June, 2007

Sunday June 3rd, 2007.  My wife has this certain idiosyncrasy when relating stories about potentially life-threatening or worrisome events.  The kind of events I am talking about are those that may involve a child's health, or a near-miss car accident on the highway, or the results of a stressful meeting.  For example, there have been times when she has taken one of our kids to the doctor--say to find out why she is not breathing normally--while her husband waited up in Leavenworth chewing his nails and one-by-one turning brown hairs into gray ones.  After he has spent a long period of anticipation and engaged in horribly distracted and therefore inefficient work waiting to hear the results, she drives up to the curb with the breathing child in tow.  As this husband runs out to meet her with a face that says "What did Dr. Eisert say?! Tell me! What's wrong with the child?!" written all over it, the idiosyncrasy kicks in.  Not wanting to relate things out of order, she begins, strangely, at the beginning.  That means that the husband cannot learn what the ultimate diagnosis is at the front end.  Rather, he needs to be introduced to the information in the same order (and at what feels like a similar rate) as his wife learned it on the trip.  This has the tendency of drastically augmenting the suspense associated with such a situation.  And, perhaps not surprisingly, it mystifies the husband why they can't go straight to what he calls "the punch-line" and then fill in the preceding episodes afterwards. There have been a few tense moments associated with this idiosyncrasy.  In fact, the husband's face has been known to contort unnaturally during the re-telling and even to get quite red.  However, there is, after it is all over, a conviction on the husband's part that there is something charming about this idiosyncrasy in his wife. I tell this story simply to let you know that I am going to start with the punch-line. 

Christie's full-body CT scan was clear!

Here's what happened.  On Thursday morning Christie ate nothing.  Rather, she started drinking Barium.  The last time she did this was one year ago, just a week or so after Isabella was born.  Her stomach and systems were anything but normal then and drinking the Barium and getting her CT scan was one of the Low Moments of the entire Cancer/Treatment Saga.  Thankfully, feeling infinitely better than she had 12 months ago, Thursday's doses were quite tolerable.  She drove to Wenatchee and rather than calling me later in the morning, she called early to say that the scan was already complete and went smoothly.  Thanks for praying for us. 

After her CT scan she had an Echocardiogram.  Remarkably, it showed there was no damage or change to her heart since a year ago.  That means that her heart endured and was, to our knowledge, unaffected by five weeks of radiation that was directed right above her heart.  It also means the Herceptin, which is known to have negative cardiac side-effects, did not harm her heart either.  We thank the Lord for His help and protection and strengthening. 

Then on Friday we all went to Wenatchee to meet with Dr. Smith to discuss the results of both tests.  Dr. Smith walked in the room and, strangely, immediately gave us the punch line: "Your scan looks good.  Everything was clear."  In a complete turnabout I insisted on adding some suspense.  Perhaps it was because I was so entrenched in anticipation and anxiety about that moment that I just couldn't let go of it all so summarily.  "You mean her brain was . . . clear?" I asked with some hesitation.  "Yes, her brain was clear," Dr. Smith answered me cheerfully.  I was not satisfied.  "So, you mean her lungs were . . . clear?"  "Yes, Matt, they looked good."  There was a pause.  "How about her liver?"  "Clear," said the Doctor.  "But her bones; they were clear, too?" it had to be a conspiracy.  "Yes, Matt, everything looked clear."  It was beginning to sink in.  "So you mean that Christie's scan was all clear?"  "Yes."  That is right, ladies and gentlemen.  My wife's scan was completely clear and as much as we can be and are thankful for the great care and treatment we have received, we are ultimately grateful to God for being our faithful provider, the One who makes His people live or die, and Who is good and trustworthy and merciful and gracious.  He is worthy to be praised. 

Christie has an MRI in July and another full CT scan in September.  Thank you very much for praying for her and her family! 

Here are some pictures of Isabella Vivian's first birthday party.  Boy, were the Turnbulls enjoying that occasion.  We reflected several times that exactly one year before the date we did not know if she was going to be born horribly harmed by cancer treatment or healthy.  As you can see, she is still very healthy and rotund and happy.