You Call This Cold?

We are in one of the coldest streaks in recent years, at least this early in the year.  It is one thing for it to be cold for a night or two, but for the forecast to say there will only be subfreezing temps in the foreseeable future is not too inspiring.  When I think of cold, my mind goes to a Sunday morning on January 9, 1977 at my first church in northern Wisconsin.  The winters there were always cold, with the Jump River freezing solid and the first snow in late November still being under the subsequent layers through the rest of the winter.  You could 'read' the snowfalls of the year when the snowplows cut the edge of the piles along the road.  Each layer separated by a thin layer of dirt told the story of the winters' snowstorms.
Cold weather was not foreign to us, either.  The place where I worked part time in a garment factory asked me to help do an inventory of material around Christmas time.  Since Bonnie and Lee were visiting from Connecticut, I asked Lee if he would like to pick up a little cash by helping with the inventory.  It was a very cold day, with temperatures hovering around -10* all day.  It is still hard for Lee to do any laughing at the mention of that day.  He says it was the coldest he had ever been.
But this Sunday morning was different.  When I looked out the window at the thermometer attached to the outside window casing, I knew my measuring instrument must be broken.  It couldn't really be -54*!  We turned on the radio (we didn't have a TV then either) and heard in amazement that the sheriff's office in Cameron, about 20 miles away, was reporting -60*!!  I called deacon Leland and together we decided it would be the only reasonable thing to cancel the morning service.  We divided the names of our small congregation and called everyone we could think of.  After I had done my calls I went outside to see what it was like.  The morning was eerily and completely still.  There was not a breath of wind.  I could hear no motors running.  I heard no voices.
For a preacher to shift gears from preparing, both physically and mentally to go to church and deliver words of life from the pulpit, to doing nothing but stay home made me feel strange and guilty.  Then about fifteen minutes after the morning worship was scheduled to begin there came a knock at our front door.  There stood Lionel and Marylou with their two small children, Jathan and Vanessa.  We pulled them inside as the icy air rolled in the door and across the room.  They told us Lionel had gotten up early and milked his cows, gotten cleaned up and loaded his family into his pickup.  The drive to church was 15 miles, with the four of them crowded in the cab of the red F-250.  But there was no one at the church!  “Where was everyone?” they asked.

                     This is the church building on a much later and a much warmer day. The congregation
                      has a very lovely new building across town where they meet now.

It ended up being a memorable day as we shared a meal together and enjoyed each other.  I have thought of that day so many times since, and how blessings can spring out of difficulty.  I am always conflicted about canceling scheduled services.  Who knows?  Someone might really need to be in church that day.
Speaking of that, I am so glad the congregation of the Putnam Baptist Church did what they had to in order to keep the services going during the time I was convalescing.
I am doing well, with more that 10 months behind me since surgery.  I know I am improving, but slowly.  I plan to post on this blog, but instead of trying to come up with medical stuff to talk about I would like to share other things that might interest my readers, also.  I will still share medical stuff when there is something to share.
Gil

About noon on Friday, December 9, 2016, my life took an abrupt turn. I can’t say it was a turn for the worse, but I will admit it was a defining point in my life. As with anybody, I had been through tough things before, but this was different. As the doctor nervously talked about things non-medical, I tried to be patient for him to get to the point and tell us the biopsy was fine and there were no problems. When he told us that I had a very aggressive tumor in my prostate, I figured that meant just watch it and keep exercising and eating right. When he further explained that I would need a scan right away, it began to sink in that this was something else, something I had to deal with right away. My wife and I were a numb couple as we left the office that day, clutching a book about prostate cancer that he gave me as I left.

In the next several hours we told family members, our congregation, and friends and coworkers our news. Within 45 minutes my guy Bill was at the door with a cup of Dunkin coffee. (He and I both believe that coffee helps everything!) Christina’s brother, Lou set out from Florida to come and be a rock of support for Christina and I. On Monday morning I called the Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston. This was uncharted water for us but Lou had even helped draw some of the charts, having been a physician at the very hospital we went to. He knew his way around “The Farber” and “The Brigham.”

One week after the diagnosis we spent the day, from early morning until evening at Dana Farber, meeting and getting examined by Dr. Kerry Kilbridge and getting scans, blood tests, and in general acclimating to a place that would be part of our lives for the next several months. I can’t say enough good things about that place. To a person everyone, from the doctors, nurses, lab people, scan techs, and receptionists…everyone was so kind and understanding and exuded an air of competence. I cared more about whether they were good or not rather than if they were nice or not. We got both!

Here we are a year later. I only need a blood test and checkup every three months now. I am pretty well and still improving. I am told it is a two year recovery from the surgery. I am working, bicycling, and taking trips, among other things that were put on hold for a few months.

This was one of the special things that greeted me 6 weeks after surgery. This was at our son’s house and the artwork was done by his children. Two hours before I had just found out that the first PSA was 0! A happy day indeed!

                Today, my prayer is for those who are going through dark and difficult places in their lives. Perhaps it is a grim diagnosis, a broken relationship, a lost job or other kind of loss. I am a living testimony of God’s goodness and faithfulness. I refuse to live in fear and let cancer define my life. I am surrounded by wonderful people who are still praying for me.

My wonderful wife, Christina has faithfully stood by my side with absolute kindness and care, my children have been caring and helpful throughout this trial, Lou has been and continues to be my strength and sounding board (he speaks ‘Doctor-ese’), and the amazing team of professionals in Boston continue to watch me. It is so overwhelming to know that our church prays, friends pray, people in other parts of this country pray, and even in other countries, people are praying. If God could deliver me, He can deliver you!