When cancer was never in the cards

Sometimes when I’m sitting in the waiting room (or more like the car now 😂😭) when Josh has his MRIs I feel stuck (and then think about how much more stuck he probably feels in that pesky little tube). Fear and anxiety, jealousy, discontentment, all the emotions, can weigh heavy on a heart and try to creep in and be a hope-stealer when cancer is a part of your life.

July 2007, staring at that dreamy eyed boy at the altar, just babies, promising to stick by each other in sickness and in health, never really imagining that the sick part would ever come. We were 21 and 23 when we got married, when you’re that age, you dream of only the good things (Like, we’re just gonna spend the first twenty years of life drinking incredibly good coffee that costs too much money and spend 6 months out of the year on the north shore—right?). We didn’t do much planning back then, and we most certainly didn’t plan on this. Finish school, have a kid, buy a house, have another kid (or 5 🤣), maybe buy a cute little farm in the country, maybe do foster care, maybe get a dog, or a bunny, or a gerbil, or a goldfish, or a bird (just listing off all the pets sweet Birghin has asked for in the last 24 hours) but not cancer, not this. So what do you do when your life gets turned upside down by a single diagnosis? When hopes and dreams and plans don’t come to be? When anxiety fills the “whats next” question because there’s no concrete prognosis except: incurable? Hold loosely. That’s what we’re learning. How to hold loosely to the things that used to be so important, to the loves that we love, and love Jesus more. How to hold loosely to this life, and cling to him. 

So, back to that MRI, we met with our beloved neuro-oncologist, and she gave us good news that his scan already looks better than the pre-treatment scan, the tumor has shown regression and not as “flared up” as before. We are so grateful!

His energy has been coming back slowly but surely (we’ll thank Jesus and the golf course for that). I mean who goes through 6 weeks of brain radiation and chemo and a mere weeks later goes and shoots 69 in a casual round of golf, this guy that’s who! Only by the grace. 

He started working again in the last couple weeks and puts in what his energy allows each day, and I’ll go back in two weeks. We have been so thankful for the amount of time we both got to take off of work, really such a gift to be home as a family and take time to rest and process and just ‘be’ together. My initial thought to covid hitting right when this started was….are you kidding me?? But it has turned out to be such a blessing really, the forced slow down and family time was just what we needed.

He started his first round of chemo this week, he’ll take double the dose for 5 days and then have 23 days off and do that for 6 rounds. Praying he’ll tolerate a stronger dose of chemo as well as he did the first round, aside from that and lab draws every two weeks, we can take a breath.

Thank you, thank you. We love you all so much. 

The End! For now.

He’s done! WE’RE done! He rang the bell on his way out, even though it was a little anticlimactic to be alone. I imagined him ringing the bell (Does everyone know this is a thing? There’s a little bell in radiation waiting rooms that people get to ring after they’ve completed treatment). Anyways, I imagined him ringing the bell with me by his side and a waiting room full of joyful, fellow radiation pals cheering for him, but that's ok. God is still good, and he’s still- DONE! To say we’re excited would be a bit of an understatement. Although, again, a little anticlimactic to come home and eat dinner versus going out and celebrating with our peeps. I told Josh this week it felt like there were three stages to this -- denial going into it “are we really about to start chemo and radiation? Like this is actually our life?”. The halfway through ‘depression’- “we’re so tired and this feels like it will never end”. And the end, “wow that went by so fast, can’t believe we’re already done!”. It felt like a twilight zone really, and we’re so, so, SO grateful to be on the other side of it. And as much as the kids love their new found favorite pine tree and chasing the local turkeys at our little hang out spot, I’m sure they would say the same. I am SO proud of this guy. The Lord was really, truly, so gracious and faithful to see us through that piece of this journey. Josh has been mulling over some post treatment thoughts, wondering if he’ll feel back to normal, or maybe better than before? Will his energy come back? His right side acts up sometimes, gets stiff, or sore, or twitchy, so it’ll be interesting to see how he feels once his brain recovers from this. You could pray for peace in our hearts no matter the end result of how he feels or how his tumor responded to treatment. Peace, no matter how this story ends.

So what’s next? A month of nothing, we’ll take it! We definitely prefer the quiet over excitement these days. Josh will work on recovering and getting his stamina back. He did an amazing job of keeping his energy as good as it could be by walking over 60 miles over the course of 6 weeks. We’ll both head back to our jobs in the next few weeks to a month depending on how he’s doing. 

Then, an MRI, to see how his tumor responded to the treatment, as well as starting a stronger dose of the oral chemo. He’ll have 5 cycles of taking chemo for a week, and then have 3 weeks off. From there we’ll continue on with what we’ve done for the last five years, quarterly MRI’s to keep an eye on any recurrence. As they keep telling us with his type of tumor, it's slow growing, but incurable. So we can anticipate regrowth, we can anticipate doing this all over again down the road, and we can anticipate running out of options at some point. We hold this loosely, because no one will ever give us any sort of timeline as to when these things could happen. As his oncologist told us earlier this year, “there are a very limited amount of tools in the toolbox” to treat this thing, meaning, one can only have so much radiation/surgery/chemo, before your body just can’t handle any more. And yes, we’ve looked into alternative treatments (I know there’s at least a few of you wondering 😅). Illness has a way of turning any Type A desperate wife into a professional researcher 😂. I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t spent countless hours looking into all sorts of options and holistic therapies. There are endless (and I mean endless), amounts of “promising” alternative treatments out there, that range anywhere from “here’s a few cancer fighting foods you can incorporate into your diet”, to, “here spend $40,000 and fly to Mexico to get all sorts of infusions”. It gets a little (or a lot) overwhelming to be honest, to know which ones would be worth investing time and money into. But, that being said, we believe in miracles, and we’ll continue to pray and ask for healing. More than any modern medicine or best alternative treatment out there, we trust the heart of the one who loves Josh more than I, or anyone else ever could. And we trust in his very good plan for our life. 

-- My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus blood, and righteousness. --

Thank you for loving us. Thank you to all those who have, and continue to stick by us through this messy life of ours. Thank you for filling our fridge and bellies full of wonderful food so I didn’t have to think about it. Thank you for opening your hearts and giving so generously so we didn’t have to stress about finances. Thank you for the calls, texts, care and concern. Thank you for really, truly, lightening our load in every possible way, so we could focus on our sweet babies and getting Josh through the last 6 weeks. Thank you for loving us so well. We are overwhelmed with gratitude and will continue to be eternally grateful for each and every one of you. 

We’ll probably post one more update after his MRI, and then maybe intermittently if things arise. For now, stay well, stay safe, take heart, and hope to see you all soon, preferably in person. :)

The finish line, almost!

So close to the end, but it feels just out of reach. Just a quick update here- Josh should have been done with radiation today (Good Friday), which would have been wonderful, but he’s not. There were several days the machine wasn’t functioning properly so he wasn’t able to have his treatment, he needs 30 total so we have to make those up next week starting Monday. Hopefully there won’t be anymore glitches, we’re both feeling very ready to be done. As much as we’ve enjoyed the slowness this season has brought (this Type A personality has kind of grown to love never knowing what day it is 🤣), we’d gladly welcome some routine and normal back into our lives (as I’m sure everyone else would right about now as well). 

Looking forward to enjoying a quiet Easter weekend with the kids, and hoping to post a celebratory “He’s done!” mid week next week. ☺️ Hoping this finds you safe and well, and with hearts full of joy and hope. 💙

The Miracle

We were sitting on the couch one night recently, revisiting the last couple months. The ups and downs, the emotions that can often swing on the daily like a pendulum, the oddness that corona hit at the same time, the way it felt pre-treatment that our world was going to stop for awhile, but instead the whole world stopped with us. We were remembering the day we were sitting with our oncology doc talking about all the details of what radiation would look like, leaving with fainted hearts of disbelief. I think that day I said something to the doctor like “Josh will not be able to get through anything like this without a significant amount of sedation.” Oh the doubt that filled our hearts that day.

“[But God!] being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.” Ephesians 2:4-7

When we first met Josh’s radiation doctor at the beginning of this year, Josh was laying on the floor, riddled with anxiety about what was to come, while I snapped at the poor resident doctor to zip it for continuing to ramble on despite Josh’s poor state. In the last two weeks, Josh has marched inside every day [again, utterly alone] to get screened for corona (often by unpleasant employees all suited up in medical PPE from head to toe), walks down into “the bowels of the hospital”, as he so fondly refers to it as, because folks, this is no window seat up on the 5th floor or anything. We’re talking dingy basement in one of the oldest parts of the hospital, gets blood drawn, has his doctor’s appointment, sits through his radiation treatment, and has remained upright the entire time. Josh says tonight, “we’ve been praying for a miracle, THIS IS THE MIRACLE!” Whether Josh is healed in this life or the next, the heart-miracle has already been done, he’s doing the hard work in our hearts of casting out doubts and fears and helping us draw our utter dependence and joy from him. Rob and Laura are Josh’s favorite and most consistent radiation therapists, mid-week he was having a conversation with them and told them that every day he gets through radiation he counts it as a massive victory. Every day he’s laying on the table, every part of him wanting to succumb to the anxiety and claustrophobia that fills his heart, God is in there, and Josh has felt his presence and in such a new and raw way, and he is literally relying on the steady hand of the father to get him through each and every treatment. As Josh keeps saying, “One day at a time, mercy for today.”

If there’s one thing we’ve learned through all of this, it’s that God is truly, always with us. His love is infinite and doesn’t change or waver when our hearts fail. It doesn’t stop at the entrance of the hospital when our fears bubble to surface, it goes before us, carrying us through each treatment (and I say ‘us’, because after we sit in the entrance, Josh grabs my hand and prays for us and then goes off on his merry way, I sit outside at a little park while the kids climb trees, holding my breath and praying I don’t get a call that he’s on the floor). It doesn’t hold back when our emotions swing from the highest highs to the lowest lows, often in a matter of minutes. It doesn’t return void when we feel angry or anxious. His love is ever present, unshakable, and unwavering. This, is the miracle.

As far as how Josh is doing physically, this is another wonderful surprise. Aside from the initial surge of fatigue, it hasn’t really gotten worse, as we anticipated it would. We’ve gotten into a pretty consistent routine of slow mornings with the kids, then Josh gets out for long walks most days— its been really good for his mental health and heart to have some quiet time and space to himself (I mean lets be honest, it’d be good for anyone’s mental health when you have kids, let alone 5 very noisy high energy but oh so loved ones 😜😂🤯). We reconvene for lunch and naps before heading out for treatment. We had a rough-ish week of communicating (or lack thereof ) and me feeling exhausted and wanting my poor hubby to pitch in more, but once we were able to pinpoint that he’s been feeling more absent minded the deeper into treatment he gets, we worked through that. The kids are so sweet, they ask questions about his hair loss and then tell him he looks really good without any 💙. It really warms my heart how much they love their daddy. God is so faithful and continues to give us just what we need to get through each day.

Your prayers are felt and appreciated more than you know, we are so grateful for them! Thank you for keeping us lifted up and bathed in them.

We have one week left, which feels unreal, but it's also really exciting, we’re committed to remaining joyful and content with what God has for the now, but also feeling ready to put this behind us! ☺️

When ‘joy in the mist of’ feels impossible: Anchor of my soul, you sustain. HALFWAY!

Another mildly rocky week for the books, but we’re officially at the halfway mark, so that feels like a big weight lifted! Josh started feeling the fatigue even more along with just feeling unsettled and out of sorts at times. He’s been sleeping a lot more. The doctor told him it’s important to stay active even when he feels like staying in bed, so he’s been getting out for walks almost every day, one day he even walked/jogged 5 miles around a golf course, his happy place.  We also had to take the plunge and shave the dome, too much hair everywhere. Josh let the kids help and they had a blast, so that made it less cloudy feeling. He’s as handsome as ever. 😍💙

I got angry this week. Like storm out of the hospital, complete with angry tears angry. We got to Josh’s radiation appointment Wednesday and were stopped at the hospital entrance by security, who informed us that “visitors” (ie: ME, not a visitor, but incredibly needed wife/support person 😂😂) would no longer be allowed in due to Covid-19. I proceeded to take a seat in the entrance to wait after Josh went off without me (like a boss) for his radiation. I was then approached by the same officer who informed me I was not allowed to wait there. So, I did what any normal person does and stormed off crying, and proceeded to cry in the car while having some **words** with the poor patient relations employee (oops, I was heated, and I might have a feisty Lebanese gene that comes out every once in a blue moon 😂😬🤷🏼‍♀️ Just don’t ask Josh about it, he may or may not tell you it comes out more often than that 😅). In hindsight, though hard for all those going through any sort of health crisis right now, I know the visitor restriction is necessary and my over-tired, emotional-self overreacted. There are so many people affected and dealing with much worse during this weird and unsettling time. And, I’m also a nurse, I know the rules. I know once a hospital creates a policy they don’t fudge. But this time it’s personal. This is my dear sweet hubby, who needs me, and it feels like we were being torn apart. But does he really need me, is the question. He reminded me (as he goes in alone, so really if anyone should be crying it should be him), that he is never alone. So thank you Jesus for being with my hubby and sustaining him. Thank you for going before him and going with him, for being his ever present help in time of need. Josh and I often talk about this season of our life where we feel like we are being stripped and refined. We talk about a picture of holding everything in life, everything we love, with open hands, so when things get taken away, the relinquishing is not quite so hard. I feel like in that moment I was being asked to release Josh and trust the Lord with him. My mind goes 100 different places when he’s alone in a hospital (What if he passes out? Or panics? Or someone is hounding him with questions and he gets flustered and I’m not there to step in? Why Corona now, WHY?!) But Jesus says, take heart, I will supply all of Josh’s needs while he is alone. So as hard as it is, we will surrender this too. Anchor of my soul, you will sustain us, over and over again.

Anchor Of My Soul (feel free to have a listen to one of Josh’s favorite jams 😊)

So that was week three. Between increased fatigue, rowdy little loves, cold and rainy days, separation, coronavirus quarantine…..we felt a little beaten down. But God is still good, friends. What an opportunity to lean into Jesus for grace and help to walk through this well. Josh has truly amazed me so far, from the outside looking in one would probably say he’s handling it a lot better than I am. Even through his fatigue and managing his ever growing list of meds and loving on our babies, he is always pointing our eyes up and focusing on the truth. And the kids, as rowdy as they may be sometimes, are truly being champs. At one point this week I told them I was sorry that it’s been a rough couple of weeks for them with everything going on with dad, Bruno’s reply was “Mom we don’t mind a bit if we know it’s helping dads brain tumor.” They all have such soft spots in their hearts for their daddy, they love him so much and it’s been really sweet to see them cheering for him and so flexible because they know it’s helping him, we are so grateful for this!

2 Corinthians 4:7-12 hit home this week:

“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God.” He is with us, always!

Even though we’re socially distanced for now, thank you to all who continue to love and support us. We’ve never felt more grateful!

10 days | Fatigue | Hope

Happy to report we have two weeks under our belt! In all honesty, we thought day one and beyond would be rough, so we’re both incredibly grateful that Josh has been feeling mostly good. Mid week he did start noticing some increased fatigue, so we’ll take that in stride, we knew it was coming. In his words, “I have a couple good hours in the morning and then I need to crash.” And he does, he normally takes a nap after lunch until it’s time to leave for treatment, but not before helping me with our sweet babes. 😍 The man is a trooper and has continued to help out wherever, whenever he can, despite not always feeling well. Aside from Josh physically feeling ok, the week was a little more of an emotional rollercoaster for all of us. At different points, he referred to me as a fragile bird and a smoldering wick, if that’s any indication. 😂 Maybe it was the fatigue, or all the coronavirus talk, or that 4 more weeks of this seems a little daunting, who knows. Either way, my sweet hubby is always reminding me that God is always good, and he is.

Our first reaction to his fatigue was “we hope this isn’t the beginning of him going downhill”. We quickly reevaluated and had a good discussion about hope. Hope is a funny word, if you think about the meaning, and then think about how many times we flippantly use it every day. We hope for everything, good weather to suit our plans, a better job with more money, weight loss, health and happiness for our kids, fun, travel, good relationships, you name it, the list is endless. And how often are we left sorely disappointed because these hopes don’t come to be? Are these hopes what I’m putting my joy in?

This situation has given us a good opportunity to help evaluate our perspective and what our hope is in. Sometimes we feel incredibly grateful for that, other times it feels like a hard pill to swallow. From the outside, there’s not much about Josh’s situation thats hopeful. People have asked what the goal is for this treatment, everyone wants some sort of assurance that there’s a cure, or some good statistic that will get him to a certain age. But truth be told, there’s just not. No one wants an incurable brain tumor, so what will our joy in the midst of it all really be? Hope, in the hope giver. And every day we’re grateful that he, and only he, gives the grace and strength to steady our hearts and keep our eyes fixed.

We’ve continued to just be blown away and overwhelmed by all the love and support, words will just never be enough to express our very deep gratitude for all those who have come alongside us.

On to week 3! ☀️💙

Better than we thought

Feels so good to have one week of six behind us! I wouldn’t say it felt easy, but it was definitely much better than either of us expected. Historically, Josh hasn’t responded well to anything since the start of all of this in 2014, so we weren’t super hopeful that this round would go smoothly. Josh is experiencing little to no side effects (so far) from the chemo which is wonderful. He can’t eat or drink anything for 3 hours prior to taking the pill at night, so this poor cereal-before-bed-soul had to make some adjustments. The chemo can have side effects like fatigue, nausea etc so the point of taking it at night is so you ideally sleep through all of that. The first night he took the pill, I was on the couch feeding the baby at 3am and heard him rush out of bed, my heart sank big time because I thought he was getting up to puke or something, he just NEEDED a bowl of cereal! 🤣

The radiation treatments have been pretty quick in and outs. His energy levels and spirits have been good, although they did say it takes about 8-10 treatments before he starts feeling the effects of this. He did notice some hair starting to fall out, which we were told could happen. Josh wasn’t phased, I on the other hand was a little more emotional about it, good thing he looks super handsome in a hat. :)

The kids have been doing really well too, they’re used to being watched in the afternoons on occasion so it really hasn’t phased them. Initially, we were told we could choose the radiation appointment times and were going to try to go in the morning, ended up we couldn’t and we were just given the afternoon slot. We were disappointed but of course were going to make it work, 2 days into appointments we very quickly realized the afternoon was a much better fit anyways for the fam — praise the Lord for orchestrating ahead of time what we could not see!

My dear parents have put their lives on hold to watch the kids so I can take Josh to his appointments. We have been fed incredibly well, prayed for, texted, loved, and supported. Thank you for lightening our load and loving us so well.

Our hearts are well. 💛

And now we’re very much looking forward to two beautiful, sunny, radiation free days ahead of us ☀️

Day 1: Celebrate

We were laying in bed Sunday night, 30 minutes away from Josh taking his first dose of chemo, all the hype and anticipation leading up to the big moment, felt a little anticlimactic to go swallow a pill and go to sleep to be honest. We talked about this new season we’re about to embark on and all the potential highs and lows that could come with it, but more importantly, we talked about joy. We read one of Ann Voskamp’s blogs the other day called ‘Celebrating in the midst of’, thats our hearts desire, no matter how well or poorly Josh responds to all of this, we want to celebrate - be joyful, in the face of it all- there is so much hope beyond any diagnosis. We don’t just want to survive the next couple of months, we want to fully and joyfully receive with open hands whats been given to us. Would that be your first prayer for us?

Walking into his radiation treatment on Monday there was a little more anxiety, but Josh did amazing! They’re quick 15 minutes appointments, and when I say quick, I mean quick for me because I sit and drink my coffee and watch Ellen. Lying on a hard narrow table that moves in all directions and having your head strapped down with a mask for 10 minutes would probably seem less…...quick. If you know Josh well, you know this is no small feat, white coat syndrome is real folks—and I am so proud! Josh will tell you its not him, the spirit is at work and God is so good! Our ever faithful father is truly carrying our weak and weary selves, making his power so evident. Eph 3:20 “Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.” He has been so gracious and kind to help Josh overcome his fear of appointments these last couple of years and we are SO grateful for this!

So thats it, 1 day down, 29 to go.

Before this even started there was such a huge outpouring of love and support, we feel so overly and abundantly blessed by all the friends and family who have come along side us, to help us, carry us, feed us, support us, pray for us, love on us — we are so grateful, truly. Thank you for walking this road with us!

Renewed in Spirit

As you may know, our journey to treat my brain tumor is about to begin a new chapter. We’ve elected to go through with radiation and chemo. We met with my rad/chemo team yesterday and took care of the last scans as well as made a super hero mask for my head... that’s the story we’re going with for the kiddos anyway!

The initial radiation and chemo will last 6 weeks with month off and then chemo for an additional 5 months.

Just praying that as this begins, that we’d keep our eyes fixed on Him. In the midst of what appears to be the wasting away of my physical body, our inner spirits are being renewed as we strive to see the eternal in this situation.

Peace out for now!

New Year Update

Friends and Family...hoping 2020 finds you well!

A little health update from the Witham clan....
Many of you know Josh was diagnosed with a brain tumor back in 2014 and had a fairly complicated surgery to remove the bulk of the tumor. Aside from a few seizures, we’re very grateful that he’s had a stable few years where he has felt pretty good. The definition of his type of tumor is “slow growing but incurable”, so we’ve always been told that it down the road he would need additional treatment. A recent seizure has pushed us in the direction of making some decisions about his health, so we thought it'd be a good time for an update :)
In the next couple of months, we’ll be diving into a round of chemo and radiation, in hopes of keeping what’s grown back at bay for a time. We’re still unsure as to all the details and timing, but we’ll have more appointments and things set in stone in the next month. We still have lots of questions ourselves, unsure of how he’ll respond to treatment, what post-treatment life will look like as there are so many variables and ranges of “minimal to permanent side affects from the chemo/radiation”. So for now, we’re taking it one day at a time, some days even just one hour at a time (mostly because the 5 littles keep us on our toes!, all while continuing to pray for a miracle! 😊

We had some really sweet times and memories made in 2019, and had a beautifully quiet Christmas season. We’re so grateful for that! The kids take everything in stride, they love their daddy so much and are always so willing and helpful when needs come up, and for this, we’re also thankful!

So we would ask for continued prayers for the weeks, months and year ahead, for direction, and peace, as we we walk through the next part of this journey. Our hearts are always overflowing with gratefulness for all the friends and family who surround us, love us, pray for us, and support us and the kiddos. And while the outlook on life at the moment can seem grim....we are confident God will continue to sustain us. A quote from an article we read recently says it so well...
“When faith looks to the past and to the future, it says with David, “You have multiplied, O Lord my God, your wondrous deeds and your thoughts toward us” (Psalm 40:5). The past, no matter how many ghosts walk there, is full of his wondrous deeds. The future, no matter how many sorrows await us there, is full of his merciful plans.”

So...while we do have our anxieties and fears about the days ahead, they’re intermingled with joyful anticipation of God's very good and perfect plan for our life!

We love you all, thank you for your prayers!