Update from the hospital

Well, it’s Tuesday, and Scott’s been in the hospital since Friday afternoon, and it looks like he’ll get to go home this afternoon/evening. We just got the blood test results saying all the chemo is out of his system enough for him to leave. Now we just have to wait for the docs to come in and do an intrathecal (into the spinal fluid) chemo injection, let Scott lie flat for an hour, and then we should be able to be discharged.

On Saturday, we asked Dr. Martin, one of the two head (attending) docs about what the time-line and road map looked like. I’m really glad we did, though it’s been hard to process just how long this will all take, especially after believing for the first half of this year that it would all be done by the end of the summer.

Here’s the time-line we were given (bearing in mind this is if all goes well, and there are no delays due to infection):

• 2 more bi-weekly rounds of in-hospital IV chemo (methotrexate), with an outpatient visit to the clinic here on the alternating weeks for another dose of intrathecal chemo ending in late August.
• repeat MRI of the head scheduled for Sept. 4 to compare to the previous ones 2-3 weeks ago – to see if the IV and intrathecal chemo have done enough or if more cycles are needed.
• give Scott some recuperation time until about mid-September, when he would again be admitted for about 3 weeks for an even more intensive round of chemo where they’ll destroy all the old stem-cells in his bone marrow.
• near the end of those 3 weeks (early October), they’ll have him go through the apheresis process to harvest his newly growing stem-cells to prepare for the bone marrow/stem-cell transplant.
• home for recuperation for a few weeks until early November.
• be readmitted in early November for 3-4 weeks for the actual transplant. Again, this is where his own stem-cells will be re-infused much as if he were receiving a blood transfusion. The main risk is in him catching an infection while his own immune system his non-existent, and before the new stem-cells essentially entirely rebuild his immune system. Thankfully, the docs here at UCSF are experts and perform this procedure many times a year. We are so glad Scott is in their care.
• for the month of December he’ll essentially be on “house arrest” (the doctor’s words, not mine), to heal and recuperate.
• early February – when the docs think he’ll be able to begin resuming some of his normal activities.

Again, all this is utterly dependent on any delays from infection.  We’ve already instituted at home what our kids call my “Nazi-cleaning” – frequent hand washing, Purell bottles all over the place, and daily (or sometimes a few times a day) wiping down of frequently touched surfaces with Lysol wipes. The hardest part of this is having to limit visitors – especially none who are sick or have recently been exposed to anyone who’s sick. It makes life feel very lonely for Scott. We’re still figuring out if we can adjust any of this and still keep him healthy, since literally his life will depend on keeping him well.

Productivity

Scott writing here (taking over for Lynne).  A big THANK YOU once again to all that have been praying and leaving encouraging notes.  The notes lately have been powerful, such great encouragers to hang in there and keep fighting.

I appreciate the recent prayers for emotional state.  It has been some dark days lately but Lynne and I each feel that we are starting to pass through this most recent bout to see light at the end of this tunnel.

My biggest struggle right now involves “productivity”.  I’m a guy that likes to work; enough so that when I come home from my day job I run a self-employed ebay business in the off hours.  It was a loss for me when I could no longer be in the office and do my 8-5 job.  But I was able to work at the home, keep the bills paid, keep the ebay business going, and that felt “productive”. Now, however, between worsening nausea and eye problems, I can’t even do that.  So my job right now is to lie around, take it easy, keep myself germ-free, and help my body recuperate.  This is a noble task but leaves me feeling worthless on the productivity scale.  And I’m not sure what to do with this, and, for you prayer warriors, I would appreciate your prayers.  I had a good talk about this with my friend Conrad and he suggested that perhaps God is calling me to a new measuring rod that has nothing to do with productivity.  So I’m thinking and praying about that.  That’s a hard one though – I’m not sure we Halverson men know any other way…..

We’re going to need to sign off, but again we just wanted to say thank you for the deep, thoughtful, and prayerful blog notes, cards, and phone calls you’ve given us. They have been and are an incredible encouragement.

Many of you have expressed hesitance to call us during this season due to perceived busyness or heaviness. Scott would welcome your phone calls now as the days are often quiet and lonely. Please call his cell phone at (831) 252-6109. If he can get it, he will. If he’s sleeping, he’ll silence it, but please leave a message, and he’ll call back as soon as time and energy allow.

With love and many thanks, Scott and Lynne

Health update

Well, aside from some of the Spirit / Psyche issues described below, I (Scott) am really doing decently well. Well, OK, evidence points to a microscopic amount of lymphoma in one of the large sinuses in my skull, and I’m getting chemotherapy – not great. But there are so many other positives. My blood counts are in normal range, meaning my body right now is well equipped to battle chemo or any potential infections. My stomach is better than it’s been in months; yesterday I tolerated Taco meat for the first time in months, and chocolate is beginning to taste good again. I’m sleeping relatively well. My vision has returned part way to normal, and there is hope it will fully return when I get more (hospitalized) chemotherapy.

In terms of the cancer, there is in one sense no proof that it is there. Every test has come up negative, and, most significantly, cell tests in the central nervous system come up normal. The only “evidence” that it is there is that my vision has returned as I’ve been administered chemotherapy (that said, I don’t mean to imply that the doctors are in doubt. I’ve been looked at by teams of Neurologists, Opthmalogists and Oncologists, and all are convinced it’s cancer. “If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck…). The great news in all of this is that what cancer there is in my body is apparently minimal.

Dreams

Many of you have let us know that you are grateful that Lynne and I are so real as we go through this. This has meant a lot to us and again today we offer you a glimpse at what it’s like to go through an intense bout with cancer.

With lots of lying-around-time on my hands, I listened a few days back – for the first time in years – to the Broadway version of Les Miserables. I got to Fantine’s solo, I Dreamed a Dream. It really hit me hard:

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living…

But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I’m living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

This prolonged cancer has been, in so many ways, about the death of dreams. We have been looking forward to July for months. You see, in June I was supposed to be done with Chemo, and by mid-July I would have almost a month of recovery under my belt. Then, once we got to July 24, a whole bunch of good things happened:

• We would fly to Seattle and stay with our friends Ted & Jane. Their home is like a Rivendell (think Lord of the Rings) to us, a place where good rest and great conversation combine to restore the spirit.
• July 26 ithis year is the date of the annual Halverson cousin-get together, where 20 of my cousins and all our kids get together (with Aunts and one Uncle that remain from the original generation) on a Western Washington beach and enjoy a picnic. Anywhere from 50-100 show up and it’s a great time to renew memories.
• My Mom’s 90th birthday bash is next week. We have a lot of nice surprises planned to honor a very special woman. And Lynne and I would get to see my siblings and nieces and nephews, all of whom have helped to carry us during this season with their encouraging words and prayers.
• Somewhere in all of this I was also to get back on the bike for the first time. On the quiet roads of Santa Cruz Country, the bike is where God renews my spirit and often where I hear the quiet whisper of the Holy Spirit.
• Then, in early August, back home and back to work. I love what I get to do for a living and who I get to do it with – some of the best people in the world. I can hardly wait to get back to work.

Well, that plan just wasn’t to be this go round. Borrowing from Fantine, Cancer has killed these dreams Lynne and I dreamed.

This most recent season, then, has been the roughest part that Lynne and I have gone through. We know that, not only has our Seattle 2008 trip died, but we still have a long road to go to make it through all the way to a successful recovery for Scott (see below). So at this time, we would ask that you extend your prayers to us to include our emotional state. We are tired and discouraged and it is hard to keep going. If you want “extra credit” prayer time, you could also pray that God gives us something new to put on the calendar to gear for – that July trip gave us emotional fuel for months.

When I was a young man, God impressed upon me that Psalm 37 was “my Psalm” and that I was to carry this one around with me. One the most famous verses in Psalm 37 is verse 4:

“Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

When I was in my high school / college years, the desires of my heart were: to be married to a pretty, intelligent girl that shared my passion for Christianity; to serve in a meaningful line of work that would positivley impact the lives of the customers; and to have really good friendships. Well – now as I look 30 years ago – God has given me every one of the desires of my heart (though I can’t say I’ve always been a champion at the other half of the verse: delighting myself in the Lord). And I know now, through this dark season, that God will again grant Lynne and I the desires of our hearts, wherever this road will lead.

Thanks again to each one of you who read, pray, and/or respond on this blog. Lynne and I and the kids so badly need strength now, and you give it to us.

Road Map

Where are we on the road map of Scott’s latest bout with Cancer?

• 4 intrathecal (shots in the spine) chemo treatments are planned. Scott had his second one on Monday. These sessions are outpatient and tend not to hit me too bad except for tiredness.
• 4 IV chemo sessions of high dose methotrexate are planned. This drug is so toxic that it immediately needs to be followed up with leukovoran, a “rescue drug” (think antidote to poison). Because of the toxicity and risk to life, these sessions require hospitalization. The second hospital session begins this Friday and will probably last through Tuesday. Saturday and particularly Sunday would be good days for visitors (I can probably do about 1 hour max), and having company would truly lift my spirits. I’ll be on the 11th floor of the “Long” building at the University of California at San Francisco (UCSF) hospital.
• Once these chemo sessions are complete, a new battery of tests (CT scans, MRI’s, X rays) will take place. When these are done….
• Bone marrow and stem cells will be harvested from my body. And then….
• Bone marrow transplant will take place. This will be about a one month process in which I’m isolated in a single room back on “11 Long” at UCSF. These will be very lonely days indeed for me. They will also be the most critical days in terms of this cancer (Burkitt’s Lymphoma) ultimately getting killed.
• If all goes well (i.e. I don’t get an infection), bone marrow treatment could start around September 15. We’ve already been scheduled for an MRI on September 4). This time table is all speculative, depending on how I tolerate everything, and if things get delayed by any infection.

Till next time, with great warmth and love,

Scott, Lynne, Daniel and Becky

A Pirate‘s ramblings

Brother in law Craig Ross and his wife Kim visited me in the hospital over the weekend. They’d heard me say a number of times that I needed a pirate patch to go with my bald head – so they called my bluff! Here is a picture of me in all my pirate / hospital gown glory….I’ think I was in full pirate talk mode here, calling Craig and Kim “Livermore swabbies”…

Ok, can’t resist….my good friend John Knotts would want me to point out that, in this great county of ours, we have an annual “talk like a pirate day”…here’s the website

http://www.talklikeapirate.com/

Precautions

Well, I’m home (for now) from the hospital. We had quite a few serious talks with the doctors at UCSF. The director of adult lymphoma at UCSF has put my chances at 50/50, and those numbers didn’t quite make sense to us. Here’s basically the question we asked him: “OK, so far Scott is responding excellently to the new chemotherapy regimen, and we know that the odds of Scott surviving a (his own) stem cell transplant are 95-98%. So how do we get to 50/50?”

Well, basically the answer is risk of infection. If I get an infection in the next several weeks, it will interrupt the cycle of chemotherapy – thus decreasing the odds of killing the very aggressive form of cancer (Burkitt’s lymphoma) that I have.

So it now becomes paramount – literally life and death – that I keep myself clean and away from infection, and well rested. So we went to the movie theatre today (Wall-E, a movie worth seeing) and I wore a mask during the movie. That was humbling, but it’s not the hardest change in this regard for me. The hardest is that I just want to be with friends. For instance, in these 8 days before I have to go back to the hospital, I’d love to just go down to Mount Hermon’s Administration or Program building and hang out and say hi to the many friends I have that work there. But for this season I’m going to have to forego that.

Anyway, please understand that my family and I will have to be very careful with hygiene and rest in these next few months – my life will literally depend on it. For those of you who do come to visit us, please forgive us in advance as we ask you if you’ve had any illness of late, could you wash your hands, etc….

Ramblings from (maybe) a dying man

I’m not as good or saintly as you all make me out to be. You all have been so kind to post wonderful comments on the blog, send cards, etc, and you’ve been so complimentary. But in so many ways I really feel like, if you saw in the deepest parts of me, you might be disappointed.

I’ve especially been feeling this as I’ve been processing through the news that my survival odds are only 50/50. I could be dead in 3 months. Here’s the kind of thoughts that have been going through my mind. If I go – and why do I have to go, God? -

• Who walks Becky down the aisle someday?
• Who advises Daniel when he wants to know if he should marry this girl or not?
• How is my bride going to cope with a broken heart? And loneliness? And paying the bills, and handling the things I handle?
• Why does this have to happen?
• Biggest of all: God, is your promised healing going to happen in this life , or the next?

I can type these thoughts now without crying, but all day Monday I was bawling as I pondered these questions.

Now, of course God can heal me now. And perhaps I should expect that and plan on it. But that strikes me as arrogant in my place. That is: for one, the relationship with God is a God-Servant relationship. The servant is not the party in the relationship that has the right to demand. “Thus I struggle to feel like it’s OK for me to “expect” God to heal me.

Plus, if Jesus was all about healing and healing only, why does there remain so much pain in the world? Shouldn’t a triumphant Christ heal all the pain in the world right now? Daniel and Becky are fresh back from Cape Town, South Africa. There they met black children whose parent’s sole occupation in life is to find sticks for fire wood (which they then sell). (Daniel summed up some thoughts beautifully on a July 1 posting on a blog. Proud Papa points you now to the website:

http://www.pipelinesummer.blogspot.com

What about the thousands that die in Africa each month (as many as the Bande Ache tsunami) for lack of a $15 immunization? I’ve had this great life, anything anyone would ever want to experience, the greatest of friendships….how fair is it that I “expect” God to heal me when grown adults in Africa spend their days looking for sticks? When there’s so much hurt elsewhere?

I know this all sounds awfully gloomy. But these are the things that go through my mind as I try to process how it will all turn out, whether or not I will be here at the end of 2008. I completely believe that God is good, that he is merciful, powerful, and that he works out all things for good for those who love him. But this remains a broken world, and on this side of heaven it doesn’t always work out in a pretty way. U2’s song “Wake Up Dead Man” summarizes some of this for me:

“Jesus, I know you’re here, Boss. I know you’re looking out for us. But maybe your hands aren’t free”.

One of the interesting things that happened in the last hour that we were at the hospital last night was that, in two separate conversations, a doctor and then a nurse told us how much a fighting attitude had to do with surviving cancer. “I can tell you and your wife will do well” the nurse said. “You enjoy each other so much. I’ve heard you laughing ever since I came on my shift” (Lynne and I don’t even recall one single thing we laughed about….it must be part of our natural language together) “You’ll fight it hard and make it” she said.

I picked up Lance Armstrong’s book “It’s Not About the Bike”. The book has been called the greatest book available for any person fighting cancer. Lance says that cancer is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. That was inspiration to me….wow, how can I grow in the most exponential way during this dreadful time?

So that’s where I am, as imperfect and unholy as it all sounds. We are going to fight this thing with all we’ve got. As the doctor last night said, it may be 50/50, but for me only two numbers matter: 100 and 0. I’m going to fight as hard as I can to make it to 100. And so will Lynne and Daniel and Becky.

U2’s song “Wake up Dead Man” speaks to me again: “Jesus…If there’s an order in all of this disorder, is it like a tape recorder, can you rewind it just one more time?”.

Jesus, can you rewind the tape to 15 months ago when I was strong and healthy, riding my bike for 50 mile rides…in your mercy, please restore my health. I want to live. I want to stay in this broken world and serve you, and be with my family and friends.

Thanks for reading and praying. Thanks for the priceless gift of your friendship.

Much love,

Scott

PS – I want to take a moment and thank my employer (Mount Hermon Association) for their unfailing support during this difficult time. They have given everything I could possibly have thought of and have led the drive to support my family during the crisis. I am honored to be an employee of Mount Hermon. Roger and Alden, know that I can hardly wait to get back to join you in the office!

Quick medical update

Becky and I are here at the UCSF hospital with Scott, watching him sleep. Just wanted to give a quick update while I had a chance.

Scott has tolerated the IV chemo (methotrexate) much better than I had hoped with mostly just weakness and tiredness as side effects up to this point. By tomorrow, the lab work should show that the chemo is out of his system so I should be able to take him home sometime tomorrow afternoon. He may get another intrathecal (into the spinal fluid) chemo injection of methotrexate before he leaves, or I may need to bring him  back on an out-patient basis to the clinic across the street on Thursday or Friday for the injection – decision yet to be determined.

The really good news is that his right eyelid is opening much more than a few days ago, and is not so swollen. Sometimes his vision will kick back into normal, rather than double vision, but not all the time. So, I definitely see that as improvement.

Many thank yous

So many people have helped keep our family going these past few days. Thank you to my brother and sister-in-law Craig and Kim for a bag of goodies to keep us going at the hospital, and spending the afternoon with us yesterday helping and keeping us company. Thank you to Ken and Mari for coming all the way up to hold a private communion service since it’s been weeks since Scott’s been able to worship at church. Thanks to Marty who spent all day Saturday to drive down from Sacramento to spend a few hours keeping Scott company while I was home with Daniel and Becky. Most of his time here was spent watching Scott sleep. Marty, your time and effort was such a gift to both of us. Thank you to Ben and Sharon for keeping touch with Daniel while he’s home recuperating from his cold while Becky and I are up with Scott in San Francisco. And especially thank you to Bob and Susie for letting me and Becky crash at their place overnight while Scott’s here at the hospital.

What’s next

Assuming Scott will continue doing as well as he is and goes home tomorrow, this will finish chemo #1 out of at least 4 chemo sessions. He’ll be an inpatient for at least 4 days every other week here at UCSF, with in-between weeks bringing him up here to the outpatient clinic across the street for his intrathecal chemo injection. If all goes well, that will take us into early-mid September. At some point after that (if MRI’s, scans, and lumbar puntures come back negative, and he doesn’t need any more chemo), he’ll be prepared for stem cell harvesting via the apheresis process (see explanation in previous blog), and eventually the bone marrow transplant maybe sometime this fall? So, still, a rather long road to travel.

Thanks to all of you for your continued prayers and encouragement which hold us up. Thanks, too, to Dave and Irene Dias for finding us in the hospital this afternoon (Scott’s been moved twice in the last 20 hours), and taking the time to pray with us. We wish we could say thanks and give hugs to everyone in person who’s helped, prayed and encouraged spiritually or practically over this long trial.

Much love, Lynne

Quick Update

Our apologies to all who have been wondering when an update would appear. This is Lynne, writing for Scott, and I will do my best to first give a brief summary, but for those who want all the technical medical details, they will be further down the blog.

Over last weekend, Scott started having increased vision problems – double vision, a right eyelid that drooped, and a right eye that wasn’t tracking. Too many doctors here in Santa Cruz who couldn’t agree, MRI’s that couldn’t be done until August – not good, too slow.

Wednesday, we went up to UCSF (University of California at San Francisco) to the ER, spent about 13+ hours there before he was admitted at 12:30am to a room on the oncology floor. He received wonderful and coordinated care from teams of doctors in the areas of neurology, ophthalmology, and oncology. He’s undergone multiple tests, scans, pokes, prods, etc.

As of last night when Dr. Kaplan, the Director of the Adult Lymphoma program talked with us, it appears that Scott’s Burkitt’s Lymphoma was killed in his body system as a whole, but instead moved into the brain and central nervous system. For those who are medically inclined, I will give more details further on, but he will be receiving more IV chemo, as well as chemo into his spinal fluid. The plan is to prepare him for a bone marrow transplant, but he has to survive the chemo regimen first. Dr. Kaplan gave him a 50/50 or 60/40 chance of survival at this point.

Of Mustard Seeds and Mountains

Jesus told His disciples in Matthew 12:20 “. . . if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” We don’t know what God’s plans are for Scott’s survival, but we are holding on to Him no matter what. Please pray with us that God will move this mountain called cancer out of his body and brain.

Daniel and Becky are Home

I picked up our kids from SFO airport yesterday afternoon and took them to see Scott at the hospital. It was unfortunate that they couldn’t finish the trip home with the team of youth they have laughed with, grown very close together with, and worked very hard with on their South Africa mission trip, but they needed to know about their dad’s change in health, and see him while already in San Francisco. Obviously, it was very hard for them, and they were stunned and in shock, as well as experiencing jet-lag. But, not too long after we got back to the hospital, Dr. Kaplan found us, and all four of us were able to hear what his thoughts and plans were, which definitely encouraged Daniel and Becky (as well as Scott and myself!).

What Does Life Look Like Now?

The kids and I came home last night (Friday), and I’m in the process of catching up, trying to prioritize what needs to be done, and what can get left. Daniel returned with a small cold, so it will be a good idea for him not to return to the hospital for a while. Becky and I are hoping to return sometime tomorrow (Sunday) and stay for a couple of days. If Scott tolerates this round of chemo decently well, he may be able to come home after 4 days. If he is still too sick, he may have to stay longer. Friends and family have been wonderful in offering places to stay, being with or transporting our kids, and we are so thankful. I’m sure in the future, I’ll be putting many needs – both practical and for prayer – out here on the blog, so thanks ahead of time for all the help and support.

So, if you don’t want to read all the technical medical details, you’d better stop here. We love you all, and are so thankful for this internet community who have been walking this road with us. God bless you all, and we’ll get updates to you whenever possible.

Medical Details

Burkitt’s Lymphoma cells tend to hide in the brain and central nervous system, and will settle down more towards the base of the brain. Scott’s eye problems come from a part of the brain called the cavernous sinus, where all the cranial nerves come through out of the central nervous system. His 3^rd, possibly 4^th, and 6^th cranial nerves are definitely affected, which is why his right eyelid is closed, and his right eye cannot track well at all. In other words, the neurological enervation to his eye muscles is compromised right now. He still has vision in his right eye, but colors are paler. In some ways it is actually a blessing his right lid is over his eye because he gets horrible double vision when both eyes are open leading to headaches and nausea. Unfortunately, his left eye has always been a “lazy” eye. His right has always done 98% of the work, and his left only 2%. So, he is unable to read or finely focus on anything for more than a very short time, or eye strain headaches occur. Assuming he survives the treatment, the doctors believe the neuromuscular problems are reversible and not permanent.

Multiple MRI’s have shown no actual mass or tumor in the cavernous sinus, but there is “something” there that is obviously affecting his cranial nerves/vision. Pretty much every other possibility has been ruled out, and given the history and behavior of how aggressive B’s Lymphoma is, the oncologists are quite sure that’s the cause. They are awaiting final results of cell stains from a lumbar puncture to test his spinal fluid, and a bone marrow biopsy and core sample done yesterday to confirm that it’s Burkitt’s. These will likely be available Monday or Tuesday.

What’s the plan? He was given his first dose of intrathecal (into the spinal fluid) chemo yesterday during the lumbar puncture, and his first dose of IV chemo was started early this morning (4am). Methotrexate is a chemo agent that has very good penetration into the central nervous system, so he will be getting this drug both IV and into his spinal fluid. He’ll be in the hospital now for at least 4 more days to complete the IV chemo regimen. Whether he needs to stay longer will depend on how he responds to it, how bad the side effects are for him, and if he needs the hospital support for longer, he’ll stay longer. On alternating weeks, I’ll bring him up to the clinic for his intrathecal chemo injection, and then the next week, back into the hospital for at least 4 more days of the IV methotrexate regimen. So, he’ll have at least 4 days in the hospital every other week for an as yet undermined number of cycles. At some point in the process, he’ll also be receiving some very finely aimed radiation therapy to the cavernous sinus to help kill the cancer cells.

The goal is to prepare Scott for an autologous (from his own body) bone marrow, or “stem-cell” transplant. After surviving the chemo cycles, harvesting the stem cells is actually pretty easy. It’s a process called apheresis (a little like hemodialysis) where they’ll send his blood flow through a machine that will separate out the cells that are needed, and return the rest of his blood to his body. It may take one session of 4 hours, or several sessions, depending on how much is obtained each time.

Once enough stem cells are obtained, he’ll be in the hospital for about a month, where they’ll totally wipe out his immune system, and then infuse his own cleaned up stem cells back into him through an IV.

Fortunately, there’s only a 1-2% failure rate with the autologous transfusions.

Okay, enough medical explanations. As you can see, it’s likely to be a long and arduous road with no guarantee of success. Please pray for God’s grace and healing, and for all of us to remain faithful witnesses to God’s goodness throughout all of this trial by fire.

Love, Lynne

Health

Thank you again for all your prayers, support, comfort and friendship. As of yesterday, Scott’s doing a little better. We’ve gotten an IV in here at home, so I can hydrate him with liters of saline, and having IV access for meds has been much more helpful in controlling the nausea, vomiting, and headache pain. The prednisone (steroid anti-inflammatory) is helping decrease the swelling behind his eyes, but his vision is still not really functioning. He’s been able to hold down a few bites of food, as well as fluids so far. I forgot to mention in the last blog that his blood pressure has been going up in the past week, so we also got him on some BP medication, which will take a couple of days or longer to kick in. The high BP is not a cardiac issue, but more related to the pressure behind his eyes.

Needs

One thing that would be really helpful for Scott would be to borrow some books on tape (CD) for him to listen to since he is totally unable to read. His preferences would be along the lines of legal thrillers (such as the newest Grisham?), sports, “thoughtful” Christian speakers/books, i.e. Yancy, etc.

Another need we have is for some help with a project Scott’s family is doing forhis mom’s 90th birthday; a decades-long photo album. His nephew is putting this together, and could use about 15-30 scans of pictures that Scott has. This would be hugely helpful if someone could assist with this. It could be done at our house or anywhere with a scanner and e-mail access.  Please let us know ASAP if you are able to help us with this.

As you know we are currently surviving financially on disability, 60% of Scott’s salary. Additionally, our church has spear-headed a fund in which anyone can contribute to our needs. If you are interested in contributing, click on the “ways you can help” link in the upper right-hand corner of the front page of this blog. Note that gifts to this fund are NOT tax deductible. We received the second check from the church this week and it was greatly helpful. Thank you to each one of you who has given toward this (we don’t know who you are).

Prayer Requests

Please pray for wisdom for the MD’s, and a speedy resolution and diagnosis for Scott.

God bless you all,

Scott and Lynne.

P.S. Happy Independence Day to all celebrating in the USA!

Thanks so much for all of your prayers and comments. It helps immensely to not feel alone in all of this uncertainty!

This is Lynne writing, since Scott is unable to focus his eyes without severe nausea, headache, and often vomiting. As you can imagine, that makes any blog writing or reading nearly impossible for him. He’s lost about 12-14 lbs. in the past 8 days and is very weak. Scott has always had a left “lazy” eye with his right eye doing the vast majority of the work. Right now, his left eye is not at all focused where his right eye is looking, and is doing it’s own thing, causing severe double vision. We’re hoping this is an eye problem that can be treated, and is likely behind much of the nausea.

Dr. Pomeroy looked again at the MRI from Saturday, said there was something indeterminate in Scott’s ethmoid sinuses, which needed a better view to identify. The opthamologist we saw on Monday felt there was some swelling/soreness behind the upper orbit of Scott’s right eye, so tomorrow morning (Thursday) at 9am was the first time they could get him in for another MRI view. Dr. Pomeroy said this location would be an unusual place for the lymphoma to return, if it did, but he couldn’t rule out that possibility.

So, as you could imagine, we would really appreciate your prayers and support for tomorrow’s MRI, and for wisdom for the MD’s who interpret the results. Please pray also for Scott as he has been unable to hold down really any food, and very little fluids for more than a week. He got some IV hydration on Saturday at the ER, and on Monday when an IV was started at the Dr.’s office so I could infuse an IV liter at home, but all he can really do is sleep a majority of the time.

Again, our kids are still in South Africa, and we have not communicated any of this to them yet. We’d like to hopefully know a little more of what to tell them, so would still appreciate other team members’ parents not communicating any of this news through the blog or otherwise.

One answer to prayer today: we had asked earlier for prayer that the airlines and insurance company would be rapid and efficient in returning the funds from Becky’s and my scheduled flight to India with the mission team last February. The funds would go straight to the high school South Africa team. The majority of the funds was already returned by the airlines before Daniel and Becky left, but finally today, the last check came in from the insurance company, so thank you, God! That episode is completed! It’s a wonderful reminder of God’s faithfulness and provision during these discouraging hours.

We love you all, and are so grateful for your encouragement and prayers.

Scott and Lynne