Anxiety in the Tunnel

The Big Picture

Its been over 8 months since Liam’s diagnosis. There are three phases to his treatment. Liam has just completed Phase 2. Once he recovers from treatment, the plan is to start Phase 3 on Feb. 17. This last phase of treatment is the longest (about 2.5 years) but also, according to Liam’s medical team, typically far easier than what we’ve experienced up to this point.

The Current Situation

Liam has been severely immunosuppressed for over two weeks now due to brutal chemotherapy which concluded Phase 2. Two days ago his blood counts started to rise which is a good sign that Liam is healing and we could move back home soon. Liam has avoided acute and serious infections up to this point which seems like a miracle compared how he’s fared in the past. That said, not all is rosy.

First, Liam is having some gut complications (again). Yesterday, I noticed what seemed to be blood in his stool. A test today confirmed this. Now that Liam’s immune system is recovering, his team hopes his body will treat whatever might be going on. This complicates getting home.

Second, Liam is suffering from bad nausea and bowel discomfort. This is likely related to whatever is going on in his gut. As a result he is not able to meet his nutrition and hydration goals. This complicates getting home.

Third, Liam has been on an antibiotic for the past two weeks while immunosuppressed. One metric for going home is to be off antibiotics. So, now that he is slowly but steadily recovering, his oncologist decided to stop the antibiotic today to see how he does without it. If he spikes a fever, this complicates getting home.

My emotions are mixed.

On the one hand, it is lovely to see how well Liam is doing compared to past treatment cycles. He is able to walk. He is generally happy.

On the other hand, honestly, I am weary. We find ourselves facing more questions without answers. What we thought was light at the end of the tunnel–going home from the hospital and a quick recovery–may just be a mirage. The tunnel may go on for many more miles.

And yet, in the midst of my angst, frustration, and disappointment this evening (yes, the situation is truly lamentable), I am reminded (yet again) of Jesus’ command to not worry about tomorrow (Matt. 6:34). The command is predicated on God’s sovereign knowing what we need and his gracious care to provide for our needs (Matt, 6:25-32). What choice do I have as his child but to yield and obey? And while it doesn’t take away what may be a longer tunnel than what I expected, it at least helps tonight feel more manageable. I don’t have to figure out how to make it to the end of what may be a long journey. It also short-circuits my desire to project and slaps me back to reality to focus on the present. I can use my time well this evening to seek first the priorities of God’s kingdom (Matt. 6:33), even from a hospital room.

And this is a reminder that while suffering may intend me (and my family) harm, in God’s economy, it’s unknowingly infected with grace. When suffering bores itself into the lives of God’s children, it inadvertently brings them a gift. What’s the gift? Tonight, for me, the gift is the loving pressure of my heavenly Father to trust him and heed his word, even as I lament our circumstances.

How to Pray

• Pray Liam would be healed from leukemia, gut infection, fungal infection

• Pray his immune system would recover

• Pray for an increase in Liam’s appetite and decrease in nausea and bowel discomfort

• Pray God would strengthen us and grant us endurance