Blog on the run

I have to blog on the run. Our host’s modem was just fried in an electrical storm, so I guess I’ll give updates from wireless-enabled waiting rooms. Most of what follows was written last night:

We arrived at our Houston “headquarters” at about 1:00am on Monday morning: the home of John and Charlsie Pogue. The Pogues are new friends to us, but old friends of old friends. They have a beautiful home in the Bunker Hills Village section of Houston, with an upper level that is perfectly suited for an extended stay, sort of like a separate guest quarters. Our trip has been a bit like traveling with a VIP…everywhere we go arrangements and greetings are extended to let Biz know she’s loved. It began with a friend arranging with the Border Patrol (we were on the sailing from Sydney, BC) to get us off the ferry first and through customs with no delay so that we could catch our flight. We boarded the plane for Houston as first class passengers—a complimentary upgrade. The Pogues prepared Biz’s room with a “horse” theme (stuffed animals, a huge book about horses, and a copy of the movie Flicka), her own little Christmas tree, and an Advent calendar (more like a doll house) with treats behind each door. When we arrived at the MD Anderson Cancer Center, Evette (our contact there) was waiting at the door for us and when she saw Biz she let out an expressive, “Ooooh, girl, you are just gorgeous!” That makes three times she’s been told that since we’ve arrived.
Yesterday (Monday the 3^rd) we met with Dr. Kornguth, the radiation oncologist, and had the treatment and risks explained once again. Happily, his assessment was more optimistic than the one we heard in Seattle, and so far his approach is more conservative.

The second most difficult thing about the day was the “simulation,” during which they prepared a mask to hold Biz’s head still throughout the treatments. Picture the black material that attaches itself to Spiderman in Spiderman 3 and you’ll get the picture—except that it hardens in place and clamps down to a bed. Along with that they put a cork in your mouth taped to a tongue depressor so that you can hardly breath out of your mouth—and of course the mask plus recent surgeries hindered breathing out of her nose—and you can understand the feeling of claustrophobia and suffocation. Please pray for her peace and comfort each day of radiation, a matter of less pain than mental distress. Biz finally got through that, so we're on our way to another series of tests. On Friday they will do a PET scan to assess the lymph nodes in neck. Dr. Kornguth would like to refrain from radiating them if there is no evidence of infection.

The most difficult thing about the day was hearing the story of Arjun Vaghela, a little boy from Seattle at MD Anderson whose parents, Nayana and Umesh, we met in the waiting area. Arjun is 6 and has a similar cancer. The greatest difference in our stories is that they do not know Christ, and so they do not have the hope we have. I told them that I was writing this blog for all our friends who are praying for us and that you would pray for them too. Ask the Lord to reveal Himself to them through this. They'll be here through Christmas, so we told them we'd have them for over Christmas.