Category: courage

Aug 19

Faith & Family: My Oncologist Has Cancer (Part 3)

 

It’s one thing to be given a cancer diagnosis. It’s another matter to be told there is no known cure for that cancer. And it’s a whole other ballgame to learn there’s no recognized effective treatment either.

My oncologist, Dr. Marc Hirsh, has been smacked with this reality in the three months since he was diagnosed with an extremely rare atypical carcinoid of the thymus gland. And like so many facing a life-threatening illness, his world looks a little different.

“I’m learning to appreciate the moment– like when I take a deep breath and it doesn’t hurt and I don’t cough,” Marc told me in a recent phone interview. “And having medicine to control the pain is really great.”

So how does he get through the day without obsessing about his discouraging diagnosis and poor prognosis?

“I’m staying as active as possible–walking around our property everyday,” he said. “I also get a lot of joy in reading and studying.”

Music also brings much happiness to Marc, who has been “playing a lot of keyboard” since his diagnosis. (He also plays piano, guitar, saxophone and harmonica –and does a great Bob Dylan vocal.)

Since 1991 when I started the Cancer Prayer Support Group, Marc has entertained and  inspired his patients and their families at our semi-annual dessert concerts. Whether playing “Go Tell It on the Mountain” with a boogie beat or changing popular song wording to share his testimony (Aretha Franklin’s “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman” became “You Make Me Feel Like a New Creation”), he brought much happiness to the crowds which eagerly gathered.

But Marc said what gives him the most joy each day is being with his family.

“I feel really fortunate to have my great wife and kids and grandkids here with me,” he said. “And all the cards I get are great, too.”

One of Marc’s favorite Bible passages, which helps him to “focus on living in the moment and not worrying about tomorrow” is found in the Sermon on the Mount.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?…But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:25-27, 33-34

Still Marc acknowledged that “living for the moment is easier said than done.” In fact, he hesitated to offer advice on coping with cancer.

“We’re all so unique and God has created each one of us in a unique fashion, so I don’t think there’s a five-step solution,” he explained. “But I think we all need to find some meaning in the midst of the diagnosis. And we need to face our own death and not be in denial.

“I’ve always thought it’s a paradox that God is in control while life is random and chaotic ,” he added. “But whatever happens to my body, I know that my spirit is eternal  and when my body dies, it’s not the final answer.”

“I am the resurrection and the life.
Anyone who believe in me will live, even after dying.
Everyone who lives in me and believes in me will never ever die.”
John 11:25-26

P.S. (If you want to know how Marc, a Jewish physician, met the Great Physician and became a Christ-follower in 1979, I share that story in my first book When God & Cancer Meet.)

FYI Marc has a new blog where he explores medical, theological and philosophical issues related to his cancer journey. To sign-up for a free subscription, go to:  https://marchirshmd.wordpress.com

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Be sure to open in your browser to hear “Bound to Come Some Trouble,” another song by Marc’s favorite Christian artist, Rich Mullins.

Aug 12

Living with Loss: My Oncologist Has Cancer (Part 2)

 

Cancer has a nasty habit of taking things away from people–things like hair and strength and jobs and time. Sometimes it takes them away for a short while and sometimes it takes them away permanently.

Even before my oncologist Dr. Marc Hirsh got an official cancer diagnosis, the disease already was robbing him of things that had been precious to him.

His first loss came without any warning: his health. At 69, Marc was still very active: biking, running, paddle boarding, downhill skiing and even kick boxing a heavy bag. He went to bed Friday, May 22 feeling fine after his daily workout, but awakened in the night with chest pain. Tests at the ER revealed a 12-cm tumor pressing on his heart and partially collapsing a lung. He left the hospital feeling weak, short of breath and with a prescription for narcotic painkillers.

And the loss of his health led immediately to his second loss: his profession.

“I realized right away what would be involved with this tumor–even in the best case scenario–and I knew I couldn’t keep up what I had been doing,” Marc explained in our recent phone interview. “The rigors of private, solo practice without back-up, on call 24/7–I wouldn’t be able to do the job I wanted to. I knew it was the end.”

Patients were quickly informed that they needed to find a new oncologist. The staff of ten–some of whom have worked for Marc for 20 or 30 years–was already in mourning and now patients and their families began grieving the loss of their oncologist’s care. (Photos are Fall 2019 patient party when staff costumed as Where’s Waldo? –the one and only year Marc ever dressed up.) 

On June 8 Marc updated his website to include this message: “I am sorry that I cannot continue as your physician.  I extend to you my prayers for your future health and happiness.  It has been my honor and privilege to be involved with your care.”

“I knew I would stop working someday, but not like this,” Marc told me. “When I finally went into the office and saw everything all boxed up, I just broke down.”

“That loss of my profession was even worse than the cancer,” he added. “I’m no longer that doctor, that oncologist. It kind of hurt.”

But the final loss was his beloved dog, Jake. Rescued some 10 years ago, the lab-hound was practically inseparable from Marc.  Jake even came to the office every day, where he won the hearts of all the dog-loving patients as he visited them in the exam rooms, happily accepting handfuls of doggie treats.

Fourteen-year-old Jake was slowing down and in the last few weeks became very sick. On July 24, the difficult decision was made to end his suffering.

“No, not Jake!” Marc recalled. “I got cancer, I lost my job and now I have to put down my dog? I was a little angry. I can’t even have my therapy dog with me.”

But Marc never thought “it’s not fair.”

“If you’re a follower of Christ, you’re still going to experience struggles, problems,” he explained. “Faith doesn’t prevent (bad) things from happening.

“I don’t blame God (for all the losses) or wonder why,” he added. “I’m 69 and I’m very grateful for all the things I’ve had. My life has been so blessed and very successful that I couldn’t complain.”

He’s even grateful to have started his radiation therapy and oral chemo yesterday after waiting three weeks for all the preliminaries to conclude.

Here’s the scripture prayer Marc posted on his website for all his patients and their families:
The LORD bless you, and keep you;
 The LORD make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you;
The LORD lift up His countenance on you, and give you peace.
Numbers 6:24-26

NEXT WEEK AUG. 19 Faith & Family: My Oncologist Has Cancer (Part 3)
Please go to my website home page to sign up for my bi-weekly blog.

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Make sure to open in your browser to hear “If I Stand,” one of Marc’s favorite songs by Rich Mullins, who Marc describes as “our No. 1 favorite songwriter–he’s like the Bob Dylan of Christian music.”

 

 

Aug 05

Irony: My Oncologist Has Cancer (Part 1)

 

I remember thinking how ironic it was when I was diagnosed with cancer just six weeks after interviewing the local oncologist, Dr. Marc Hirsh, for my newspaper story about the hospital’s new cancer support group.

And now in an even greater irony, that cancer specialist–my oncologist–has been diagnosed with the very disease that he spent most of his adult life treating and trying to cure.

When Marc’s wife Elizabeth called with his bad news, I was devastated. The four of us have been prayer partners for almost 30 years, spent the past 24  Labor Day weekends cruising the Chesapeake Bay in their boat, and agonized  in prayer for countless cancer patients and their families during the nearly 20 years I worked as his patient advocate.

I’ve interviewed Marc many times in those three decades and written about him in all of my published books, so I figured it was time for another interview–this one to find out how it feels for an oncologist to be diagnosed with cancer.

“I feel like my cancer education has been completed,” Marc told me. “Right from the start (of this cancer journey) I was filled with a sense of irony. Every time an IV went in, or they drew blood, or I got a scan, it was surreal. I know it’s a cliche´ word, but it’s almost as if you’re out of your body watching and being dismayed and slightly amused at what you’re seeing.

“So, this is what it feels like to hear somebody say ‘there’s a tumor in your body.’ To hear ‘you have cancer.’  To hear ‘there’s a strong probability you’re going to die’,” he explained. “I knew about all that before, but I never knew what it felt like.

“It’s one thing to order a PET (scan), it’s another thing to get the injection and be left alone in a room for an hour waiting for it to happen,” he explained. “You just don’t have a clue what it’s actually like until it happens to you.”

The completion of Marc’s self-described cancer education began the night of May 22. He had Fridays off so he was home working out, playing music and feeling fine. The pain hit in the middle of the night and his wife of 40 years rushed him to the local ER. Tests there revealed a large tumor above his heart, but it was weeks before it had a name:  atypical carcinoid of the thymus gland. It’s a cancer so rare that there are only about 160 documented cases in the country.

There is no known cure and no known effective treatments.

Doctors at two medical centers suggested he take a strong, rather toxic combination of chemo drugs, but had no data to show it would work. So instead, Marc did what he’s always done when faced with a rare, difficult diagnosis for a patient: he researched.

Working alongside his Hershey Medical oncologist and Hanover, PA, radiation oncologist Dr. Michael Watson, Marc has come up with a plan he thinks could help:  a monthly hormone therapy injection, along with daily radiation therapy and oral chemo.

And despite the diagnosis and fairly bleak prognosis, Marc said he doesn’t feel afraid.

“Fear is the one thing I thought I would feel, but I didn’t,” he said. “Maybe anxiety or depression, but not fear.

“I never felt God had abandoned me,” he explained. “Forty years ago I asked Jesus into my heart and I’ve never felt since then that He wasn’t there–even in the tough times.”

The LORD is for me, so I will have no fear.
What can mere people do to me?  Psalm 118:6

 

Aug. 12 PART 2: My Oncologist’s Thoughts on Loss–his health, his profession and his beloved dog
 Aug. 19 PART 3: My Oncologist’s Thoughts on Faith, Family and Finding Strength

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Be sure to open this blog in your browser to hear the song “Hold Me Jesus” by Rich Mullins, one of Marc and Elizabeth’s favorite artists.

 

Jul 22

My Embarrassing Confession

 

I have a confession to make. It’s kind of embarrassing and I’m reticent to admit it, but I want to be transparent so I’m going public.

I leak.

Seriously, I do. And I’m not talking about once in a blue moon or even occasionally. I’m talking basically everyday, especially for the last several months. I truly thought that after so many years, this problem would perhaps disappear, but it continues to plague me.

I’m sure you’re hoping I’ll share the details of my leakage, so here goes…

Every morning I start out my day on my backyard deck, brimming with beautiful blooms planted by my full-time gardener (a.k.a. my husband). The trees have leafed out, thereby obscuring the housing development behind us. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. So I pray, sing and read God’s Word. I feel wonderfully “full.”

But as the day progresses, I start “leaking.”

When someone irritates me, (for example, by wearing their public mask below their nose!) a little  of my patience drips away. When I read about yet-another person facing cancer (especially a child), I feel a tiny bit of hope dissipating. And when my unexplained physical pain intensifies (going on 11 weeks now), I definitely lose a measure of joy.

I’m tempted to think that after 48 years of following Christ, I shouldn’t still have this “problem.” I ought to be able to pray and read Scripture in the morning and be spiritually and emotionally prepared to face the entire day–maybe even a few days!

And yet I know that God created us for intimacy with Himself. And every time I “leak” some of the fruit of the Spirit, it’s the perfect opportunity for me to draw closer to Him and allow His Spirit to fill me again.

When the Apostle Paul in Ephesians 5:18 admonished believers to “be filled with the Spirit,” he used the passive voice, which means we are to “keep on being filled” with the Spirit.

I might get away with brushing my hair and putting on my make-up only once a day, but I need continual refilling throughout the day with the power of His Spirit.

Jesus taught this truth in a parable in Luke 11:11-13:

“You fathers–if your children ask for a fish, do you give them a snake instead? Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts  to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.”

Author Jennifer Kennedy Dean adds: “I find it interesting that Jesus summed up good gifts as the Holy Spirit. Having the Holy Spirit, we have direct access to all the resources of God, the presence of God, and the wisdom of God. The Holy Spirit is the gift that keeps on giving.”

How about you? Has the pandemic punctured holes in your spiritual/emotional tank causing some leakage? Are  financial or marital struggles taking their toll? Or like me are you or your loved one experiencing a physical ordeal that keeps stealing your peace?

We might be leaking, but God is continually providing. I don’t have to sit on my beautiful deck to be renewed and refreshed–He will meet me wherever I am. As the song below says: “I’m not enough unless You come. Will You meet me here again?”
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(Be sure to open this blog in your browser to hear the music video “Here Again” by Elevation Worship.)

Jul 01

30 Years of Lessons Learned as a Cancer Survivor

 

Tomorrow, July 2, is the 30th anniversary of my surgery for stage 3 colon cancer. So it seemed like a good time to reflect on important truths God has taught me in these past three decades. Whether you’re living in cancer’s shadow or some other life struggle, my prayer is that your heart will be encouraged today.

30. Life is often unfair, but God always is faithful. 
29. We may be given more than we can handle, but it’s never more than God can handle.
28. Your trial has not taken God by surprise; He is in control and knows exactly what you need.
27. The family of God is a gift from God especially for times like these.
26. Nothing about your situation can separate you from God—keep looking for Him in unexpected places.
25. Anyone can beat cancer (or any disease) because being victorious is not only about being cured.
24. God loves your loved ones even more than you do.

23. You can take all your questions to the Lord…He will either give you the answers you seek or the peace to live without them.
22. Remember the ABCs of life’s struggles: Accept you don’t have the whole picture. Believe a loving God does. Continue on by faith and not by sight.
21. Wounded healers make wonderful comforters–let Him comfort others through you.
20. God can create beauty from ashes, turn mourning into dancing and change weeping into joy.
19. Cancer—or any life struggle—can be a very deep pit, but the love of God is deeper still.
18. You are not waiting for test results; you are learning to depend more on God.
17. Sometimes we need to hear people’s hearts and not just their words.

16. We find peace when we fill our minds with absolute truth and not simply information.
15. People cope differently with illness/trials and we need to appreciate those differences.
14. You’re either a funny friend or you need one.
13. Waiting goes against our nature, but draws us closer to the Lord better than just about anything else.
12. You positively don’t have to stay positive all the time.
11. God doesn’t need “good odds” to heal.
10. We find peace when we share laughter, troubles and blessings with an understanding group of friends.
9. We need to accept the diagnosis, try to defy the verdict and leave the outcome up to God.
8. Tears are a gift from God and we shouldn’t be afraid to let them fall.

7. God wants to bring blessing through trials…you just have to let Him decide the blessing.
6. Courage is not living without fear…it’s living in spite of the fear.
5. You are a lot stronger than you think…and God is a lot greater than you think.
4. Ask God to somehow, some way use your pain for His glory.
3. Today is another day the Lord has made and that is reason enough to rejoice.
2. God is able to do abundantly more than we can ask or imagine.

And No. 1. Let God simply be God.

Let Him be the mighty, awesome God, powerful enough to heal any and every person, body, mind and spirit.

Let Him be the absolute sovereign God, wise enough to know how and when to answer any and every prayer.

Let Him be the unfalteringly faithful God, willing to strengthen us for any and every circumstance.

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Make sure to open this blog in your browser to hear a song I want sung at my memorial service someday!