The Patient Person for April 6, 2007

• By BOB ANDERSON
• Advocate columnist
• Published: Apr 6, 2007

• Print
• Email
• Save
• Reprints
• Twitter
• Share

• Del.icio.us
• Digg
• Facebook
• Reddit
• 

When doctors diagnosed Laurie with late-stage colon cancer 17 months ago, I asked for a miracle.

Since then, we’ve received several miracles. I haven’t always recognized them immediately. Maybe my lack of vision came from the fact that I didn’t receive the specific miracle I first sought.

In the beginning the miracle I prayed for was that my wife would be completely cured. I wanted her to be her vivacious self, able to go and do, laugh and play, travel and enjoy. I wanted her to smile, without a shadow of worry. I wanted the inoperable tumors to shrivel and disappear. I wanted the cancerous cells hiding elsewhere in her body to suffocate.

I prayed for that miracle a hundred times a day, maybe more. I enlisted the prayers of others, hoping that if my prayers weren’t worthy of a miracle that someone else’s might be. Protestants, Catholics, Jews and even an atheist promised to add their prayers to mine.

The first miracle we received proved to be only a minor one, though it seemed huge at the time. When Laurie’s doctor started the first regimen of drugs he told us frankly that her cancer was incurable and there was only a 50 percent chance the drugs would provide even a short-term benefit that would extend her life.

Her tumor markers fell dramatically. We believed the miracle we had prayed for was at hand. However, when we received the next set of scans they didn’t show that the tumors had disappeared as we had hoped, though they had shrunk. Still, this extended Laurie’s life and helped her regain strength. Though temporary, it was a godsend.

With time the tumors began to grow again and spread despite a continuation of the treatments and eventually changes to other chemicals. During that period, each blood test for tumor markers and each scan produced anxious waiting followed by a roller coaster of emotions that soared or plummeted depending on the results.

Gradually, I began to recognize the most profound miracle of Laurie’s illness. That miracle was her positive attitude in the face of a death sentence. Sure, her mood dipped into depression when we received bad test results. However, after a day or maybe two, light would return to her eyes.

Part of that miracle was, that even facing a terminal prognosis, she found the ability to enjoy most moments, with the exception of those days when chemotherapy left her too sick to summon the slightest smile.

Sitting on our porch overlooking our pond, lying in bed talking like new lovers, or spending time with our children on their returns home provided periods that we savored. That’s not to say there weren’t times for holding each other tightly. We lamented future plans that we came to realize would never be. She shed tears over the fact that she would not live to see her grandchildren. Mostly, however, she put aside worries about the future and lived moment by moment.

Faith is another miracle she has received. Though Laurie has occasionally expressed concern about the pain that might come at the end of her life, she has not worried about death. She views it only as a passage to a painless place where she will be greeted by loved ones.

Strength has been a miracle I’ve received to help me through the days since her diagnosis. Dealing with sick adults has never been a strong suit of mine. During Laurie’s illness, God has given me patience, compassion and insight into ways of dealing with her medical problem of the day. During her illness I haven’t had any desire to run away. If fact, it I were anywhere else in the world, I would be striving with every step to get to her.

Another miracle God gave to Laurie was inspiration to write this column. While still in the hospital, she came up with the idea. She suddenly had a new perspective on serious illness and was filled with a desire to share it not only with other sick people, but with their friends, family and caregivers.