I am not sure how to start this post. I desperately want to lift baby Reese and the Gilfillans in prayer and I suppose our prayers should be enough. We talk to the Almighty directly and he answers us. He has been faithful to me and my family, answering our prayers daily and even providing for unforeseen needs. However, here is baby Reese whose trials this past week seem insurmountable and Rob and Bre Ann whose uncertainty must feel torturous. As a father, it is hard for me to imagine a second of peace amidst that storm. It makes it hard to pray for something for which I lack faith of possibility. I believe that God can heal Reese, but I cannot imagine what the family is experiencing.
Lord give me the faith to believe you can do ALL things!
Another thing I feel is a sense of helplessness, knowing that only God can wrap his arms around that baby her family. It feels much like my own inability to heal myself, but seeing others suffer is much more difficult and has me faced with the human urge to "do" something. Maybe it's the masculine "fit it" mentality that has my stomach in knots. There is NOTHING I can do but pray, and it is hard when my lack of faith make God feel so far away.
Lord give me the discipline to pray for Reese and her family, even when my faith is weak. Heal her body. Give her parents inexplicable peace and rest, and let the world know you are God through the accomplishment of your will.
Praying for Reese
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
So far our time in Maryland has been relatively uneventful. This has mostly been a week of adjustments. The first and most significant piece of our new life is learning about the medical center at Johns Hopkins.
I flew solo on day one and began a series of scans and functions tests that determined my preparedness to handle the transplant process. Day two was much of the same but the family came along this time. A break during the days events allowed us to eat lunch at and tour Baltimore's inner harbor. The day finished for me with the ever popular bone marrow biopsy and we managed to beat the afternoon traffic on I-95 north.
In between scheduled appointments and various medical buildings in the hospital, I was able to familiarize myself with the campus and even start to feel comfortable there. The Weinberg building is an all in one cancer care center. Although I am blessed to not have cancer, my treatment falls under their realm of expertise, so the Weinberg it is. After an educational class Kelly and I attended on transplants, we actually were able to tour the floor where I'll be staying during the first 3-4 weeks of the process. I have to say it was pretty nice. It's definitely a hospital room, but built with comforts and amenities like a TV/DVD player, a dresser, a recliner, etc. Because of the risk of infection with transplant patients, the entrance to the room is like an airlock. You walk through two separate doors with a sink in between, insuring all those that enter and leave are washing every time. I may not be quite as excited about it after the novelty has worn off, but it was cool none the less.
So many of you have been asking about timelines, and we wanted to be sure of the schedule ourselves before releasing dates. I will be admitted to the hospital on Tuesday July 5 when I will start what will be 6 consecutive days of high dose chemotherapy. The chemo is intended to wipe clean the slate of my own bone marrow which doesn't work right anyway. Of course, most are familiar with the side effects of chemo and the joy ride that can be. On the seventh day I get to rest (sound familiar) and Tuesday July 12 is "Day Zero" or transplant day.
That brings us to the donor. My sister Kari is actually in Maryland for the weekend to do some testing of her own at Hopkins on Monday and Tuesday. She'll fly back to Houston Wednesday and not return until the day before transplant day. Although she will be under general anesthesia for the harvest, her procedure is outpatient and she be out of there the same day, although a little uncomfortable. The transplant team will harvest about 1.5 liters of bone marrow, filter it down to pure stem cells, and the drip it from a bag into my IV. The actual transplant is pretty uneventful for me, although Kari will have a big day.
Following the transplant they give me another two days of chemo, this time to prevent Kari's immune system in the stem cells from rejecting the graft which is the basis of graft vs. host disease. Then it is a waiting game, waiting for those stem cells from that little bag to take root and start cranking. With daily blood draws and constant monitoring, we may see progress within a few days, but it takes weeks to even consider leaving the room. When the white blood cells start to show up and my body has a fighting chance of defending itself outside a hospital room, I can move into an outpatient apartment on the hospital campus and just come in for daily treatment. That can go on for weeks as well, all depending on how quickly my body recovers.
Call it ignorance or naivety, but I grow increasingly more comfortable with the weeks and months ahead. I guess since arriving, and even in the days and weeks approaching our departure, God's hand in this adventure has been more and more evident by the day, providing for every need whether emotional, financial, and otherwise. I even feel a weird bubble of protection from getting sick as both girls have thrown up since leaving Bellingham. Once again, our confidence and faith in this process is confirmed daily and as this next week passes I hope for more of the same. The nerves will build but that keeps us sharp, prepared, focused and faithful.
In the midst of preparation, I am reminded of purpose. Whether or not I know the full extent, God has a purpose for the summer of Brian and I am convinced it is not limited to my healing. Nothing that we go through is by accident, and maybe someone who would have never softened otherwise to God's grace will experience it for the first time through the faith of God's people.
Thank you all for your continued prayers and your support. God has used you already in miraculous ways to bring us to where we are today.
I flew solo on day one and began a series of scans and functions tests that determined my preparedness to handle the transplant process. Day two was much of the same but the family came along this time. A break during the days events allowed us to eat lunch at and tour Baltimore's inner harbor. The day finished for me with the ever popular bone marrow biopsy and we managed to beat the afternoon traffic on I-95 north.
In between scheduled appointments and various medical buildings in the hospital, I was able to familiarize myself with the campus and even start to feel comfortable there. The Weinberg building is an all in one cancer care center. Although I am blessed to not have cancer, my treatment falls under their realm of expertise, so the Weinberg it is. After an educational class Kelly and I attended on transplants, we actually were able to tour the floor where I'll be staying during the first 3-4 weeks of the process. I have to say it was pretty nice. It's definitely a hospital room, but built with comforts and amenities like a TV/DVD player, a dresser, a recliner, etc. Because of the risk of infection with transplant patients, the entrance to the room is like an airlock. You walk through two separate doors with a sink in between, insuring all those that enter and leave are washing every time. I may not be quite as excited about it after the novelty has worn off, but it was cool none the less.
So many of you have been asking about timelines, and we wanted to be sure of the schedule ourselves before releasing dates. I will be admitted to the hospital on Tuesday July 5 when I will start what will be 6 consecutive days of high dose chemotherapy. The chemo is intended to wipe clean the slate of my own bone marrow which doesn't work right anyway. Of course, most are familiar with the side effects of chemo and the joy ride that can be. On the seventh day I get to rest (sound familiar) and Tuesday July 12 is "Day Zero" or transplant day.
That brings us to the donor. My sister Kari is actually in Maryland for the weekend to do some testing of her own at Hopkins on Monday and Tuesday. She'll fly back to Houston Wednesday and not return until the day before transplant day. Although she will be under general anesthesia for the harvest, her procedure is outpatient and she be out of there the same day, although a little uncomfortable. The transplant team will harvest about 1.5 liters of bone marrow, filter it down to pure stem cells, and the drip it from a bag into my IV. The actual transplant is pretty uneventful for me, although Kari will have a big day.
Following the transplant they give me another two days of chemo, this time to prevent Kari's immune system in the stem cells from rejecting the graft which is the basis of graft vs. host disease. Then it is a waiting game, waiting for those stem cells from that little bag to take root and start cranking. With daily blood draws and constant monitoring, we may see progress within a few days, but it takes weeks to even consider leaving the room. When the white blood cells start to show up and my body has a fighting chance of defending itself outside a hospital room, I can move into an outpatient apartment on the hospital campus and just come in for daily treatment. That can go on for weeks as well, all depending on how quickly my body recovers.
Call it ignorance or naivety, but I grow increasingly more comfortable with the weeks and months ahead. I guess since arriving, and even in the days and weeks approaching our departure, God's hand in this adventure has been more and more evident by the day, providing for every need whether emotional, financial, and otherwise. I even feel a weird bubble of protection from getting sick as both girls have thrown up since leaving Bellingham. Once again, our confidence and faith in this process is confirmed daily and as this next week passes I hope for more of the same. The nerves will build but that keeps us sharp, prepared, focused and faithful.
In the midst of preparation, I am reminded of purpose. Whether or not I know the full extent, God has a purpose for the summer of Brian and I am convinced it is not limited to my healing. Nothing that we go through is by accident, and maybe someone who would have never softened otherwise to God's grace will experience it for the first time through the faith of God's people.
Thank you all for your continued prayers and your support. God has used you already in miraculous ways to bring us to where we are today.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
We are still waiting. Everything is happening slower than it was supposed to. I suppose it's human anxiety that maintains a stronger foothold on our schedule than it really should. Who am I to question the timing? Have I not yet learned my lesson about who is really in control here?
The other day, Kelly was recalling years ago how her closest friends in Bellingham moved to the other side of the country within a few month of each other. At the time it was devastating for her, and it has been difficult since then to stay close with people that she gets to see maybe once every couple years. But here's the thing, one of her friends moved to Elkton, MD, a mere 45 miles from Baltimore. See what I'm getting at here people. The Great Conductor started writing this score years ago, and we just need to pick up our instruments and play the notes.
My summer at "Camp Hopkins" will not begin for at least another week, once blood samples have been tested and a Bone Marrow match is confirmed. I imagine my summer camp experience will be a lot like my previous experiences, except that first hour boating will be replaced with first hour "IV bagging" and second hour sailing will take the form of second hour "trying not to puke...ing." Historically, my visits to the infirmary to see the nurse have worked out well, so I am encouraged.
God's ability to provide for our needs has been nothing short of miraculous. Many of you have given financially, for which we could never say enough to truly express our thanks. Many co-workers of mine donated sick time so that I could end my school year early to prepare. Many prayers have already been answered in the early stages, and we have faith that God's plan for my health and our future is secure. Your continued prayers are heard and appreciated.
It is with our human attempts at patience and faith we await the call to leave. In the meantime, we will enjoy this rare season of time together as a family.
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