02/15/2025
Health Update: I have completed 12 rounds (6 months) of chemotherapy and the latest scans appear stable. As such, I will undergo major surgery near the end of February. This will be a 7-10 hr surgery, in which the surgeon will attempt to remove all the cancer that he is able to find in the peritoneal lining (aka abdominal wall lining) and in other places if necessary, among other things. After the surgery, I expect to recover in the hospital for 7-10 days.
I’ve sat on this news for a week, processing the emotions that accompany the anticipation of major surgery. I do not look forward to this surgery and the lengthy recovery. Nor do I have fond memories of the first major surgery in 2022. Prior to that surgery, I felt horrible, near death, and so I welcomed the surgery. This time around, I feel perfectly fine, though I know I am not, and so surgery feels unnecessary, though I know it is. Best case scenario, the surgery might add 2-3 years to my life and in some rare cases may even be curative. To do nothing, as in no surgery, would be to place all hope that chemo has killed all cancer cells, which is highly unlikely in my specific case. Therefore, surgery awaits.
The anticipation of major surgery has been a reminder to my wife and I that this cancer thing is very real. I have felt so well in the past few months/ years that it is easy to forget (so to speak) that I have cancer, oddly enough. The surgery is a reminder of the seriousness of the situation and, quite frankly, of the fleeting nature of life itself. As the Scriptures teach in James 4:13-14:
Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”—yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.
I have been reminded that life is but a mist, here one moment and gone the next. And yet, for whatever reason, this fact is easy to forget or ignore. Often have I trod through life with nary a thought to its fleeting nature, mindlessly presuming upon tomorrow. This I ought not to have done, for as James notes, I do not know what tomorrow may bring, or, I might add, even if there will be a tomorrow. Why? Because life is a mist which vanishes in but a moment.
How then ought I think? James continues in 4:15,”Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” I ought to think and live with this thought in mind, that all of life is dependent upon the will of the Lord. If the Lord wills, I will have a tomorrow. If the Lord wills, I will have surgery in a week or so. If the Lord wills, etc,. The point being that nothing happens apart from the will of the Lord. Nothing happens that the Lord does not will to happen.
My friends, the Lord Jesus Christ is absolutely sovereign. Nothing happens in all of life that He does not will to happen. I find this to be incredibly comforting, for nothing happens to me, nothing occurs in my life, that the Lord does not will to happen, to include cancer, surgery, and death. Add to this thought that the Lord is good and His steadfast love endures forever (Psalm 100:5). Simply stated, my life is in the hands of the sovereign Lord, who loves me and gave His life for me, and nothing happens that He does not will to happen. Therefore, as David wrote in Psalm 27:1, “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” That our Lord is sovereign, that He is our light and salvation, ought give us the courage to say with Christ:
Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.