Praetor

It was a long and tiring road. Along this road we use generally descriptive terms, cancer, chemotherapy and radiotherapy, but that does not do justice to what it entails.

We discovered that cancer isn’t just cancer. You get different types, with different degrees of strength. The chemotherapy is adjusted according to the type and strength of the cancer. The frequency and volume of the chemotherapy differs from person to person.

At last the last round of tests were done to see if the chemotherapy did its job. Sonar, clear; x-rays, clear; mammogram and sonar, clear; bone scan, clear. You would think this is the end of the road, but no, more is still to come.

The size and tissue of the tumour is also a factor. All in all my wife’s situation calls for further radiotherapy – a preventive treatment, because cancer has a stealthy way of spreading to other glands in the breast, neck, or to the bone structure or brain.

First of all they have to plan the treatment carefully. The radio treatment is indiscriminate – it destroys all in its path. They have to be careful to miss the heart and especially the lungs as much as possible. To do this they scan the chest once more and the doctor draws the areas to be treated with a black marker. At all the corners they apply a virtually invisible tattoo, which the radiotherapy machine picks up.

The radiotherapy is a dish-like machine, which moves around your body, not touching the body. The bed also moves around, up and own, swivelling around, but fortunately it does not tilt. This is like space travel. The machine and bed is computer controlled, calling out the instructions to get the angles and depth of penetration just right. It does so in my mother tongue (Afrikaans), mind you.

There is another little secret, a rather important one. They place a 2cm thick pad on your chest over the area that needs to be treated. It has a dark mustard colour, and is hard. They pace it on a small towel. The purpose of this pad is to absorb the radio rays so that the rays only penetrate about one centimetre under the skin. Without it the rays will penetrate two and a half centimetres, which will reach the underlying organs.

You have to face this for six weeks, five days per week for about twenty minutes per treatment. But it is not too bad. You lay topless in a nice heated theatre. Initially nothing is visible and no serious after-effects. Later it feels like a suntan gone wrong, still later it becomes somewhat painful.

We are thankful to the Lord Jesus Christ for undertaking, carrying and encouraging us on this road. We are grateful for everybody that has prayed for us. The long tiring road has been short and not so tiring.

When it was her time to return for the fifth chemotherapy they tested her blood as usual. Red alert! Her blood count was down (white cells, platelets and haemoglobin). The doctor postponed the procedure for a week. She had a rough time with many guests at the guesthouse so it can be that she is exhausted and her resistance is down. She takes lots of rest, taking health foods and drinks. With high expectation that everything will be OK she returns a week later. No, same problem and once again the chemo is postponed. This time the (same) doctor prescribes ampoules to be injected to boost her blood count, and an extra week’s rest.

I become the doctor administering the injections every morning. She cleans the area, presses her stomach skin together and I insert the needle and inject. Everything goes well. She improves. We see how her energy levels increase. She rests the extra week. Now everything will be plain sailing. No, again it is not right! A third time the doctor postpones the chemotherapy. “Your count is too low. If you get treatment now you will be very, very sick.” “Aren’t you going to prescribe anything doctor?” “No just eat healthy and come back in TWO weeks.” Dumbfounded my wife phones me to come and fetch her.

We go for coffee and she tells me what transpired with the doctor at the hospital. Surely this can’t be right. Since her previous chemotherapy seven weeks have gone by. If we wait another two weeks, the effect of the chemotherapy will be lost. The doctor can’t be serious! Yet, she sent my wife home for another two weeks empty-handed! Nothing, nada. How can a doctor do such a thing? With a shock I realise that the Hippocratic oath has “evolved”.

In order to accommodate abortion and whatever the oath had to evolve. The doctors used to take the oath saying, “I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures [that] are required, avoiding those twin traps of over-treatment and therapeutic nihilism.” It must be difficult to find the middle-ground. It seems to me that the oath has evolved beyond the interest of the patient. I try to understand, but I am up in arms. Experience has learned us get a second opinion.

We can’t just let the doctor send her to her death. (That is how we felt at this stage). So my wife phones the head of oncology, a Christian Ghanaian. He wants to see her immediately. He is very concerned about the postponements. They should have consulted with him long ago. Although her blood count is low, it is not too low. She must immediately get treatment. He also prescribes anti-nauseous drugs and ampoules for picking up the blood again after the treatment.

Strange, she never fell ill. A little bit of headache, a little bit dizzy once or twice, but else she is fine. Even though we did not administer the booster until the second day after the chemo.

My daughter is 34 years old, but was brain-damaged due to a series of operations within her first year on earth. We were greatly concerned how she would react to her mother’s mastectomy and ensuing treatment. Through much prayer she has taken it in her stride, but I must say we only told her the bare necessities (excuse the pun).

Yesterday morning her mother came out of the shower with just her nightgown on. She called her mom to help her on the toilet. (She is very chubby and needs someone to help her as her arms are too short).  She looked at her mom and asked, “Do you only have one breast?” “Yes”. “Where is the other breast?” “It had cancer and the cancer was removed”. She unceremoniously reached out and drew away the gown and studied the operation mark for a few moments. “Oh. I have two breasts!” was her only reaction. The innocence of a child!
This was a great lesson to us, that a person must not push things. At the right time the children will ask questions when they are ready and then they are also better prepared to deal with the answers.  I had a suspicion that she was wondering about her mom’s breast, but now she knows.

The big day of the mastectomy was 12 days ago. Everything went smooth. Now its only learning to live with the after effects of which one will be the results of the tests on the axillary glands. The other reminds me of a Bible verse that I have always found intriguing … and faithfully practised:

“Drink water from your own cistern,

And fresh water from your own well. …

Let them be yours alone,

And not for strangers with you. …

Let your fountain be blessed,

And rejoice in the wife of your youth.

As a loving hind and a graceful doe,

Let her breasts satisfy you at all times,

Be exhilarated always with her love.” (Proverbs 5 verses15,17,18-19).

Now after D-day it has taken on new meaning. Instead of two fawns feeding among the lilies, there is only one standing next to an ugly ridge cutting across a big flat space (excuse the pun). It is one thing to look at the flatness covered by nighties, but the first time I had to clean the wound and dress it for my wife, it was different to face the naked reality.

Suddenly you discover that beauty goes further than skin deep. She is still the wife of my youth in which I delight! My youngest son cannot think, or understand that I find his mother’s legs, covered with varicose veins, sexy. You see when I look at them I see the same sexy legs of the wife of my youth. After the op. she dyed her hair a light copper red. Now I am all over in love with the wife of my youth. When I met her she had copper toned hair when the sunrays caught it. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder!

But the most attractive about her is that disarming smile and her sparkling eyes. They augment the softness of her personality. Nothing of this has changed. She is still the same person even without the twins of a gazelle (- just one fawn).

At last we came to a doctor that is not fearful. She works with cancer patients every day of her life. She has probably made peace with death. What a wonderful fresh breeze.

The oncologist referred us to the “cancer hospital”  in a neighbouring city to have a bone scan done and to get a second opinion. Or perhaps to persuade us to accept the inevitable? First my wife was made radioactive. They even put a sticker to that effect on her file! Then after two hours she went for the scan. We praise the Master Weaver that her bones are clear of cancer.

The female doctor explained to us the situation. The cancer was not completely removed, when the lumpectomy was done. It has invaded the ducts and veins in the surrounding areas, which is a bad sign. It is a type 3 cancer, which is a more aggressive type. Breast cancer has the bad habit of hiding away. Before the lump was removed they did not inject a dye into the cancerous lump to see if it has spread to the axilla glands and you will not tell if it has spread by physical examination. Therefore it is best to do a mastectomy and remove the axilla glands.

How different to receive all the relevant information and make an informed decision! The abhorrent idea of just removing her breast (for fun?) has been disarmed. Both my wife and myself are at peace about this inevitable development. In a week’s time she will know the date of the operation. We are so thankful we did not just accept the verdict of the surgeon, but asked to consult the oncologist who wanted to be sure of the situation so that we don’t start treating one condition, but ignorant of another hidden condition. (We learnt this lesson with our daughter’s dislocated hip that was operated on when she was 5 months old. We did what the doctors said without asking for a second opinion. As a result she was left brain damaged. But even 33 years later she still is a blessing to us). The oncologist repeatedly said we must do it right the first time.

Two weeks ago my wife went for the lumpectomy. The agonizing pain was gone, although the pain from the op was still bad. Today the results came.

I learned a few things about doctors. They are just human. It seems to me they have greater difficulty facing the possibility of cancer than the patient. Perhaps they are fearful of being taken to court for making a wrong diagnosis. They are vague and try to create some sense of hope for the patient. My wife’s “personal doctor” at the hospital said the biopsy was diagnosed as cancer. The surgeon said we can’t be sure until a lumpectomy was done. See … that spark of hope.

Then the results of the lumpectomy comes. We look with abated breath at the doctor. “The lump was very fragmented” (well, after all the biopsies it must be) “and the conclusion inconclusive”. “But doctor what did they say, was the lump malignant”, my wife asks. (Seeing that you ask so directly I am forced to give you a direct answer). “Yes, it is malignant”. When he has to use the big C word, he uses the medical term, carcinoma. He consults with the surgeon who did the op. “We will have to do a mastectomy”.

My wife and I have discussed this over the past two weeks. If her life depended on it, she would have a mastectomy, but only after all other options were exhausted. We informed the doctor accordingly. “How long will she live?” “What if she dies?” He asks.
Does this doctor have a fear of death? Is he projecting his fears onto us? Upon our request we were referred to oncology. At least we will get a second opinion now from somebody that will consider other options than merely lobbing off limbs.

My wife and I am at peace. We know it is a difficult road ahead, but the Master Weaver is in charge.

One dark night three years ago my wife went to the toilet. She lost her bearings and walked into a door that was standing ajar hurting her breast badly. Two weeks ago she experienced pains in her breast and feeling a lump upon closer examination.

Strange how people react to situations like this. We cling to the positive, hoping it will not be bad news. With trepidation you approach the doctor who sent her for a mammogram and sonar examination. Bad news. The radiological Dr  said straight out that radiologically it is cancer.

My wife phones me to give this terrible news. It felt like somebody punched me in the stomach.  I could feel how the blood drain from my face. One single thought flashed through my mind for a split second, “Why are you doing this to me Lord?”

We have a brain damaged daughter dependent on my wife to care for her. Her mother baths her, helps her at the toilet and combs her hair every day. So this is bad news from this perspective. But God has the full picture of the tapestry that He is busy weaving. We only see the confusing criss-cross threads at the backside. We need to trust the Master Weaver that everything will work together for the good. We are absolutely assured of one thing, He loves us dearly. We don’t have to doubt that, because Jesus gave his life on the cross so that we can share in the glory and splendour of his kingdom.

We share the bad news with friends and family. Strange how some people refuse to believe the news. They react in shock and denial. “You are joking.” “No! It can’t be true!” “There must be a mistake somewhere, have more tests done.”

Now we are on the roller-coaster. The hope and expectation that everything will be al right, but then the dread of visiting the doctor. Further tests. The biopsy left her purple and black. Words of hope. The lump is soft and not well defined, which are good signs. “Thank you Lord for giving back my wife to me (and to my daughter)”. Return for the results. The tests are inconclusive. Although the doctor took five samples, there were not enough tissue to come to a definite conclusion. In a week’s time she must go for an operation to remove the lump as a precautionary measure.

The doctors are really unfeeling. As a precautionary measure they want to do a mastectomy! Can you believe it. This must be the twists and turns of the roller-coaster to make it more exciting - for whom, I wonder? Just as if we need that. But fortunately our lives are in the hands of the Master Weaver.