Disclaimer: this is a personal processing, cancer care update, journal-type entry. Ways we need help is at the end of the post, if you’d rather skip to the practical needs section 🙂 I take no offense. Writing helps me process, and I’ve not done as much as I probably should have lately.

I’m counting 11/20/23 as the start of this cancer journey, though it was in the works for years previous with issues Mom was experiencing with her tongue. 11/20 is when we got the diagnosis after a few months of more urgently seeking out answers for the increasingly problematic symptoms. 11/20 is when we realized we were dealing with cancer, and our lives have changed. Now we’re in our 4th month. I don’t know what phase to call this next one, but I’m realizing we’re turning another corner. After diagnosis came treatment options and questions. Then came prep for surgery. Then came surgery, ICU, and hospital recovery. Then came discharge and recovery at home. Then came radiation and chemo consults. Then came chemo treatment. Then came moving Mom back to Issaquah. Then radiation treatment. That brings us to the next stage.

I’ve had a good session of respite this week, thanks to Jason flying in from Alaska and his willingness to learn PEG tube feedings and general help and care. Also due to my brother learning trach care so I don’t have to drive to Issaquah every day. A deep breath and chance to recover. I’ve gotten time with my kiddos. Greg and I even got in a date, thanks to Mom gifting us some tickets she couldn’t use. Played in our worship band for the first time in a few months, and said hello to some wonderful people. Greg is giving me this afternoon off, so the breath continues a little longer before this next phase starts up tomorrow.

So…..introducing Phase 9, perhaps? I don’t know. It may not be helpful to give these phases a name or number. I’m learning that suffering doesn’t turn off and on, or have a clean beginning and ending. It is something you walk through, like life. You can’t plan it. You can’t control it. You have no idea when it will “end”. It may not end, but ebb and flow. It’s a journey. It’s why God says we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. One step at a time. It’s a daily, moment-by-moment existence. So we’re walking. And I see a bend in the road. This bend is care for Mom while she goes through treatment, living in Issaquah.

She’s living there instead of with us for multiple reasons: the main one being that her treatment is across the street from her apartment, and she can walk to appointments. When you have at least 7 appointments/treatments a week, proximity is gold. It’s also nice to know emergency help is within a block. Obviously it’s not ideal (as nothing is). Greg and I live 45 minutes away. Her trach needs daily maintenance. Only two people in her world are trained to do it currently: Keith and me. PEG tube feeding on your own is a full-time job, and Mom has other things she needs to do besides feed herself. Sometimes her mucous is so thick, it gets hard to breathe, and it’s scary to be in that place on your own. While the hope was to have a caregiver with her 4x/week (for the days I can’t be there) for 8 hours/day, LTC insurance will only cover half of what we were hoping for with caregivers for Mom. We can’t afford the out of pocket expense of a caregiver, so we’re looking to see if a shorter shift is both 1. possible and 2. available. Along with that, Issaquah is a hard area to staff, and nurse delegators are short, and not many delegators can do trach maintenance. So the pieces are falling into place, and I’m starting to see what the next few months may look like.

Treatment for Mom ends on April 15. Then she needs time to recover. This may take up to 3-4 months (July/August). We have no idea when her trach will come out. Maybe at the end of treatment, maybe after 3-4 months post-treatment. My current goal is to get her through treatment. Then, if she needs continual trach care, at least she will be done with 7 appointments/week and we can move her back to our house if needed. I was able to live with her for the first week after she moved back to Issaquah because my husband was able to work from home. Now he needs to be back in the office three days a week. It feels as if I need to be in two places at once: with our kids Wed-Fri, and with Mom. For this week, I’ll be with Mom Monday night-Tuesday, Wed-Fri during the day, Fri night – Sun night.

So how to get her (and our family) through treatment? Well, if you read 1 Chronicles 19, you’ll see something that amazingly related very strongly to our current circumstances. God’s people are being wrongfully attacked from all sides. Joab organizes the army into two groups: one led by him and one by Abishai. He tells Abishai, “You go over there and fight that group. I’ll go over here and fight this group. If you get overwhelmed, I’ll come help you. If I get overwhelmed, you come help me. We’ll fight with all our strength for God, his people and his cities. And may the LORD do what seems good to him.”

Greg and I are Joab and Abishai. We’re going to divide our strengths to fight for one of God’s daughters. One with Mom, one with our kids and home. We’re going to do this with all our strength and resources. If one is overwhelmed, the other will come and help. And may the LORD do what seems good to him. The outcome is out of our hands. Reading that encouraged me so much. Joab’s faith is what I want. I’ll go ahead and make battle plans, and keep knocking on doors, and trying to use every resources we have. And at the end of the day, God controls the outcome. That gives me tremendous peace. He’s not a safe God. He doesn’t promise my mom (or I, or my family), will come out of this unscathed, or even alive. He promises us much more than that. He promises that he is with us in the fire. He is with us in the valley. He won’t ever leave. He’s with Mom in every radiation appointment when she’s strapped to a board, in every chemo session when DNA-killing medicine is flowing through her veins. He’s with me in the chaos of each day. He’s with our kids while I can’t be. He also promises this life is the worst it’s going to get for us. Eternal glory in exchange for temporary suffering. I’ll take that any day. He’s not a safe God. But he’s good.

The thing Joab and Abishai had, too, was an army. We’ve had an army helping us from January to now. Meals, rides, groceries, prayer. We still need these things. At first I thought we just needed help for January. Then I thought, well, maybe February as well. Then March came and I’m realizing we still need help. It’s humbling to admit that. It’s humbling to be in need for so long. I can only imagine how Mom feels. Yet we still need our army. Perhaps some of you need to retreat and gain strength. Perhaps some of you are new troops fresh for a battle. I know God will send us what we need. Are you up for joining the army to help us? While so much is still unclear, and I tend to live day-by-day now, or sometimes week-to-week, here are a few things Greg and I could use until May:

• Daily prayer. Talk about daily manna. I get it now. I can’t do one day on my own.
• Magdsick home help on Wed-Fri during the day. I may need to be with Mom, and we need someone at home with our kids while Greg is at work. Another option I’m considering is bringing them with me to Mom’s Wed-Fri, though there are complications to work on that end, as traipsing into Swedish Oncology with four children for radiation treatment isn’t helpful to anyone!
• Rides for Grace to and from ballet on Tuesdays & Thursdays from 4:15-8:45p window, for 5:45-8:15p class, starting 3/26. This takes a load off Greg and lets him be home with the boys on those weeknights, giving them a decent bedtime hour.
• We still have grocery help (thank you!!! You know who you are!)
• Anyone in the Issaquah area (or willing to drive there) who is willing to learn how to maintain Mom’s trach and/or do PEG tube feedings.
• Financial support is always welcome to cover the extra cost of gas & take-out.
• There are probably other things we need I am not aware of or have just forgotten. If you see anything or have other ways to help, yes please!

So here we go, making plans, fighting with all our strength, knowing things will most likely change and we’ll need to shift and be flexible and make new plans. And may the LORD do what seems good to him.