You didn’t know - and that’s ok. Here’s what you need to know.

You know I’ve got cancer. But you didn’t know my skinny odds - or my fight, or my side effects, or my fears, or my wide-awake nights, or my wild guesses about my wife’s and girls’ future without me.

That’s ok.

You’ve see how I fight. It’s not in my own strength which has failed me over-and-over again.

You’ve seen me smile. Laugh. Play. Work. Love my family. I hope you’ve seen me love others.

So then, you’ve seen my God. He gave me the peace to do what you’ve seen.

Good. That’s the only thing I want you to really see. God made me that way, despite a diagnosis as dreadful as mine.

You’ve seen the new heart he gave me. He sharpened his scalpel and took out my stone heart, then replaced it with a living heart.

For that surgery, God paid a dear price. He sent his son Christ to live among us on Earth and feel the same pain and brokenness we face. That’s what sin did to the perfect world God created. God then had to turn his back on his precious son who hung dying on a cross, although he’d done no wrong. God watched his son die.

But death couldn’t hold Christ. Three days later, Christ walked the Earth again. Alive!

Alive like the new heart God gave me because I’ve put my faith only in Christ’s sacrifice to pay for my sins. Alive like the new heart anyone can have - in spite of anything they’ve done. Alive like the new heart that even a longtime Christ-follower can have by drawing closer to God.

No, faith in Christ doesn’t make things easy. But relating to God gives joy and peace.

So before you really need God (and I promise you will), get to know him. Read his word - what he’s told us about himself and who he made us to be. Pray - talk with him, sometimes just sit in silence and listen to him. But most importantly, do what God tells you in his word and through the Holy Spirit for whom he sacrificed his son to graft into your new heart. Do it - no questions asked.

Then you’ll know you can trust God. He’s faithful no matter what.

God has got your back. When you don’t see how obeying him could possibly work out and you’re thinking that you’ve got a better plan, obey God anyhow. You’ll see him come through.

Then you’ll know that King David was right. Even on your darkest days, God’s “goodness and unfailing love will pursue” you (yes, hunt you down) “all the days of [your] life.”

Please know my God. Only then can you know peace.

That’s the only thing I really want you to know.

- Alan

Grateful

Recently I was at a luncheon where the President asked us to introduce ourselves and to share our word for 2020. Well, now I must admit, I hadn't picked one. So being the fourth person in the line and having just gotten the GREAT scan results 4 days prior, I quickly decided on Joy.

In the four days since then, one word keeps coming to mind. And while it may be a cousin of Joy, it's not Joy. So Sarah, I change my answer.

GRATEFUL

I choose to be grateful this year. And I am grateful I have so much to be grateful for.

We haven't shared a statistic with many people. In fact, very few, until recently! We never told the girls, because they never asked. And it was a scary stat. One that kept me up at night. One that made me re-evaluate so much. One that changed my life.

In April 2018 when Alan was diagnosed with metastatic recurrent colon cancer, we were told that the treatment he is on (Thank you God!) was the only real option. That while we could do other treatments they were not the best and did not give him the chances this one did.

That statistic was that without this treatment, with the conventional treatments, the ones our insurance approved of, the ones that we didn't have to fight for over 3 months to get, ONLY gave Alan a 7% chance of survival over the next 5 years. At the time we were told that, Rebekah was in 7th grade and Audrey in 4th.

Translation, the images that kept me up at night were that of sitting alone watching Rebekah graduate high school and then again at Audrey's graduation. The nightmares that came night after night were of there being no father-daughter dance at the girls' weddings. Nightmares of learning to live without him. Of the hole so deep in me that he would leave.

Not to mention the conversations we had to have. Conversations no 40 year old husband ever desires to have with his wife. Do we really have enough life insurance for him? Where will it leave the girls and I if the worst occurs? What life would look like as we walk this journey? Conversations I wouldn't wish on anyone. Conversations that hurt so deep.

But God stepped in. God paved the way and the treatment option became a reality. July 6, 2018 is a day I will never forget. It was a day I had a glimmer of hope for the first time in months. Now this treatment was his only option in the doctors' minds because with it his 5 year survival rate shot up to 55% from 7%. Amazing difference, right?

Well just getting on this treatment protocol alone was enough to keep me grateful for years. It gave him a chance, a REAL fighting chance. And now here we sit just under 2 years later, and 1 tumor is essentially gone and the other two are on the run! Praying that when the 5 year hits, we will be hearing the words No Evidence of Disease!

Every day for the last four days I have caught myself saying how grateful I am. Randomly looking at Alan, my breath caught in my throat, grateful.

So my word for 2020 is GRATEFUL!

4 Month Scan Results

Here we are. Another January, approaching the 30th. Cancer sucks the life out of everything. We celebrated the removal of Bo; we celebrated the end of chemo. We waited through every check that first year with baited breathe, but everything was good. Then April 4, 2018 came and cancer sucked the life out of the small room we were in on the 7th floor of the main building of MD Anderson in the Med Center.

The last 21 months have had major downs, some ups. Yesterday, Alan had his first CT Scan at MDA in The Woodlands. It’s so nice to have the full center up and running here. So today was date day down at MDA to meet in one of those small rooms with Dr. Dude (Dr. Morris) and get the news.

For the first time, we both slept peacefully. The drive down was uneventful. The waiting room was packed. We both went into the appointment feeling strong, feeling good about where he is. The minute we went into that small little room, all my nerves came flooding to the forefront.

Jocelyn, Dr. Dude’s PA came in, apologizing for the wait and explaining that most of the GI docs are headed to a conference next week. So if we were okay with it, she was going to go over the wonderful results with us.

Today was a MAJOR UP! The tears keep welling up with joy. Jocelyn made it clear that all the tumors shrank. As Alan and Jocelyn continued to discuss the side effects he is having, I poured over paper with the scan results. Only two tumors had measurements listed, which was confusing. When there was a moment, I asked where the measurements of K was. After pouring over the scans from October and yesterday, the conclusion was reached that while K is still there, it is small enough that the radiologist didn’t even pick up on it.

HUGE NEWS! Marvin (left paracolic gutter tumor) shrank 28.9%. K (hemipelvis tumor) is so tiny that it is “insignificant” now! Mooney (lower abdomen tumor) shrank by 9.7%.

From the highest point Marvin and Mooney have shrank by 85% and 60% respectively! But the most impressive to me is the next set of stats. K was non-existent at the onset of recurrence and is practically the same now. Marvin is 40% smaller than when discovered April 2018, while Mooney is 30% smaller!

Friends, treatment is not just working! It’s not suppose to do this. Treatment is exceeding all expectations. Treatment is healing my husband!

We’ve had a dear friend who has texted us literally every single day for this recurrence (over 21 months)! Every Saturday he tells us that we are “Another week closer to cancer free.” Being truthful, these texts have hurt some weeks - on the weeks were it seemed hopeless.

Today when we shared the news, he texted, “I truly believe one day you will hear ‘The cancer is gone!’”

I finally believe this!

It’s easy now to put on a brave face for the girls, for Alan, for everyone who asks. But in the quiet between God and I, the struggles have continued... continued to doubt... continued to fear. We still live scan to scan, writing our plans in pencil. With every good scan, which we have had consistently for a year now, my struggle has lessened, my fears decreased. My faith and trust has been restored a little more. Today, God showed me that He is using this treatment to save my husband. Alan is being a unicorn not only in his cancer and all the other things over the last three years, but also in his response to treatment!

In majority of cases similar to Alan’s the tumors just stall out. BUT God! Only God! Only God could do this! Only God could make it continue to shrink and EVEN start to disappear!!

Thank you Lord! Thank you for this news! Thank you for restoring my faith! Thank you for healing my unicorn!

Unicorn Rides Again

So for those of you who know Alan's cancer story, you know that I have called him a "Unicorn" since this recurrence began 18 months ago today.

Today, today, GOD used his "Unicornness," in Alan's favor.

So at this point in this immunotherapy protocol, the tumors stay stable. There are working theories that the tumors remain stable because the cancer is all gone, but scan tissue remains and basically the masses are just "smoking craters," to coin an Alan-ism.

Well Alan, being a Unicorn, surprised Dr. Dude with not just stability BUT some significant shrinkage. YES, SHRINKAGE!! 15 months in on treatment, and we are still seeing this cancer DIE. Not just hold steady. No, SHRINK!!

As we sat waiting on treatment this afternoon, it was all we could do to hold back the tears of joy, tears of gratitude to Our Lord!

Thank you Father for continuing to work in my husband's body and KILL this cancer. Thank you Lord for this blessing.

Also, Dr. Dude increased the time between scans. Next scan will be in 4 months instead of 3 months! Thank you again Lord for this blessing.

Marvin (left paracolic tumor) decreased by roughly 40%!
K. (left hemipelvis tumor) decreased by roughly 16%!
Mooney (midline pelvic tumor) decreased by roughly 40%!

Marvin K. Mooney, WILL YOU PLEASE GO NOW?!

I remember

Life can suck. My story could be evidence of this. I remember being your normal kid. With normal friendships. I remember having normal experiences. With normal problems. I remember having a completely normal family. But sometimes everything in our own little world changes, and we have no control. We are left trying to fit all the broken pieces together.

I remember my dad saying “I’m fine”. I now know that was a lie. My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer when I was twelve. I remember that I didn’t understand that this moment in my life changed my own little world. I thought that in a few short months my dad would be healthy. So I watched. And waited. I watched a once strong man now pale and sick after every chemo. I waited for the next scan. I watched as he now couldn't get anything from the fridge because with chemo it hurt too much. ‘Like pens and needles’ he told me once. I waited because I knew there was nothing I could do. Chemo was done. My dad beat it. We beat cancer together as a family. This was probably the first time where I had peace. 

Until…. round two. We found more after a routine checkup scan and the cancer had adapted, so chemo wouldn’t work this time. But a new treatment might. Immunotherapy. This thirteen lettered words sounded like magic to me. The medicine would strengthen the immune system to go and fight the disease. The only problem is we couldn’t pay for the treatment and insurance wouldn’t help. Three months waiting to start treatment. By some miracle the company that made the medicine gave it to us anyways. We got started immediately.

My dad’s immunotherapy didn’t hurt him like chemo. He is doing everything and more to be healthy since before cancer. But living on such uncertainty is rough. Words can’t describe it. My dad is doing better and it looks like treatment is working, but I still lay awake at night wondering all the ‘what if…’ or ‘why can’t I ….’. But the worst question of all is ‘What did I do to deserve this?’. ‘Why me and my family?’ Those were the questions that ate me up.  

When the second round cancer started, I began to lose hope in ever being normal again. I lost so many friends because I felt like they couldn’t get me with my problems, if their biggest issue was a bus ride. I felt alone and it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine for not letting others get close enough to see how broken I really was. I felt like me and my problems were too much of a burden for anyone to help, especially with my family. I felt like they need me to be strong. I don’t know when I realized or if I knew all along that this person in the mirror wasn’t me. I was so much more the shell of a person I had become.

I remember in my science class one day we somehow got off topic, and the teacher was telling us about how waves from phones cause cancer. I don’t think I could ever forget this response: ‘Oh sorry guys I just got a text. Looks like we will all get cancer’. I couldn’t think clearly. Do you not get that cancer isn’t only caused by food you eat or waves but can be caused just by genetics? Are you so insensitive not to think that someone in the room has been affected by cancer if not me? Do you not realize that cancer isn’t a joke it is a disease that kills thousands every year? Do you really think that joking about things you don’t get makes you cool or something because it doesn’t? I always have to calm myself down. Remind myself that they will never get it and it is wrong to wish they could understand me. Then they would have to walk through everything that has happened to me and I would never wish that on anyone. I remember other times when it was someone who knows about my situation and they joke about cancer. That I will never understand.

Life can suck. My life could be evidence of this. I remember when I was “normal,” but I have decided to a new definition of normal. Normal is something we hope for until we realize that are more than everything we think defines us. I am the daughter of a cancer patient as much I am a normal kid.
-Rebekah

The Knot

Today has been a struggle. On Wednesday our oldest starts High School and our youngest 6^th grade. Today the oldest needed to walk her schedule one more time to feel comfortable before the BIG day. However, this left Mom feeling anything but fine. It is the tug of war that is my heart. 

 

Last year, the first day of school was rough. We were only two treatments in on immunotherapy, and I was scared. After a rough bus pick up for Audrey (whole different story), I ended up in my best friend’s driveway a total mess. Bawling like a baby. You see the odds were stacked against Alan. With this treatment, things look good, but we still don’t have long term data. So last year, I was facing a giant unknown. My world was crushing down on me. Truthfully, I was scared that it was the last Back to School we would all have together. A year ago I didn’t know, if he would still be here today.

 

So today, watching and waiting on my high school freshman walk around the hallowed halls of the 9^thgrade campus, my knot of FAITH and FEAR was having a huge tug of war over my heart and my emotions.

 

FAITH would tug and overwhelm me with GRATITUDE. Alan is here. Alan is doing really well right now. Treatment continues to hold these tumors stable or even shrink them slightly more. Gratitude that our lives seem completely normal. Alan is working, I am working, the girls are starting back to school – a normal American family. Gratitude that my girls don’t seem to have the same fears that they did last year at this time. Gratitude that we have continued to get even closer as a family. Gratitude that God is ALWAYS faithful and is WAY bigger than all of our unknowns.

 

FEAR would tug and overwhelm me with WORRY. The WHAT IF’s that no one likes to vocalize would come rushing to the forefront. What if the next scan isn’t good? What if he isn’t here next year? What if another cancer shows up? What if side effects get bad? What if when the youngest starts here he isn’t here? What if… What if… What if “what if” becomes “what is?”

 

Then faith would tug, then fear, then faith, and then fear. I sit here tonight still struggling with this. And I am leaning in to God as much as I can, I am grateful for the moments of peace He grants me in the struggle. But this is my emotional struggle. It may be other caregiver’s struggle too. I don’t know. Maybe patients struggle with this too. Every single “major” moment in the girls’ lives, in his life, in my life, causes this struggle.

 

Most people would have no clue this is what I deal with sometimes daily. As a mom, we push our emotions aside to take care of our kids (the girls have no clue that I held back tears on campus today). As a caregiver, we focus on what we can control to help them heal. As a wife, we focus on loving them with every fiber in us. As a daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, cousin, etc., we focus making sure all of our family knows how much we love them. As the leader of a team, we focus on making sure they have what they need from us to do their jobs well, on making sure they have the resources they need, and on delivering what we promise to those we serve. As an elected servant, we focus on delivering what we said we would before being in office, on being available to the tax payers, and on doing the absolute best we can with the resources we have.

 

Majority of the time it is easy to shove the knot of FAITH and FEAR back into its dark recesses of my being and to simply focus on the hats I wear or the multitude of laundry or whatever fire is in front of me.

 

Today… today was not so easy. Tomorrow may not be either. And I can almost guarantee Wednesday will definitely not be!

 

So when you see a person in similar shoes to mine, pray for them. Pray for PEACE. Pray for COMFORT. Pray for FEAR to GET the HECK OUTTA THEIR MIND! Pray. Offer a hug, if they are the hugging type. Offer an ear and just listen. Be there. No matter how strong they appear on the outside, there is still the knot of FAITH and FEAR on the inside. No matter how good everything looks at the moment, the What If’s are still lingering in their head. So pray. Pray for them. Prayer helps. Knowing people are praying helps.

 

Here’s to FAITH having already won the battle over FEAR!

Great Great God!!!

Our Lord is sooo good. Alan has had some anxiety over this scan, while I have had peace.  A total flip from our normal state's pre-scan!

We are so grateful for today's news!

All three tumors shrank some. Not majorly but some! What joyous news! We continue to get great news. The immunotherapy continues to work!

Marvin (left parocolic tumor) decreased by 12.5%!

K (hemipelvis tumor) decreased by 3.8%!

Mooney (rectum tumor) decreased by 8.5%!

Marvin K Mooney is working on going NOW!!!