Maggie and I are home after a long last day of a three day admission. The chemo infusion was uneventful – even a bit better than most in terms of discomfort (nausea, skin irritation). She was due for her pentamidine (normally given via breathing treatment) which is a prophylactic antibiotic (standard therapy for all CCC patients). This time she requested the medicine via IV to cut down on the nausea it causes her so soon after chemo. Well, let’s say if didn’t go as planned. She quickly became violently nauseated and had to have the IV paused and then slowed WAY down. Thus, our long day. But she’s resting comfortably in bed as I write.

Her CEA did show a noticeable spike this week. It had been holding within a steady range of 4.5 – 5.5 for the last six weeks. The current reading is 8.99. This tumor marker can indicate new growth/tumor progression but can be elevated for benign reasons. We’re always cautioned not to read too much into it. It is a concern given persistent pain she is having in her back (liver region). We will have scans on January 9th (regularly scheduled) for the complete picture. We’ll be praying for peace, trust and calmness during the waiting period.

Like you, my thoughts have turned to a year-in-review vein. 2017 was a tough one. Maggie and I agreed it was the most difficult since her diagnosis. Tumor progression in the liver took us to UAB for a brush with death then on to MD Anderson for a new direction in treatment. A bend in the road in Houston brought us back to the starting point, to Batson.

T.S. Eliot wrote (Four Quartets):

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”

We can’t un-walk the difficult steps, un-cry tears of grief and frustration, un-feel loss and discouragement. We can’t go back and change 2017. But, when God allows us to return, we do so with new eyes and a different heart.

The Batson PICU waiting area is within the main first floor hallway outside the elevators. I pass through it numerous times during our stay. Yesterday I noticed a large group waiting together. Their family member – a child – was fighting for his/her life in the ICU. When the elevators delivered me to the first floor on my way to load the car this evening, I heard crying, actually, wailing, from the waiting area. The family members were lost in shock, grief, and each others embrace. I silently prayed as I moved on through. I loaded our stuff then made my way back toward the elevators. In the long hallway approach to the waiting area, I passed an older couple who had broken off from the grieving group. I overheard the woman tell her companion: “I told them it’s just God’s way.”

This year, 2017, any year, all we can say when we look back, revisit the hard parts, smile again at the sweetness, laugh again at the funny, cry again at the pain, is it’s just God’s way.

The LORD is righteous in all His ways And kind in all His deeds. Psalm 145:17