Experiencing the care of the Heavenly Father in every detail.
by Imelda Weaver
“A hospital is where sick people are,” said my husband, Scott, resting on the oversized hospital bed. He wanted to go home the day after his surgery. Is he downplaying his health again? I wondered.
The day before, our early morning trip to the hospital for Scott’s surgery started ominously with severe thunderstorm warnings. To keep from worrying about the heavy rain and wind, I prayed for safety during the 25-mile drive. All I could do was praise God when we made it to the hospital waiting area before the severe storm came.
Early sign
Now I gazed at Scott’s face, reflecting on how our ordeal started.
Last spring I noticed a thumb-sized lump on his leg. “It’s just a sports injury,” he commented. “Nothing to worry about.”
The following October at Scott’s physical exam, his primary care doctor disagreed. He was so concerned about the hardness of the fist-sized lump that he ordered an immediate ultrasound.
Scott knew something wasn’t right when the demeanor of the ultrasound tech changed from upbeat to nervous concern. Later that day, the doctor called with a referral to a surgeon.
Warning
At the appointment, the surgeon pointed to the edge of the lump. “We’ll cut the cancerous tumor here. An MRI scan will confirm the location.”
Something didn’t sit well with Scott. On the drive back home, he blurted out, “Am I going crazy? I hear warning voices.”
Looking back, I think the Holy Spirit was prompting him. Later that day, a friend who had Stage 4 breast cancer asked, “How come you’re not talking to an oncologist?” We didn’t go back to that surgeon.
Specialist’s feedback
Instead, we went to a well-respected cancer doctor at one of the state’s best cancer centers. After a brief exam, he put his hands on his knees and looked at the floor. “The question is . . . where to send you?”
I sat, shocked. A cancer specialist can’t help us? He explained that the cancer Scott had was rare; he hardly saw it in his practice.
Referral
We were referred to the local university sarcoma center that was, of course, out of network. After a three-week battle with the insurance company, we waited in the doctor’s office, wondering if he could help us.
The doctor came in and introduced himself as an orthopedic oncologist. A what? Are we in the right place?
Diagnosis
Turns out we were. He was both an expert at treating sarcomas and a surgeon.
This doctor did a thorough exam and said the lump on Scott’s leg was a Triton Tumor, a soft tissue sarcoma and rare in the family of cancers. The chances of being diagnosed with this were one in five hundred. It’s often misdiagnosed in the early stages, and rushing to cut out the tumor almost guarantees metastasis and death.
I was so thankful we were pointed to the right doctor. What were the odds of Scott being diagnosed correctly?
Treatments
Treatments for sarcoma are subtly different from that for other cancers. Scott had radiation first and surgery second. This approach was best for preventing a local reoccurrence of sarcoma, but there were recovery risks because radiation damages the body’s ability to repair itself. Up to 40 percent of patients have complications.
For a change, Scott took this risk seriously. He started a high-protein, anti-inflammatory diet and exercised despite fatigue from the radiation treatment. What are the odds of a patient still jogging in the middle of treatment on his leg?
Need for prayer
When the doctor examined Scott’s leg last week, he saw blistering caused by second-degree radiation burns. The tone of disappointment in his voice was loud and clear. There was virtually no chance of the skin healing in the six days before surgery.
Scott would have to heal from both the tumor removal and the skin graft. The thought of it drove me to ask my friends and family to pray for no skin graft as well.
Downplay
The first biopsy at the initial appointment with the sarcoma doctor came back with surprisingly terrible results. “It confirms the cancer is sarcoma,” Scott had said. His typical downplay.
Weeks later, he elaborated, “It’s very rare and on the nasty side.” Downplaying again. He meant rare as in one in a million and nasty as in an extremely aggressive cancer with few treatment options. I decided not to look up what a Triton Tumor could do.
Spiritual support
God. Prayers. Hope. I needed all of them during this season of winter. Though relying on Philippians 4:6, 7, I struggled to not be anxious, but I told God all of my requests.
The prayers have come from unexpected places. Two weeks ago, our daughter and her friends invited themselves over to our home. They prayed and laid hands on Scott. “Jesus will heal Scott,” one friend said.
I was encouraged to hear these words and hoped for a miracle that Scott wouldn’t need surgery. My daughter totally beleived that Jesus would remove the cancer.
Prayers and surgery
During the prep for surgery, Scott told the doctor, “There are people literally from coast to coast praying for you and your team.” Then the surgical nurse prayed for Scott and the procedure just before wheeling him away to the operating room.
During the long walk to the waiting room in the next building, I pleaded with God for a successful operation. The darkness and rain outside helped hide me wiping tears from my face.
Positive report
The next morning, Scott’s doctor walked into the hospital room with a cheerful smile and stood at the foot of the bed. Looking at my husband, he asked, “How are you doing?”
Of course, Scott said he was doing great. “I bet you are!” exclaimed the doctor. “I removed the tumor with no skin graft required.”
Thank God! No skin graft!
“I stitched an S-shape on your leg,” the doctor said with a broad grin.
Did I hear him right? “S for Scott,” my husband laughed. I smiled, thinking S for success.
Test results
“About the tumor biopsy results,” the doctor continued, “I have great news. First, the latest biopsy says it is PEComa. It’s much less aggressive than what we thought. Second, the margins are negative with six millimeters of distance.”
I released a sigh of relief.
Scott asked questions. This new diagnosis of sarcoma was still rare — one in a million — but they had measured six millimeters from the edge of the cut to the first cancer cell. This safety margin gave confidence that all the cancer in the tumor was out, providing a ninety-five percent chance of no local reoccurrence.
The doctor allowed Scott to be released home. Full of thankfulness, I had peace beyond understanding.
How many small miracles, like the ones we experienced, add up to a big miracle? That’s a question Scott always asked after his surgery. I don’t know the answer, but by God’s grace, I know my husband is my one in a million.
Greater trust
Now we’re looking for more small miracles. After two years of clear scans, the radiologists found something in Scott’s x-ray that our doctor couldn’t see. The CT scan showed tiny tumors in his lungs and ribs. The biopsy confirmed that the tumors are malignant.
Instead of reflecting on miracles in the past, we’re looking for miracles as they happen, or soon after. A major one is a new targeted drug that is much better than the ancient chemotherapy solution for this type of cancer.
We hope that God will continue to work wonders, as Psalm 77:14 says, with the doctors, technology, and science to help Scott through this second cancer journey. Based on what we’ve been through, we know He will.
Imelda Weaver has been published in Light, Encounter magazine, Shine Brightly magazine, and Wee Ones e-magazine. She enjoys reading, writing, and reflecting on the wonderful things God has done for her. Imelda lives in Franklin, TN. You can read her blogs at Arise2Live.com and visit her Facebook page: @ImeldaWeaverWriter.
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