You Don't Have to Come Back

A few weeks ago, I had a routine 6-month check with my Leukemia Doctor who has managed my case. After the blood work came back, he said this with a smile... Everything looks great, blood counts are terrific, there is no trace of Leukemia. And then he said this...You made it, you made it to the 5-year milestone. You don't have to come back, unless you want to. If it was going to come back, it would have come back by now--it was that aggressive. In 10 years, I've never heard those words... you don't have to come back. It's always been 1-month, 3-month, 6-month checks for 10 years. Each time collecting several vials to do a deep/complete panel of my blood. 500+ needle pokes in my arm over 10 years. I never made it to 5 years. A relapse one year later after the original diagnosis (2010) when in 2011 I had to have a bone marrow transplant. Then another re-lapse with Leukemia four years later in the form of a solid tumor in the brain (2015). I was on the edge and could almost feel the 5-year mark back then, but it was not to be. But today it is. No more needle pokes, MRIs, appointments. 

The words, you don’t have to come back, reminded me of the invalid in Bethesda who was given words, by Jesus, to release him. This is the man who had been this way for 38 years. He could never find healing for his condition because he could not get into the healing waters at Bethesda—no one was there to help him into the pool. He moved too slowly by himself and someone else would get in ahead of him. Until Jesus came, and said these words…

“Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” (John 5: 8)

Instantly the man was healed and picked up his mat and walked away. In my journey through Leukemia I was not healed instantly like this man. In many ways, you can say I’ve been healed three times—each time, each re-lapse, the diagnosis looked dark. But there was a rescue each time. And now, with these words from my doctor, you don’t have to come back, the rescue is final. 

I have a lot to be grateful for. And I’ve come to this conclusion…When you focus on what you have vs. what you don't have, you are graced with an amazing heart of gratitude. I'm grateful to be alive

Amazed by His Love,

Terence 

5 Years: Impossible to Possible

I think this day will always be seared into my mind…July 29, 2015. That is when I went in for surgery to remove what was thought to be a benign brain tumor. Something that was supposed to take about four hours. My family waited nine hours, and Debbie especially sensed there was something more going on with this tumor. It would be several days later, while in ICU, that we would get the crushing news about this tumor. I remember my neurosurgeon walking in. I expected to see him. What I didn’t expect to see was my Leukemia doctor and a neuro-oncologist. And then I remember my neurosurgeon saying… “Mr. Andre, we got the results back from the biopsy of the tumor. In the tumor we found Leukemia cells—the same Leukemia type that you have had previously.” Looking at the faces of those three doctors, I could tell this was a serious moment. The one where you feel that they are telling you that there may not be much of a chance. My Leukemia doctor went on to explain to me the seriousness of this tumor. Leukemia is a blood cancer. When it returns in the form of a solid tumor it is bad news. And when it returns as a solid tumor, in the brain, that is catastrophic news. Only 5-6 cases are reported in the world each year, and none of them survive, he explained. There is no standard protocol for it. 

Instead of being out of the hospital in a few days, I was headed back for more chemo (into my spinal fluid, to wash my brain with chemo in a long-shot attempt to wipe out any remaining Leukemia cells) and twelve radiation treatments to try and remove any traces of the tumor. More days and weeks in the hospital ahead. It felt like our world collapsed and that this was likely the final round in my long journey with Leukemia, a round that would likely not end in victory. 

After all these years, my hope took a hit. I thought back to 2011 when I re-lapsed, but a stem-cell transplant from my sister (a perfect match) saved my life. And it looked like it did the reset I needed. My doctors had told me about the “5-year milestone” – that’s a marker you can look forward to in recovery from cancer and likely complete remission. And here I was on the edge of that milestone—I had made it four years since transplant. I could see the edge of victory coming—one more year and I would be clear. I was so close, but it was not to be. 

But today, five years, is a milestone I had never reached before. I had always re-lapsed—after one year in 2011 and four years in 2015. But 2020 would be the five-year milestone. In my last appointment with my Leukemia doctor (the same one who said… “5-6 cases and none of them survive”) said this…I am happy to see you in 2020. We didn’t have much hope for you back in 2015. And then he said this…if the tumor was going to come back, it would have come back by now. Instead of seeing him every few months, I will only see him once every year for a few more years. And no need to have any more MRI brain scans. 

Hearing him say that reminded me of a scripture I have read 100s of times. It is in Matthew 19:26:

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

God makes the Impossible POSSIBLE. 

My journey is evidence of that. Yes, the journey has taken a toll on me, and my family. There are some cognitive/mental health hits from all the trauma to my brain. But I am here. I work at a great company (TiER1 Performance) and I’m not disabled—I can do the job I always wanted to do in leading research. I am enjoying three grandchildren from our daughter/son-in-law with #4 coming in two months. My oldest son is a pilot in the Air Force, flying NATO missions, And I get to see my youngest son grow up and pursue his dreams. 

This song by our friend and worship leader, Jared Anderson (Impossible Possible) is the story of the last five years…Jesus makes the Impossible Possible. Enjoy it here. 

Amazed by His Love,

Terence

He's in the Waiting

There is a lot of waiting in our world right now. Waiting…why is it both so frustrating during the waiting and also rewarding when the waiting is over? Especially now, during a world-wide pandemic, the waiting for things to return to normal seems so long and unknown. Frustrating because we live in a world of “I want it now.” A world where you can get what you want delivered the next day (like Amazon Prime). Even in a few minutes with food delivery (like DoorDash), or instantly with Netflix. We are ok waiting minutes, hours, or even a few days for something we really want. But…weeks, months, years—that is hard. We are not used to waiting that long.

Waiting is rewarding? Haven’t you felt the exhilaration when you have waited such a long time for something, and it is finally here? Saving your dollars for something really big and the day finally comes when you are able to buy it. Years of saving for that special vacation on your bucket list, and you are able to pull it off, and then bask in the memories of that trip years later.

So, here is the question that comes to mind: Is there good that comes out of the waiting? From a biblical perspective, the answer is a resounding YES. It would be too long to cover every aspect in the bible where Waiting and Strength seem to go together. Isaiah 40:31 is a good place to start:

Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength.

And Psalm 27:14:

Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.

What is it about waiting that develops strength? I think it builds strength, in part, because waiting moves us away from self-reliance and toward dependence on God. Our waiting on God is not an unknown waiting, like the situation we are in right now. Yes, it does involve the passage of time. But it is a waiting with expectation, as the psalmist tells us in Psalm 130: 5-6:

I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.

The psalmist compares waiting expectantly on the Lord to the night guards of the city who watched the passage of time in anticipation of the coming dawn when they would be released from duty. The sunrise, the coming of dawn, is a certainty, but it does involve the passage of time, waiting.

Someone once told me, “At the beginning of the test faith is challenged.  At the end of the test faith is rewarded.  But in the middle of the test faith is strengthened.” There is that word again—strength. I love the way The Message version puts it in James 1:2-5 (The Message version):

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way. If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You’ll get his help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought.

We all want the pandemic and the stay-at-home orders to end. The sooner the better. In this situation, and any situation of waiting, be careful about getting out of something too early, before it has done its full work of maturity in you. Maybe that waiting is there to grow something in you, to prepare you for some other difficult situation, and so you can experience the reward of perseverance, of waiting. I love the song, Take Courage, by Kristene DiMarco that came out a few years ago. Here is just the chorus of that song:

Take courage my heart

Stay steadfast my soul

He's in the waiting

He's in the waiting

Listen to the full song here: Take Courage. He’s in the waiting. Hold onto your hope—the reward of your waiting is coming.

Amazed by His Love,


Terence

The Contrast Will Reward Your Hope (or the joy of Chili’s Chips & Salsa)

As we continue into the third week of orders to “stay home” and many more weeks of lockdown to come, it made me wonder…when was the last time I felt like this? Felt that I was locked down from enjoying even a simple meal at a favorite restaurant. Locked down from going almost anywhere. Locked down from being around anyone who was sick. And my mind flashed back to March 30, 2010 (exactly 10 years ago today). A week earlier (March 23), I was released from the hospital after a month-long stay. During that hospital stay, everything was taken away from me. I couldn’t leave that room. My food had to be specifically ordered from a limited menu and prepared, brought in with plastic wrap over the tray. Fruit (like oranges and apples) had to be carefully washed so there was no chance the skin of the fruit would introduce a disease. Visitors had to wear masks when they came in. Why? Because to wipe out Leukemia with a very intense chemo treatment, that chemo treatment also wiped out my red blood cells, platelets, AND white blood cells. Our white blood cells carry our immunities, and I had nothing—no immune system for about seven days after the last chemo treatment. The white blood cells are the last to recover when they have been wiped out, and it typically took seven days each time after chemo treatment.

It was during this time in the hospital, when everything was taken away, that I really began craving the things I couldn’t have. At the top of the list was Chili’s Chips & Salsa. I love that stuff. I don’t know what they put in their salsa, but it is addictive, at least for me. But at that time, I couldn’t have it—it was made with fresh ingredients that had the potential to be life threatening to my compromised immune system. After being released, I was cautioned about going anywhere, especially to a restaurant, and absolutely NO open buffets/salad bars. And so, I had this pent-up demand for Chili’s Chips & Salsa after those thirty days in the hospital. I could not get it out of my mind. I remember thinking… If I could just get a taste of that chips and salsa, I would feel SO much better—it would bring my appetite back. The focus on it was so out of control and my family even made light fun of my insatiable desire.

Back to March 30. A week after being released from the hospital and a test showing my white blood cells were nearly recovered (actually what is called your neutrophil count), I couldn’t help but tell Debbie…we have to go to Chili’s, TONIGHT!  And so, we did. Debbie made sure we were at an isolated table and told our server that my food needed to be extra hot to kill any germs. And we had plenty of hand sanitizer and wipes with us to make sure everything was clean. You can see the picture of that moment, and a table tent showing the Final Four was going on at that time (it was not shut down like now, just I was shut down). And there, that evening on March 30th, I enjoyed the most amazing experience with Chili’s Chips & Salsa! To this day it stands as the most stunning contrast between being locked down and then set free (smile). The warmth of my heart was noticeable and I could tell I was enjoying a meal like I never had before. I will never forget that experience. And it taught me this…Don’t give up hope. Let hope continue to build a nest in your heart during this time. Hope that there will be a new day to all of this. That, one day (likely several weeks away), the hope in your heart will sprout wings and will fly away, and you will experience the amazing contrast of what you are feeling now and the incredible joy of experiencing something as simple as…Chili’s Chips & Salsa. It will be amazing!

but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:31)

Amazed by His Love,

Terence

Do the Next Thing

Some people have heard my story of battling Leukemia and these facts: 2010 initial treatment, 2011 re-lapse and bone marrow transplant, 2015 comes back a 3rd time in the form of a brain tumor. 160 total nights in a hospital, 55 blood transfusions, countless chemo treatments, and chemo in my spinal fluid that washed through my brain. Even as I write these facts, it seems a bit overwhelming. In fact, it’s hard to believe these facts are about ME. As friends, colleagues, and classmates process these facts, I’ve heard a few of them say something like…Man, you must be incredibly resilient.

When I hear people say this, I have to say that I don’t see myself as resilient—it’s inflated esteem for what I went through. I hated every treatment, medical procedure, and hitting bottom after chemo. I hated going back to the hospital every time it came back, knowing there were weeks and months of recovery ahead. To be honest, I wanted to run away…I wanted out!

All of this made me look at the definition of Resilience. Merriam-Webster defines it as: an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change.

I guess that is an acceptable definition. Yes, I did recover from all that I faced, and I’m grateful to be alive. I would not say I “adjusted easily” though.

So, when I look back, the theme that seems to define my journey is this: Just Do the Next Thing. I got that theme from an early conversation with one of my doctors. I was trying to take in all that was ahead of me, what each test would involve, how long it would take me to recover, what would happen after that, and after that, etc. Then he said something like…Just take each day and each procedure as they come. Everyone’s situation is unique. You are not a stat. Your recovery will likely be very different than the next patient.

After that conversation, I then started focusing on just taking on the next thing. Not trying to take on what would happen over the next weeks and months. Just get through it. Just Do the Next Thing. And it has become the definition of “resilience” that works for me. I think back to my days at the Air Force Academy as a cadet. That first summer of basic cadet training. It could be overwhelming to think how any of us were going to make it through six weeks of the intense training and challenges ahead. And I remember a big build up to each obstacle course, like the Assault Course. The fear and anxiety could be crippling. I remember thinking this…I just need to get through this course. Thousands have come before me to do this and thousands will come after me.

This approach seems appropriate for the COVID-19 crisis we are experiencing now. It can be normal to try and take on what the next weeks and months will be like. What sacrifices will have to be made. The “pain” of extreme changes to our lifestyle during this season. Those thoughts can be overwhelming, and we might wonder how we will get to the other side of this season. In that context, I’m reminded of this verse from Philippians:

I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back (Philippians 3:14, The Message).

And I’m reminded of this encouragement from Jeremiah to be planted, to have deep roots in times of crisis:

But blessed is the man who trusts me, God, the woman who sticks with God. They’re like trees replanted in Eden, putting down roots near the rivers—Never a worry through the hottest of summers, never dropping a leaf, Serene and calm through droughts, bearing fresh fruit every season (Jeremiah 17: 7-8, The Message).

You don’t have to be overwhelmed, to figure out what every future day, week, or month will look like. Just try this: Do the Next Thing and keep moving. You will get to the other side.

Amazed by His Love,

Terence

A Decade

Ten years ago, on this day, we got the call that changed our lives forever. "Mr Andre, we do not make these calls unless we see something concerning in your blood biopsy. You have Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML) and you need to get to the hospital tomorrow to start treatment." We didn't know at that time (and glad we didn't) that I would spend 100 nights in the hospital that year and another 60 in the years to come. Never did we imagine that I would battle this disease for nearly a decade, a re-lapse requiring a bone marrow transplant a year later in 2011. Then Leukemia returning a third time in 2015 in the form of a tennis ball-sized tumor in the brain and that I would be given nearly zero chance to survive more than a year.

I am grateful for having a decade that was never promised and looked very dark for many years. Only a few people close to us know this part of the story, and it is a great tribute to the company  that I work for (TiER1 Performance). About a week into my hospital stay a large box was delivered to my room from TiER1. Inside the box were several packages of lemon drops (to help diminish the "after chemo taste"), a Kentucky Wildcats fleece blanket (March Madness was coming up and UK was positioned as one of the top 4 seeds), a portable Sony DVD player, and 25 DVDs with a note from each TiER1er on why it was their favorite movie and why they wanted to send my way. Our children were 20, 17, and 3 at the time. They thought it was Christmas all over again as I watched them open that box. And I was wondering what they were thinking with those smiles...wow, this is pretty cool that Dad is in the hospital, we get to watch all these movies (smile). I would soon discover that those movies (and notes) were a source of refuge for me in the many lonely nights ahead. Our children are now 30, 27, and 13. Two of them are now married (not the 13-year old--smile) with three grandchildren.

There were many times we wondered if I would ever be here 10 years later to see all this. To walk my only daughter down the aisle to be married, watch my oldest son graduate from the AF Academy and shake the Vice President's hand, see my youngest son grow up to be an amazing young man, and play with some of the cutest grandkids you will ever meet (smile). I'm beyond grateful for all that we have and all the lessons I learned this past Decade—lessons that could only be learned in very difficult places. And the DVD player is still going...and so am I.


This morning, Debbie and I were reflecting on those first few weeks and months of my treatment. We remember during my stay in the hospital that Darwin and Cindy Speicher visited me. Darwin was our Music Pastor in Sacramento during our high school years. At the end of our beautiful conversation, they prayed for me, ending with these words…”this is not Terence’s time to go.” Those words stuck with me and as I was later reading through the Old Testament, I came across 2 Kings 20 about Hezekiah. Hezekiah became ill and was near death. Isaiah
was with Hezekiah and heard from God to go and tell Hezekiah this:

This is what the Lord, the God of your father David, says: I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will heal you. On the third day from now you will go up to the temple of the Lord. I will add fifteen years to your life. (2 Kings 20: 5-6a)

With that scripture and what Darwin and Cindy prayed, I remember praying these words one evening…Lord, give me ten more years. Let me see my daughter get married, to watch Brian graduate from the AF Academy, and to watch
Zachary grow up into a young man. We didn’t
know what the next 10 years would look like. I wasn’t healed instantly, but I have been given those 10 years and more. I am grateful for God’s enduring mercy, faithfulness, and amazing love for me.

For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations (Psalm 100:5)

Amazed by His Love,

Terence