#NotDeadYet
We arenāt going to do many medical updates on here, but a bunch of friends have requested a status report and kindly asked what to pray for, so a few quick observationsā¦
* Some folks are very helpful ā such as our tireless team at MD Anderson. We were accepted into a clinical trial at Houstonās amazing cancer hospital around New Yearās. Weāve just completed our first week of experimental chemo.
* Some folks are less helpful ā such as whatever jackwagons signed me up for tickets to loads of upcoming Nickelback events. (Although I do tip my cap to the cheery optimism of the dudes who bought me concert tickets for April ā2027.ā)
* Some folks have a heavenly bedside manner ā such as the MD Anderson research nurses whoāve helped dial in my anti-nausea mix of drugs, radically reducing my daily puke count (āDPCā) over the past 72 hours.
* Some folks have a less heavenly bedside manner ā such as my tender(?) bride who in the wee hours last night exclaimed: āCan you imagine if we make big progress on both the nausau and the spinal tumor pain?! All weād have left is your increasingly ugly mug.ā
(Sheās a keeperā¦)
More fundamentally, please hear Melissaās and my gratitude for the outpouring of love and kindness over the three weeks since my diagnosis. We are blessed in so many ways, so Iām not surprised at how moved weāve been by these prayers, but do know that weāve been very moved.
Iām
#NotDeadYet (hat tip: Monty Python), so let me close with three prayer requests:
1. That our kids will trust in the Lordās Fatherly kindness and sovereign timing.
2. ā That the spinal tumor and the nausea can be managed enough to make me a moderately-chipper patient, finding energy to soldier well with my neighbors at the blood draws and drudgery.
3. ā That I will be able ā to borrow the old Puritan phrase ā to āredeem the time.ā That is, to try to serve and love our neighbors with little bits of work ā or writing and speaking projects here and there. Time is the great equalizer, but not all time is equal ā you can play a lot of basketball in the last 60 seconds (especially if youāre as newly dominant in basketball as Nebraska). Weāre going to give cancer a run for its money and see what can be learned in the process. As we figure out the rhythms of chemo, Iām going to endeavor to do whatever work Iāve been given to doā¦and try to love and serve (and not puke).
More to comeā¦.
Friends-
This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, Iāll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die.
Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; itās a death sentence. But I already had a death sentence before last week too ā we all do.
Iām blessed with amazing siblings and half-a-dozen buddies that are genuinely brothers. As one of them put it, āSure, youāre on the clock, but weāre all on the clock.ā Death is a wicked thief, and the bastard pursues us all.
Still, Iāve got less time than Iād prefer. This is hard for someone wired to work and build, but harder still as a husband and a dad. I canāt begin to describe how great my people are. During the past year, as weād temporarily stepped back from public life and built new family rhythms, Melissa and I have grown even closer ā and that on top of three decades of the best friend a man could ever have. Seven months ago, Corrie was commissioned into the Air Force and sheās off at instrument and multi-engine rounds of flight school. Last week, Alex kicked butt graduating from college a semester early even while teaching gen chem, organic, and physics (sheās a freak). This summer, 14-year-old Breck started learning to drive. (Okay, weāve been driving off-book for six years ā but now weāve got paper to make it street-legal.) I couldnāt be more grateful to constantly get to bear-hug this motley crew of sinners and saints.
Thereās not a good time to tell your peeps youāre now marching to the beat of a faster drummer ā but the season of advent isnāt the worst. As a Christian, the weeks running up to Christmas are a time to orient our hearts toward the hope of whatās to come.
Not an abstract hope in fanciful human goodness; not hope in vague hallmark-sappy spirituality; not a bootstrapped hope in our own strength (what foolishness is the evaporating-muscle I once prided myself in). Nope ā often we lazily say āhopeā when what we mean is āoptimism.ā To be clear, optimism is great, and itās absolutely necessary, but itās insufficient. Itās not the kinda thing that holds up when you tell your daughters youāre not going to walk them down the aisle. Nor telling your mom and pops theyāre gonna bury their son.
A well-lived life demands more reality ā stiffer stuff. Thatās why, during advent, even while still walking in darkness, we shout our hope ā often properly with a gravelly voice soldiering through tears.
Such is the calling of the pilgrim. Those who know ourselves to need a Physician should dang well look forward to enduring beauty and eventual fulfillment. That is, we hope in a real Deliverer ā a rescuing God, born at a real time, in a real place. But the eternal city ā with foundations and without cancer ā is not yet.
Remembering Isaiahās prophecies of whatās to come doesnāt dull the pain of current sufferings. But it does put it in eternityās perspective:
āWhen we've been there 10,000 yearsā¦We've no less days to sing God's praise.ā
Iāll have more to say. Iām not going down without a fight. One sub-part of Godās grace is found in the jawdropping advances science has made the past few years in immunotherapy and more. Death and dying arenāt the same ā the process of dying is still something to be lived. Weāre zealously embracing a lot of gallows humor in our house, and Iāve pledged to do my part to run through the irreverent tape.
But for now, as our family faces the reality of treatments, but more importantly as we celebrate Christmas, we wish you peace: āThe people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawnedā¦.For to us a son is givenā (Isaiah 9).
With great gratitude, and with gravelly-but-hopeful voices,
Ben ā and the Sasses