Sherry and I went to Chicago Monday, as we've done every two or three months for 13 years... because she has "Multiple Myeloma." When she was first diagnosed, Myeloma (as I am prone to call it) was a little known and under-funded cancer. This has changed in recent years, but at the time, Sherry's predicted life expectancy was 3-7 years, with an emphasis on the 3. Due to excellent medical care, the "non-aggressive" nature of her cancer, and the healing presence of our God, Sherry has beaten the odds... and we've driven to Northwestern Hospital for 13 years now.
Initially, we were frightened... and frozen in place. We couldn't think of anything but her cancer... but over time, we began to digest the fact that our life together would be a "one-day-at-a-time" affair. We were no longer "frozen" in place, but our journey amounted to little more than putting one foot in front of the other, as we made our trips to NW Memorial. In time, Sherry underwent tandem transplants, which drove her cancer into near remission, The transplants were tough for Sherry (she barely made it through the 2nd one), but our Lord saw her through... and her cancer was hardly noticeable for years. We began to live with cancer, and we almost forgot about it... as Sherry underwent surgeries and treatments for Glaucoma. Our panic faded and we discovered that we could have a rich life together. Our visits to her oncologist became almost routine... but they were never really routine... because cancer is a sober, constant, and threatening companion. The things that we did when we arrived at the hospital ( the lines, the waiting, the blood tests, having lunch together) became routine, even tedious-but the reason for being there never was! Eventually (and predictably), Sherry's cancer count began to rise and now, as this is written, they are rising steadily. Chemo-therapy is around the corner. and that will be an ominous thing. But we are not alone!
No. We are not alone.We have a caring family, a number of faithful friends, and a big cadre of prayer warriors. We have our faith and we have an amazing God who will never forsake us. God gives us many signs that He is with us, and I know that He will comfort Sherry each step of the way, wherever those steps may lead. I also know that our God is Lord and that Sherry is in His hands. This is what I believe. It is what Sherry believes...and we walk unafraid at this stage of our journey. Sherry is never alone. In addition to God, faith, family, and friends...she is surrounded by angels...and a host of kindred spirits... who congregate with her on the 21st Floor, which is the top floor at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. It offers a wonderful view of Chicago's skyline and the Great Lake, and I'm glad that it does because the patients on the 21st floor deserve a "perk." The cancer unit wasn't always on the 21st floor, but it has been for years now... and when the elevator empties of all other riders (who get off at the 14th, 17th, 18th, or 20th floors), those who remain look at each other knowingly because they share a journey.
Sometimes, one of them may say, "I see that you're going to the 21st floor too," but even if they don't speak, they smile and make eye contact. And so it was last Wednesday. We got off the elevator on the 21st floor and entered into a sea of humanity (I can't remember when the waiting room was busier). There were old people and young people there. Men and women both. Black and white and Hispanic too. Some of them wore masks; some of them could barely sit up; some of them were "old hands" at the cancer game; some had just begun their journey. Sherry and I weren't able to find two seats together- so I sat alone and watched people as she waited for her blood to be tested. There was an older man who was making a business deal on his phone. Either he or the person he was talking to must have had a hearing defect... because he talked very loudly. The middle-aged woman to my right... had a bald head and a sweet face... and by her own admission, she was very, very tired. Then there was the man who could barely walk. A nurse offered to get him a wheelchair and he eschewed. But she insisted, which was a good thing because I don't think he would have made it on his own. Finally, Sherry and I made it to the inner waiting room, where we struck up a conversation with a man who had been cured of leukemia.We were happy for him, but Sherry began to share her own story. The good news, she noted, was that she had been free of treatments for years, but the bad news remained... that Multiple Myeloma is not curable. As Sherry and her new acquaintance were talking, a young woman and a young man were listening intently. They couldn't have been 30 years old- and when Sherry said that she had been without any chemo for 10 years, the young woman smiled at the young man. Evidently, she had done research on the internet too ... and when Sherry said that Myeloma was incurable, the young man said that he had just been diagnosed with it. Then, they were called to see their Dr., and as they walked away, I said a silent prayer for healing because I felt at one with them!
We saw our Dr. briefly (he doesn't have as much time as he did 13 years ago) and we left his office. He didn't say much, but he did talk about treatment options more specifically than he has before... and I thought I saw a note of concern on his face from time to time. He showed us a graph of Sherry's cancer counts over time, and he pointed out that she had a wonderful ride for several years. In fact, there aren't many MM patients who have been alive for 13 years. We know this ... and we praise God every day for his steadfast love. We walked back into what had become a less crowded waiting room... and as we walked by, the lady with the bald head and the sweet face... looked up and smiled. And I smiled back... knowing that she was one of us! May God bless the cancer patients who congregate on the 21st Floor... and may He also bless the dear saints who sit by their side! Amen,
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