Category: Carrie-Anne (Page 7 of 14)

Well, the news at our second follow-up appointment yesterday was not nearly as good. The pathology reports came back and, instead of this being a stage-zero, non-invasive breast cancer as originally diagnosed, Carrie-Anne has a stage-one, invasive breast cancer. Not great.

What Carrie-Anne has is called “triple-negative breast cancer” – something having to do with three different indicators. It’s only found in 10% of those who have breast cancer and, yes, we’ve got it. Not awesome.

We are meeting with an oncologist either Monday or Tuesday to have what our surgeon says will be a “challenging conversation” about chemotherapy options and next steps. What they found is so tiny – borderline – there’s a chance they may recommend no chemo at all. But our surgeon seems to think we’re going to have to do some kind of chemo, some kind of diluted version, maybe, for a couple of months or so.

It’s just a punch in the gut because we thought we were near the end of this stressful road. But we’re still at the beginning, with a brand new set of issues and questions. The cancer in her body is gone, they got rid of everything. But because the cancer was invasive, there could be some of it in there somewhere and there’s no medical technology to chase it down and pinpoint its exact location – if it’s there at all. It’s more of the unknown, more uncertainty, with which to wrestle. So, at this point, our best understanding is that the chemotherapy is a preventative step, one that would eradicate whatever might still be in there somewhere. We’ll know much more Monday or Tuesday.

In the meantime, in your regular conversations with our Lord, would you please bring up my precious wife, Carrie-Anne? I know he’s very aware of what’s happening, but it would mean a lot to us if you would remind him. We had a rough day yesterday and we’ve got a rougher and longer road ahead than what we had been told.

Peace,

Allan

We had a really positive and encouraging first follow-up appointment with the plastic surgeon yesterday after Carrie-Anne’s surgery last week. Everything looks exactly like it’s supposed to look and everything’s working the way it’s supposed to be working. Such great news! Very reassuring. You know, right after surgery, through that first night in the hospital and into that first morning, we had doctors and nurses looking at things and taking care of us around the clock. But from arriving at our apartment at noon Friday through yesterday morning, we were pretty much on our own. Cleaning and draining and measuring and medicating and exercising – who knew if we were doing everything correctly and that she was doing alright?

Well, she is. And we thank God. The surgeon removed two of her four drains, which means half the discomfort, half the tubes continuously in the way, half the anxiety of catching a hose on the edge of a countertop or sitting on top of a tube. Carrie-Anne is off the prescription pain meds and down to just one ibuprofen a day and quickly regaining her flexibility and range of upper body motion. She’s pretty much back to herself. We thank God.

And we thank you. For the cards and phone calls, the texts and emails, the gift cards and flowers. For all your love and encouragement, for your conversations with our Lord on Carrie-Anne’s behalf, we are so grateful.

We have a check-up with the cancer surgeon tomorrow and are anticipating maybe one of the remaining two drains to be pulled – that would be awesome. Our youngest daughter, Carley, and her new husband, Collin, are coming here to Houston tomorrow to stay with Carrie-Anne as I fly to Midland Saturday so I can be with our GCR Church family and preach on Sunday. It’ll be good to see those two again. It’ll be good to see Whitney back home and to worship with her and our brothers and sisters in West Texas. I’ll come back to Houston Sunday night for what, hopefully, will be our last couple of days in this apartment at 8181 Med Center. We have another follow-up appointment at M.D. Anderson on Wednesday January 11 and are still on schedule to drive back home to Midland immediately afterward. And we thank God.

Peace,

Allan

Three times a day, Carrie-Anne and I are walking the concrete pathway around the courtyard of 8181 Med Center here in Houston. This is the exercise she’s supposed to get while recovering from her cancer surgery and reconstruction. We usually walk it twice which, I’m guessing, is probably a quarter-mile. It’s the same lap every time. The same courtyard around the same benches and picnic tables every time. Sometimes we switch it up and walk clockwise instead of counter-clockwise, but it’s the same walk to the same mailbox around the same patch of grass.

Today, at the beginning of our second walk, I mused that it would be nice if we could have a change of scenery, if we had different things to look at and enjoy together. That prompted both of us to recall the many things we have seen on these thrice daily walks.

The young couple and their infant son enjoying the sunshine at the center picnic table Sunday afternoon. He let us get close, but not too close.

The discarded houseplant that looks like it was hurled in a fit of rage from a third floor balcony. We made up our own story about how that plant got into the center of the courtyard.

The squirrel that let us get close. Eerily close. Rabies?

All the noise coming from NRG Stadium across the street. We wondered if it was a concert, a rally, a classic car show – what’s happening at the stadium? Oh, yeah. We remembered much later the Texans were losing to the Jaguars over there. It was the sound of bitter disappointment.

All that laundry hanging from a second floor balcony that night.

The lady in the bright red shirt and striped panties who accidentally left her blinds wide open last night and was moving from her living room to her kitchen. The window was closed on our second trip around.

That older man who was just pacing back and forth on his eight-foot balcony. Back and forth. Back and forth. He wasn’t on the phone, he wasn’t smoking – we don’t know what he was doing. We made up our own story.

Several balconies still decorated with Christmas lights. We wonder about each circumstance and guess how long the lights will stay up.

The calico cat that has more white on his body than he should and is orange only on his head and his tail. Really weird. Seems friendly. Then there’s the orange cat that seems like it’s from the devil.

The smell of Indian cooking and the sound of Indian music coming from an open door. It reminded us of our home in North Richland Hills when our backyard neighbors were Indian and it smelled and sounded like that every evening.

The fire ant mounds. We haven’t seen any of those since we lived in Tarrant County.

Carrie-Anne and I are taking this exact same walk down the exact same path three times a day. Holding hands. Walking slowly. Sometimes we don’t talk much at all. Sometimes we talk quite a bit about what’s happening right now and what’s coming up in a day or two. Sometimes something reminds us of our lives together for the past 33 years. We’re in a weird place right now, recovering from cancer surgery in Houston. But we’re laughing together more than we have in a long time.

It’s a blessing. This almost-leisurely time we’re spending together in close quarters away from home and work is a blessing from God. And these walks should continue once we get back to Midland.

Peace,

Allan

Things seem to be progressing well for Carrie-Anne on this fourth day since her surgery. The readings on her drains are going down at an encouraging pace, the pain meds are adequately managing her discomfort, and she’s exhibiting some stir-crazy as she moves from recliner to couch to bed and back to recliner, trying to maintain her sanity in this tiny temporary apartment.

Every two to three hours we take a couple of laps around the courtyard at this apartment complex. Yesterday it was sunny and 79-degrees – perfect! I tried to get C-A  in the car so we could drive around downtown Houston, just to get out for some scenery on a nice day. But she won’t do it. There are speed bumps in the parking lot and potholes on the city streets. Too many bounces, too much jiggling. We’re going to stick to walking around the courtyard for now.

I had to make a run to H-E-B yesterday at the same time thousands of people were streaming out of NRG Stadium, across the street from our apartment. They were mostly dressed in Texans gear, some of them sporting old J.J. Watt jerseys and all of them looking really depressed. It was only then I realized the Texans were hosting the Jacksonville Jaguars. I learned later that Houston had lost by 30. Again. You’ve heard the expression, “I wouldn’t walk across the street to see that!” It applies here.

Carrie-Anne and I tuned in to the livestream of the worship assembly at our GCR Church. It’s the first time we’ve ever watched a live church service on Sunday morning. When we’re out of town, on vacation or whatever, we always seek out a local church so we can worship with God’s people, so we can be encouraged by a brand new group of Jesus followers, so we can be reminded that God has people in every city, so we can be open to and transformed by all the many ways the Lord’s people worship and fellowship together. Sitting through our own GCR  livestream reminded me all over again that church is not broadcast over a stream. Church is not watched from one’s couch in one’s living room. We do a good job with our livestream at GCR. But it’s not church.

I was scrambling yesterday morning to find something in this apartment that would serve as our communion meal while we watched the GCR livestream. The kind man who showed us the place last Tuesday pointed out that they leave unopened food items and non-perishables in the pantry when they clean up after the last guests. I scrounged around and came up with a package of saltines and two bottles of Grape Gatorade – definitely blue in color, not purple. I pulled out a cracker and poured the Gatorade into a couple of Carrie-Anne’s disposable medical measuring cups. Body of Christ. Blood of Christ. Good thing the Holy Spirit’s involved.

I threw away the unopened can of sardines. Nobody’s using those for anything.

Lunch? Yes, it’s New  Year’s Day! Ham, cabbage, and black-eyed peas. Duh. I was raised right. It wasn’t always pretty. But I got the essentials.

I have fallen behind in our annual church office college football bowls picks contest. Crystal has taken over first place and, with five games remaining, I don’t see any way for her to lose. Tim might have an outside chance at catching her if everything falls right for him today. But, at best, I’m going to finish second. And, for the record, I’m thrilled to lose the 36 points I had on Michigan Saturday in exchange for the TCU victory. Go Frogs.

We have a follow up appointment with the plastic surgeon on Wednesday and another with the cancer surgeon on Friday. Our youngest daughter, Carley, is coming here Thursday to stay with C-A so I can fly back to Midland on Saturday, preach on Sunday, and come back to Houston Sunday night. I’m excited about the next three Sundays at GCR when we get back into the Story of God. We’re focusing particularly on the Church’s role during this current era in God’s Story, the proclaimed Kingdom, the era of the Church. I’ll write more about that later this week.

Peace,

Allan

The surgery Thursday got started a little late and lasted a little longer than was scheduled, but everything went really well for Carrie-Anne and she’s doing as good as can be expected today. We were released from M.D.Anderson at about 10:30 yesterday morning and, after a stop at Walgreens, arrived here at our temporary home at 8181 Med Center, directly across the street from NRG Stadium where Texas Tech blew out Ole Miss a couple nights ago and the Houston Texans lose every week.

Carrie-Anne is extremely sore all over, moving very slowly, and feels like she’s in constant heatstroke. But she is cancer-free – they got every bit of it and a couple of lymph nodes for good measure. Praise God for his faithfulness to my beautiful wife! And thank the Lord for our cancer surgeon, Dr. Refinetti, and our plastic surgeon, Dr. Hassid, and all the wonderful nurses and caregivers at M.D.Anderson. Everything looks like it’s supposed to look today and seems to be working correctly. I think Carrie-Anne’s greatest concern is that I’m doing all the cooking for both of us over these two weeks in Houston.

And the math.

We weren’t really prepared for all the math. C-A is taking four prescriptions for pain and antibiotics at three different times of the day at least twice each during the day, she has four drains that must be emptied and measured and totaled and logged twice a day, and the thermometer they sent home with us is a Celsius-only instrument that must be converted to Fahrenheit. Keeping up  with all this is stretching our limited math capabilities to the breaking point. C-A is also doing exercises three times per day, inhaling into a weird little plastic instrument that measures her lung capacity every hour, and we’re doing laps around  the apartment courtyard every two to three hours to keep the blood  flowing and the stir-crazy at bay. She is a determined patient and I’m doing the best I can to keep up with her.

We are both so thankful for every phone call, text, and card from our dearest friends and family in Midland, Amarillo, Fort Worth, and Dallas  – friends who go back with us over 30-years to Marble Falls to the brand new friends we’ve made in the last year or so at GCR Church. Your love and concern and great care for us is overwhelming and means the world. It’s humbling. Encouraging. We are so  grateful.

We have a follow-up here with the cancer surgeon on Wednesday and the plastics surgeon on Friday. Our plan is to come home on the 11th, but we won’t know if that’s going to happen or not until these two follow-ups. We are asking the Lord to speed up Carrie-Anne’s recovery so we can be home that Wednesday night, when our middle daughter Valerie is scheduled to fly to Midland to help out for a few days.

In the meantime, we’re settling in today for the two college football playoff games – Go Frogs! – and probably a Happy New Year that will come long before midnight.

Peace,

Allan