Brain Lab

It’s hard to believe it’s almost a year since I’ve last made a post.  If I was to summarize the last year in a sentence, I guess I’d say that it’s been a mix of joys and challenges that have passed in the blink of an eye.  If I had been taking time to blog, they would most certainly have revolved around topics that I’ve been pondering from the book “Holiness Day by Day” by Jerry Bridges.  It is fantastic!  It has 365 short, one-page considerations that are truly transformational.  I’d highly encourage you pick it up. 

My motivation today is to update you with the latest on what’s in my head (my acoustic neuroma) and some of what’s on my heart.

Where we last left off, the tumor had not changed and the doctor recommended we wait a year and check again.  I got that follow up MRI about a month ago. As I drove away from the imaging center that day I was excited to get to the office and pop the CD of my images into my laptop to compare with the previous MRI.  My email to Taya: “Maybe a little bigger, but hard for me to tell.  Guess we’ll see what the doctor says on Wednesday.”  My assumption was that it really hadn’t changed because I felt the same and hadn’t noticed any new or different symptoms.  The doctor’s appointment began with a hearing test that reinforced my belief – my hearing had not changed and was “excellent for a man of my age.”

Unfortunately, the doctor’s interpretation of the MRI was different than those positive indicators and my assumption.  He said that the tumor had grown 2-3mm and was starting to grow outside of the boney internal auditory canal.  He recommended “Linear accelerator based stereotactic radiosurgery”…  “uh, come again doc?”  “In a word, radiation.”  Letting it grow would only cause other issues sooner or later and the bigger it gets, the bigger the radiation and potential collateral damage.  He also explained that some of the common systems for this radiation surgery are Cyber Knife and Gamma Knife, but that they liked “Brain Lab” because they wouldn’t have to screw into my skull to ensure my head remained still.  Needless to say, Brain Lab quickly became my favorite too.  The doctor said a single treatment was 99+% effective in stopping the growth of the tumor.  The odds of maintaining my hearing in my right ear were not as good, but possible and we wouldn’t know those results for 6+ months after the treatment as the full effects of the radiation takes months.     

My next couple appointments have been with the Radiation Oncology office.  Any feeling sorry for myself quickly evaporated as I sat in the waiting room with others that were clearly battling cancer where the stakes, risks and timelines are much more significant than mine.  I’m so grateful to have a small benign tumor that can be treated with a single 45 minute outpatient procedure not much more complicated than getting an x-ray. My radiation treatment is scheduled for Tuesday afternoon 8/20/13.   

It’s all happened fast and I’ve again wrestled with who to tell, why and how. While it’s true that I don’t want to burden others or somehow generate disconnected sympathies, I think it’s really my pride that resists my sharing of weakness and requests for help.  I’m sure it’s good for me and I believe that God will continue to give me reasons to need to rely on him alone and to ask my brothers and sisters in Christ to pray with me to do so.      

Overwhelmed

The following are not my words, but a recent letter from friends who are both missionaries and counselors.  I am reprinting here with permission and hope you find the words as helpful and healing as I have… 

This was lining up to be a summer of steady work—you know where you are hoping to get some of those longstanding projects checked off the list. It took a turn somewhere and it began to rain that word—overwhelmed. It was raining down in many places in many peoples lives. From crises, to loss, to conflict, to critical decisions—it seemed everywhere people were overwhelmed with life and with responding to the needs in others’ lives.

I don't think I have really ever known what to do with that word. It has seemed to be an embarrassing word to admit personally—one that somehow marks me as deficient or lacking.

That is probably why the words from Mark 14 in a recent sermon struck me so hard. Listen to Jesus’ words as he faces the most difficult of circumstances:

33 He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled.

It dumbfounded me that I had read it before but never really made the connection—Jesus was overwhelmed. He was not lacking and he wasn't sinning. He was at the end though and felt like he couldn't go on.

When we are emotionally flooded—distressed, overwhelmed, angered—our brain wants to move into fight or flight mode. Reading on we see Peter tried both, both ending in disaster. Our minds in this state are prompted for immediate action, but rarely is it a good action. It is action that at its core is about self-preservation.

Jesus took another route; one that can provide a path for us as well. We watch Him admitting his state, inviting others into the process with him and then choosing to calm his mind and spirit in prayer and surrender before acting.

34 “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.” 35 Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. 36 “Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”

Honest admission—courageous surrender.

I see the fruit often of fight or flight in my own life as well as the lives of the leaders we work with. Escape, numbing, violence of words and actions all seem to flow from this place of being overwhelmed.

Choosing to yield when we are overwhelmed seems to bring peace that contradicts or surpass all that is going on.

"Be still and know that I am God” Ps. 46:10

This attitude has never seemed more real or important. In the midst of being overwhelmed to breathe deeply, focus over and over again on who He is, to desperately cry out and admit my need for Him and others and to wait.

We are so grateful that so many of you pray for us and take the time to keep watch with us. We are ever in need of you—to keep from flight or fight and to press on and in. Thank you!

Brian and Crystal Boecker

You can reach Brian via email at:  

Brian.boecker@uscm.org

&/or make financial contributions to their ministry online at:

https://give.ccci.org/give
Brian and Crystal Boecker
Acct. # 0389338

Suffering and Hope

Life continues to be a strange dichotomy of pain and joy, suffering and hope.  The current public examples are found with the movie theater shooting in Aurora and the London Olympics.  I love the hope and individual achievement of the Olympics and while ABC Sports made “the agony of defeat” a famous slogan, we all know that none of the extraordinary athletes competing at the Olympics are really losers.  I’m inspired by watching most every event.  The Aurora shooting on the other hand has been almost more than I can bear.  There have been times where I’ve been somehow interested in the news of public tragedy.  I’m not sure of the internal drivers for such whether voyeuristic curiosity or heartfelt desire to understand and somehow help.  This time, I just wanted to stay away knowing in that I just wasn’t in a place to move into that kind of hurt if I didn’t have to.  Sounds selfish as I type it, but I’m not surprised as God uses more and more of life to reveal selfishness I didn’t know I had.
  

My hope and desire for healing was also recently turned on its head, revealing something not so wonderful.  A couple weeks ago a believer challenged me with these words; “For many years I've been confused at the seeming paradox of Christians with health issues wanting to get healed so more time can be spent in this life.”  And “why are "we" so intent on finding a way to spend more time in this flawed sinful world?!?!”  Good question and I think the answer is that many of us are trying to create our own little “heaven on earth” rather than seeking and desiring God’s kingdom.  I must admit that I want to be healthy; I want to be comfortable, I want to “store up” resources to try to insulate myself and those I love from need and from pain.  Oh Father, forgive me…  as I know the very core of these desires is the homing beacon you’ve put inside of me, a desire for you and your kingdom, but I’m so quick to work toward fleeting counterfeits. 

Three weeks ago I was pouting about having to live the next year waiting and continuing to be dependent on God to keep my tumor in check.  How foolish and selfish of me.  Since then God has reminded me that I am daily dependent and that it’s not about my comfort here on earth. This time God used our pastor to remind me.  Reading from Luke 9:23-25, Jesus said “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross daily, and follow me.  If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but are yourself lost or destroyed?”  Deny myself and pick up my cross.  We all have our own cross to bear and crosses are about suffering.  Why did Jesus deny himself and carry his cross?  At least some of the reasons include the knowledge that God is in control, God is good and that hope would be assured for all of us.     

Since then I’ve been reminded about many of the realities and references of day to day living.  Moment by moment we’re dependent on the beating of our lungs and heart, each day we need food, water, sleep, to clean and be cleaned.  I’m not sure what is worse, that we take these for granted or willfully choose to forget our dependence.  Of course these are obvious physical needs, but I believe they are also reflections of the spiritual; our daily need for spiritual food, rest and cleansing.  Thankfully, the Bible is so full of reminders and encouragements to trust in God daily including Exodus 16 (Manna) and Matthew 6 (Lord’s Prayer, rust and birds of the air). 

With all that’s going on, I’m more and more convinced that both the Kingdom of God is near and that we need to be more like Jesus; deny ourselves, bear our individual suffering and share the hope of God with others.  It’s a tall order for life, but thankfully we’re only called to do so today.   Just today… with God’s help we can endure some suffering and offer hope today (and thankfully we don't even need to worry about tomorrow (Matt 6:34)).        

Expected Surprise

Tuesday July 3^rd was a busy day with birthdays, errands and lots of work around the house.  It was Tirza’s 6^th and my Father’s 78^th birthday.  My parents had come into town for some joint celebration and to also help us as we shifted around the kid’s bedroom furniture, sorted and redecorated.  With this summer’s round of birthdays, (Darbi 10 and Riker 14), it seemed appropriate that all the kids room décor saw changes that were more in line with their own growth since we firm moved in 4 years ago.  Riker got a queen sized bed from Ikea and out went the bunk beds and little boy sports theme.  Darbi was thrilled to take the bunk with its built in side desk and associated storage.  Some teal and lime green bedding make it just right for a creative young lady that is a year away from middle school.  And Tirza, the birthday girl, was bequeathed Darbi’s frilly canopy bed.  With kids, changes and growth are so obvious, but all this makes me wonder how I’ve matured and changed over recent years and what observable manifestations should go along with it (1 Corinthians 13:11).  But, I digress… 

My expected surprise came as a phone call while we were driving from Tirza’s annual birthday photo at the JCPenney’s.  I didn’t recognize the number, but answered my cell phone to hear the voice of my doctor.  Of course, I’ve been expecting his call for a couple weeks.  He confirmed my own comparative analysis that the tumor had not changed.  He agreed with my thought that there is no compelling reason to take any medical action at this time and that the best approach is to just monitor the tumor, to watch and wait.  I asked the doctor if I should go ahead and schedule another appointment and MRI in 6 months and was pleasantly surprised when he said “make it a year”.  We exchanged pleasantries and I hung up.  Good hearing, no tumor growth, no need to do anything for a year.  Given my glimpse, this news was both expected and a grand surprise.     

After 6 months of wondering and bracing for the short term potential of radiation and hearing loss, I’ve found myself embarrassed on a couple levels.  The first is that I’ve made this so public and in the end there isn’t much here.  I feel a little like The Boy Who Cried Wolf or perhaps Roseanne Roseannadanna and her famous “Never mind…”  What was a big deal to me hasn’t become much and I’ve wasted people’s time and energy.  I suspect that kind of energy that “it’s not important enough” keeps many people from sharing their stories.  I know that train of thought is very human, but nonetheless real. 

Beyond the humanistic notion “that circumstances just worked out,” my next thought is that God has worked all these things together for good.  My embarrassment in this is that it wasn’t my first thought and probably hasn't been my primary expectation.  As I’ve stated many times, I believe “God can”, but I’ve carefully guarded my heart for the expectation that “He might not” and maybe even at times that “He probably won’t”.  It’s been a big lesson in expectations; human vs. supernatural.  Where was/is my faith?  This outcome of monitoring the tumor longer term isn’t necessarily my dream in terms of a specific “name it and claim it” outcome, but it is certainly a welcome surprise relative to my human “worst case” expectation.  Clearly, with God, we should expect wonderful surprises.   

Do I stop blogging now?  I suppose in terms of my acoustic neuroma, the answer is “tune in this time next year”, but otherwise I do plan to blog about whatever new opportunities to be faithfully expectant of surprises through the love of Christ & fullness of life.   

A Glimpse

Sorry for the delay in writing, I’ve been waiting to hear from my doctor to give you “official results”.  I did have my MRI last Monday morning, and while I haven’t heard from my doctor yet, I do have a glimpse of the results that I can share. 

For those of you that haven’t had the pleasure, MRI’s are noisy, but a piece of cake.  After the standard pre-appointment paperwork, proof of insurance and co-pay, I changed into some glorious scrub pants and a hospital gown.  A kind MRI technician got me comfortable on the sliding table and gave me a painless IV in prep for the “contrast images” toward the end of the MRI.   With ear plugs in place, the automated table slid me back into the hole of the giant donut. A carefully placed mirror allowed me to see both my sock feet and the technician in the adjacent room.  “You comfortable?” she asked over the intercom.  “This first set of images will be about 3 minutes.”  My first MRI lacked this type of play-by-play commentary and with such I did sort of lose track of time as the machine takes about 45 minutes to run through a series of  hums, clicks and knocks.  With about 10-15 minutes to go, the technician came in to inject the fluid “contrast” through the IV.  Some people note almost an immediate metallic taste in their mouth with the contrast, but I lack that particular genetic sequence and sense nothing.  A few more minutes of clanks and clicks and I was sent back to change into my street clothes. 

I dressed and had to go to medical records to request a compact disk of my MRI results.  “I can give you a CD, but they won’t include the radiologist report until for another day or two”.  “I understand, but would still like to have my images, thank you.” 

I, of course, have my images from January so knew that as soon as I could get to my computer, could do my own comparative review.  So what did I find?  I couldn’t find any difference in the tumor.  The new images seemed to be exactly like the previous images.  These tumors typically grow 1-2 mm per year, some more, some less.  I know the doctor will measure precisely and I’m quite curious to hear his report, but from my standpoint the tumor hasn’t changed.  That combine with the results from my hearing test are both wonderful news.  Not apparent growth and normal hearing – truly answers to prayer. 

I must admit, I was hoping that the tumor would be altogether gone – which would have clearly been a miracle healing.  As I’ve previously stated, I know such things happen – God is God after all and what a simple thing for him.  That said, I’m also convinced that no tumor growth and normal hearing are also clearly in the category of God’s work.  As I consider the difference between the tumor being gone and the tumor being stopped, God is no less with either.  The difference is my response, having a tumor leaves me the reminder that I am dependent on God’s on-going work in my life.  It’s true anyway, but we all too often take each breath and each beat of our heart for granted.  The tumor is one more reminder of need and dependence.  I want to be totally healed and totally comfortable, but know that with or without this tumor, it’s not going to happen this side of glory.  For now, we just get glimpses.  Both the glimpses of delight and joy and new or recurring troubles serve the same purpose, reminders that we’re not home yet. 

Gratitude

How am I doing?  What’s going on?

As many of you know, today was my follow-up doctor appointment.  I wasn’t able to get the MRI done today so didn’t get the real scoop on the tumor status, but I am scheduled for an MRI next Monday (6/18) and should hear results within a couple days.  Instead of an MRI, today’s appointment included interaction with the specialist and a new hearing test.  The specialist seemed pleasantly surprised that my symptoms had not changed since my original diagnosis.  He also reported that there was the potential that I could maintain “functional hearing” in my right ear, and while they didn’t really understand all the factors that influenced the result that the patient’s initial hearing strength was a more significant indicator than tumor size.  This was new information and certainly encouraging.   

Following the hearing test, the audiologist reported that while my right hear was slightly worse than my left, my hearing was within normal parameters for my age.  She asked about my symptoms and how I was originally diagnosed.  My only symptom was, and continues to be a slight pressure and slight hearing loss in my right ear.  The audiologist expressed her surprise that an MRI had originally been ordered and that it was very fortunate that it had been and that the acoustic neuroma had been caught so early.

I could complain about having to drive 45 minutes to this specialist, having to wait 20 minutes past my scheduled appointment time to get into the exam room, waiting another 10 minutes for the doctor to come and having to pay a $35 co-pay for a 7 minute interaction, BUT, I am grateful.  I am grateful to have access to health care that both found this relatively rare condition and offers options for dealing with it. 

Grateful is also the word I’d use to describe all the prayers and encouragement offered by friends and family.  Thanks to my brother-in-law and wife for spearheading and coordinating today’s day of prayer.  It’s humbling knowing that people are praying.  I certainly don’t feel worthy of the special attention and it’s hard to admit and ask for help.  Taya used SignUpGenius to organize today’s prayer and it brought another level of humbling gratitude.  There were expected friends and family, but there were also people that I haven’t interacted with in years and years – “a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith.”  I’m grateful that Christ binds us together, regardless of the various circumstances and paths that separate.   

So, how am I doing?  Regardless of the outcome of next week’s MRI, I am encouraged and grateful. 

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.  We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne.       Hebrews 12:1-2 (NLT)

Fishing

Some 17 years ago my father took me and my brother-in-law on a fishing trip to Sitka Alaska.  Except for some Colorado skiing, our family wasn’t outdoorsy, but my dad’s cousin has a charter boat there (www.sitkasecret.com) so we had some sense of security to go along with the adventure.  Except for getting sea sick my first day out on the water, my memories are fond as we caught fish and saw sights that just aren’t available in the burbs. 

A lot has changed in the last 17 years with kids and career, and in that time we had frequently talked about getting back Alaska to fish again.  This past week it finally made it happen, this time with my father and my son.  The timing seemed right as we anticipate Riker getting busy as he’ll be starting high school and summer football practice starting in a week.  Dad will turn 78 this summer and remains active and in good health, but as they say, none of us are getting any younger. 

The trip was great.  Sitka was largely how I remembered it.  The weather was decent and none of us got seasick!  There have been overall declines in the fish population resulting in tighter restrictions, but our 3 days on the boat still resulted in us catching our limit and ample quantity of salmon, halibut and rock fish.  With the catching, there was also “the waiting”…  On the last afternoon we had about a 3 ½ hour drought between fish.  You never know when fish will bite so you have to be diligent in watching for that certain jiggle in tip of the rod, and when it does, you have to act to be sure to set the hook.  The analogy was obvious, you never know when an opportunity might come and you do need to be intentional with what you’re looking for, where you’re likely to find it and what will raise the odds of attraction.  Even with all the right planning, you still have to stay diligent, expectant and hopeful.  What am I “fishing for”?  Am I doing my part or am I just feeling sorry for myself that fish haven’t just jumped into my boat?

The trip also brought a number of whale sightings, some at a distance and one that surfaced only 50 or so yards from the boat.  I was reminded of Jonah.  Of course we all know the childhood story where Jonah spends 3 days in the belly of a whale, but I really enjoyed reading the 4 short chapters of Jonah as am adult.  (I like the New Living Translation, a straight forward translation without the “thee’s and thou’s”.)  Jonah is a fascinating story.  First that God wanted Jonah to do something. God is God and can do anything, but somehow interacts with humanity where we play a role.  For whatever reasons, Jonah runs… he seeks to escape his calling, role and responsibility.  What’s great about the story is that God goes fishing… God pursues Jonah, He brings storms and involves others in his life that eventually lead Jonah to understand the err of his way.  He ultimately cries out to God.  That’s where we read the wonderful words that “The Lord had arranged for a great fish to swallow Jonah.”  Following, Jonah does fulfill God’s will for him, but has his own expectations about the outcome and ends up pouting that God’s did something different.  I thought the great fish was the miracle, but was pleasantly surprised to see that the later chapters included two other references to “the Lord arranging” other things to gain Jonah’s understanding and relationship. 

Wow, the Lord fishing for us, arranging things for our understanding, relationship and role in this world.