I was scheduled to officiate communion at the June 19 Emmaus Service (Saturday night worship at Autumn Ridge Church). I had prepared a brief meditation that I felt led to put back in my pocket when I heard the worship team begin "He Knows My Name." Once the song ended, I felt led to share from my heart how that particular song had sustained me in the previous three weeks. Click here to hear my "new" unrehearsed communion meditation. (Your browser may take a minute or two to load each link's sound file. Tested with Internet Explorer.)
"He Knows My Name"
I have a Maker, He formed my heart
Before even time began My life was in His hand.
Chorus
He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call
He hears me when I call
Verse 2
I have a Father, He calls me His own
He'll never leave me No matter where I go
CCLI Song No. 2151368
© 1996 Doulos Publishing (Maranatha! Music [Admin. by Music Services])
Tommy Walker
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Medical Update, June 24
I am one week through my six weeks of chemo and radiation and thought it was time for an update. Chemo is a matter of taking eight pills a day (I've got to get me one of those little pill box things) and I go to the Clinic each day for 10 minutes for them to microwave by backside.
I met with a very helpful radiation nurse today to discuss the "what and when" of side effects; there was some surprising good news! First, I'm not going to lose my hair (I photoshopped myself bald to see what I would look like...wow! not good!) and there will probably not be any significant nausea to deal with (apparently it would have appeared in the first few days if it was going to happen). Of course, she didn't make any promises, but at least I may not have to deal with these two side effects.
Looks like my chief side effects are going to be a radiation sunburn (where the sun don't shine), gastro distress and exhaustion. These are supposed to begin creeping up on me around week three, but we'll see.
They advised working, staying busy and enjoying what I enjoy as long as possible; so my list is
1. Charlene
2. Sushi
3. Charlene
4. Golf
5. Charlene/Blaine/Blair
6. Work
7. etc.
I met with a very helpful radiation nurse today to discuss the "what and when" of side effects; there was some surprising good news! First, I'm not going to lose my hair (I photoshopped myself bald to see what I would look like...wow! not good!) and there will probably not be any significant nausea to deal with (apparently it would have appeared in the first few days if it was going to happen). Of course, she didn't make any promises, but at least I may not have to deal with these two side effects.
Looks like my chief side effects are going to be a radiation sunburn (where the sun don't shine), gastro distress and exhaustion. These are supposed to begin creeping up on me around week three, but we'll see.
They advised working, staying busy and enjoying what I enjoy as long as possible; so my list is
1. Charlene
2. Sushi
3. Charlene
4. Golf
5. Charlene/Blaine/Blair
6. Work
7. etc.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Can Jazz music cure rectal cancer?
Charlene and I went to a jazz/blues festival in Rochester this past weekend. Most of the music was very good, especially some great players from Chicago (see Joe Moss on YouTube!).
At one point the inevitable happened, someone got the really bad idea to stand in front of the stage and dance. This wasn't adequate dancing, it wasn't even bad dancing...it was simply horrific. This was the ugliest, un-hip, pocket protector, engineer geeky dancing you've ever seen. What made it worse was the fact that he was dancing in an uneven field that had been earlier plowed and used for crops.
I turned to Charlene and said, "I think this music is going to cure my cancer!"
"What! How's that?" she replied.
"'Cause when that guy up there falls down, I'm going to laugh my butt off!"
At one point the inevitable happened, someone got the really bad idea to stand in front of the stage and dance. This wasn't adequate dancing, it wasn't even bad dancing...it was simply horrific. This was the ugliest, un-hip, pocket protector, engineer geeky dancing you've ever seen. What made it worse was the fact that he was dancing in an uneven field that had been earlier plowed and used for crops.
I turned to Charlene and said, "I think this music is going to cure my cancer!"
"What! How's that?" she replied.
"'Cause when that guy up there falls down, I'm going to laugh my butt off!"
The Most Beautiful Woman in the Waiting Room
This thing is not all "gloom and doom." There are some humorous moments from time to time, and I bet you'll find these more interesting than all that medical stuff.
The initial diagnostic phase of this process took just over a week, and my wonderful, supportive wife went with me to all my appointments. These would typically be comprised of my submitting to some unspeakable test (which I face alone) and then the doctor's interpretation of the results.
I quickly surmised that my wife was the most beautiful woman in any of the waiting rooms, not only because (in my not very humble opinion) she happens to be one of the most beautiful women I've ever met, but also because I am always 25 years younger than all the other men going through this process!!
Here's how it works... Charlene and I walk into a waiting room, sit down and wait for my name to be called. Because they generally call several names at once, I get in line behind three or four guys with canes, walkers and grey hair, and they're looking at me like I lost my way to the fertility clinic.
This leaves Charlene alone with the ladies from the knitting circle. Those who didn't see us arrive together must look at her and think, "Golddigger!"
The initial diagnostic phase of this process took just over a week, and my wonderful, supportive wife went with me to all my appointments. These would typically be comprised of my submitting to some unspeakable test (which I face alone) and then the doctor's interpretation of the results.
I quickly surmised that my wife was the most beautiful woman in any of the waiting rooms, not only because (in my not very humble opinion) she happens to be one of the most beautiful women I've ever met, but also because I am always 25 years younger than all the other men going through this process!!
Here's how it works... Charlene and I walk into a waiting room, sit down and wait for my name to be called. Because they generally call several names at once, I get in line behind three or four guys with canes, walkers and grey hair, and they're looking at me like I lost my way to the fertility clinic.
This leaves Charlene alone with the ladies from the knitting circle. Those who didn't see us arrive together must look at her and think, "Golddigger!"
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