I was thinking today, as I sit in this chair receiving more chemotherapy. Ok, so I pretty much am thinking all the time but that's beside the point. Anyways, I was thinking about life. I was thinking about where I am and where I've been. I was reflecting on the decisions I have made thus far in life. Really, I don't think I've made bad decisions in life. At least not that many.
This lead to me think about the fact that from an extremely young age, we begin to make decisions in life. While we are young we begin to choose things and hopefully there is some sort of at least sufficient parenting present to help shape and guide those decisions. And, as we get older, the decisions seem to increase both in number and importance.
If you really think about all the decisions you have to make in life it can get overwhelming quickly. Who we spend our time with, how we spend our money, what we eat, what we watch and listen to, what we read. These are all examples of choices that we make each and everyday that ultimately begin to shape our reality. And these are just the conscious decisions we make. What about all of the decisions we make without even thinking? How we respond and react to the things that life throws our way, whether good or bad, could simply be defined as another choice.
This lead me to ponder about my situation a little. Cancer. Did I choose it? Why did it happen? How did it happen? Of course, I have to stop quickly when I start forming those thoughts. These are dangerous thoughts. It's too easy to enter into judgment, of self, and even of God. It isn't my place to try and figure out why I'm here.
But still, I think about this thought. I find myself in bad situation. A situation that I seemingly had no choice in. Really, it simply leads to yet another decision. How do I respond?
If you've been following my blog at all I hope you have been able to see my response. I believe that I've been responding well to the situation. More and more I realize that God is less and less concerned with us being in perfect situations. In truth, it matters much more how we respond to whatever it is that comes our way.
So how do we respond well? I believe it is fairly simple.
The Bible teaches us that we live life from our hearts. Ultimately whatever is in our hearts will come out and form our world. Every decision we make, is governed by our heart. That's why it says to guard out hearts.
To take it just a little further what is in our hearts is formed by our belief systems. What we believe about who God is. What we believe about who we are in Him. Am I loved and accepted? Do I belong? Do I have what it takes in this life?
And isn't it funny, what you believe in your heart is what? You guessed it, another choice!
Decisions, decisions. Maybe this is all a little overwhelming. Maybe it's confusing. I'll try to sum it all up. Today, concentrate and make some good choices. Im not talking about your diet or you finances. Make some choices to shape your beliefs. Speak the truth into your life. Choose to believe Gods Word instead of whatever circumstance you find yourself in.
That's how I've made it through this
cancer crap. Excuse my language. It's not about denying the facts. It was a very real fact that I had quite a lot of cancer in my body. I faced the facts, but didn't embrace them. I chose to believe the Truth that says I'm healed. I reacted with the truth. And through it all I have known and believed that God loves me, and that I'm valuable to Him. Yeah, sometimes that's hard when you find yourself in a trial or tragedy, but it doesn't change the truth.
Just because I got cancer doesn't change who I am. I am an overcomer. I am more than a conquerer. I am a beloved son. God still loves me. God still cares for me. And you know what? I'll be honest. There have been times during this ordeal in which believing those things were hard. There were times when I didn't really feel it. I mean its easy to ask the question "How could the God that loves and cares for me allow me to have cancer?" But I still chose to respond by believing in the Truth. Jesus still loves me. The Bible tells me so. Believe that, despite your circumstance, and it will go well for you. Trust me, you'll get a peace that surpasses understanding when you begin to choose to align your beliefs with the truth of God's word.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
The Bell Lap
For any of you who have ran a distance race, or at least watched one in its entirety then you have at least some knowledge of what I mean by the "Bell Lap". For those who haven't experienced this, I'll enlighten you.
In distance racing (a race longer than 400m, or one lap) the bell lap signifies the final lap of the race. As soon as the race leader crosses the start/finish line of his or her race, a large bell is loudly rang quickly and repeatedly signaling to the runners and spectators alike that the race is approaching completion. In some facilities where there isn't a bell, the starting official fires the starting pistol used to start the race instead, and is therefore called the 'gun' lap. If you are or were a sprinter then you probably haven't experienced the phenomena of the bell lap for fairly obvious reasons (your race wasn't long enough for one and you were thinking God for that, right?). So, take a moment and enter into the world of the bell lap.
If you read my post on the perfect race you'll remember my analogy of my chemotherapy and racing the mile. If you haven't read that post you should go read it really quickly and come back to this post. But, in short, there are four laps in a mile and four 'laps' or cycles of treatment. In the previous post, the concentration was on the third lap and it's importance. While the third lap is the most important lap, the final lap is always the most exciting.
It never fails, when you hear the ringing of the bell it does something inside of you. The tone and urgency of the ringing produces a surge of adrenaline that propels you to finish. The third lap is often times grueling and you end it many times feeling as if you are spent, not only physically but mentally. Then the bell sounds and you instantly know the race is almost complete.
It's a funny thing, that bell. I've been in many different positions when that bell sounds loudly. It never mattered if I was in the lead or in the back of the pack, it resulted in the same response, PUSH!! You do everything you can to start speeding up, gearing up for a final surge or "kick". If you're in the lead, or close to it, you speed up because you know you have a chance to win. If you're in the back you speed up not to get last, or in some cases even 'lapped' by the leader (when the leader passes the person or people in the back because they are a lap behind). No matter the case, when the bell sounds, you speed up and the race gets more interesting.
There is typically more movement of position in the final lap then in any other point of the race other than the first few meters as runners are jostling for position. Often times, there is a runner that may have led most of the race and suddenly gets overtaken once the bell lap starts.
Every runner has a race strategy. On race weeks, you could find me in class not taking notes of the lectures, rather righting down lap times or 'splits'. Analyzing as many possible situations as possible, I would think for days before the race. I would think to myself "if I happen to be in the lead from the start, I to set the pace at a solid 60-62 seconds", "if I let someone else take the lead, I can wait a lap and adjust accordingly." Although, "if I do wait, there's no telling what the pace will be". Thus, the jotting down of different split possibilities that would equal my target time for the week.
You can never predict how a race will go exactly, you can only prepare your race and be prepared to react to what may happen when you're in the moment. Most races I had were strictly for time, so I could react every 200 meters or so regardless of position. If I was on pace then I could keep going. Behind pace I knew I needed to speed up, but not too much too quickly. Ahead of pace, I could either keep on going if I felt as if I could sustain, or slow down to the prepared pace. However, in a race in which it all comes down to the end position it all comes down to the bell lap.
Championship distance races are generally like this. It doesn't matter in any way what your time is, you're simply going for the victory whether that means a National Championship or to be an All-American. I ran in 8 National Championship races in college, meaning I advanced from the preliminary round(s) to the final at the National Championship 8 times. I was fortunate to place in the top five of all of those races, finishing in the top three five times and winning one. In every one of the races besides my national title, the race was decided in the bell lap. They started at a fairly slow pace and everyone waited for someone else to make a move first. Everyone at that level knows that it takes more energy to lead than it does to follow, and in a race at that level you usually don't have much energy to spare.
Someone almost always makes a move around the middle of the race which usually separates the race into one or more "packs" of runners. Your goal is to always stay with the lead pack, whether it's on the heels of the leader or in the back of the lead pack you're still within striking distance. You have to do whatever it takes to maintain the pace of that lead pack if you want even a remote chance of winning. Once the leader, and thus the lead pack hits the bell lap the race really begins. While it usually isn't a final kick, there is a an obvious surge of energy. Typically right past the middle of that bell lap you generally see the beginning of the kick, it's literally whatever you have left in the tank. A gut check. Oddly enough, several of my races came down literally to a photo finish even though they were distance races. In fact, I was once in a two-mile race in which the officials had to watch the video of the finish over 50 times to determine the top three finishers. They decided I was second, but I think I won. Nevertheless, we had the same time down to the thousandth of a second. That race was a championship race definitely decided by the bell lap.
I could ramble on for a very long time about all of this, but I'm really just getting to my main point. I'll make it quick. I'm on the bell lap of my cancer treatments. In most of my races during my collegiate career I began the bell lap behind the leaders. In some cases a good distance behind. But I always knew that no matter if I was 5 inches behind or 50 meters behind that the race still wasn't over. And as the people cheering me on would be nervously waiting for me to make my move wondering if I would ever just turn it on and start catching everyone, I would patiently and confidently wait until I knew exactly when to go. And, whether that was before the bell lap began or 150m in, I knew what I needed to do and almost every time I did exactly what needed to be done to finish in the top places.
I had a CT scan last Friday. It was the first one that had been done since before the treatments. This morning we met with my oncologist to discuss my progress and the scan results. If you remember, or if you don't, I had a very large tumor in my lower abdomen. It got as large as 14cm by the time we started treatments. My oncologist said it was one of the largest he has ever personally seen and worked with. And although I didn't ask him, I'm sure that there is a good chance that the ones that have been larger than 14cm may have very well been in bodies that could host larger tumors. If you've never seen me in person, I'm almost 6'1" and 155 lbs, and a distance runner at that. I'm not too sure that my build could possibly have an internal abdominal tumor much larger than 14cm.
Anyways, the CT scan was good, but not perfect. It showed that the 14cm tumor is now 3cm. We were told that there's a possibility that much of that 3cm could simply be scar tissue, but it also could still be cancer. There was also some other small masses found on the CT scan, but overall there has been a vast improvement. If you do the math (which I did) the large tumor has been decreasing at a rate of over 3cm per cycle anyways. So, even if it just keeps on at this average pace then there will be nothing left.
This is what we need agreement with and prayer for. Everything completely gone. In our discussion with the oncologist this morning, he decided that we will do another type of CT scan four weeks after the treatments are complete which is roughly seven weeks from now. At that point, if there is anything left 1cm or above then they will recommend that I have another surgery to go in and remove it. We believe that discussion won't even need to happen because it will all be gone.
So, I know this has been a long one but I have a lot of time on my hands to write. I know you will continue to pray but I want to ask you to do something else. If you haven't already, spread the word of this blog. It's not hard. The icons below each post make it easy. Or you can just share the link on Facebook. I'm a believer in prayer by the masses. And, I hope that this blog will be an inspiration to the masses.
-Kirby
In distance racing (a race longer than 400m, or one lap) the bell lap signifies the final lap of the race. As soon as the race leader crosses the start/finish line of his or her race, a large bell is loudly rang quickly and repeatedly signaling to the runners and spectators alike that the race is approaching completion. In some facilities where there isn't a bell, the starting official fires the starting pistol used to start the race instead, and is therefore called the 'gun' lap. If you are or were a sprinter then you probably haven't experienced the phenomena of the bell lap for fairly obvious reasons (your race wasn't long enough for one and you were thinking God for that, right?). So, take a moment and enter into the world of the bell lap.
If you read my post on the perfect race you'll remember my analogy of my chemotherapy and racing the mile. If you haven't read that post you should go read it really quickly and come back to this post. But, in short, there are four laps in a mile and four 'laps' or cycles of treatment. In the previous post, the concentration was on the third lap and it's importance. While the third lap is the most important lap, the final lap is always the most exciting.
It never fails, when you hear the ringing of the bell it does something inside of you. The tone and urgency of the ringing produces a surge of adrenaline that propels you to finish. The third lap is often times grueling and you end it many times feeling as if you are spent, not only physically but mentally. Then the bell sounds and you instantly know the race is almost complete.
It's a funny thing, that bell. I've been in many different positions when that bell sounds loudly. It never mattered if I was in the lead or in the back of the pack, it resulted in the same response, PUSH!! You do everything you can to start speeding up, gearing up for a final surge or "kick". If you're in the lead, or close to it, you speed up because you know you have a chance to win. If you're in the back you speed up not to get last, or in some cases even 'lapped' by the leader (when the leader passes the person or people in the back because they are a lap behind). No matter the case, when the bell sounds, you speed up and the race gets more interesting.
There is typically more movement of position in the final lap then in any other point of the race other than the first few meters as runners are jostling for position. Often times, there is a runner that may have led most of the race and suddenly gets overtaken once the bell lap starts.
Every runner has a race strategy. On race weeks, you could find me in class not taking notes of the lectures, rather righting down lap times or 'splits'. Analyzing as many possible situations as possible, I would think for days before the race. I would think to myself "if I happen to be in the lead from the start, I to set the pace at a solid 60-62 seconds", "if I let someone else take the lead, I can wait a lap and adjust accordingly." Although, "if I do wait, there's no telling what the pace will be". Thus, the jotting down of different split possibilities that would equal my target time for the week.
You can never predict how a race will go exactly, you can only prepare your race and be prepared to react to what may happen when you're in the moment. Most races I had were strictly for time, so I could react every 200 meters or so regardless of position. If I was on pace then I could keep going. Behind pace I knew I needed to speed up, but not too much too quickly. Ahead of pace, I could either keep on going if I felt as if I could sustain, or slow down to the prepared pace. However, in a race in which it all comes down to the end position it all comes down to the bell lap.
Championship distance races are generally like this. It doesn't matter in any way what your time is, you're simply going for the victory whether that means a National Championship or to be an All-American. I ran in 8 National Championship races in college, meaning I advanced from the preliminary round(s) to the final at the National Championship 8 times. I was fortunate to place in the top five of all of those races, finishing in the top three five times and winning one. In every one of the races besides my national title, the race was decided in the bell lap. They started at a fairly slow pace and everyone waited for someone else to make a move first. Everyone at that level knows that it takes more energy to lead than it does to follow, and in a race at that level you usually don't have much energy to spare.
Someone almost always makes a move around the middle of the race which usually separates the race into one or more "packs" of runners. Your goal is to always stay with the lead pack, whether it's on the heels of the leader or in the back of the lead pack you're still within striking distance. You have to do whatever it takes to maintain the pace of that lead pack if you want even a remote chance of winning. Once the leader, and thus the lead pack hits the bell lap the race really begins. While it usually isn't a final kick, there is a an obvious surge of energy. Typically right past the middle of that bell lap you generally see the beginning of the kick, it's literally whatever you have left in the tank. A gut check. Oddly enough, several of my races came down literally to a photo finish even though they were distance races. In fact, I was once in a two-mile race in which the officials had to watch the video of the finish over 50 times to determine the top three finishers. They decided I was second, but I think I won. Nevertheless, we had the same time down to the thousandth of a second. That race was a championship race definitely decided by the bell lap.
I could ramble on for a very long time about all of this, but I'm really just getting to my main point. I'll make it quick. I'm on the bell lap of my cancer treatments. In most of my races during my collegiate career I began the bell lap behind the leaders. In some cases a good distance behind. But I always knew that no matter if I was 5 inches behind or 50 meters behind that the race still wasn't over. And as the people cheering me on would be nervously waiting for me to make my move wondering if I would ever just turn it on and start catching everyone, I would patiently and confidently wait until I knew exactly when to go. And, whether that was before the bell lap began or 150m in, I knew what I needed to do and almost every time I did exactly what needed to be done to finish in the top places.
I had a CT scan last Friday. It was the first one that had been done since before the treatments. This morning we met with my oncologist to discuss my progress and the scan results. If you remember, or if you don't, I had a very large tumor in my lower abdomen. It got as large as 14cm by the time we started treatments. My oncologist said it was one of the largest he has ever personally seen and worked with. And although I didn't ask him, I'm sure that there is a good chance that the ones that have been larger than 14cm may have very well been in bodies that could host larger tumors. If you've never seen me in person, I'm almost 6'1" and 155 lbs, and a distance runner at that. I'm not too sure that my build could possibly have an internal abdominal tumor much larger than 14cm.
Anyways, the CT scan was good, but not perfect. It showed that the 14cm tumor is now 3cm. We were told that there's a possibility that much of that 3cm could simply be scar tissue, but it also could still be cancer. There was also some other small masses found on the CT scan, but overall there has been a vast improvement. If you do the math (which I did) the large tumor has been decreasing at a rate of over 3cm per cycle anyways. So, even if it just keeps on at this average pace then there will be nothing left.
This is what we need agreement with and prayer for. Everything completely gone. In our discussion with the oncologist this morning, he decided that we will do another type of CT scan four weeks after the treatments are complete which is roughly seven weeks from now. At that point, if there is anything left 1cm or above then they will recommend that I have another surgery to go in and remove it. We believe that discussion won't even need to happen because it will all be gone.
So, I know this has been a long one but I have a lot of time on my hands to write. I know you will continue to pray but I want to ask you to do something else. If you haven't already, spread the word of this blog. It's not hard. The icons below each post make it easy. Or you can just share the link on Facebook. I'm a believer in prayer by the masses. And, I hope that this blog will be an inspiration to the masses.
-Kirby
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The End is Near...Or Is It The Beginning?
So, it's been a while since I've posted to the blog. I'm not sure why. I think maybe I just got tired of everything. I got tired of talking about it. I got tired of writing about it. But I realized that talking and writing about my circumstance really was apart of my healing.
Sometimes we find ourselves in situations in which the last thing we want to do is talk about them. Yet that is exactly what we must do. It's what the disciple whom Jesus loved calls "living in the light" (open your Bible to 1 John and read a little bit to find the reference). I don't think he was just talking about sin there. I think that being transparent is just something that's plain healthy. It gets the negative mojo out, so-to-speak. Unresolved negative emotions are like poison and let me tell ya, I don't need any more or other types of poison right now because the chemo is more than enough.
Anyways, all that to say this: I'm back to the blog to keep everyone updated.
We got some really great news even before the third cycle began. On the very first treatment day of cycle three my blood was drawn to run the usual tests. All my counts were good. Perhaps the best count was actually a count that has been going down: my tumor markers.
There are two tumor markers. One is called the beta hCG. This, interestingly enough is also the same hormone produced in pregnancy. Your everyday pregnancy test actually tests for an elevated beta hCG level. So, if I would have taken a pregnancy test, it would have been positive! The other tumor marker is called Alpha-fetoprotein. I don't really have an interesting story for that one. All I really know is that if it is elevated in men, it's most likely a sign of cancer. Thus the reason it's called a 'tumor marker'.
Both of these markers were back down to almost normal levels when they did my blood work before starting the first treatment on day one of the third cycle. The next week, the beta hCG was completely normal and the the other had been reduced by over half but was still slightly elevated.
I go on Tuesday for the last treatment of the third cycle. My oncologist told me last week that he expects both of the levels tumor markers to be back to normal levels by that time, according to the way they have been dropping.
This brings me to a prayer of agreement that I need from you, the people reading this.
It's great that the numbers that need to stay up are, and those needing to go down have been. It's great that my blood is showing normal levels. However, this isn't everything. On Friday morning I go into to get new CT scans. This will be a more telling test of the progress of my healing.
Catherine and I are excited about it. We believe that they will find nothing. Agree with us that this will be further evidence to support the truth we already know in our hearts. I AM HEALED.
Even though my blood work is good and the test WILL be good, the fourth cycle will still take place. To be honest, it kind of stinks, but I understand why. Even though everything may appear normal, there is still the possibility that cancer cells could be present but not really that detectable. So, we must proceed with the treatments and finish all four cycles.
I'm not worried, and neither is anyone who has seen me run. I always finish strong.
So, the end is near. Catherine and I can finally begin to see the light at the the end of a very long, dark tunnel. In about a month we get to finish this race against cancer and begin whatever race God has next. That excited me. I don't know what all will come from this journey. All I know is that Romans 8:28 says that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. While I'm not a scholar, I'm pretty sure that 'everything' in the Greek means everything, cancer included.
Sometimes we find ourselves in situations in which the last thing we want to do is talk about them. Yet that is exactly what we must do. It's what the disciple whom Jesus loved calls "living in the light" (open your Bible to 1 John and read a little bit to find the reference). I don't think he was just talking about sin there. I think that being transparent is just something that's plain healthy. It gets the negative mojo out, so-to-speak. Unresolved negative emotions are like poison and let me tell ya, I don't need any more or other types of poison right now because the chemo is more than enough.
Anyways, all that to say this: I'm back to the blog to keep everyone updated.
We got some really great news even before the third cycle began. On the very first treatment day of cycle three my blood was drawn to run the usual tests. All my counts were good. Perhaps the best count was actually a count that has been going down: my tumor markers.
There are two tumor markers. One is called the beta hCG. This, interestingly enough is also the same hormone produced in pregnancy. Your everyday pregnancy test actually tests for an elevated beta hCG level. So, if I would have taken a pregnancy test, it would have been positive! The other tumor marker is called Alpha-fetoprotein. I don't really have an interesting story for that one. All I really know is that if it is elevated in men, it's most likely a sign of cancer. Thus the reason it's called a 'tumor marker'.
Both of these markers were back down to almost normal levels when they did my blood work before starting the first treatment on day one of the third cycle. The next week, the beta hCG was completely normal and the the other had been reduced by over half but was still slightly elevated.
I go on Tuesday for the last treatment of the third cycle. My oncologist told me last week that he expects both of the levels tumor markers to be back to normal levels by that time, according to the way they have been dropping.
This brings me to a prayer of agreement that I need from you, the people reading this.
It's great that the numbers that need to stay up are, and those needing to go down have been. It's great that my blood is showing normal levels. However, this isn't everything. On Friday morning I go into to get new CT scans. This will be a more telling test of the progress of my healing.
Catherine and I are excited about it. We believe that they will find nothing. Agree with us that this will be further evidence to support the truth we already know in our hearts. I AM HEALED.
Even though my blood work is good and the test WILL be good, the fourth cycle will still take place. To be honest, it kind of stinks, but I understand why. Even though everything may appear normal, there is still the possibility that cancer cells could be present but not really that detectable. So, we must proceed with the treatments and finish all four cycles.
I'm not worried, and neither is anyone who has seen me run. I always finish strong.
So, the end is near. Catherine and I can finally begin to see the light at the the end of a very long, dark tunnel. In about a month we get to finish this race against cancer and begin whatever race God has next. That excited me. I don't know what all will come from this journey. All I know is that Romans 8:28 says that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. While I'm not a scholar, I'm pretty sure that 'everything' in the Greek means everything, cancer included.
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