Sep 25, 2019
President’s Page
by Kevin Butler
The little pink notebook in my wife’s purse measures only 3 by 5 inches, yet it carries a boatload of heavy memories.
Janet started to faithfully document my medical visits last year before, during, and after my cancer diagnosis.
The strange symptoms started around Easter time. Falling onto a very unforgiving sidewalk sent me to the doctor to check for broken ribs. He became more concerned with my stomach area.
It took over a month to finally land on the correct diagnosis: seminoma. It’s a form of testicular cancer that originates in the testis but can become a separate tumor elsewhere. In my case, it was in my gut, and the size of a small football.
Both my oncologist and urologist agreed that when caught in time, seminoma is one of the “wimpiest” and beatable cancers. If they had to choose which cancer to have, this would be the one; it is so often curable.
I took all this to mean that the treatment would be a breeze. Wrong!
The first round of chemo messed with my blood counts and immune system, and knocked me into the hospital for nearly two weeks. The next cycle placed a huge hit on my lung capacity, dropping it by a third. That will likely not improve.
Because of that they had to remove one of the three main ingredients from my “chemo cocktail.” Instead of having only one more round of daily treatments, it added an extra.
In the meantime, all of this cancer fighting was apparently doing a number on my heart. I was only a couple days away from surgery to remove the source of the cancer when I was told that I needed to see a cardiologist to find the cause of my new very low heart rate. They didn’t want to operate on a guy with heart concerns.
A catheterization showed no blockage. Yay! But further monitoring suggested the need for an ablation procedure. This is where they “burn” a pinpointed area of the heart to correct the rhythm. More delays.The heart ablation worked, the eventual surgery was successful, and the scans continue to show that the tumor is shrinking slowly and “dead.” No cancer. Praise God!!
Looking through the little pink book, some of those weeks had a medical appointment or procedure every single day. Infusions, transfusions, injections, pokes and proddings…
Those journal entries were always accompanied by their author. I praise the Lord for a faithful life partner and supporter. The entries were also accompanied by the prayers of so many family and friends. Multiple pages at the end are filled with names of those who contributed gifts. It was overwhelming and humbling. Thank you so much.
And every step was accompanied by the Author of Life. Thank you, Lord, for your ever-growing presence and love.
So, this journey was one rough road with many lingering side effects. Sounds a lot like life, right?
Jesus did not promise us a smooth path.
I had said “yes” to be nominated as president of our Conference before this whole adventure began. Valerie Probasco chaired the Nominations Committee and had made the request. More than once, I wondered if I should call her (or if she would call me) to consider a back-up plan for 2020’s president. That call was never made.
A couple of the nurses had quipped, “Give the doctors a year of your life, and they will give you more years to your life.”
I say, “Give God a mustard seed of faith, and He will move your mountains.”
We certainly fixed our eyes on Jesus. May we all continue to do that as we make our journal entries of life.
One of the main chemos, plus another drug to hyper-stimulate my kidneys to clear the chemicals and cancer from my body, seems to have been the main cause for yet another side effect: tinnitus. While resting up from treatments in a usually silent room, I noticed a high-pitched whine that wasn’t there before. (That will be a topic for another day.)
