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Kate update!

My pastor’s daughter has had quiet a journey. She was diagnosed with brain cancer a few years ago, and finally things are looking great as far as the disease goes. The following is an entry that was written earlier this week. I read it, and couldn’t resist sharing it with you. 

Kate’s MRI looked great! There were no visible changes on the MRI. There have been changes from the surgery, the tumors and the treatments over the past 3 years, but all of that continues to look the same. There are no signs of additional recurrences of cancer. A sweet and utter relief. Thank you Jesus!

We reviewed the MRI, looked at her blood work and then started the long and tearful process of thanking her medical team and saying goodbye. 

It’s funny how the most painful things, your most dreaded fears, can bind your heart tightly to those who walk you through. And the only One who got us through. I remember the first days of Kate’s diagnosis, the blur of medical staff in and out. Everyone telling us their names and which medical specialty they were from. I heard very little. If I opened my mouth usually only sobs escaped. It was a whirlwind of activity, information and new people. People I didn’t want to need. But we were in desperate need of them now. I didn’t want them to see Kate as another “brain tumor patient”. Because to me she was anything but that. My feisty, curly headed beauty. My compassionate little soul. My little lover. And all out fighter. I never wanted anyone to know her just for cancer. She was so much more. And slowly they got to know her. Even as the painful journey changed so much. She learned to talk again, walk again, read again, and possibly for the first time learned her outward beauty paled in comparison to what was going on inside. She was stunning. Now she frowned a lot, said “no” more than her fair share, and begged the staff not to do things she hated. Throw up actually became a relief, the pet therapy visits were the highlight to most days, that and mail time. She complained and cried like any other child with high fevers, no immune system, morphine pumps and newly acquired mobility problems. We cried lots. And lots. I screamed some. Punched occasionally, nearly broke my hand only once. The staff got to see most all of it. As most days there was no where to hide. Especially in shared rooms. But slowly they got to really know us, and we them. I still hated that we needed them for our girl, but loved that God had chosen them for us at this time. 

They were there when we received the devastating news of Kate’s relapse. And I believe their hearts broke alongside ours. The prognosis was poor and I feared soon they would say goodbye, as we would no longer have the need for them, should Jesus allow for our girl to go home.

Little did we know, 16 months later we would say goodbye. But because of a new season of life, not death. So the tears were bittersweet. Painful to leave those who loved her well, but filled with gratitude that she was leaving with us. It could not have been more perfectly timed to leave right at the end of treatment, and on the tails of an ideal MRI. Perfectly timed and obviously not of our doing. 

So next week we start a new season and move to California. There is trepidation in the unknown, but peace knowing God has been evident thus far. In the much more eloquent words of Ralph Waldo Emerson… “All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.”

Inspired yet? Praise the Lord!!!

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/mcraekate/mystory

Tonight is tough.

Husband, You will take our daughters on dates frequently & I will take our sons out on dates frequently. You and I will go on dates frequently. Fun, thrilling, exciting dates that celebrate our love.

Good things #3673

Stripes.