Ex Profundis

Psalm 130

A song of ascents. 1Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord; 2Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.
3If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand?
4But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you.
5I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.
6I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
7Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord's unfailing love
and with him is full redemption.
8He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins. 

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It is ironic that a recorded book should be the final nudge.  JA Jance is one of our favorite mystery writers and Ginny and I listened to the first in a series she wrote around a "new" character.  In the story the protagonist uses a blog as a way of journaling her life and finding expression for her thoughts during a particularly chaotic part of her life.

For the last few months I have been considering my "silence" over the last two to three years.  In the early years of my diagnosis of cancer (multiple myeloma, a form of blood cancer that is incurable but controllable to a certain extent) I was quite chatty.  I felt that I needed to share my journey in dealing with this dread disease and for the first three years things were relatively good.  It was easier to talk about the treatment process when it looked like we were holding the line against this greedy monster.  Then reality struck; shortly after I made a wonderful visit to my sister Hilary MacInnis'  house on Vancouver Island, BC. Ironically near the end of that visit my hemoglobin had begun to fall and I experienced an incident that I thought was some kind of heart attack.  It turned out to be shortness of breath and a-fibrillation brought on by a steep drop in my hemoglobin.  I was short of breath and fatigued more than usual.  After returning to the States I began a series of transfusions every time my hemoglobin dropped below 8 (yours should run around 13-14. ) To date I have had nearly 10 transfusions.

Simply put, the cancer returned with a vengeance and the effort to keep me drug free ended.  What then began were various attempts to put the genie back in the bottle including a stretch of using Thalidomide which ended last fall.  During the past 12 months I have had 8 transfusions  and am deeply grateful for all the people who have donated this precious gift of life.  The last treatment twist was to move me up to one of the newest drugs in the battle to stabilize my immune system: kyprolis/carphilsomib  given in conjunction with Revlimid and dexamethazone. 

I was initially very hopeful because the new combination had proved to be the silver bullet that drove a  number of refractive patients like me into near remission.  It has not been the case for me and this past week's transfusion was the final stake in the heart of that solution as far as I am concerned.  I at this point have no idea what  is next and my doctor is in fact considering handing me off to one of his younger colleagues who has been working  with some of the more advanced treatment combinations. The underlying problem, however, is that I am non-secretory, i.e. the "normal" markers for the disease do not show up in my blood.  So I'm on the playground with my own ball and no one wants to play.

And the point is???

You may have noticed the phrase "initially very hopeful" and that is the crux of the matter.  Hope is harder to get hold of as the time goes by.  It is much easier to reflect on God's purposes when the game is going in your direction; it takes something else to hang on and declare with David, "…yet will I praise Him.." when you find yourself rubbing elbows with road kill.  What kind of edification is there is discouragement?

And that is how we come to this point.  I have been feeling the urging of the Lord to pick up the story again and to tell it like it is, warts and all.  I have felt a growing distance from Jesus and a rich vein of resentment that is easily tapped.  Of course, the sane, saved part of me knows that this is crazy, childish and all too human.  While I find myself a committed opponent of the theology of "cheap grace", I also find myself desperately clinging to the fact that I am "saved, sanctified and filled with the Holy Ghost" regardless of my feelings of alienation from that same unqualified source of love and acceptance.

Ex profundis clamavi ad te dominem. Domine, exaudi orationem meam. Ps 130:1-2

Hope I got the Latin correct Fr. North!  "Out of the depths I cry unto thee O Lord.  Lord, hear my prayer."  My thoughts may not be particularly enthusiastic or edifying, but they will the honest ramblings of one who finds himself deeper in the Valley of the Shadow of Death than before and looking urgently for signs of the Good Shepherd.

This is my journey; this is my story.

Foster