Sometimes, the hardest place to go is back. To the setting of our darkest hour and deepest hurt. Mercy calls us back for healing – to complete its job. And with such thoughts ruminating in my heart and mind Monday, Maggie and I loaded the car and traveled east…. to Birmingham and UAB. A familiar drive into uncharted regions.

Seven months earlier, Maggie’s participation in her first Phase I clinical trial was cut short due to new tumor activity. Cancer was growing in lymph nodes near the biliary tree – the heart of liver activity where the common bile duct and artery feed the liver with bile and blood. The tumor was encasing the bile duct causing bilirubin levels to rise to 14 – one point short of kidney damage territory – and threatening liver function. She was sent to a GI specialist for insertion of a biliary stent to keep the duct open. The routine procedure – an ERCP – involved placing the stent endoscopically without surgical cuts. Except the bile duct was being squeezed too tightly to allow success, so a small incision was made to facilitate placement during a follow-up ERCP. Maggie was sent home to recover, with the second attempt scheduled for the following Monday. We made the decision to remain in Birmingham overnight for observation.

Less than an hour after discharge, we were plunged into a new chapter that would continue for weeks. A nicked artery (from the procedure) began to bleed. And bleed. An ambulance ride from the hotel, hours in the ER receiving blood (four units + 2 units of plasma), and a race to Interventional Radiology for artery coiling would allow Maggie to be stabilized for recovery before repeated attempts to fix the bile duct issue ensued.

Those days – hazy now as time works magic to blunt their impact – were filled with repeated attempts to fix the original problem in the liver. Two hospitalizations and five total tries at stent placement later (all details can be found in my April and May updates), Maggie’s liver was stable. But her heart was broken. Once again, she had been forced to give up much – a perfectly planned trip to Disney for her birthday, a charity event involving her rappelling a 14-story building with her Batson surgeon, and the idea that the fine print on a surgical consent form is only there for the legal department to have a job.

My own hurt was for her losses – piling up to produce ever more rocky ground for her young heart and mind to navigate. But it was more. When do we have a chance to make sense of it? Why did we even come here – UAB – looking for hope only to have it, seemingly, made more distant? Cancer growing, a flirt with death, and an deep aching impossible to describe?

Slowly, in steps impossible to link and even identify, mercy seeped into a heart hungry to be grateful. Dr. Saleh, the clinical trial coordinator, became for us one embodiment of that mercy as he directed Maggie’s care in those difficult days to the smallest detail. He gave us his cell number, making himself, and his considerable resources, available around the clock. He even made a call to initiate a plan to have Maggie flown via private jet to watch the rappelling event (beyond grateful we declined with the desire to see those resources put to more critical use). His staff provided moral support for Maggie’s weakened spirit. How do we adequately say thank you?

I ran the Mercedes Half-Marathon in February 2017. Mercedes, the luxury automaker, borrows its name from the original Latin word for mercies, gifts, compassion. I don’t think it a coincidence that I ran that race with each step pounding out the chant of gratitude – for mercy found along a three-year journey. Two verses speak to me constantly:

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23 (ESV)

The LORD is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made. Psalm 145:9 (ESV)

I ran the race partly for the beautiful finishers medal. (The dream of my starry-eyed younger self was to drive a Mercedes. That hood ornament, though, right?) I wanted a visual reminder of God’s mercy in the greater race; the race of faith. What I learned in 13.1 miles around Birmingham one Saturday and dark days to follow at UAB is how mercy fuels a heart longing to be grateful. And gratitude, once freed, redeems all that is seen in darkness, felt in pain, and grieved in loss. The material response of gratitude is to give selflessly. Loosen the grip on treasures, release, and allow healing to spread.

Mercedes Half-Marathon finisher medal

As Maggie and I loaded the car Monday, we added a few gifts for Dr. Saleh and our UAB friends: loaves of heaven from Breadsmith bakery, a gift card to provide lunch for the entire Phase I group, and the medal – beautifully framed with the help of two talented friends – Kym G. Braley added the flourishes and Tim Buckner, the framing. We also packed more than a bit of anxiety about how we would feel and act. Four hours is a long time to anticipate the unknown, isn’t it?

We need not have worried. The redeeming work of gratitude brings healing and new growth. We were able to walk the halls, face those memories, and smile. We embraced friends and presented our gifts. Dr. Saleh, ever the brilliant and compassionate doctor, offered new words of hope (more on that later) and advice for continuing treatment at Batson and treating side effects. The gifts? An overwhelming success. In fact, before opening the package, sensing the general contents, Dr. Saleh said he hoped it was something for the walls – they recently finished remodeling and need meaningful items to hang. Done.

Phase II Clinical Trial Team at UAB

This Thanksgiving, our gratitude overflows. We look back on our most difficult year and say thank you to our Lord for gifts beyond measure – enough to enjoy and share. For each day of a beautiful life. For allowing us a glimpse of His work for us and in us and through us – being used in the greater work of mercy for our good and His glory.  I love the full picture displayed – God’s boundless mercy in the hands of those who give and receive it.

(The attached photos show: 1) Saleh’s actual drawing explaining Maggie’s bile duct situation – he loves to use the whiteboard. 2) A close up of the medal – beautiful work from my friends, eh?) 3) Phase I team members receiving the medal, l-r: Courtney, nurse practitioner; Maggie, patient extraordinaire; Dr. Saleh, Phase I Director; and Traci, coordinator for Phase I.