Three Down, Two To Go

My Cyber-knife procedures are 35 minutes each. As it turns out, it is an uncomfortable, somewhat painful experience.

The mask that is covering my face (and anchors me to the metal table that I lie on for the procedure) hurts. It is TIGHT. It leaves impressions on my face when I am done. The first day I was advised not to wear make-up. My tech, Kim, whom I’ve grown fond of, explained that I could, in fact, wear make-up, it just might rub off on the mask. And so the second day, I wore make-up, not realizing that the mask is so stinking tight that I would not be able to open my eyes with the thickness of my lashes with mascara on them. Oh my! That was an entirely new level of anxiety! At least the first day I could see through the tiny white criss-cross holes of the mask to look around when I wanted to.

Upon my arrival at my first procedure, my tech asked for my CD. "CD?" I wondered. "Yeah, that would’ve been a good idea. Tomorrow for sure," I thought. And so, she offered to turn the radio on to the only station they had reception for in the Cyber-Knife room. The station? 70’s rock. Can I throw up already? I was born in the late 70’s, but I was not listening to rock. I asked her to turn it off, but she had already left the room. And so my 35 minutes of pressurized laser beam therapy included Led Zeppelin and The Grateful Dead. Don't get me wrong--it's not that I’m that opposed to the music, you just wouldn't see it on my list of songs for relaxation. Oh well, we had a good laugh when we left the hospital.

Physically, I am tolerating the treatment well. I have been super tired (I took a four-hour nap on the first day), have had a light headache, minor nausea (that goes away a little after eating) and occasional burning in my eye. Nothing I can’t live with.

As the treatments progress, side-effects can be more prominent. So, as usual, I’m going to ask you for prayer that the last two treatments would be flawless, and effective. I go in at 10:30 on Monday and 8:30 on Tuesday. I will update more as the treatment ends. Your love, prayer, concern, and care has been amazing this week. I have been blessed with special people in my life. I thank the Lord for you often!

 

Cyberknife Tomorrow

“Talking to men for God is a great thing,

but talking to God for men is greater still." E.M. Bounds

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 NIV
"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work; If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!"

As I travel this path of conquering a brain tumor, I am thankful for my friends in life.  From those friends of my early childhood to those I have recently gained, I have been tremendously blessed by love and encouragement, and cared for in many ways on my journey.  This process is enriched because of you.  Thank you.

It is the eve of my first cyber-knife appointment. As it turns out, once again, ignoring the obvious has not made it go away.  Pushing thoughts of this procedure out of my mind every time it crept in has not made my tumor go away.  Oh, well.  I am fine.  I am good. But I am also unsettled. 
I could go on and on, writing about all the ups and downs, but that is not going to improve my day or yours. I do know that there is power in prayer.  And so today, I am asking, again….will you pray for me?

For the radiation oncologist, the neuro-surgeon and their team that is overseeing my procedure tomorrow and the following days. Will you pray for their wisdom?  That their calculations of areas to be radiated would be exact and that not a single cell outside of the necessary area would be harmed, and that my vision would be preserved.

Would you pray that I would tolerate the treatment well?  That side effects would be minimal and that swelling of the brain would not be problematic (I do not want to go on steroids!!!). And lastly, would you pray that this treatment would be effective?  I mean fully effective and that this tumor would die once and for all!  Thank you.  Thank you so much.

I am scheduled for an 8:30am check-in tomorrow in downtown Phoenix at the Barrows.  Once the procedure is underway, it will be 30 minutes to an hour of treatment.  I will not know the exact length of treatment until I arrive tomorrow. 

One last prayer request, one that I write with a tinge of reluctance.  Will you please lift up my emotional well-being?  All the positive statistics in the world cannot settle my heart or change the raw fact that I am having what is referred to as a “bloodless brain surgery” tomorrow.  Here's a picture of the machine. As you can see, it's a pretty big deal.

My mind wanders, a lot…my baby girl isn’t even in kindergarten yet, I am only 33, what if this isn’t effective and they have to do neuro-surgery again, how could a laser be that precise…? and on and on it runs.
Would you pray that I would be calm tomorrow?  That the Lord would settle my soul in a way that only He can and that I would remember and be comforted by the truth: that my times are in His hands. 

I thank you.  From deep within I am overwhelmingly grateful for the love and encouragement you have all brought to me through this process.