could not fully understand it. But such favor was not to fall upon me. He gave me my last rights and stepped out of the room, for me “to prepare!”
Moments later my Asian nurse assistant-turned-sports commentator reemerged. He was not alone. "Nurse Gayle" was with him.
She too was Asian. She said, "do you have any questions?” something quite fitting for a guillotine operator.
I seriously considered asking questions for hours, simply to stall my eventual death. Being instinctively interrogative by nature, I felt my questioning could most assuredly outlast her workday. Instead, I chose to face the firing squad.
She began the procedure, one which humiliates the most proud! In addition, she chose to tell me what she was doing as she did it. As if I did not know!
But quickly I discovered that this nurse / nurse assistant team were incredible. The explanations quickly calmed my tormented spirit.
Although the first few minutes of "watching TV" (the trip up the colon) was a pathetic sight, I relaxed and found it intriguing. (How warped is that! It takes so little to entertain people of sigmoidoscopathic age.)
"Nurse Gayle" was superb in her qualifications—both in people skills and technical skills. She made the procedure—an understandably unpleasant one—to be painless and quite informative.
I admit that I would have rather toured the Football Hall of Fame than my colon. But "Nurse Gayle" was a superb tour guide, explaining every corner we turned. And, not that you need to know, we turned many of them.
The only question I asked was "how long will this take?" She replied "Five to seven minutes." She, and her assistant, were so superbly skilled that it actually felt much shorter (though I was not desiring for it to be extended any longer)!
A few moments later, she exclaimed "we are all the way in." I never had the courage to ask how far that was. All I knew was that the miniature camera had not yet appeared coming out of my throat. So I was satisfied not to know how many miles we had actually traveled up the GI highway. It felt like approximately the same distance I had driven “the 8” that morning to get to the house of torture.
We finished the glorious experience and she pronounced me to be free of any signs of cancer whatsoever. A wonderful relief, to be sure.
The story may have some humor. Or, more realistically, it may be just TMI (too much information). I warned you to stop reading many paragraphs ago! It is your fault if you proceeded. Your fault totally!
But here is the serious part. There are two things I hope you learned: First, get your life insurance updated today. The definitive word: today.
I failed to do that with Carol. We should have been "ahead of the game." We were not. Though I trust we will never need a life insurance policy for her, I harmed our family's well being by delaying too late. As a person who has prided himself on keeping his business affairs in order, I messed up on this one.
Secondly, do NOT avoid needed medical exams, even if they are intimidating and unpleasant, such as a sigmoidoscopy.
Candidly, I wonder how many of you are reading this and have not had proper, timely medical exams.
Listen to me. Do it now.
Carol's cancer was discovered "on a whim." (More realistically, at the supernatural intervention of a loving God.)
As you may recall, she had had minor surgery on June 18. Had she not felt some "complication" and made the trip back to the emergency room at midnight on June 19, she would by now (according to the gynecological oncologist) have lost her chance for life. It would have been a catastrophically late finding—too late.
I hate to sound so "teachy," so nagging. But do not delay.
Okay, enough lecturing from “daddy.”
A lighter note: There is one more thing. All women know that they have a much higher threshold of pain than men. It is commonly said that if men had to endure childbirth, the human race would become extinct with this generation. Simply stated, men are (for the most part) wimps, at least in doctor's offices and all things medical.
Carol went with me today to my "journey-up-the-colon" experience. When I emerged from the doctor's room, so pleased with myself that I was fully standing and alive, I proudly marched to my wife. She appeared so unconcerned in the waiting area. I had assumed she would be on her knees praying for her husband.
I (arrogantly?) said, "you have had your seven months of pain, suffering and procedures. Now I have had mine. We are even." A correctly insulted wife responded, "sure!" with a look of disdain that only a coward like me could appreciate.
Okay, enough.
Hey, we love you guys. We love you so much!
I have been, again this week, overwhelmed with love for all the Skyliners and others across the country, who have held us together during the last half of '07 and these early days of ’08. I love you all—so, so, so very much!
Monday, Jan 7, 2008, 11:30 pm
A quick update from here:
Carol and I were empty nesters last week (Wed-Sat) as Jake and Josie went skiing with Sk