Carson and I have amazing friends. We love what friends bring to the table of life. Things like laughter, understanding, kindness, challenge, prayer, wisdom, adventure, caring and loyalty, just to name a few. Our lives are so rich because of friends whom we love and who love us. So I believe that adage to be, as I said, mostly true. Until recently, that is.
Since this year began, and my diagnosis, I’ve likely cried more over…with…because of…friends (and I include my family here) than anything else because I am so deeply blessed by friends. I feel more deeply than I have ever felt before about this treasure of friendship. And honestly, I’ve come unglued a few times over it. So I want to take a few moments to say thank you to all of you who have invested your lives [in] mine (and ours). Some of you, for 20 or 30 years or more. Some of you are Arrow friends, and we’ve gone deep. And others of you we haven’t known as long, but your impact and influence on our lives are profound. All of you have made a difference. You have brought much joy as you’ve journeyed with me (and us) in this storm. Thank you!
Day 54—One Percent Perspective
By Brenda Pue—February 23, 2014 6:26 p.m.
A highlight from today was attending our granddaughter’s baby dedication along with her parents, Jeremy and Shari. She is the first girl in our family. Need I say more? It was so wonderful to witness this precious one being dedicated to God. I’ve included a photo of four generations (Great Granny—my mom, Grammy—me, Mommy—Shari, and, of course, Ellie).
As I head into my lung biopsy tomorrow morning, I have lots of emotions and feelings. Earlier this week I mentioned that my earlier biopsies were inconclusive and so we made the decision to try one more time. One repercussion of this procedure is that I am not able to do anything for a period of time and [am] literally grounded until the lung heals fully. Knowing that fact caused me to pause when making the decision.
The motivation for moving forward with this decision has to do with the course of chemo treatment that is recommended. One chemo option is clearly better in terms of side effects than the other. Here is why. Only 10 percent of people with lung cancer are “never smokers.” I am a never smoker…well…except for a couple of puffs when I was in grade eight (it didn’t go well, and thus ended my short-lived smoking habit). I digress. Of those 10 percent, 40 percent have a mutated version of the cancer. If the cancer I have tests positive for a mutation, the chemo treatment is in pill form and has fewer side effects. If I am in the 60 percent category, the chemo treatment suggested is much more troubling. Most medical people pause long and hard over that treatment. It might be my vivid imagination, but it seemed that my oncologist wanted to avoid discussion when I asked her what she would do if she was in my place. She advised that we take it one step at a time. And that is why we made the decision to go with another biopsy, knowing that each test and procedure forces another decision.
I have been much in prayer this week as we head towards this procedure. It is my desire, in this, and always, to thoroughly discuss everything with my Father. As I pray, I am fully aware that my perspective represents a 1 percent perspective and that God has the other 99 percent. Therefore, I trust Him with the outcome of the results of this biopsy. He’s got this, in ways I may never fully understand. And so I step into tomorrow, and the days to follow, way more confident in God’s ability than in my own ability.
Day 55—Thankful
By Brenda Pue—February 24, 2014 8:19 p.m.
We left for the hospital early, due to the falling snow. “We” meaning my lovely entourage and me. Five of us in total. I think the hospital is catching on to me by now…I only come to appointments with my “village,” for the most part.
This was a CT-guided biopsy, which means every step of the procedure is monitored by a CT scan. I was awake for the biopsy, so after numerous scans for the setup, the doctor told me I could close my eyes for the actual biopsy. I said, “Why would I do that? I don’t want to miss anything!” He said, “You are one courageous woman. Most people really don’t like this sort of thing.” Just between us, I never said I liked it…but it is kind of interesting.
I’m thankful that he secured four different samples, instead of the usual three, to help ensure that there would be enough tissue for diagnosis.
I’m thankful that I didn’t have a partial pneumothorax (where a small portion of the lung collapses) like I did last time. I was able to leave an hour after the biopsy. Last time I was there for a few hours with regular X-rays to monitor progress.
I’m thankful for a great medical team today. My doctor was skilled and caring.
I’m thankful that I feel good physically and that the peace of God fills me.
I’m thankful for all the prayer and love that surrounds me. I have much to be thankful for.
I’m thankful that God is leading me every step of this journey. Here is the word from God for me today: “But as for me, how good it is it be near God! I have made the Sovereign LORD my shelter, and I will tell everyone about the wonderful things you do” (Psalm 73:28 NLT).
Day 56—Paddling Quietly
By Brenda Pue—February 25, 2014 7:24 p.m.
A long-time and dear friend, who has also lived with cancer, gave me a little book of meditations and prayers recently called Facing the Storm. I want to share with you the following story that brings peace to my soul. Perhaps it will do the same for you.
It was cold down at the nature reserve. The sky was steel grey, clouds torn by an almost gale-force wind. It ripped through the trees, scattering the last leaves. The water was grey and ruffled. A great armada of Canadian geese was in the water. They all floated there, facing the storm.
Their environment had suddenly become hostile, threatening. They didn’t protest, or run for cover. They didn’t use up precious energy flying into it or fighting it. They faced into the wind, paddling quietly. They didn’t try to make headway, but paddled just enough to keep their direction and position in the water.
Maybe we can learn from the birds. Jesus thought so. They tell us of God’s concern, he said, and remind us that we achieve little by worrying.
When the going gets tough, the tough get going, says the cliché. I’m not sure that’s always the best way. We’re not all as aggressive as that suggests. Another way is just to face the storm, and keep position. Not scream and shout, not protest and ask what have I done to deserve this, but just hold onto faith and wait for the wind to blow itself out. It will, because the creator of the winds is stronger than the wind.
It may take time, but it works, and I don’t remember ever seeing a Canada goose with acute depression.5
Paddling quietly and trusting much,
Brenda
Day 57—Soul Friends
By Brenda Pue—February 26, 2014 8:11 p.m.
For about 17 years, I have been a part of a close-knit group of women. What first brought us together was our kids—who all needed prayer desperately. So way back when our kids were young, we met together and started praying (our husbands get air time as well).
I’m not sure which one of us suggested an annual retreat weekend, and we did that for some years. I’m pretty sure that I was the one who suggested a week-long retreat in a warm place! That would be something I would concoct. And it didn’t take much convincing of the other five. :) I’m not sure how many years we’ve been going away for week-long retreats together, but it is one of the most treasured weeks of my year. I only missed one year when a certain blond son’s car was hit and almost totalled by a young mom. I needed to stay home that year and fight (with mountains of paperwork) to keep that car for him. It was so important to him and seemed like the right decision at the time. Love that boy!
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