Yesterday found me back at Roswell for my pre-op procedures (instructions, blood test, meeting with the anesthesiologist, etc.) I also was having yet one more look at that worrisome spot on my rib that turned up on my original bone scan. The doctors have continued to say "it is probably nothing....but let's have one more test." It has unnerved me since it never seems to quite be eliminated as a problem. I was injured there on a malfunctioning ride at Six Flags many, many years ago and they are guessing that is what is showing up. So yesterday Roswell had ordered one more CT scan and looked at both my chest and abdomen again, still trying to assess whether the prostate cancer has spread. (If indeed it is in my ribs, then it is probably elsewhere.) I had the CT scan in the morning, and then met with the Urology Dept. in the afternoon. The doctor came in and said that the scan had turned up a lesion on my lung that looked as if it could be cancer. He said it was actually unrelated to the rib question which had come back clear (finally.) He said he would go and meet with the radiologist because they may want to delay my surgery and biopsy this spot on my lung. He told me it was only about a centimeter and possibly too small to biopsy so then he wasn't sure what they would decide to do. So once again, I found myself, sitting in a doctor's office starting to mentally plan my funeral. After what seemed like an eternity, he came back in and apologized saying the report had a typo, it was supposed to say "Lesion not indicative of cancer" but the NOT had been omitted. What a difference one tiny word can make. It was an unpleasant experience, and yet one more reminder of how much worse this all could be.
So now I am back on track for next week: I'll have the surgery on Monday and if all goes well, come home on Tuesday. I probably won't blog again until I am on the other side of this. So thanks in advance for your prayers. Happy New Year and love to all...
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more
I was already in a fantastic mood last Thursday: Samantha
and JonDavid were in Syracuse visiting my niece and picking up Anthony at the
train station; it was the next to the last day of school; the Christmas season
was in full swing, we’d gotten a fresh snow; and by the time I went to bed that
night, all three kids would be under my roof again. Thursday also brought my favorite chapel of
the year when the Academy students gather by language groups and sing “Silent
Night” in their native tongues. Our
chaplain had asked me to play Santa again so I had to hustle in and out of a
Santa suit, adding to the craziness and joy of the morning.
The next period after chapel I was supposed to meet with my
seniors but was feeling bad because I had not even had time to get an agenda
ready. I ran down to the auditorium and
found it unusually full, when it was only supposed to the senior class and me
in there. When I saw my friend Janyce
Smithley and the National Honor Society members on stage I realized she must be
announcing the new members which had been selected that week. I felt bad that JonDavid wasn’t there since I
knew he was going to be inducted. I didn’t
have my cellphone with me—since the Santa suit has no pockets. I’d left it
lying on my desk, so I ran back down to my room to get it and text JD. On my way back, Vince (our headmaster)
appeared in the hall and motioned me that I was wanted in the auditorium RIGHT
AWAY! Amazingly I still didn’t
suspect anything, except that probably Janyce was going to pull some kind of
stunt about JonDavid being absent and call me up instead.
So it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out that
the whole assembly was for me! Even sitting up on stage, I still didn’t quite
get it. Janyce played a funny video
about our Coke vs. Pepsi war (I decorate my room with Coca-Cola paraphernalia
and the students love to joke about it and tease me about my aversion to Pepsi,
usually with Janyce as the ringleader. I sat up there thinking to myself, “Did
Janyce really somehow convince the school to have an assembly as a practical
joke?!!” Then the video she was showing turned serious with the students
wishing me well and telling me they were praying for me and having nice
sentiments to share about me and it finally dawned on me that they were
probably going to pray for me because I would have my surgery before we saw
each other again.
So by the end of the video message, I was already choked up
before they presented me with a great big cardboard check representing the
$1411 they had raised by collecting money around the school for me. The thought of all of those students and
colleagues digging into their pockets to help me out is so precious to me. Everyone left that day with matching blue
bracelets that say “Pray for Dr. Nick.” I was reminded anew that if I had to go
through this cancer adventure, I am so glad it happened while I am at the
Academy. I’ve gotten notes of encouragement,
little gifts, visits, offers for help, and lots and lots of prayers. They were
all even prepared to take turns covering my classes and driving me for
radiation treatments, if I’d needed that.
My heart is so full of gratitude. My route to Houghton Academy was so
circuitous and serendipitous (a last minute offer, to teach outside my
discipline, at a place I wildly misunderstood and never had any interest in
joining, all under very odd circumstances) I realize now that it had to have
been a God-thing. He knew this was where I needed to be as I went through this
ordeal. I am deeply grateful to Him and
to my Academy family.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
The hopes and fears of all the years...
Last night brought a twinkling, sparkling drive home from
Buffalo past a cascade of Christmas lights displays--ranging from simple to
elaborate and from classy to tacky--but I loved seeing them all and appreciate everyone
who makes the effort. My earliest
Christmas memories begin 50 years ago in Indiana. I remember the Christmas of 1964 as the first
one when I grasped the magic of the season. I remember visiting downtown Fort Wayne with
carols piped through the decorated streets, the animatronic window displays, and
big snowflakes softly falling. The song “Silver
Bells” still takes me back to those days.
I also have a vivid memory of driving around in our old 1950 Pontiac (it
had been Aunt Nell’s and Grandpa B gave it to us.) The interior height of those
old models was high enough that I could stand in the back and watch out the
windshield at the nighttime snow rushing at the headlights so that it looked
like we were heading into hyperspace (about 13 years before we knew what
hyperspace was.) We were going to a church Christmas dinner where there would
be enormous piles of good food and Christmas cookies as well as toys and candy
for the children. All of a sudden
Christmas became so unimaginably exciting and magical to me. I’m sure my dad was complaining about driving
in the snow at the time, but it didn’t dampen my spirit a bit. Indeed my Christmas spirit has remained quite
high and childlike for the five decade since.
Our family also loved to drive around and look at Christmas lights
in the City when I was a boy. It seems to me as I look back on it now that
nearly every home in Fort Wayne decorated with exterior lights. During the
energy crises of the 1970s, outdoor decorating for Christmas fell into disfavor
and I believe was even banned at one point. And it seems as if it has taken a
long time for it to come back into fashion.
True, I don’t especially love the giant inflatables, but I love the
spirit that leads people out into their yards on cold December Saturdays to
brighten up the bleak midwinter, no matter what their decorating tastes.
For some reason I am writing about a different and happier “C”
this week: Christmas instead of cancer. I think I need a little Christmas,
right this very minute. There is
something about having had to stare death in the face for a few weeks this fall
that has made this particular Christmas more special to me: the lights glow brighter,
the carols ring happier, the memories and the friends grow sweeter. And indeed that is the heart of the Christmas
narrative that we celebrate with lights and song and gifts and cookies: the
baby born in Bethlehem came to meet the hopes and fears of all the years. The year ahead seems to have more hopes and
fears than usual for us, but as usual, and the lights of Christmas will guide
us on our way. God bless us everyone.
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