Greg Hewlett passed away on January 17th after nearly eight years of battling colon cancer. While we grieve his loss, we are comforted to know that he is with his Lord.
If you would like to leave your thoughts on Greg, please see this thread.
If you would like to make a charitable donation in Greg's honor, please see this thread.
The Struggle Has Ended
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Morning schedule
A couple of you have asked, so here are the early morning details. Tomorrow at 5:30A.M., we will report at "Surgery Check-in" on third floor by elevator F before they wheel me away. The closest parking garage is the one at Holcombe @ Bertner.
Preparations for tomorrow
I hoped for a quiet week after meeting with the surgeons on Tuesday. Instead, I found myself with a full schedule of more tests. The surgeon wants to double check some things and make sure there are absolutely no signs of cancer anywhere else, in which case he will cancel the surgery.
Yesterday afternoon, I had a colonoscopy-like test with Dr. Ross. He wore a playfully confused grin and asked, "Now why is it do you need this test?" Knowing it would be an uncomfortable and somewhat painful affair, I replied quite seriously that I did not need it. He stepped out for a few minutes to review my chart and check with the surgeon. He returned and gave me his conclusion, "I think he's trying to torture you." And he proceeded with the test.
I began fasting on Tuesday evening. I will not eat until I can do so after surgery. They want my system completely clean. I think it is part of the torture plan.
I laugh about all of this because such matters are ridiculously insignificant compared with the magnitude of what will happen tomorrow. There are so many different possibilities as far as the direction the surgeons will go. The problem is, they do not know what they will do until they get in there. I have never experienced such a sense of helplessness and vulnerability. There are no bulls' horns for me to take hold of. I can do nothing to affect what they will do tomorrow, and when all the life-affecting decisions are made, I will be unconscious. They could find diffusely spread cancer, in which case they will close me up and do nothing. There is a significant chance this tumor has invaded key organs, which would have to be removed with the tumor. They may have to cut and reconstruct key parts in order to pull out what they need to get. And of course, the tumor may be cleanly isolated and easily removed. I get the feeling the decision points will be fuzzy so I hope they are alert, wise, and in top form tomorrow.
There have been a couple of good signs. My CEA blood level is down. This can indicate the cancer does not have much momentum. If it were spread about in assault on my guts, the CEA would probably be rising. Also, the various tests so far this week have turned up negative. This is why the surgeons are still all go for the surgery. Finally, I am as strong as I have been in some time. The time off the chemo (and perhaps the biking...?!) have done good for me. My white blood cell count is healthy and ready to fight. The extended fasting doesn't exactly help my strength, but overall, I think my body is ready for the recovery process after the trauma of surgery.
I have been so thankful to my Creator for all of your support and prayers. He has answered your prayers (in ways I have desired) in the past. I desire as much as I have desired anything that the same will be true this time. I ask if you might take a moment (or take an hour!) to plea with the Lord that tomorrow, (1) they will effectively remove the cancer towards a complete cure of this disease, (2) there would be no collateral damage that would adversely affect my future life, and (3) that I might have the strength to endure the pain and whatever results may come.
As slow as I physically trudge from appointment to appointment, my mind races as it confronts so many unknowns. At the same time, these simple words from the book of Hebrews have quitely, yet doggedly, come to mind.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Yesterday afternoon, I had a colonoscopy-like test with Dr. Ross. He wore a playfully confused grin and asked, "Now why is it do you need this test?" Knowing it would be an uncomfortable and somewhat painful affair, I replied quite seriously that I did not need it. He stepped out for a few minutes to review my chart and check with the surgeon. He returned and gave me his conclusion, "I think he's trying to torture you." And he proceeded with the test.
I began fasting on Tuesday evening. I will not eat until I can do so after surgery. They want my system completely clean. I think it is part of the torture plan.
I laugh about all of this because such matters are ridiculously insignificant compared with the magnitude of what will happen tomorrow. There are so many different possibilities as far as the direction the surgeons will go. The problem is, they do not know what they will do until they get in there. I have never experienced such a sense of helplessness and vulnerability. There are no bulls' horns for me to take hold of. I can do nothing to affect what they will do tomorrow, and when all the life-affecting decisions are made, I will be unconscious. They could find diffusely spread cancer, in which case they will close me up and do nothing. There is a significant chance this tumor has invaded key organs, which would have to be removed with the tumor. They may have to cut and reconstruct key parts in order to pull out what they need to get. And of course, the tumor may be cleanly isolated and easily removed. I get the feeling the decision points will be fuzzy so I hope they are alert, wise, and in top form tomorrow.
There have been a couple of good signs. My CEA blood level is down. This can indicate the cancer does not have much momentum. If it were spread about in assault on my guts, the CEA would probably be rising. Also, the various tests so far this week have turned up negative. This is why the surgeons are still all go for the surgery. Finally, I am as strong as I have been in some time. The time off the chemo (and perhaps the biking...?!) have done good for me. My white blood cell count is healthy and ready to fight. The extended fasting doesn't exactly help my strength, but overall, I think my body is ready for the recovery process after the trauma of surgery.
I have been so thankful to my Creator for all of your support and prayers. He has answered your prayers (in ways I have desired) in the past. I desire as much as I have desired anything that the same will be true this time. I ask if you might take a moment (or take an hour!) to plea with the Lord that tomorrow, (1) they will effectively remove the cancer towards a complete cure of this disease, (2) there would be no collateral damage that would adversely affect my future life, and (3) that I might have the strength to endure the pain and whatever results may come.
As slow as I physically trudge from appointment to appointment, my mind races as it confronts so many unknowns. At the same time, these simple words from the book of Hebrews have quitely, yet doggedly, come to mind.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Monday, February 14, 2005
HIV vs Cancer
It sounds to me like a B movie concept along the lines of "The Joker vs the Riddler", but apparently, HIV can be reprogrammed to fight cancer.
Fascinating. These scientists should hurry up.
Fascinating. These scientists should hurry up.
Some info about the coming weeks
Surgery is Feb 18.
5-7 days after that, I will be in the hospital.
From Wed, Feb 16 until Thurs, Mar 4, we will be living in a short-term apartment near the hospital. Christine will be staying there the whole time, and I will be there when not in the hospital. Here is the address info:
1615 Hermann Dr. Apt #1331
Houston, TX 77004
While I am in the hospital, you can send a message to be printed and delivered by volunteer services. Some of you did this before and it does work.
MD Anderson visitation policies
MD Anderson location and building maps
5-7 days after that, I will be in the hospital.
From Wed, Feb 16 until Thurs, Mar 4, we will be living in a short-term apartment near the hospital. Christine will be staying there the whole time, and I will be there when not in the hospital. Here is the address info:
1615 Hermann Dr. Apt #1331
Houston, TX 77004
While I am in the hospital, you can send a message to be printed and delivered by volunteer services. Some of you did this before and it does work.
MD Anderson visitation policies
MD Anderson location and building maps
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Alternative medicine
Even this alternative medicine skeptic has found a non-traditional treatment for cancer:
Unfortunately, the close-minded medical establishment at MD Anderson will not allow this soothing medicine to be employed at the hospital during my surgery recovery.
Unfortunately, the close-minded medical establishment at MD Anderson will not allow this soothing medicine to be employed at the hospital during my surgery recovery.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Good news and a fever scare
Yesterday began with encouraging news and ended with a strange fever episode.
Tuesday, I flew down to Houston for a CT Scan and a few other tests. The surgeon said this upcoming surgery was contingent upon this being a good scan, showing nothing new and hopefully more shrinkage of the tumor. I spoke with a nurse at MD Anderson yesterday morning and she told me that the preliminary (she made me repeat the word verbally, "preliminary") result was that there was some shrinkage and everything looks good towards surgery. So it looks like we're still on course for the surgery next Friday. This was quite encouraging to me and Christine.
As I finished up at work and laid on the couch upon arriving home, I increasingly felt sick and extraorinarily fatigued. This accellerated to the point of causing concern. My temperature was rising steadily and was at 101.4 when I gave my oncologist a page. The normal protocol for chemo patients is to go straight to the ER if the temperature goes above 101. I really did not want to go again for yet another night at the hospital. Dr. Hoff called me and discussed the situation. It had been a few weeks since the last chemo dose. More importantly (and quite fortunately) I had blood work done on Tuesday, just two days earlier. It showed a normal white blood cell count, from which he was willing to wait this out a little longer before sending me to the E.R. The hope was that this was a virus of some sort. I made a call to my brother elders, who were at another monthly meeting I was missing, and asked for them to pray for the situation. I made an arrangement for a possible ride to the ER in the middle of the night, and then Christine helped me into bed. I curled into a fetal position, not knowing how this fit into all that was happening and how it might change the plans for the next week.
I don't know how long I thrashed there in that feverish existence between being asleep and and being awake, but it seemed to be endless. But after a while I must have fallen asleep, for I awoke at around 2am relieved it was so late. I took my temperature and the fever was gone. This morning, I felt much better, almost as if the evening before was just a bad dream. Maybe it was.
So passes yet another twist and turn in this odd battle. I'm not attempting to make sense of this episode - I don't really have the energy. I'm just going to let this one go.
Tuesday, I flew down to Houston for a CT Scan and a few other tests. The surgeon said this upcoming surgery was contingent upon this being a good scan, showing nothing new and hopefully more shrinkage of the tumor. I spoke with a nurse at MD Anderson yesterday morning and she told me that the preliminary (she made me repeat the word verbally, "preliminary") result was that there was some shrinkage and everything looks good towards surgery. So it looks like we're still on course for the surgery next Friday. This was quite encouraging to me and Christine.
As I finished up at work and laid on the couch upon arriving home, I increasingly felt sick and extraorinarily fatigued. This accellerated to the point of causing concern. My temperature was rising steadily and was at 101.4 when I gave my oncologist a page. The normal protocol for chemo patients is to go straight to the ER if the temperature goes above 101. I really did not want to go again for yet another night at the hospital. Dr. Hoff called me and discussed the situation. It had been a few weeks since the last chemo dose. More importantly (and quite fortunately) I had blood work done on Tuesday, just two days earlier. It showed a normal white blood cell count, from which he was willing to wait this out a little longer before sending me to the E.R. The hope was that this was a virus of some sort. I made a call to my brother elders, who were at another monthly meeting I was missing, and asked for them to pray for the situation. I made an arrangement for a possible ride to the ER in the middle of the night, and then Christine helped me into bed. I curled into a fetal position, not knowing how this fit into all that was happening and how it might change the plans for the next week.
I don't know how long I thrashed there in that feverish existence between being asleep and and being awake, but it seemed to be endless. But after a while I must have fallen asleep, for I awoke at around 2am relieved it was so late. I took my temperature and the fever was gone. This morning, I felt much better, almost as if the evening before was just a bad dream. Maybe it was.
So passes yet another twist and turn in this odd battle. I'm not attempting to make sense of this episode - I don't really have the energy. I'm just going to let this one go.
Friday, February 4, 2005
Building Strength
I haven't written lately because I have been very beaten down by the chemo. My typical day for the last few weeks has consisted of going to work and sleeping the rest of the day. My blood levels had taken a beating from the chemo, which caused me to become anemic. My levels are just now getting back into the normal range. This week, I am starting to feel some significant strength coming back. I spoke with the nurse and she told me it is time to start pushing a bit of exercise to gain as much strength as possible before surgery. Right now, I am in such shape that walking from the parking lot to my desk gets me out of breath. I told her I enjoy biking and she said to begin at five minutes a day and try to build up in the coming weeks. She noted that it will be quite difficult, even painful, for a while at the start. "At the start?!" - I've only got a few weeks before the surgery!
So that's what I've been doing the past few days. I tell you all this reluctantly, because I know full well that in doing so, I will find myself more accoutible to actually keep this up. My inertia factor is high right now and getting out to exercise takes more initiative than when I was well (not to say I was successful then, either!) But the motivation is there - the more strength, the better the surgery recovery will go.
Today was an especially beautiful winter day. I brought along my camera so I could share with you the park near our house that Christine and I enjoy. This park is a big reason we chose to live in this neighborhood. I wish Christine were well so that she could enjoy it more. The bicycle path from which these pictures were taken just completed last year, so many of these areas in the park still seem new to me.
I am so behind on everything, since I have had no energy to do anything I need to do. I'm taking the day off today to get through a few months of mail. I told Christine that in life I'm behind in everything but pooping. That's part of the deal, I suppose. Chemo is rough, but it is better than the alternative. I still find Jesus' wisdom as relevant as ever, "...seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
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