Author: Tom Dunn

It’s been quite a while since my last post. Apologies for that. My first treatment of the second round of treatments happened on December 18. It’s been three weeks since then. It seems like half a lifetime.

Christmas time came, and I enjoyed the season very much with family visits and spending cozy evenings with my wife watching football. My energy level was not good, making me nap nearly every day. Flu-like symptoms came and went and came again. But a few days before my second dose, most of those symptoms settled down and I enjoyed a few days of feeling reasonably well. What a relief!

Today, I’m getting that second dose. We will see how I react this time.

When I signed up to participate in this study, I agreed to allow the researchers to analyze and record my DNA. Considering how important this study is to me and to others who could benefit in the future, I decided it was worth the risk, though I’ve always been concerned of the consequences of DNA testing and having my info “out there”. In fact, a couple of years ago, my daughter got me an Ancestry.com DNA test kit. I declined to use it then, but recently I dug through my office to find the test kit. If other people could see my genetic heritage, I certainly wanted to see it, too! So I spit into the tube and mailed it in.

While at the Ancestry website, I signed up for a free trial to the tools to research my family tree. This turned out to be a very interesting pursuit. As I added people I knew, I learned more details about their lives. Of course, I also learned about relatives I never knew. It’s exhilarating to discover the names of relatives and family members, some of them six and seven generations back. I got clues about what they did for a living, the churches they attended and were married in, the wars they fought in, when they moved to or moved across America, and how they died. I’m looking forward to sharing this info with my family.

Many thanks to my family and friends for their love and support. We’ve been blessed with emotional and physical support and delicious dinners from many people. Roslyn and I appreciate you all. You are beacons of God’s love in our lives.

It’s tough to wait when there’s a lot at stake. The wheels of the medical business can turn slowly. A week for a scan. Another for a follow up appointment. Another week and a half to get a biopsy. Another week for a follow up. Another week for another appointment. I starting noticing suspicious symptoms in late September. It’s now December. Too long. Too long. The waiting has taken its toll on us.

Yesterday, we started the second round of treatment. Because I’m participating in a clinical trial (no, no placebos) there are more tests and more follow ups than the first round. This is both good and inconvenient, of course. I can ignore the inconvenience.

I’ve had no adverse reactions so far to this new treatment. In the past, though, it’s taken a few days for the side effects to appear. My doctor is confident that I should be able to tolerate this treatment. It remains to be seen how much it affects my immune system, my symptoms, and my energy level. It’s efficacy also remains to be seen.

Roslyn and I send thanks to our family and friends for their love and support over the past few weeks as we awaited treatment. A group of our church family has volunteered to bring us meals. Other great friends have done the same, or offered support in other ways. My family has always been so loving and supportive. And my coworkers have done wonderful work, filling in during my absence.

I am especially grateful to my friends that are dealing with the effects of long term illnesses in their lives such as cancer, ALS, cardio issues, and so on. You are both a comfort and inspiration to us. God bless you all.

I have so much to look forward to. We have two new grandchildren coming this spring. We recently greeted a new niece. And a new nephew was born only yesterday. We are spending as much time with our lovely family as we can. Roslyn continues to enjoy good health, as do our kids. Christmas is upon us. The future looks bright.

I wanted to believe that for me one round of treatment would do the trick. I know now that fighting lymphoma will be a process, not a one-time event. We must remain vigilant and act whenever conditions warrant. We will live life to the fullest in the meantime.

Thank you all for your love and prayers. Talk to you soon.

Yes, it came back. I shouldn’t be surprised, and really I’m not. I kept an attitude through most of this year of positive/wishful thinking that I’d beaten the cancer in one shot. Some people do. As the self-described luckiest guy on the planet, certainly I would beat it too, and go right back to life as it always had been. But almost a year since my last clear scan, there it was again. How disappointing.

So, what now? We talked with the doctor, who sounded upbeat. This isn’t a cancer you can necessarily eliminate, he said, but you keep pushing it back. Okay, fair enough. Time to start pushing again. He has ordered a biopsy to make sure the cancer hasn’t turned into another form of NHL (Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma). When we get the results, we will choose a treatment.

The doctor went on to describe many of the available treatment options. We could do what we did last time, which would probably be just as effective and would hold back the lymphoma for just as long. There are other treatment options available, now that I’ve completed the first round, that offer more lasting results. It seems there are rules about which treatments you can try first and which you can try later.

I’m feeling more tired this time around. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s the physical effects of my illness as the lymphoma starts up again. Perhaps fatigue is made worse from the depression of knowing that I may have to go through treatments periodically for the rest of my life. I’m having to force myself to go for walks to get some exercise and sunshine.

But wait! There’s so much in my life to be happy about! In many ways, life is really good right now. Roslyn and I will be meeting two new grandchildren this spring! My heart bursts with joy each time I think of it. Also, Roslyn and I are closer than ever, and my family and friends have shown us love beyond measure. God has truly provided for us in this life. I couldn’t be more grateful.

For those of you that, by reading this, are learning that my illness has returned — I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person. I wanted to, believe me. If I had, I would have sat you down and told you not to worry too much. This isn’t my death sentence. It’s a colossal pain in the ass, but we will get through this.  We will beat this back again. In the meantime, I will stay as active and social as I can, and take pleasure in the people and the world that I’ve been blessed with.

Feel free to reach out to chat or if you have questions. You know where to find me. Love, best wishes, and God’s blessing on all of you.

I stand in the yard on Christmas night in the cool breeze underneath the bright stars. The candlelight services the night before, the family opening presents together this morning, the afternoon dinner prepared by loving hands, are all pleasant memories of this precious holiday. Inside, the joyful family celebration continues as laughter and music drift from the windows lit with warmth and love.

I think about the beauty of the night sky and the splendor of infinity it represents.

I think about pregnant Mary and loyal Joseph’s arduous trip to Bethlehem made two thousand years ago. I wonder what they thought of the astral celebration arrayed above them that holy night. I feel a connection to that young couple and to all the people since, all looking upward as I am this Christmas night.

I think about the warm souls and Holy Spirit that met in the sanctuary last night. I remember singing Silent Night with the choir, while members and newcomers withdraw after the service with smiles and hugs. Small candles held by solemn and excited children are lit at the door, casting golden, flickering light on the sidewalk and faces. I know the children will remember this moment, holding up their candle to be lit from the flame of the Christ candle, just as I think about my own childhood’s Christmas celebrations, memories that run together in a warm flow of sweet memories.

I marvel at my fortunate circumstances and feel gratefulness to God for everything that’s happened to me. I smile toward the house and give thanks to heaven. I pray that my descendants will feel the joy I feel tonight, passed down through family and friends, and ultimately from our God.

The world is connected through a intricate and far-reaching sequence of events and relationships, each shaping the physical and spiritual worlds of its inhabitants. I feel comforted that above it all, God is ruler still. Tonight, I celebrate the love of God for his children and the great gift of our salvation.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

It’s delightful to lie on the sofa and hear the rain steadily pelting the roof. Not a downpour, but a steady and pleasantly random percussion. In my mind I picture water dripping off the roof’s edge, running into the yard and percolating into the drought-ravaged water table far below. I get up and look out the window into the gray and wet, appreciating the beautiful rejuvenation from the sky. It’s perhaps an ancient mammalian response to the rain that draws me to recline, rest, listen, and enjoy the rain shower. Peace and contentment fill me.

Rejuvenation of my body is also going well. I’m done with my series of chemotherapy treatments and I’m waiting. I required a longer recovery after the last treatment, as expected. Now, I’m waiting for my immune system to recover. I’m waiting for my last PET/CT scan. I’m waiting for the “all clear” from my oncologist. Mostly, I’m waiting to go outside when the clouds clear out, and get back to normal life.

I cannot say enough about what Roslyn has done for me over the past several months. I haven’t talked enough in this blog about her tireless contributions. My wife has done more for me — taking care of me, loving me, putting up with my frustrations and my illness — than I seriously expected from anyone except for her. She is simply wonderful. She is my solace and wisdom when life is dark, and my sunshine when it’s bright. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, though there have been peaceful and kind parts. She has been with me through all of it.

The fever and the feeling of general awfulness started last Saturday afternoon. I arrived at the hospital emergency room very early on Sunday morning, calling my oncologist to let him know. Long ago, he had advised me to head straight to the ER if my temperature reached 100.4 degrees. My temp had reached that, as best I could tell with four thermometers. I had four because I didn’t believe any of them, and so I thought I would try to get consensus. Unfortunately, thermometers are not reasonable people, so I decided to go on in. After three hours of blood tests and boredom, it was pronounced by the friendly ER doctor that I must have some kind of virus and, now that my fever was much reduced, I should go home and wait it out. Roslyn and I did that. With me having had little sleep the night before and Roslyn having had none, we slept all morning. The fever returned on Sunday afternoon, so back to the ER we went. More tests, including a chest X-ray to check for any infection there. Nothing was found. Nothing, that is, except for several very small, ghostly spots on my lungs, the largest being about six millimeters. The doctor that wrote the radiology report warned that this might be a sign of spreading cancer.

I sent copies of the X-ray images and the accompanying report to the oncologist’s office. The next few hours of worry were almost overwhelming, awaiting a call back from the oncologist. Spreading cancer is a nightmare, as many of you are aware and some of you have experienced. Just when I thought my treatment had been a complete success, the specter of more trouble hit Roslyn and I like a hammer. For the first time since this whole thing started, I was scared.

When the oncologist finally got back to me Monday afternoon, he did not equivocate. “You don’t have lung cancer.” He said that if it was cancer, it would have appeared on the PET/CT scan. That six-millimeter spot had appeared on an X-ray taken last May, determined then to be a small granuloma, and was disregarded as a threat.

Receiving this news was a relief, of course, but I was still sick with nausea and aches, and battling the fever. I was allowed to start taking Tylenol since all my medical tests showed no infection lurking in my system. It took several more days before the fever ran its course. The fever, worry and stress had taken its toll on me. Depression had set in.

This week is, thank God, my last scheduled chemo/immunotherapy treatment. If things go as expected, recovery from this last treatment will be more difficult than before. I have faith I will get through it. I don’t expect it to be easy. I’ve been praying a lot and trying to keep my jitters and depression under control. It’s very hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes.

Thank you, my friends and family, for your prayers and support. You have each helped make this process easier for us. Roslyn and I cannot thank you enough. I have a lot of thanksgiving to do this season! We miss seeing our friends and enjoying the big, wide, wonderful world. We look forward to diving back into it when this process is done.

God bless you all.

Just a quick update. The last few weeks have been up-and-down. I was able to get some work done but some days that was not the case. I’ve been trying to do as much as I can. It’s certainly no fun sitting around feeling ill and bored. We enjoyed a few of our kids’ birthdays the past couple of weeks.

Treatment number four (of six) went well last week. No surprises and no allergic reaction this time. The past few days have been rough with my chemo reactions. I hope to be up around again soon.

As the weeks go by, I’m looking forward with increasing anticipation to getting back to a regular schedule and a normal life. I see it coming. Only two more treatments and some recovery right after that. By sometime in December, I expect to be good-to-go. The final PET/CT scan and blood tests will determine whether that’s the case.

Thank you again to everybody for your prayers and support. That makes a huge difference.

The phone call from my nurse practitioner came the day before my third treatment. “We don’t see anything on the PET scan”, she said.

“Um, what does that mean?”, I asked, worried that the scan had failed in some way.

“It means we cannot see any lymphoma on the scan”, she replied. “There may be some microscopic cells that don’t show up on the scan. But it’s mostly gone.”

“You’re kidding. Are you sure?” At that, Roslyn looked at me nervously across the table. I gave her a thumbs-up. She mouthed “What are the results?” I held up my right hand in the shape of a zero. It took a moment to sink in and her bright smile appeared.

After I got of the phone, there was celebration! I must admit some hootin’, hollerin’ and dancing were involved.

Nevertheless, I wondered whether this might be a mistake. It’s a phobia of mine, that really good news should always be acted on with caution. The next day, I’d ask to see the scan myself. Unfortunately, the NP didn’t drop by the infusion room Thursday as she usually does. There was an appointment scheduled for Friday afternoon, so I decided I could wait until then.

Friday afternoon came and the nurse practitioner sat down with Roslyn and I as the second dose of chemo was dripping into my arm. We asked a lot of questions. Virtually all of the answers were positive. I asked to see my latest scan. We walked to a nearby computer where the NP displayed the before and after scans. We were able to see that none of the lymph nodes glowed yellow anymore. I checked the text and the dates of the scans. Finally, I was convinced.

Treatment will continue through November to push the lymphoma as far back as possible. Then will come regular checkups. If the lymphoma raises its ugly head again, I’ll have follow-on treatment. But for now, the battle has been as successful as it could be.

Thanks again to everyone for your love and support. And thank God for the gift of health. I wish the same for everyone.

Wednesday

I’m sick again today. I was going along pretty well for awhile, but that’s when it sneaks up on me. Same old fatigue, headache, aching, touchiness, fogginess. You’ve heard this song before. It’s times like this when I start to worry. Is the treatment working as well as it should? Will I need stronger chemo to get rid of this cancer? What will that be like? Will I run out of leave and vacation days before I can return full time to work? What if the side effects get worse?

Next Monday morning I’m getting another PET/CT scan. It will tell us how effective the treatment has been so far. Roslyn and I are praying hard for good scan results. I worry what will happen if we don’t get them. Later next week is treatment number three. I hope it goes well.

“There was an evening, and then there was a morning, a fifth day.” (Genesis 1:23)

Thursday

…and, I’m back to feeling fine. Things are looking up! I feel confident that things are going as they should.

Thanks to everyone for your continued support.

I’m writing to thank you for all you do for us, for me, every day. When I awaken I thank you. When I see your influence in the world around me, I praise you. When I marvel at the complex tapestry of the physical and the spiritual, I am astonished. I see you in the good deeds of good people. I see you in the mercies that you provide to those who suffer. I see you in the beauty of this world. When I lie down to sleep, I remember all that I have seen and felt and benefited, and I sleep with the peace of knowing you are here with us, before, now, and always.

Dear Lord, you impress me always with your loving embrace of your children’s lives. Thank you for everything.