As you can imagine,
we are very grateful to God for the news we received as a result of
my CT scan and blood work. The tumors in my lungs have not grown since
I started treatment with the experimental drug Bay 50-4798 (a substitute
for a much more toxic Interleukin-2 (IL-2), one of the only effective
treatments for Renal Cell Carcinoma. As you may remember, there was
only a 16% chance that I would respond at all.
I received this
new the day before the first official day of spring. What timing! I
was originally diagnosed in December and that can be a very dreary time
of year in California's Central Valley. It was damp, cold, and foggy
and the deciduous trees were bare. In early January I faced the tricky
surgery to remove my right kidney with its cancerous tumor. The painful
recovery period from that was a very dark time for me - physically and
emotionally.
During this time
of recovery from surgery and following the treatments in Los Angeles
I had a scenic view from my easy chair in our rented mobile home in
the country. Out the front window, facing north and directly across
our front yard is a large plum orchard. Our good friends, who live just
up the road, own it. Across the state highway just to the west of us
is a creek (usually dry except during the rainy season). Then I see
more orchards and several small hills with outcroppings of rocks. Winter,
spring, summer or fall, it's a spectacular view. This is not to mention
the majestic Sierra Nevada mountains that rise up high into the sky
just to the east of us.
However, during
my time of recovery from surgery the scenery didn't seem too spectacular.
The orchards were bare, the hills were dry and brown (remember this
is the "Golden State"). The air was cold and damp. Except
for God's majestic love and comfort that cradled me, this described
my spirit as well.
But recovery, strength,
and hope came, just as the rains came and the sun broke through the
dreary clouds and fog. As time went on the hillsides became a luscious
green with wildflowers scattered everywhere. During that dark, dreary
time, our friends with the plum orchard were doing some drastic work.
The plum variety was a money loser. Oh yes, the orchard was fruitful
and the tasty crops went to market every year - but without profit.
The owners decided
to go through the work, trouble, and expense to graft in a couple of
new (and hopefully profitable) varieties. Workers came in and drastically
pruned every tree. All branches were lopped off except one long reserve
branch. Holes were drilled in the stubs and tiny bare finger branches
were pushed into the holes and sealed with tar. It all looked bare and
ugly. How could these trees survive such drastic pruning and produce
fruit once again? At this point there were no signs of life.
Over the following
weeks I walked around the orchard several times to rebuild my strength
and stamina. When possible, Becky and I walked together just as we did
almost daily before my surgery. On those walks it seemed that the drastic
grafting effects simply killed the trees. So sad.
Then one day I
noticed a few tiny green sprouts emerging from those little finger branches.
There was life! Indeed, the trunk was nourishing those tiny grafts.
Next came the tiny blossoms. They were beautiful. Of course the blossoms
this time were no match in number to the blossoms on the full trees
in prior years. Yet there was a special beauty this time. After such
drastic pruning and grafting the trees actually survived and were on
the way to producing fruit once again.
As I look at that
scene today (the first day of spring) it is indeed spectacular. The
hills in the background are green with new growth, accented by the outcroppings
of rocks and oak trees rooted deeply in the hillsides. The plum orchard
in the foreground displays life with its green leaves that are growing
bigger every day. The orchard may not be as "pretty" this
year as it was in "normal" times but it is apparent that fruitfulness
and harvesting will come.
You may be saying,
"Doug, is there a point here somewhere?" Yes there is.
I have felt like
this orchard. All of a sudden on December 10th (having just returned
from a fruitful ministry-planning trip to the Philippines) I received
the ominous news that I had a deadly disease called Metastatic Renal
Cell Carcinoma. Besides carrying a very large malignant tumor on my
right kidney, this cancer had traveled (metastasized) in all lobes in
both lungs with 8-9 small and large lesions. This was not good news
for an otherwise healthy 48-year-old man. All of a sudden life consisted
of doctors appointments, blood and diagnostic tests. I was poked and
prodded so many times I lost count. Then came the surgery, recovery,
and subsequent immunotherapy treatments in Los Angeles - and then recovery
from that.
In many ways I
felt like those plum trees that had just been pruned to almost nothing.
Bare, fruitless, and seemingly useless. Having to set aside all my ministry
plans, I had to devote my time and energy to fight for my very life.
But even in the midst of these dark times, indeed "the valley of
the shadow of death" (Psalms 23:4), I have the full assurance that
my roots were in Christ and He continued to provide spiritual nourishment,
courage, and comfort to my soul. Nothing "...will be able to separate
us from the love of God." (Romans 8:38)
Even though one
of my doctors informed me Christmas Eve I probably had six months to
live (treatment or no treatment), I've always believed that my life
is in God's hands (disease or no disease) and only He determines when
my last breath on earth is.
This good news
of my response to the immunotherapy is like those tiny buds: life is
returning. I've felt spring touch me. Although I don't know all the
details (i.e. how long this will increase my life span, etc.), I do
know I have some more time with my family and the ministry God has called
me to. Still, I realize that I am a cancer patient as there are more
treatments in late April as well as continuing diagnostic tests after
that. Now is not the time to let my guard down. We need your continued
prayers. I have a special place in my heart for cancer victims and there
are many opportunities of ministry there. In all this I've gained a
whole new perspective on not only this temporary life on earth but on
eternity as well. As the popular Christian song states: "The best
is yet to come."
Perhaps today you
feel like that pruned orchard. Now is the time to allow your soul to
be nourished by Christ, the only source of true spiritual sustenance.
(John 15). Be encouraged, as I have been.
If you've actually
read this whole thing, you are to be commended. It was indeed a long
one. It is my prayer that you have the same love, hope, and trust in
the Savior as I do. If not, you are just a simple prayer away.
Cradled in His
Loving Arms,
Doug Sutherland
