I had a blood draw last week and saw Dr. VanderWoude (oncologist) on Tuesday of this week.  Overall, things look good (praise God).  My hemoglobin is still low at a 10, but it’s better than where I was a month ago which was 9.  Normal is 12-16.  My white blood cell count is low, but not low enough to concern the doctor.  This means that I’m tired (hemoglobin) and that I’m more susceptible to illness (white blood cells) so I need to take extra precautions with washing my hands and staying away from  people with illnesses. 

My every day life is going good, all things considered.  My mom helps me tremendously with Max, Samantha and Brooklyn because I get tired so quickly.   Other than that, things are good.

This past summer when I was going through chemo I would sit in my anti-gravity chair on the front porch.  It was the most comfortable and the fresh air helped.  I was dead tired, sick and fighting like a champion to beat the cancer.  I would see people walk, run, rollerblade or bike past the house and I couldn’t wait to do that again.  I dreamt of the day when I could take my kids for a long walk to the park.  Then while going through radiation I read an article in the Holland Sentinel about climbing the steps of Mt. Pisgah in Holland.  That was my new goal.  As soon as I had enough energy I was going to climb the 239 (I think) steps to the top.  A few weeks ago Brooklyn and I did it.  It was so fun.  I climbed a mountain.  I don’t know if it’s technically a mountain, but it’s called Mt. Pisgah so I’m going with it. 

Here is me and Brooklyn at the top:

Prepare to have your mind blown.  As you know Dusty is the computer/techy guy in our family.  He set up this blog for me and occasionally checks the stats of the blog.  This past summer when I was going through chemo and blogging about my pathetic journey, I had a total of 16,000 unique hits.  That’s a one, six and three zeros people!  I don’t know 16,000 people.  I’m not sharing this with you to massage my ego.  The thought that quickly occured to me was all the comments that I received from you were probably read as well.  Your comments were encouraging and many of them talked about God, quoted scripture or verses of songs.  Just imagine the amount of people you may have reached by your comments.  Amazing.

That’s all for now.  It’s been great seeing so many of you again.  Thank you for your prayers.  Please pray that I will continue to get my energy back and that my blood levels return to normal. 

I was approached a few months back to join the Board of Directors for Compassionate Heart Ministry in Zeeland.   For those that don’t know about Compassionate Heart, it’s a special place where teens and young adults with disabilities can go to socialize, hang out and just enjoy each other in a loving, Christian environment.  Located in City on A Hill, Compassionate Heart serves a part of society that many treat as outcasts.  Cool things happen there. 
Watch the video to learn more. 

Here’s where I appeal for your help.  Lindy and I have seen your awesome generosity and spirit—we’d love to have you rally behind this cause.   On April 20, 2010, Compassionate Heart will hold its only fundraising event “Friends of the Heart” at Faith Reformed Church in Zeeland.  Come, we’ll eat a great dinner together, meet some of the kids/parents, and listen to Chris Klein—someone with a personal story that won’t leave a dry eye in the house.    Your tax deductible donation for the dinner will go 100% towards Compassionate Heart. 

If this is something you’d be willing to do, click here for the RSVP FORM.  If you can’t make the dinner but want to help in another way, use the form as well.  We’ll get in touch with you.  Thank you so much for making a difference to our youth at Compassionate Heart.  

I would pack up the kids, bring them to my parent’s house and go to radiation.

This is LAROC (Lakeshore Area Radiation Oncology Center).  It’s the building where I get radiation done.  There are no bad smells in the building.  It’s not “clinical”.  It’s very zen.  There are water features and soothing music throughout the building.  Oh and carpet.  Not hard vinyl tile floor like a hospital. 

Everyday I would walk in the sliding doors, proceed through the regular waiting room and go to the special waiting room.  I named it special because it’s where people like me wait to get radiated (or what Dusty likes to call radiant).  Then one of the radiation techs calls me back to a room that is built like a vault.  It has a thick steel door and the walls are 4-6′ thick. 

Here are the wonderful radiation techs who I see every day.  Marie, Karen, A GVSU Student and Linda.  Bob works there too, but he must have been at lunch.  My appointments are always over their lunch shift. 

This is the table that I lay on to have radiation.  My arms go in the red stirrups and the triangular pillow goes under my knees.

Once I’m on the table, the techs get me situated perfectly so I don’t get accidentally radiated in other body parts.  When I’m right where they want me, I cannot move an inch.  They leave me alone in the room and go to their hub.  Their hub has four computer screens and a closed circuit television to watch me on.  Once they’re ready, the machine moves around me and I get radiated in five different areas.

Then they send me on my merry way.  Although today they gave me a certificate and a coffee mug. 

Today was my last day of all cancer treatments!  No more chemo.  No more radiation.  Nothing.  I feel like I should run through one of those finish line tapes that you see at the end of a race.  If I see one today I’m going to run through it pumping my fists in the air.  It feels awesome to be done.  Absolutely wonderful.  I can’t put into words how thankful I am to be done with treatment and most of all to be cancer free!

From this point forward I have routine check ups with my oncologist every three months where they check my blood and make sure my numbers are good.  I’ll keep my blog updated when I get any news, but from now on, I won’t be writing much.  

So many of you held my hand through my treatments and I will be forever thankful for you.  I couldn’t have done it without the healing hand and grace of our great savior and God or without his wonderful people.  Thank you for walking with us on our journey.  God Bless.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” 

-Jeremiah 11

I saw Dr. Edlund today (radiation oncologist) and he said my skin reaction is appropriate and that I shouldn’t have any problems from here.  Since Tuesdays are the day I see the doctor, they gave me discharge instructions.  I couldn’t believe I was being discharged.  Another surreal feeling.  The good news is that the fatigue should last for only two weeks after my last radiation treatment.  I can’t wait to have full energy back.  Maybe I’ll run a marathon or something…

Dusty and I went to Chicago to meet with Dr. Song (reconstructive plastic surgeon) yesterday.  I was presented with three options here in Holland - implants, lat flap and TRAM flap.  Plastic surgeons don’t like the idea of doing just implants when skin has been radiated because the results won’t look good.  The other two options take my muscles and I wasn’t happy about that.  Dr. Song performs the DIEP flap which we thought was newer, but upon talking with his nurse they’ve been doing it for 16 years!  I felt like a hill billy asking about that new fangled operation where they use electronical gadgets to reconnect my blood vessels.  I’m glad we made the small trip because Dr. Song gave me more options than I thought possible.  All of which don’t include taking muscles.  His final recommendation is probably what I’ll go with, but there is one other option that I want to look into as well.  The surgery can’t happen for six more months.  I have time to think about it.

So that’s it in a nutshell.  I could write a small novel about my reconstructive options, but I’ll spare you. 

Have a great day! 

I have six more radiation treatments to go!  Yahoo!  My skin is now purplish/reddish and peeling.  It looks disgusting and hurts worse than last week, but I can endure it.  I only have 1 1/2 weeks left!

Dusty and I are going to Chicago next week to meet with Dr. Song.  He’s at the University of Chicago and he does the latest reconstruction procedure called DIEP.  I’m researching that this week and arming myself with an arsenal of questions for him. 

The kids are great.  Max and Samantha are walking everywhere.  They’re so cute when they walk around the room together.  They’re a little unsteady on their feet so when they walk together they look like a little old couple.  It’s the best. 

Let me tell you something you’ve all heard before:  Don’t take anything for granted.  Even the smallest things.  For instance, hugs from your loved ones or holding your little ones.  Through chemo (bone pain) and now radiation (skin pain) I’ve learned that even a simple hug is wonderful and shouldn’t be taken for granted.  Other things not to take for granted:

Eating, hair on your head, eyelashes, driving, reading, thought processing, memory, clapping, going for walks, running, riding a bike, playing with your kids, health, cooking and the list could go on and on… 

I don’t take any of it for granted.   

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  James 1:2-3