Why don't we listen to stewardesses?

You know that speech they give at the beginning of the flight where they talk about how to fasten the seat belts and how to operate the oxygen masks, and that the seat cushion can serve as a flotation device?
It's a marvel to look around the cabin as she gives that speech. People are reading, gabbing, ipodding, resting. Definitely not listening to the stewardess. Why not?

Problem #1: Defective Message
1. The message is stale. There's exactly one way to fasten a seat belt. It's a skill we've all mastered long ago.
2. The message is unbelievable. Who really believes that if we crash, we'll have a chance to use our seat cushions for a flotation device?
3. The message is irrelevant. Don't need to listen because what she's describing will never happen.

Problem #2: Defective Listeners
A lot of people will be completely surprised one day, and they'll wish they had paid attention.

Problem #3: Defective Presenter
Sometimes I think they try to make their presentation as perfunctory as humanly possible.

This is a parable. He who has ears, let him hear.

What does personal holiness look like?

Holiness isn't just an option. The Creator and King of kings commands: "seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness" (Matt. 6:33). (Also see Eph. 1:4; 1Pet 1:16.)

I'm looking for someone I can look to as a role model. Someone I know about whom I can say, "That person is holy." 


What does holiness look like? As it applies to God, holiness means being extremely different, absolutely pure. For a human, holiness means being set apart to God.

One way holiness is evident is when someone is touched by what touches God. Not stoic, but compassionate. Moved to tears (and action!) at the plight of those suffering around him. (James 1:27 "Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.")

To be set apart to God, a holy person doubtless spends quality and quantity time reading the Bible and meditating, in order that he may better know God and understand what God wants of him; and secondarily, how to be successful at being and doing what God wants.

A holy person is someone who literally loves God foremost. That love will show, no less than a sports fanatic's loyalties are known. Devotion to God shows in how he prioritizes his time, and where he spends his money.

A holy person is able both to enjoy earthly pleasures as a gift from God (1 Tim. 6:17) and, when appropriate, to deny himself of those very same pleasures (Philippians 4:12). (Can someone be self-indulgent and holy at the same time?)

Holiness really shows up when life is hard. A holy person demonstrates love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faith, self control (Gal. 5:22) even while undergoing a trial of life.

What are your thoughts? Do you know a person whom you could consider a spiritual role model? What is it about him or her?

Soul-stirring stuff

We live in a world where people don't believe in souls. Yet thrilling things happen in this world that can only be described as soul-stirring.

Something like that happened to me again today, and maybe it's contageous. Check out the words of this hymn (but if you recognize it, don't sing them):

To God be the glory, great things He has done;
So loved He the world that He gave us His Son
Who yielded His life an atonement for sin
And opened the life gate that all may go in.

O perfect redemption, the purchase of blood.
To every believer the promise of God.
The vilest offender who truly believes
That moment from Jesus a pardon receives.

Praise the Lord! Let the earth hear His voice! Let the people rejoice!

 Uncommon ideas that thrilled my soul:

• God's love for His world, in perfect concert with Christ's love for His world, is so magnificent that He willingly sacrificed His Son in our place. 
• Jesus gave up His life to "atone for sin." He willingly let driven, self-centered men (like you and me) torture Him and crucify Him, but not just to be a martyr or an example. Jesus' sacrifice literally appeased a just God's wrath. My sin, your sin, is offensive to God. Rather than punishing us for that offense, Jesus Himself voluntarily took that punishment in our place.
• Did it work? It worked: "perfect redemption"!
• Redemption? That's right. Someone paid the ransom for me, and it cost blood.
• Now, it's a standing promise of God, available to everyone who'll receive it.
• You don't have to "be good" to earn God's favor. "The vilest offender" is eligible to receive a pardon from God.
• We are pardoned, forgiven, made right with God, the moment we believe.

So, what is this "believe" business? That's another tricky term. Lots of people say they believe in God. By that, they usually mean, "I believe there must be a Supreme Being."

But there's much more to this word belief.

If you tell your child, "I believe in you," you aren't just saying, "I believe you exist." You're saying, "I have confidence in you that you will reach your potential." You're also saying, "I'm going to keep investing myself in you to help make that happen." True belief in your child has two facets. There's an aspect of appreciation for the character of your child, and there's an aspect of your commitment to him.

If you say, "I believe in the president," you aren't just saying, "I believe the president exists." You are saying, "I believe that the president is good for our country. I believe in his leadership. I will willingly follow him as a citizen of this country because I am convinced he is leading us in the right direction." True belief in the president has two facets. There's an aspect of appreciation for the character of the president, and there's an aspect of your commitment to him.

In the same way, if you say, "I believe in God," you aren't just saying, "I believe God exists." You're saying, "I believe God is God. He is fully in control of the Universe and of me. I unconditionally relinquish my autonomy and surrender my goals and my agenda to Him. And I believe that, with Him in charge, I am inconceivably better off than when I'm in charge."

The Bible says the same thing. "Without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He exists, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him." "God has highly exalted Jesus and given Him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." "Present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.""As many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God."

This is soul-stirring stuff. I hope it helps you understand why I am a Christian.

Jesus Christ "opened the life gate that all may go in."

I'd love for you to join me.

Getting a PET scan

With a PET scan, they are able to detect cancer activity nearly anywhere in your body. When I was first diagnosed with lymphoma, that's the first thing they did in order to figure out where all the cancer is in my body. Of course, it saw the big spot in my guts, but it also saw a spot along my esophagus, and another under my collarbone.



I got my second PET scan today, and hope to hear results by Monday.

Know how they do a PET scan? For 48 hours before, they don't want me to do any exercise. The night before, they want me to eat a high-protein, no-carb supper. (Last night I had fried egg and mozarrella cheese, fried salmon, and Brussels sprouts.) This morning, I was at CCI at 7 a.m. with iPod in hand. I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since last night. Turns out, I could drink water, so the nurse gave me a cup of chilled water. Ahh.

By 7:15, I'm back in a very comfortable, powered la-z-boy recliner, and the nurse is starting a line in my arm. She took my weekly blood samples and disappeared. They test your blood to see if you're diabetic, too. Being diabetic can throw off PET scan results.

At 7:30, nurse #2 comes in with a thick (lead-lined?) box holding the syringe of radioactive sugar. She injects that into my line and disappears for about 70 minutes. I was to be as relaxed as possible while the sugar went around looking for cancer cells to stick to. I listened to the entire "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat" album.

The nurse came in, let me take care of necessary business, and escorted me to the PET machine. The PET machine is a vertical donut with a stretcher I lie on to go in and out of the donut hole. After 20 minutes in and out of the machine, I'm done.

I'm at work by 9:15.

The radiologist is in and should read the results today, but I have no promises that Dr. McGee will get the results today, or that he'll get them to me today. Of course, the sooner the better, because if there's more chemo ahead, I'll want to get a port installed.

So, there's this new twinge I've never felt before...

UPDATE 2-15-2010

I've had a few days to live with the new state of things after four chemos. My whole insides are being assaulted. The twinge in that one spot comes and goes, and has a few friends throughout my abdomen. I'm going to say that it's side effects from the chemo. I'll know for sure after Friday.

ORIGINAL 2-8-2010

It's near where my first tumor was, only not behind my stomach, but sort of on top of it. Sounds scary, right? I'm doing that on purpose. It's not really that scary, but it does give me pause.

So, there's this sort of a pinch feeling at a spot I can put my finger on, just south of my ribs on the left hand side. It's been there the last 24 hours, I think. When I touch it, I'm pretty sure I can feel a bump there. Bummer. How can there be a new bump when I'm already getting chemo for lymphoma? Suggestions? A different kind of bump? Maybe this is some Hodkins? Or a side effect of chemo?

Whatever it is, I'm having a scan done on Friday the 19th. If it's anything, it'll glow, and that'll mean that I get to have more chemo treatments. Woohoo.

I've already told Dr. McGee that if I have to have additional chemo, I really need to get a port.

In the meantime, I'm going to live like I'm living. The life I've been granted is too good to miss.

Love,
-Andy

What's chemo like to me?

It's a day I look forward to with ambivalence. I need the chemo, and I'm in good hands. But then I have to face the fallout.

I get my treatments at Clearview Cancer Institute. CCI is a beautiful, welcoming facility inside and out. I'd say about half of the parking spots are marked handicapped. You walk past a nice water feature to enter the spacious open lobby. First, you go to the lab. That's where they stick you and draw 5 small vials of blood. Within 10 minutes, they've run the numbers to see if you qualify for taking chemo that day. If any of your numbers are out of whack (too few red blood cells, etc), then your treatment goes on pause for a week.

BTW, at CCI, they have really good phlebotomists (people who stick you and draw blood). When they stick you, you barely even feel it. They've had a lot of practice. One guy, Patrick, has this technique that he says "is just like throwing darts." And that's how it looks. He rests the butt of his hand on my arm, holds the needle like a pencil, and sort of "throws" it into the vein. No fuss. No muss. If you ever need blood drawn, go to CCI for it. As good as they are, I think I'll use that service every time.

After labs, you sit in the lobby in one of the many couches or soft chairs near the entrance to you doctor's area. (There's Purell on every end table and coffee table.) When she's ready, the vitals nurse calls you back and weighs you and takes your temperature and blood pressure. Then you and whatever family you have with you go back to an exam room to consult with the oncologist.

I'm participating in a research study, helping advance the science of oncology. In my case, the study is to establish the fact that they can deliver the full dose of Rituxan to lymphoma patients in 90 minutes, instead of the standard 4 hours. Not very whizz-bang, but still very helpful. As a result of being on this study, I have a research nurse assigned to me who asks me additional questions and provides guidance about chemo.

Then, Dr. McGee came in and pulled up my shirt and felt around my belly to see if he could feel any lymphoma lumps in there. Since he can't, he feels we're pursuing a good course of treatment. I really like and trust Dr. McGee. He's a godsend.

After I'm OK'ed for treatment, I go to scheduling. That's where they set up your appointments for the next three weeks. Blood tests every week, and treatment on the third. (That's for lymphoma. Your mileage may vary.)

Scheduling gives me one of those square flashing buzzer beepers like restaurants have. They send you to the treatment waiting area, which is just a couple of padded benches in the hallway leading to the treatment area. When the buzzer goes off, you meet a nurse who's the equivalent of a hostess, who offers you a seating assignment.

The treatment area at CCI is a collection of about 5 pods, with six stations each. The center of each station is a power la-z-boy recliner with built in heat. My home for the next 5 hours. Next to that is an IV pole, and in back are cabinets holding nurses supplies. Within a pod, there are three of these stations on a side, and the two sides face each other. All the stations have a great view of the full-glass wall and doors that are in back of CCI. There's a fountain and woods outside. If you bring your own things (like a laptop or a cooler of goodies, etc), you put your things on one side, and leave the other side for the nurse and the IV pole. They have fast, free, open WIFI at CCI, so you can go online to do things like work or do facebook, or watch the Alabama-Auburn game, etc.

After you get set up and comfortable, the nurse asks you your name and date of birth. Both data are on everything they give you. Good thing, too. They would've given me something labeled for someone else today. (Right drug, wrong dose.)

My strategy is to use alternate arms each time. Today they put the drugs in my right arm. They usually use lots of tape to hold things together. I mentioned that it pulls the hair in my arm, so this time I had just one piece of tape and a wrap of that stretchy band stuff they give you after you donate blood. (It still pulled hair when we took it off.)

First drugs: prednezone, benadryl, tylenol, all taken orally. Those have to be on board at least 15 minutes before they begin the first big chemo drug. These pre-drugs help to reduce any allergic reactions to the irritating chemo.

Then the actual chemotherapy itself. If you want to know what I'm getting, it's called R-CHOP. Visit http://www.lymphomainfo.net/blog/general-lymphoma-blogs/chemotherapy-drugs-101-the-r-chop-regimen. That describes it pretty well.

They use these syringes of saline to flush the line between drugs. As soon as the saline starts going in, I get this medicine taste in my mouth. They say it's the preservative in the saline. That got me thinking. Maybe we could invent a saline preservative that causes a pleasant taste in your mouth! Nurse: What flavor would you like: fresh bread, chocolate, or banana?

The IV pole is on wheels, so I take it with me whenever I have to go.

Once all the drugs are in, they take vitals one more time to see if they've killed me and then Leilani drives me home.

Hint: don't eat leftover taco salad with spicy salsa on chemo day. The nausea meds are working hard to keep my system calm, but spicy foods irritate the body (usually in a good way, but not on chemo day). Next time, chicken noodle soup. And ginger snaps.

I'm glad you've found your inner strength.

That's code for "I'm not buying it."

So far, my journey through the wilderness with the Lord has been easy. So easy that I've been feeling like I've been cheating. Not that I haven't had nausea or problems with my guts. And I'm not really looking forward to getting another dose of chemo on Friday.

But God has really been blessing me! Friends, family, well-wishers pray for me. God's Word has been sweeter than Starbuck's Frappuccino. And, during the hard times, the sense of the Spirit's nearness has brought me peace and contentment that I never could imagine.

Having cancer gives you the right to talk about things that you normally oughtn't discuss in the work place. I shared some of my experiences of how the Lord is accompanying me on my journey with three coworkers today.

Janet: "Praise the Lord."

R---: "The key is to have that sense of optimism."

P---: "I'm glad you found that source of inner strength."

I'm saddened by the responses of R--- and P---. I was speechless. They don't get it. They clearly are not Christ's.

I called a friend asking him what I should do. He said, "You don't have to be preachy. Those guys wouldn't know what to do with it. I don't doubt that God will be using you throughout this journey."

That's both comforting and disconcerting. It may mean that God will allow things to worsen so that He can show His grace operating under pressure.

Whatever happens, I have nowhere else to turn. He is my Rock, my Shepherd. He is the Potter and I am his willing clay.