Just a Little Littany

It's been a while since I've taken the time to put my thoughts into a blog post. I don't mean to ignore this blessing, as it truly is a blessing to share and save my thoughts to look back on all my (hoped for) future growth. Perhaps cracking the habit of simply continuing about my day without pausing in reflection and gratitude, a good habit can return. We'll see...

It has not been that long since I relied upon the gift of prayer through music to nourish my spiritual longing. Music, for many years and many Sundays, brought me into a mental space of prayer that I genuinely miss today. It fed me. It reinvigorated me. That "woe is me" tendency, if left to dwell on the way things used to be versus what they are now, takes over and sadness steps in. It's not difficult for me, or at least I thought, to take a step out of this shallow pit of longing reflection and find gratitude to lift me back up. I have far too much for which to be thankful to ever allow pruned skin while standing in swampy sadness for too long. I am rediscovering ways today to relate and converse with Jesus in my habitual conversations seeking a glimmer of that once all-too-familiar warm embrace of losing myself in prayer and music conversation. 

Today, while driving on a crowded highway in Dallas, I was listening to the Hallowed app as that's been one of my committed efforts to look inward throughout this year's Lenten journey. Well, I wasn't ready for the fireworks that hit me today. This season's journey has been an excellent focus on identifying how I relate to each character of The Prodigal Son story. That was a focus of mine before Lent, so it was divinely inspired when announced that Hallow would be offering a similar Lenten journey by focusing on The Brothers Karamazov. It's a challenging story to follow, but the heart of each day brings me a lesson to slowly soak in and grow from. It's been a transformative Lent.

At the end of today's focus on the story, a prayerful song was played that moved me to tears. It's a song about being carried into the loving arms of the father. It's a song about surrendering our own pride and desires, and aligning our own heart with that of the Father, and rejoining him at his banquet table. It's a beautiful litany that reveals a lot that has been presented to me in prayer and reflection, and where I've struggled in my journey over the past 7+ years. It's revealed in a glimpse today where I thrived in relationship with Jesus and with God the Father, but am now challenged in seeking an impactful way to relate to His eternal love in my daily life today.

His love is revealed to me daily and absolutely. I too often choose to look past His joy offered, only to stand in that pit of longing for what's been lost, while entirely ignoring what's been given me. My feet are far too often wet and pruned, and I don't even realize it.

"Scanxiety"

That's a neat marriage of two words. It's a word that flies in the face of what I try to practice concerning things I cannot control. Nonetheless, even the word stirs feelings that lead to fear, helplessness, hopelessness, etc. Even as my mind races down these "what if scenarios," my anchor in faith reminds me to not worry.

Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?

January 18, 1990. I was your typical 4th grade boy. Ruining pants requiring my mom to patch them up after sliding for soccer balls on the field or diving across the school floor to see how far I could slide. I didn't own a stain-free shirt. My hair was rarely done in any presentable fashion because what 4th grade boy in rural Missouri cares about any of that? Not this one. 

In 1987, my babcia moved to live with us from Gliwice, Poland. She couldn't speak any English, but boy could she cook some good Polish foods. She helped my parents take care of my siblings and me every day. As she grew older, she started to slow down a bit and had some health-related issues stemming from a hard life in WWII Poland and thereafter. 

In January of 1990, my babcia was in the hospital for a while with heart issues. As a kid, I never thought much about it but remember hoping she'd recover and return home quickly, as she had done before. Sure enough, my babcia was released from the hospital on January 18th and came home. I remember her sitting at our kitchen table after a long day and running through the bedtime routine. Each kid would tell her "Dobranoc. Ja kocham Cię," while giving her a hug before we ran upstairs to cozy into a warm bed. To this point, this night was not unlike any other.

I recall very vividly the dream I had this night. I dream a lot. Some silly, nonsensical. Some life-like. Some terrifying. However, this dream was one I wish I could have more frequently. This dream was an encounter of the eternal with an endless feeling of love and hope. I recall seeing nothing but whispy white all around me, as if I were in a cloud. In front of me, slowly being revealed in a suspenseful manner as these bright white clouds lifted, I saw a large throne, two feet and sandals. The very typical view of what one would expect God's feet and lower legs to look like. As I stood there a short distance away from God, my babcia emerged from behind the throne, and walked towards me with a comforting smile that put me at ease. Though I knew my babcia couldn't speak English, she stood in front of me and said, "Don't worry."

After those words were spoken, I woke up in my bed. On the walls of my room, I noticed red and blue flashing lights coming from outside. I heard a commotion downstairs. So, out of curiosity, I scurried downstairs to see what was happening. On our living room couch, I met my great grandma (my dad's grandma) sitting on the couch waiting to give me a hug. I asked her what she was doing there, confused as she's never there that late. She informed me that my babcia had to go back to the hospital and that everything was going to be OK. Since I had school the next day, she assured me everything was OK and to go back to bed. So, off I went, back to bed upstairs not realizing the weight of the dream I just experienced moments before.

When I woke up for school that cold Friday morning, my mom greeted me with tears in her eyes. My babcia passed away in her sleep that night. She told me I could stay at home that day, or go to school if I wanted to. I chose to go to school. When I got to school, my principal and teacher greeted us with warmth and compassion. I didn't really know what to say or think, nor how to act. So, I behaved like any normal day. Fridays were all school Mass day. The first thing we did was head over to Mass. It was at this point, kneeling during the Eucharistic Prayer, that my dream flooded my eyelids, recalled from the night prior. I broke down. I cried in front of everyone. My babcia was no longer with us.

Fast forward to now, many years later. The memories of that day still play in the reels of my mind like a recent movie. I want to remain accurate and honest in my recollections so as to not fill things in with made-up memories. I think often of the impact that dream had on my formation into adulthood, in how I handled any number of challenges, hardships, or tough decisions. Even still, when I recall everything I just typed up, a hard lump forms in my throat. My emotions are still trying to process a supernatural gift that has guided my response to opportunities of growth throughout my life. Because of this brief but impactful encounter, I strive to maintain the weight of all situations on the scale of eternity. I know my scope of control only applies to my response and emotions to events. Of course I know we all have responsibilities and actions that must be carried out in order to maintain status quo, but I can only control what I can control. My feelings of anxiety, fear, hopelessness are all within my control. I know of an eternal good that exists regardless of any moment in history perceived to be bad. Goodness wins, even when despair seems insurmountable. It can all be boiled down to a much simpler approach in life; don't worry.

God is good, all the time.

Event: Stories Worth Sharing

Quick announcement for anyone catching these updates!

This Sunday at Holy Infant Catholic Church, Melanie and I will be sharing our story of the past 18 months of our lives, our faith, our marriage, etc. Holy Infant has a recurring adult faith formation meeting titled, "Stories Worth Sharing." Well, we were asked to share our story beginning with my discovery of a mass in my chest and the changes that brought into our lives touching every relationship and outlook. After sharing our story, I believe there may be a Q & A. I'm not sure if any of this sounds exciting or appealing to anyone else, but I'm excited to share our story.

If anyone reading this has a free Sunday evening and can make it, we'd love to see you!

Stories Worth Sharing

When:     October 13, 2019 @ 6:30 pm

Where:    Holy Infant Catholic School

                248 New Ballwin Road

                Ballwin, MO 63021

 

                Upper Cafeteria

441 Days Later

Time moves quickly, doesn't it? It's been 441 days since my uninvited tumor was removed forever changing my life. Clarity only received in the refiner's fire was gifted to me, and for that gift, I am eternally grateful. I also cough differently, which sounds like a sneeze and gains me a lot of "bless you's." I'll take those however I can get them.

I've been blessed to meet a lot of people in the journey of 14,478 days. Many of whom I know and who know me, but many more who only know of who I am or what I did in a previous life. Many I don't know at all, but hope to as I am blessed with more days. Nonetheless, of all the numbers of people I've spoken to over the past 441 days, the caring kindness in humanity has been the most noted quality I've observed. People from around the area who had only heard of my journey are asking me to follow up and share more about my journey. I meet people often who ask me how things are today, a year later, and where things are going. I always share as time allows because there seems to be a genuine desire to know that dark storms have left and better days are ahead. 

Just 11 days ago, I met a couple of nice ladies while shopping at Marshall's who knew who I was. In talking and catching up, I learned about these women, their lives and how we all go through our own issues from which we learn and gain perspective. One lady's husband, who's first name is Ken, is going through his own health crisis right now. Of course, I asked questions as I want to know his story. As a result, his name is a new name included in my list of nightly prayers. Knowing that he and his wife included me in their prayer life compels me to return that favor. Some say that it's not much, but I would argue that prayer is one of the greatest gifts we can give one another. 

I have been asked what's next for me many times. How's my health? Will I be returning to singing and leading worship? Though I have a tendency to answer the unknown quicker than I should, I only know what I can control, which isn't much. What I can't control, I do my best to leave to God. Among the many prayers following my surgery 441 days ago, a group of friends circled up together and, with the intercessory prayers of Fr. Henri Caffarel, prayed for a miracle in healing with my voice. I am ashamed to admit that though I was greatly appreciative of their intentions, my skepticism held me back from vigorous participation. However, a miracle occurred without my approval or direct involvement.

396 days ago, on June 28 of 2018, I received what was supposed to be a temporary, 90 day fix to my inability to speak. An injection was made into my left vocal cord which medialized it, allowing contact to be made and my voice to return. The short-term nature of this procedure was to have worn off by the end of August and I was then scheduled for a more permanent surgery medializing my left vocal cord. 90 days came and went and my voice was still as strong as ever. So, the surgery was rescheduled 70 days out into November. Those 70 days came and went with no changes. Today, 396 days later, my speaking voice seems to be as strong as it was before I lost my ability to speak following the surgery. My laryngologist says that it could be considered a miracle that I'm speaking so well still today. This seemingly permanent side-effect is experienced in less than 1% of people receiving the procedure. My ability to speak is better than 99% of his patients, and according to my doctor, still better than a good portion of the healthy population. I left his office a couple of weeks ago with a bit of a bounce in my step, thankful for this unexpected miracle.

The past 441 days has been more up than down. There are still issues resulting from the surgery, but nothing that will slow me down too much. I have hope in better days ahead. I have a faith family that keeps me tethered. I have the wife that God knew I'd need in my life who is my perfect match. I have kids who are persistently teaching me all about a father's patience. I have friends who remind me to love life and share it to the best of my current abilities with gratitude and a smile. 

To anyone who still may be reading my thoughts on this site, please continue to pray for me. If and when we meet up shopping at Dierberg's or Target, please take a moment and introduce yourself. Catch me up on your life and give me the opportunity to share in prayers for you and your family just like you have done for me.

More to come in the future. My next follow up at MD Anderson is scheduled for the end of September. I will provide updates along the way!

40th Celebration

I realize that I may never know until stepping into eternity how blessed I am. Not many people of whom I know personally can say an army of concerned family, friends and strangers came together in prayer to lift up an individual in need of God’s healing, strength and comfort. Not only was I lifted, but my wife, my kids, and my caretakers. Generosity knew no bounds by many in my life. So many, in fact, that I’ve made new friends because of their unending prayers.

After receiving so much love last year, i was determined to get back to health so that I can celebrate this blessing of life with everyone who took time to help me get back to this place. As a result, it’s party time in thanksgiving for health and time being alive.

Please join me in “casually” celebrating my 40th trip around the planet on Saturday, March 30th, at 7:30 pm. We’ll be at Greer Brewery in Ellisville. No gifts! Just you and a thirst for beer and connecting. I want to spend time celebrating life and thankfulness for a community of friends in faith.

If you are interested, please let us know here:
http://evite.me/z3NhUsAtz8

The 9 Month Checkup

I was scanned on Monday, February 25th, in afternoon and then had to wait for a radiologist to provide his interpretation to my care team. After my scan, I went to adoration at my former home parish in Houston, St. Vincent de Paul. I opened my time there in prayer, praying for His will, yada yada yada. After a while of what I thought was me asking for His favor, I decided just to sit there in silence and hear what I needed to hear. Waves of comfort and trust enveloped me as I stared into the Eucharist, not saying nor thinking anything in particular. That was exactly what I needed. After roughly an hour of silence, I knew I had to resume with my day. 

I have struggled putting thoughts into words for the past several weeks, but now that I'm on the other side of this recent journey, the dust has settled and thoughts are clearer.

My 9 month checkup landed in February of 2019. When it was scheduled back in August, I was mentally occupied with unexpected heart issues as a complication from the surgery in May. To be honest, being concerned with the heart stuff shielded a lot of my thoughts from wandering into the future concerning a 9 month check up. I'm thankful for that as I look back and wonder how I never concerned myself, knowing it's not my nature.

However, now that my 9 month check up has concluded, I'll admit that the weeks leading up to the visit grew in anxiety and stress in ways I've never allowed it to in the past. As time led up to my CT Scan and update, I did the one thing my wife tells me not to do; I read a lot of medical journals concerning paragangliomas, their recurrence rates and the details about recurrence, mortality rates, etc. The skinny truth is that there isn't much out there. So, the small number of studies done over the past 40 years are few and far-between. With the evolution of medicine and understanding of this rare tumor, journals documented even 20 years ago may not be accurate pertaining to medical science today.

Nonetheless, for the rest of my life, there will be a chance of recurrence. I never invested much mental thought into that fact up until now. I will be scanned and checked until I either choose to not care any more or just get old and stop caring. There is a 10-15% chance of recurrence until I am no more. With that percentage of recurrence, it could come back anywhere between my head and adrenal glands. Also with that percentage, it could return benign, or come back cancerous. So, unlike other cancers where remission may be a safe place to land, this one doesn't necessarily have that landing pad.


Tuesday evening following my scan, I received a call from my endocrinologist informing me that my chest CT was all clear. All anxiety subsided immediately. On Thursday of the same week, my doctor told me that my blood work was also all clear removing concern for areas not scanned.

In review of this recent scan, I realized a few things. Mainly, I'm reminded of my advice to everyone I meet that is harder to do than to offer to others; don't worry about what you cannot control. I'm reminded of my journey in faith specifically over the past year. I can see where there have been ebbs and flows of faith; laziness and diligence. I know this is all part of our human nature. I am appreciative for moments of growth and continual reminders for how truly blessed I am to have experienced this past year in the manner I did.

The most profound lesson learned that I have shared with Melanie early on is how unconditionally she has loved me throughout this journey and continues today. In times where I want to let worry and anxiety win, Melanie has always been there to keep me focused on faith. When I feel discouraged about anything, Melanie has always offered encouragement and love. Because of immeasurable blessings from my marriage and relationship with Melanie, I know that whatever the future holds, will be a blessing to me, my family and my faith. There are many more lessons to learn along this journey of life. I'm thankful I don't have to do it alone.

My next scan is set for September. I feel I'll be much more prepared already.

The Best is Yet to Come

I meant to put some sort of "final" update out last week, but my time was not well-managed with the holiday season in swing. Last week during the Thanksgiving downtime, I spent some time in silence just observing. I watched my two youngest children, ages 3 and 7, play and enjoy their time together in ways I don't know I ever did with my siblings. I watched the attention my daughter displayed working on an artful drawing as if she were making the most perfect drawing ever created. I watched my beautiful wife selflessly prepare a Thanksgiving meal with love and desire to nurture her family. I am blessed with so much more meaning and appreciation this Thanksgiving season.

I believe I have arrived "safely" at the end of this year's journey. The pending procedure for my vocal cord is postponed indefinitely. The temporary injection received at the end of June that was supposed to have gone away by the end of August has miraculously remained, giving me the ability to talk and speak like the good old days. My vocal cord surgery was scheduled for early September, but then moved to November. That was then cancelled outright until, if ever, necessary. My heart issues are small and are being figured out causing no concern to anyone wise to how the heart works. So, that's in the past. My tumor, removed successfully with the operation in May, is now an exciting road bump in the rear-view mirror. A new normalcy has returned and dust has settled. God is good.

My words will always fall short in capturing and expressing the gratitude I've felt over the past several months. I'm eternally gracious in prayer for all the experiences 2018 has brought into my life. To be honest, I can't say I'd change much about my life knowing that the lessons learned through this ordeal have shaped and formed me into something better than I was before. So many people have opened up in support of my family, which has been humbling on an entirely new level. I hope to have the opportunity to thank you in person if I haven't yet. There are so many people I may never personally thank, that I just hope to be that grateful, Christ-filled person to everyone. That's the challenge day-in and day-out.

There may be additional posts down the road in terms of praying for something or celebrating another something. Until then, please don't be a stranger. "When there's so much left to do, why spend your time focusing on things you've already done, counting trophies or telling stories about the good old days?"

The best is yet to come.

August 18, 2018

Somehow over the weekend, I found my way back into the hospital. I need to figure out a way to score awful food in an easier fashion. In all seriousness, I've had a fever since early August with pain while breathing and difficulty breathing while laying down. My kids are always sick so I just chalked it up for a while to having one of their colds again. After 10 days of fever, however, I called my primary care physician and started the ball rolling in the adventure to figure out what could be going wrong. After numerous blood tests, an antibiotic for 5 days and a few scans, we don't yet know the cause of the fever, but know with certainty that I have pericarditis, a larger pleural effusion and a pericardial effusion.

Pericarditis is swelling and irritation of the pericardium,
the thin sac-like membrane surrounding your heart.

With the definitive results of the scans and fever still of unknown origin, my PCP decided to admit me to the hospital Friday. Reluctantly, I moseyed in to Mercy's Heart Hospital Friday mid-day. Friday was spent getting stuck repeatedly and then remembering how uncomfortable those hospital beds really are. I met with a couple of doctors who all assured me testing would be done Saturday. So, Friday was pretty chill. No sleep Friday night as the issues for which I was admitted were not yet treated. Saturday arrived in a slow fashion and by 1 PM, I saw a cardiologist and then got an Echo cardiogram, which confirmed what was noticed in the CT scan the day prior. With all that, each physician didn't really know why I was in the hospital, as pericarditis is not typically treated with hospitalization. No one seemed to note or care of the fever on-going for 2 weeks. So, with some nudging, I was discharged Saturday evening no longer on blood thinner and now able to enjoy Ibuprofen for current diagnosis.

Luckily, this week I am headed back to MD Anderson in Houston, TX, for my scheduled 3 month post-op visit. Since my PCP believes this is a complication from my surgery 3 months ago, hopefully the efficient machine at MD Anderson gets things figured out quickly.

With that, my originally scheduled 2 day visit may need to be adjusted, but I have faith in knowing that my team in Houston will turn over every stone in search of an answer. Once I know anything new about this excitement, I'll update all. Until then, I'll take any and all prayers for a Christ-like attitude in times of frustration.

The Healing Continues

God is good!

It has been over 6 weeks since the removal of my tumor. My sternum is feeling pretty good today. My left obliques are slowly improving as well. I'm able to drive once again and my lifting restrictions have been lifted. I started getting massages on my upper back to help with the pain associated with muscle atrophy. I also started physical therapy initially focusing on stretching during the first week and have now begun focusing on using my muscles with those rubber band exercises. Already, I've noticed a lot of my back and neck pains have dissipated. So, there has been a LOT of progress and, though I anxiously looked forward to these days after week 6, it feels like it got here pretty quick. Other than a scar, soon, no one would be able to tell I had any sort of health scare. I am blessed and thankful for so much.

Now, onto the next chapter of this healing process, my voice. As I shared several weeks ago, with the removal of my Left Vagus nerve, my left vocal cord is permanently paralyzed. Much like my increased knowledge of paragangliomas, I feel like my increasing knowledge of how vocal cords work should somehow be used to make a living for myself after this is all done. I'm joking, of course. In all seriousness, every step of the way seems to have a touch of divine intervention. Having prayerfully considered where to get treatment and who was going to be involved, there are stories that I'd love to share with anyone who asks. These small assurances give Melanie and I comfort in feeling that we are definitely in the right place and God seemingly agrees. That story continues with my laryngologist here in St. Louis.

I had my first visit scheduled for 7/19. After dropping off my files and CDs of procedural care in Houston, TX, I asked if there were any cancellations. I got scheduled for this past Thursday, June 27. While at my first meeting, my laryngologist offered a temporary procedure to restore some sort of voice for a short time (6 +/- weeks), so I said, "YES," without hesitation! It wasn't a walk in the park, unless that park is nestled in the suburbs of hell... talk about pain. But, it's done. I had immediate improvement with breathiness reduced to none and vocal cord contact, giving me a firm voice for the first time in over 6 weeks. Modern medicine is unbelievably amazing. Now, I have a few days of healing after that procedure, but hope to have a loud and clear voice within a week.

Another piece of news I learned during my meeting with my new doctor is the likelihood of me being able to sing like I once did is close to nil. There are physiological limitations that I can be trained to reduce its impact, but those same limitations can only be treated so far. My complete vocal cord paralysis fits that shoe. Controlling tonality is done by the thickening or stretching of both vocal cords. Having control of only one, it's unlikely I'll be belting out songs like I once enjoyed doing. Now, this mention here doesn't mean that I won't try, because I sure as heck plan on giving it my best. But, it's out of my hands. It's just another small thing to pray for along this entire journey.

That is all for now. As time moves forward, I'll put up some videos with audio comparing and contrasting progress made over the past several weeks. It's neat to reflect upon. Thank you all for continued prayers. I know that I'm here today and this far in my progress because of them all.

For the greater glory of God!

June 6, 2018

Well, I just recently reached the 3 week mark since surgery. This healing process has been all over the place. There are days where I feel I am way ahead of schedule with healing and that I am moving at the same clip as Superman would. Then, there are days where the bottom falls out and it hurts to breathe and sleep is an impossibility. Thankfully, the latter is few and far-between.

An appointment with a local physician who does nothing but work with vocal cords and larynx-related issues here in St. Louis has been scheduled for mid-July. I am anxiously looking forward to the next step of this excitement because, not being able to yell at my children is giving me more gray hair than I'd like have at the age of 39.

In all seriousness, I am blessed and God is good. Looking back on the past 3 months of life, a lot has happened. The most pivotal portion of my life fits into the past 3 months of my life. That's crazy to think about. The initial fear and concern for health and future followed by an exercise in faith that can never be taken from me paired with an unimaginable, indescribable demonstration of God's love through my community of friends and people I don't even know is beyond humbling. Now, the slow game of healing while working towards the battle's end... it's been a turbulent 3 months. It's easy to take all this for granted today. I can see myself slipping into a relaxed faith life. But, daily reflection tends to correct that tendancy.

So, as the waiting game continues, I'll just continue one day at a time. I'll update events through the end of this journey and look forward to the future. God is good.

May 24, 2018 -"If the Rocks Cry Out in Silence, So Will I"

Healing since leaving the hospital has improved exponentially compared to the time in the hospital. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the hospital following this little procedure, but looking back on it now, I wish I were able to leave a couple days sooner. However, that wasn't in the cards.

It's neat how my initial perception of how something is going to go ends with an entirely different result. I guess that happens to all of us, every day, multiple times perhaps. We notice these differences of expected outcome versus reality when hopes are high. Perhaps not so much for smaller, insignificant events in life.

Tonight, as Melanie and I were listening to praise and worship music before bed, the song "So Will I" by Hillsong United came on. This song, for me, has been my anthem over the past two months. When praying for strength and faith during this two month roller coaster ride, this song tethered me to the only eternal thing that mattered, my response to the question of faith, "so will I."

One of the lines that caught my ear early on and one that I pointed out to a lot of close friends was "if the rocks cry out in silence, so will I." Considering the outcome of being cured of my tumor, I knew there was a chance that my voice would be impacted and even permanently absent, but I never invested much thought into that being an actual outcome. Well, here we are. I am without a nerve that controls my left vocal cord and am barely able to whisper on a good day. Melanie looked at me tonight and said, "your favorite line in your song is rather prophetic, isn't it?"

God works in ways that we may never know in this life. But I know that God works all things according to His will. During this season of my life, I pray that like the rocks, I may cry out in silence, praising and worshiping my Father in Heaven. All the while, I have hopes of a long-term solution in place restoring my voice.

May 20, 2018

Well we FINALLY left the hospital. Room P726 at MD Anderson just didn’t want to let Mark go. Unfortunately his stay was lengthened due to another complication diagnosed with Friday’s late night CT scan. This showed evidence of a pulmonary embolism or a blood clot to the lungs. This explains his spike in heart rate and discomfort that started the day prior. I’m so happy they found this.  It is small, not life threatening. It is treated with blood thinners, currently an injectable one called Lovenox. Mark will need some type of blood thinner for the next 3-6 months. Likely we will change to a pill version after Mark has that injection to help his vocal cord.

About that injection, it was supposed to have been done this past Friday while we were in the hospital. However there was a mix up in the scheduling of this and besides, Mark wouldn’t have felt well enough that day anyhow. So it is rescheduled for this coming Friday, the day before we return to come home.

I will give out a quick shout out to MD Anderson Cancer Center. From day one, we have been entirely impressed with the care given. Efficient, compassionate, thorough, I could go on and on with the compliments. I’ve worked in a lot of hospitals over the years, but this one is something special.

As for now Mark and I are chilling in our cute little condo located near the Med Center, not far from where we once lived actually. It’s like de-ja-vu all over again—living in Houston, in a small space, no kids. Ahh, memories! 😊  Speaking of kids—they are doing great! We Face Timed them tonight and they all gave us updates of their very fun weekend. I am thankful to my awesome mother-in-law holding down the fort—she is doing a great job!! Also to my parents, my sister, my kids’ friends, neighbors, several friends from church, all those bringing meals to our house, those driving my kids around to events. It truly takes a village. We thank God for our village. And we thank God for getting us to this point in this crazy journey. Our prayer now is that the rest of this week goes smoothly so that we can return home as planned.

Here's my handsome husband peacing out MD Anderson for now. Doesn't he look great?

May 18, 2018

Just a quick update....Unfortunately we are still in the hospital. Mark’s heart rate and blood pressure went a little crazy over night so our planned discharge was delayed. He’s on a medicine for that now which is kind of helping. However his sudden change in status prompted a cascade of further tests. So far everything is looking good. He still has a CT scan scheduled for midnight. If this comes back normal, I’m going to devise a clever way to sneak him out of here. 😆

May 16, 2018

God is Good. I sit here in my hospital bed, talking with Melanie, still in shock that 1.) I had a tumor and 2.) that tumor is now gone. It all still seems a bit surreal. In under two months, I discover the tumor and then have it carved out of my chest. What a journey in faith, health, relationships, priorities, etc. Now, this isn't near over yet. I sit here with other issues that are bring monitored, but I know I'll overcome. Hopefully discharged Friday where Melanie and I will settle into a cozy condo herein the Med Center in Houston.

Post op periods have their typical "ups" and "downs".
My "ups" are:

1. I passed my swallow study so I was allowed to start eating yesterday afternoon.
2. I'm up walking around. I've even challenged a few old men to a race!
3. Several tubes that were placed during surgery have been removed over the past 24 hours.

A few downs over the past 48 hours are:

1. I have pericarditis, which is inflammation of the lining of the heart, common for this kind of procedure. This mimics a heart attack on EKG, so Melanie was freaking out a little Monday night.
2. My intercostal block wore off early, so Tuesday night I was up and in pain all night long. More pain meds come with more side effects
3. My left vocal cord is permanently paralyzed as my left vagus nerve has been removed as it was too involved in the tumor to save. So, I sound like I've been a smoker for the past 50 years. I've never smoked, and I'm not even near 50 years old yet. 

I am meeting with a head and neck surgeon on Friday who will do an injection into my left vocal cord trying to make my voice more normal. This will be a temporary fix. I hope to be discharged from the hospital later that day.

So the next 24-36 hours will hopefully bring about better pain control with less side effects, losing my last chest tube, and getting a real shower.  Although I admit, I'll miss the sponge baths!

Please keep praying!

May 14, 2018 “Ned is Dead, y’all!”

Howdy from Texas!! I am happy to report that Mark is now tumor-less and doing well! God is Good!

We arrived at MD Anderson early this morning. We prayed together with the doctors and nurses before they wheeled Mark away. Then the waiting began...again. Luckily we have Ben & Lisa Harris with us here in Houston. They have been so helpful on this journey, and today they provided not only solid ministering to the both of us, but also live music (including beat box), comic relief, and some walks down memory lane. What a blessing they both are to us and our family! The waiting game was much easier with them by my side.

Dr. Rice came out about 12:30 to report that the surgery went well.  Talk about relief! The greatest news is that the tumor was completely removed. “Ned” is now taking up residence in the Pathology Research Department here at MD Anderson. I’m sure he’ll be a popular guy there. Adios Ned!
More good news—there was no infiltration of the vessels which means the aortic specialist did not need to be called in. In addition, even though the tumor was highly vascularized, there was not enough blood loss to require a transfusion.

However, the not-so-good news is that the nerve that innervates the left vocal cord had to be removed. It was just too intertwined with the tumor and not salvageable unless some of the tumor were to be left behind. We knew this was a possibility. Mark will likely be somewhat raspy for the time being. We will worry about the implications of this later. We are confident that some awesome speech therapists will be coming our way. And a surgical correction later on down the line is also an option. For now we will enjoy his “Chris Stapleton-esque” style. Mark was already singing along with some Zac Brown Band songs and I think he sounds pretty darn good.

Thanks to everyone for your love and prayers today. You helped Mark and his docs get through a tough surgery, and you helped this nervous wife get through the wait. 🤠

May 13, 2018

As I type this up, I am about 7 hours away from the next chapter of my life; life without Ned. I had to apologize for stealing this Mother's Day from my wife as we were focused on getting packed and to Houston. Throughout this entire journey, nearly 2 months now since learning of Ned the Paraganglioma, Melanie has been my tangible source of strength and optimism. Sure, it is our faith that sustains the both of us, but witnessing and receiving that eternal Love through my marriage and from my best friend has literally been the remedy from a mind wandering to dark and depressing places. My wife has been an anchor for me that has inspired intrepid faith and a deepening love like nothing I could have ever imagined and would struggle capturing in word. As a response to some terrible news, only the best has resulted. To my wife, Melanie, I owe everything.

Thank you, everyone, for your continued prayers and support. As I sit here typing my final post for a little while, tears of anticipation and joy are streaming down my face. I am overwhelmed by my faith community, many of whom I don't even know personally and may never have a chance to thank. You are all thought of in prayers of gratitude daily.

Tomorrow, as I count backwards from 10 as the anesthesia begins to work, my wife's smiling face and loving voice will be occupying my mind's eye. Once I awake from this procedure, my wife's beautiful smiling face and loving voice will welcome me back to life. I can't wait. God is good.

May 12, 2018

I feel as if I am wearing this phrase out... thank you. Thank you to everyone who made my Friday night memorable. Thank you for love shown in the simplest of ways through a smile and hug. Thank you for prayers of all varieties; healing, health, etc. Thank you for help with resources in providing for travel and lodging during many trips to Houston, TX. Thank you for being a part of our lives in whatever capacity; new or old, briefly or the long-haul, daily or once a long time ago...

The love Melanie and I witnessed tonight is a capstone to my life. I was able to witness this and catch up with so many people first-hand. There's no way I could thank every single person tonight. Please know that just seeing that room full of people was overwhelming. Even knowing that there are scores more of people praying for us tonight and supporting us in a variety of ways who were not able to attend is beyond overwhelming. My list of prayers of thanksgiving will last me two lifetimes.

God is good.

THE UN-WATCHED VIDEO
     (Compiled by Greg Burian)

May 10, 2018 - "Your Will Be Done"

Personally, not much excitement has gone on today. However, my best friend had a few words penned together that he shared on a blog to which he contributes. I thought I'd link that here as it's a great read of who is really in control. Great thoughts, Ben...

PX90 - Building Courageous Men

May 9, 2018

I am currently in Houston, TX, typing away here wanting to share all I’ve learned today. I’ll start brief with the bullets and will then elaborate:

• No Genetic Component confirmed!
• Surgery set for Monday morning
• God is Good

As I was sitting in my CT surgeon’s patient room, I took a call from my genetic counselor. He quickly confirmed that there is no genetic component to this rare occurrence. As I burst into tears, I realized that I’ve been crying an awful lot lately. All my tears are stemming from good news received, so I can only praise God with and for each tear.

I’m returning to Houston soon with the hopes of a rapid weight-loss plan. If I had to guess, Ned weighs around 2 lbs. This won’t be the easiest 2lbs lost, nor the most fun, but one that I am looking forward to unlike any other 2 lbs in my life. Of every experience in life that has formed me to be who I am, including my marriage and the birth of each of my children, this one experience forcing me to consider my mortality and my faith has been the single greatest influencer in my faith development. Being a cradle-Catholic and one who’s practiced my faith since I can remember, it’s difficult to admit that though I could walk-the-walk and talk-the-talk, I never knew of my faith muscles until I was truly tested. Well, I’m in the midst of my test and hope that I’m making my eternal Father proud. 

Regardless of any number of outcomes that yet could be, God is good. May I never forget the love shown to me and always be the first to respond to anyone with the same love I’ve received. Thank you, all, for your continued prayers.

May 4, 2018 - "Ned, the Tumor"

I battled putting this out at all, but I think it's neat. So, possibly against better judgement, this the "Glamour Shot" of Ned, my Paraganglioma. Notice my stomach and liver in the bottom left and right. Center-middle is my healthy heart. Then, above my heart is a solid mass that doesn't belong there. That is Ned. He's about to be evicted. Another neat thing in this pic is to take note of my trachea. Ned has been pushing my trachea, among other organs and vessels, to the right for some time. I'm looking forward to having a normal-looking scan again in the near future.