Four
We've gotta talk about this number.
Joella was diagnosed with Mucosal Melanoma in 2017... so we're four and a half years in. This last Christmas was our fourth with cancer, and every Christmas for the last four years I've had this thought: What if this is the last Christmas I have with my awesome wife?
(And yes, you, too, can invite me over to share some encouraging words with you and all your friends, and I waive my fee if you serve strawberry shortcake with vanilla bean ice cream.)
Of course I still pray for healing, and we did have a little good news of late (I'll get to that in a moment), but the kind of cancer she has is a punk.
And relentless.
And sturdy.
And pervasive.
... and a punk. And I'm more of a "glass is mostly empty" kind of guy anyway, so I run the gamut of horrible scenarios before most people smile politely in my general direction with a "bless your heart" kind of look.
To be fair, the typical life expectancy with Mucosal Melanoma, or MM (four humps on those bad boy "m"s, btw), is only three years. And we're in year 4. And a half. That right there is amazing to me and worth giving thanks to God for. (Or four?) So Joella, in typical awesome-ness fashion, is already beating the odds.
It also speaks to the miracles of the drugs and medicine Joella's received. And while she is still reeling with some of the side effects from her treatments, she's still here. We had a great time celebrating Christmas this year, and she even got a leaf blower (hey! down in back... she got some other stuff, too... but she really wanted a leaf blower). She tried it out today, and it works splendidly, so now I'm up for husband of the decade, btw. Not just husband of the year... the gift was that good.
Four.
Also the number of surgeries Joella's had so far.
tongue - where the cancer was first discovered in 2017
liver & gall bladder - where a new spot was found in early 2020 (surgery Jan 2021)
lymph nodes in neck - where additional hot spots were found in early 2020 (surgery May 2021)
liver, part II - where a new spot was found in the fall of 2021 (surgery Dec 2021)
Joella's still recovering from this last round of surgery, but she's getting better each day. Her surgeon is great, and on our post-op visit he said to Joella, "You're very sweet, and you have a great attitude, but I don't want to see you again." The sentiment was shared by us as he has been great... and we don't want to see him again either. At least, not at the hospital.
In fact, let's take a moment to give a shout out to all doctors and nurses and medical personnel. I'm so very thankful for all of the doctors, nurses, and staff who have cared for Joella because they've helped us navigate this journey, and they've made it more bearable for her.
This time around the surgical suite, Joella had about 25-30% of her liver removed. This was the expected part of the surgery. But once the surgeon got in there and had removed the portion of the liver he was planning to remove, he was doing his due diligence and checking surrounding tissue and noticed additional lymph nodes were discolored.
Well, discolored isn't exactly right. They had freckles. Or spots. And they're not supposed to have freckles. Or spots. Plus when the patient has cancer, black spots are normally cause for some alarm. The doctor went ahead and removed those as well... at least all the ones he saw that were discolored.
We found out the results from pathology at our post-op. I could quote from the report he gave us, but the gist is the spots on the lymph nodes are what doctors actually believe is the leftover remnants of dead cancer cells resulting from the treatment Joella has been on. When they die they don't fully disappear... they turn into little freckles and spots. That's the theory. Now, because the treatment Joella has been on is still relatively new, the data is still inconclusive on whether this conclusion is 100% accurate, but this seems to be the consensus that's forming.
In other words, the lymph nodes he took out probably had cancer in them at one point, but like the previous spots of cancer in Joella's body, the medicine seems to have worked and killed the cancer in those places.
So this is good news. Kind of.
It was at least not new cancer growth. It was unexpected. But not new. The only new cancer growth was in Joella's liver, which has now been excised. And what the doctor thought might be cancerous cells was just dead cancer cells. So for now, no new cancer growths detected.
A deep breath of relief. The fourth time a relieved exhale comes after surgery. For now (Four now?), at least they got all the cancer they know about.
Four.
One of Joella's favorite numbers (I'll get to why in a sec), but after surgery she was put in room 4024. It had two fours in it. That brings her some peace. Just because of the four.
The picture on this post is of the four in the hallway at the hospital where she was recovering. I smiled every time I walked past it because I knew Joella appreciated that little smile from God every time she saw her room number. And since they made her walk around after surgery, she saw it. Oh yeah... she saw it.
Four.
The cancer journey, even though so many others have had and continue to have their own treks through the cancer landscape, is still lonely. It's kind of that "being alone in a crowd" kind of thing, like when you go to a stadium or a concert. Surrounded by people, but you don't really know any of them, and it's kind of lonely.
We are so thankful for our church family who have done an amazing job taking care of us. Bringing food. Sending gift cards for things we might need. Delivering groceries. Sending gifts and cards and text messages to Joella to let her know they are thinking of her.
(And by the way, if you know of anyone sick or hurting, a simple card literally makes their day. I've seen it in Joella. Send someone a card today who might need it.)
So we don't really feel alone anymore. But we did when Joella was first diagnosed. Both Joella and I wrestled a lot with navigating the choppy waters of cancer. But Joella kept coming back to this:
Four.
I know not everyone who reads this grew up going to church or is spiritual, but for us, our faith has helped us keep our feet... even when we were broken and on our knees in tears. But there's this amazing thing that I can't fully explain but I believe to be true: God exists and is actively concerned and interacting with our world. His Spirit works through his people (even though we are all imperfect and get it wrong all the time), and this is possible because of the death and resurrection of Jesus, who is also fully God and fully God's Son.
God. The Spirit. Jesus. Three.
God. The Spirit. Jesus. Joella. Four.
That's why it's her favorite number. It's her not being alone. It's not three and one. It's four.
Every time the number four crops up, it's a reminder to Joella, and now to me, that being alone is off the table... it's not even an option for God-followers.
Four.
And if there's any encouragement you can take away from this, the next time you see a number 4, run through this:
God. The Spirit. Jesus. You.
Now, as Joella continues to heal and is slowly getting back to normal, we are hoping this fourth rodeo of surgery is the last one. That the cancer is now gone or dead or just too scared to come out again... and that it'll be four-ever gone. This is our prayer.
To all of you who have read this blog on a regular basis or who have been aware of our journey, thank you for praying for us and for Joella specifically. We are truly blessed by all of you. Keep being awesome to one another because our world needs people being awesome to one another.
And don't forget about the number four.
Or strawberry shortcake.
... or FOUR strawberry shortcakes! Ooh... we might have something there.
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