Inspire, Summer 2004

Inspire 27 a hefty dose of God’s grace carried us to November 2002, when a scan revealed the cancer was spreading. Our conversation around the dinner table now included a new phrase: autologous stem cell transplant. After 20 years of marriage, we anticipated taking quiet weekend getaways to unwind from the hectic pace of all that laughing, loving, and raising of teenagers. Starting with the first weekend of January 2003, we had many weekend getaways alone — well, kind of. We found ourselves at the James Cancer Hospital at The Ohio State University for three-day weekends of chemotherapy aimed at keeping Mark in remission while we waited for the transplant. God Himself was making our reservations. As these months progressed, I helplessly stood by as my strong, handsome prince was weakened first by the disease, then by the cure. Some things came on gradually, while others jumped up to slap me in the face. Lack of strength and stamina increased steadily from the beginning. Then there was the moment when a good- night hug in the dark shocked me with the relative smallness of this frame that had always been my strong tower. In the daylight I noticed the familiar contour of healthy muscles in Mark’s arms and legs had slipped away. I ached for the one I loved. It was during this time that I read Psalm 6:1-3 and was amazed again by the relevance of Scripture. These verses could have been written by a chemotherapy patient: “O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath. Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am faint; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O Lord, how long?” Multiple shots of neupagen to stimulate bone marrow production caused Mark’s bones to ache. After a year and a half of treatment, we were facing the most intense battle of all: the stem cell transplant. Our hearts echoed the words of the Psalmist, “How long, O Lord, how long?” On April 23, 2003, Mark was admitted to the bone marrow unit at the Cleveland Clinic. I journaled through my fears and emotions on that first day: “So here we are, traveling together on this journey, inseparable. I’ve noticed many times that we use the plural pronouns ‘we’ or ‘us’ when referring to something that Mark alone will endure. That’s the wonder of marriage as God designed it. It’s that unexplainable ‘oneness’ between us that somehow enables us to carry each other during difficult hours. Still, there’s a sense in which we each walk alone except for the unchanging, unquestionable presence of God along this road. Sometimes, there’s an unmistakable dividing line across which neither of us can venture. I can’t enter into Mark’s experiences of anxiety, weakness, or feelings of uselessness. He can’t know how weary I get or my fear of losing him. For the last 17 months, we’ve experienced a bit of a role reversal that must be tough for him. I get up every day and go to work; he sleeps in and spends much time home alone. At every step and in every emotion, God gently meets us, cradles us, and prods us on.” One year after the transplant Mark is still in remission, and we praise God for the incredible journeys of life. Our journey of marriage which began on July 3, 1982 has taken a detour through the valleys and deep canyons of cancer. Along the way I have watched my husband maintain a cheerful and kind spirit while fighting overwhelming nausea and pain. He continues to push himself to make memories with our children when energy is nowhere in sight. He testifies to God’s goodness, grace, and provision to all who observe his trial. Perhaps most poignant to me are his selfless efforts to help meet the challenges of a busy family life with two working parents. Each day Mark courageously deals with side effects resulting from his treatments. Stamina and energy are precious commodities that are hard to come by. Especially debilitating is the neuropathy that causes intense pain in his feet. Although he may never rebound to the pace of life he so voraciously lived at 41 years of age, he is still my handsome prince and my strong tower. And those wedding vows? We will continue to love and to cherish, to have and to hold each other in sickness and in health, until death us do part. So here we are, traveling together on this journey, inseparable. I’ve noticed many times that we use the plural pronouns ‘we’ or ‘us’ when referring to something that Mark alone will endure. That’s the wonder of marriage as God designed it. It’s that unexplainable ‘oneness’ between us that somehow enables us to carry each other during difficult hours. Still, there’s a sense in which we each walk alone except for the unchanging, unquestionable presence of God along this road.