7 Nickels
7 nickels.
35 cents.
But 7 stacked nickels?
Well... that's the size of Joella's newest tumor.
Coming in at just under 2 centimeters, aka "a tower of 35 cents," is the size of the latest intruder deciding to take up temporary residency in Joella's liver. And yeah... we were disappointed to hear that news, too. But I did say "temporary" because it isn't staying long. Enjoy your short-lived life, you little punk.
Surgery is incoming (probably early December) and as a result, about 20% of Joella's liver is going bye-bye. (You can actually live without 75-80% of your liver... we had no idea.)
That's the bad news.
The good news is that Joella's latest PET scan didn't show any other new tumors. And for review (because there might be a quiz later), Joella previously had some "hot spots" (as we like to call them in the biz) on her liver next to her gall bladder and in some lymph nodes in her neck. That news was our 2020 COVID-19 surprise.
So at the end of 2020, she had the troublesome section of her liver removed as well as her gall bladder. And when they took biopsies of what was removed, they found that all of the cancer was completely dead... at least in what they took out. This was amazing news for us. Joella had been engaged in an immunotherapy treatment throughout most of 2020, and it seemed to be working.
Then in early May of this year, she had surgery on her neck to remove the troublesome lymph nodes. The doctor took out several. Some had no trace of cancer. Some had completely dead cancer cells. But a couple still had active cancer cells. We were slightly bummed all of it wasn't dead, but felt like things were moving in the right direction.
Basically, we were thinking all is good. The treatment had been shrinking the tumors Joella had, preventing new ones from sprouting, and even completely killing off some of the hot spots. Joella was feeling good, and the doctors were already talking of Joella continuing treatments till the end of 2021, and then if nothing new was on any scan, they would stop treatments. (She's had 22 of them, by the way, if you want to keep track.)
But then the side effects started. And this was new to us because the side effects from Joella's treatments had, up to this point, mostly left her tired for a day... and that was it. We were so thankful for that, but the days of exhaustion as the only side effect were gone. Tests, and then more tests, were ordered. And then the scans began. What followed was the news we hoped wouldn't come:
There's another mass.
Are you kidding us? 22 infusions of immunotherapy and we skip a few because of some side effects, and there's a new mass?
Yes. This one is inside your liver at just under 2 centimeters.
That's 3/4 of an inch for all of you non-metric people... and yes, I pulled out a tape measure so I knew... because I'm all "inches, feet, yards, and miles, baby!"
That's also roughly the size of 7 stacked nickels.
And as I looked at a nickel trying to imagine the size of the pesky punk, I found myself rolling around the words inscribed on the obverse (heads) side of the coin:
Liberty (written in the style of Jefferson's own handwriting)
&
In God We Trust
Liberty from the Mucosal Melanoma Cancerous Punk sure sounds good. Not having to change plans and rearrange schedules for a new blood test or scan or surgery or treatment or physical symptoms from lingering side effects would be a nice change of pace. So, yeah... liberty from cancer? We're in.
But I have to tell you, in spite of everything, in spite of the challenges, difficulties, surgeries, tears, questions, prayers, heartache and all that has come with this journey, one thing has stayed the same: In God We Trust.
I have been asked how I can continue to believe and trust in God with all that has happened to Joella, with all of the seemingly unanswered prayers, amidst the despair and frustration we have felt, amidst our deep desire for our family, especially our girls, to not have to walk this road. My answer to the question, though, has remained the same: How can I not?
God is constantly putting little reminders of his presence in my life every day. Unexpected kind words, gifts, and notes from others. A good night's rest here and there. Food to eat. A bed to sleep in. Kids who make me laugh every day and make me proud to be a dad. A wife, who even though she isn't always feeling 100%, lights up any room she walks in, especially for me if I'm in that room.
And God even takes a coin I was looking at to get a better idea of the size of Joella's latest and not-so-greatest, but temporary, tumor, and instead of me seeing a tumor and 35 cents, he reminds me that he's got this. No matter what happens.
And of course I still hope, and pray, that I have the opportunity to journey through this life with my best friend and that we die an old, happy couple after living a full life because liberty from cancer happened. But if that isn't what transpires, Joella and I are okay with that. Because... In God We Trust.
And... I'm also pretty sure that no matter how long I'm walking on this earth I'll never look at a nickel the same way again.
