An Open Letter: The Fight Against Stage 4

 To my Treasure of a Husband, 

    Tonight is the night before your surgery. At 6am, they will come to take you back. I’m glad you finally saw things my way that if there was any way I was sleeping, it was going to be right here with you and not at the hotel. There are so many emotions tonight that I wanted to share them with you and why. Often I bulldoze our path, next steps, and focus on “the next right thing”, but there hasn’t been a lot of time to just really summarize our life since March 9th. This was the day when you were throwing up and a possible blockage turned out to be Stage 4 Colon Cancer. It was a surgery that didn’t go as planned and me being pulled out of the waiting room and having to tell you and our families they found cancer. 

You need to know that I am okay. Eyes wide open. We know what this surgery is this time. Unlike last time, we are not blindsided and I am not informing you of a life altering diagnosis when you wake up. We’ve had months to prepare for this war. And tomorrow is D-Day. I am ready, you are ready, God has let us know we are ready. This is our path for a cure. Here’s my heart.

    Grateful. As weird of an emotion as this is to start with, life changes to an entirely different lens when a diagnosis like this is given. We have been together since we were literally teenagers at 18 and there have been seasons where I am like, When is this going to be over? I can’t live like this forever. Everything feels so difficult. Whether it was during job transitions, pregnancy, adoption, parenting, or even just marriage, life can feel overwhelming at times. I think late stage cancer has made us both so grateful. I don’t know if we’ve ever in our history celebrated and been this reflective as we have in the past few months, but I am convinced we will never be the same in the best way.

    Inspired. As an Enneagram 7, you see the fun and you make the fun. Everywhere we go, no one knows that you are sick. Even after 6 rounds of chemo and surgery hours away, you draw art, crack jokes, and are the person I just want to be around all the time. I love our counselor and also love that she told you, this is authentic. And it’s authentic because you live and do your passions while sick. If you were under stress, masking it, having fake positivity… there wouldn’t be art, meaningful work, and joy coming from you. Its the most inspiring thing I’ve seen. Your heart and soul are at rest and it shows by how you live. You are my absolute hero for living life loud despite any diagnosis. I believe it is a huge part of your healing. I stand in awe as I know there is no way this would be my own demeanor if this were flipped.

    Sadness. Cancer has opened my eyes to all those on the battlefield. It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t play fair. The same person can have the same type of cancer with the same treatment, and have many different outcomes. Labs, genes, diets, mind over matter, maybe some magical X Factor, but all I know is there is not a plan. The plan changes. Cancer does what it wants and most patients are told , “lets see what happens with this treatment”.  My planning only goes so far. I can’t fix labwork, make treatment work, and know the outcome. It also can come on silently, no symptoms. It’s a reminder to me that you get one body. You making time for it, putting good things in it, and prioritizing your health all come to the frontlines when its time to fight. I know I will struggle with this reality of cancer and disease and look at health entirely different forever. Because you prioritized your health, you were able to receive treatment. The sadness has also been people in your boat turned away because they were not in a place to receive it. The Lord has held me in the space of people battling sickness.

    Fear. Million dollar question… Will it come back? How do you know if it does? This question has rattled around in the back of my mind during this whole fight. You are not scared about that. Maybe it’s because God knows how long you’ve been living with it and didn’t know anyways, but I think its because you are someone who lives without regret. Some people call you a high risk taker, others call it faith, and I say its both. You live big and take opportunities when other people are afraid to. I heard a friend say you were lucky one time and you disagreed. You told him you had said yes and failed so many times, but saying yes a few times had opened doors and been life changing decisions for the better because you weren’t afraid of failing. I love what our friend Paul told you, who is a survivor. He said, “You will go for your scans several times a year. I don’t get anxious about what’s on the scans. I pray its clear and then if there is something that pops up, I know I can beat it because I already have. They will be all over it if it does.”

    Love. 22 years ago, I knew the second we met you were going to be my husband. When we flew out to Texas to get a plan in place with MDAnderson, we cried together for the first time about our situation. I was hurting for you, but I knew you were hurting for me. We held together this beautiful life we have built with hard places, humble beginnings, a lot of loss early on with pregnancies, building our homes and our family together, ministry, adoption, winning battles for special needs, starting a successful company, buying a 100 year old house, building community, loving difficult people,  and our very very dear teenagers. So much purpose and passion. It’s all yours, Lord. We give it all to you. We lift if up and ask for your powerful healing. We love you more than what we have. Tim, I love you in every possible way and my love comes out as a sword when there needs to be a way. Thank you for loving God, loving me, loving people, and loving what you do. You told me 2 days ago, I love when people I know meet you because then I feel like they actually know me better with us together. I feel the same way.

    Hope. Out of the gate, you claimed Isaiah 42:16. That was your response to cancer. You didn’t need the plan because you were okay with step by step. Hope has been our mantra, our theme, our path to winning. You were strong from Day 1…. High fives not hugs, Go Fight Win, people cheering you on and not being sad. Because hope is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you don’t see. And its been an anchor for the both of us. 

The only time I can’t be with you is during the operation, it may go all day. I am praying, trusting, believing, and hoping for 100% removal, no cell left behind. I will wait and claim perfect peace. You have conquered one surgery, busted out treatment, and here we are. We are at the finish line of getting it out. Who knew we’d be in Baltimore, but God opened doors for one of the pioneers and best in the country for this specific procedure. I believe God will heal you, that He made our bodies to heal, and that our life is a testimony to Him. Months ago, when doors were opening, treatment was underway, I looked up what it really looked like to praise God. After reading a million things I landed on this…. Our obedience is our praise to Him. Continuing to follow, listen, obey.. That is the highest praise I can think of.

Here we are Lord, do what only You can do. 

Love with my entire heart,

Your very adoring wife