Life is good. Progressively my adult son who I have shared about is doing well. He still has continued challenges and has put himself in harrowing situations, but he is getting better at managing his mental health. He completed a year of college, and really likes his new focus. We are hopeful. The outlook is good.
In January, my other adult son and his wife had their first child, our first grand child. My daughter-in-law (26 years old), several weeks after the birth never felt recovered from the pregnancy. She had nightly mild fevers and struggled with a pronounced lack of energy. Several visits to the doctor never seemed to find the cause of the lethargy and fevers. Her mom then noticed swollen lymph nodes near her collarbone. This alarmed her. Her brother, my daughter in-law's uncle, died from Lymphoma roughly 25 years ago. My daughter in-law and her mom immediately made a new appointment with the doctor to ask some more pointed questions and to insist on a chest x-ray.
Two months after giving birth, my daughter in-law was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. The x-ray revealed a mass in her chest between the lungs, and a biopsy of a lymph node confirmed the diagnosis. We are reeling. Our grandchild is a dream—happy, easy and calm. That has helped make the situation easier, but it is hard to fathom considering what we have gone through the past four years. Our daughter in-law has just finished her first cycle of chemo, four treatments. She had a PET scan last week. This is the report we received from her mom:
The mass in her chest has shrunk significantly. It’s now only approximately 5x7x1 cm as opposed to the 17cm it was initially. They use a scale (Deauville scale) to measure the “activity” of the tumour. The scale is 1-5. Levels 1-2 are considered a complete response to treatment. The majority of the remaining mass is level 2, however, there is a small “rim” that is level 4. The Dr. spent the weekend going over the literature. Basically, there is data supporting both sticking with current treatment (another 2 cycles of ABVD, another PET scan, and then radiation) and switching to a more aggressive regimen.
He feels that given the small size of the level 4 area, and the potential toxicity of the more aggressive treatment, it would be better to stick with the current treatment. If the next PET scan shows complete response (level 1 or 2), she will proceed with radiation. If not, at that point she will go on to the more aggressive treatment. He says there is no “right or wrong” choice here. The idea is to maximize treatment effectiveness while minimizing potential risks of a more aggressive treatment.
We are prayerful and hopeful. We are good friends with and live close to our daughter in-law's parents. Our son and daughter in-law live in their basement apartment. Our families are close—our children grew up together. The support we have received is as remarkable as that we received with our aforementioned son. There is nothing quite like the miracle that is a church family. There is great inspiration in the way the church is organized and how our lives are woven together. In the context of a church family I share the following ...
One of our other sons is currently serving a mission in Africa. He comes home this fall. It has been such a lift to our spirits to video chat with him each week. He is happy and loves his mission. He lives, eats well and works hard. In their apartments they have air conditioning, sleep under mosquito nets and he takes his malaria pills daily. From the pictures, the apartments they live in look nicer than the ones I lived in serving in France. When they leave their apartment, they are in Africa. On the equator, the heat can be oppressive. In many areas he is an oddity. "Hey white man" people will shout out randomly. When he responds not in French, but in their local dialect they laugh and laugh.
The church is strong in the African country in which he serves. There are several Stakes and Wards, and a temple is under construction. People are friendly, and always willing to talk. He has had many companions from all over Africa, Tahiti and Europe and a few from North America. His current companion is only the second missionary he has served with that is from Utah—Spanish Fork. It was a sad transfer for him because he had to say goodbye to his previous companion, and now good friend, who is from Germany.
Remarkably, my son's companion from Germany is the youngest son of one of my mission companions from thirty years ago. We have kept in touch. We have visited their home and even exchanged our older children at times. Seven weeks ago, my wife and I were actually in Europe visiting my former companion and his wife when we both got the email that our sons would serve together. It is incredible to contemplate how the connections we make in the gospel can continue across generations. It has been such a comfort—such an incredible tender mercy.
In January, my other adult son and his wife had their first child, our first grand child. My daughter-in-law (26 years old), several weeks after the birth never felt recovered from the pregnancy. She had nightly mild fevers and struggled with a pronounced lack of energy. Several visits to the doctor never seemed to find the cause of the lethargy and fevers. Her mom then noticed swollen lymph nodes near her collarbone. This alarmed her. Her brother, my daughter in-law's uncle, died from Lymphoma roughly 25 years ago. My daughter in-law and her mom immediately made a new appointment with the doctor to ask some more pointed questions and to insist on a chest x-ray.
Two months after giving birth, my daughter in-law was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. The x-ray revealed a mass in her chest between the lungs, and a biopsy of a lymph node confirmed the diagnosis. We are reeling. Our grandchild is a dream—happy, easy and calm. That has helped make the situation easier, but it is hard to fathom considering what we have gone through the past four years. Our daughter in-law has just finished her first cycle of chemo, four treatments. She had a PET scan last week. This is the report we received from her mom:
The mass in her chest has shrunk significantly. It’s now only approximately 5x7x1 cm as opposed to the 17cm it was initially. They use a scale (Deauville scale) to measure the “activity” of the tumour. The scale is 1-5. Levels 1-2 are considered a complete response to treatment. The majority of the remaining mass is level 2, however, there is a small “rim” that is level 4. The Dr. spent the weekend going over the literature. Basically, there is data supporting both sticking with current treatment (another 2 cycles of ABVD, another PET scan, and then radiation) and switching to a more aggressive regimen.
He feels that given the small size of the level 4 area, and the potential toxicity of the more aggressive treatment, it would be better to stick with the current treatment. If the next PET scan shows complete response (level 1 or 2), she will proceed with radiation. If not, at that point she will go on to the more aggressive treatment. He says there is no “right or wrong” choice here. The idea is to maximize treatment effectiveness while minimizing potential risks of a more aggressive treatment.
We are prayerful and hopeful. We are good friends with and live close to our daughter in-law's parents. Our son and daughter in-law live in their basement apartment. Our families are close—our children grew up together. The support we have received is as remarkable as that we received with our aforementioned son. There is nothing quite like the miracle that is a church family. There is great inspiration in the way the church is organized and how our lives are woven together. In the context of a church family I share the following ...
One of our other sons is currently serving a mission in Africa. He comes home this fall. It has been such a lift to our spirits to video chat with him each week. He is happy and loves his mission. He lives, eats well and works hard. In their apartments they have air conditioning, sleep under mosquito nets and he takes his malaria pills daily. From the pictures, the apartments they live in look nicer than the ones I lived in serving in France. When they leave their apartment, they are in Africa. On the equator, the heat can be oppressive. In many areas he is an oddity. "Hey white man" people will shout out randomly. When he responds not in French, but in their local dialect they laugh and laugh.
The church is strong in the African country in which he serves. There are several Stakes and Wards, and a temple is under construction. People are friendly, and always willing to talk. He has had many companions from all over Africa, Tahiti and Europe and a few from North America. His current companion is only the second missionary he has served with that is from Utah—Spanish Fork. It was a sad transfer for him because he had to say goodbye to his previous companion, and now good friend, who is from Germany.
Remarkably, my son's companion from Germany is the youngest son of one of my mission companions from thirty years ago. We have kept in touch. We have visited their home and even exchanged our older children at times. Seven weeks ago, my wife and I were actually in Europe visiting my former companion and his wife when we both got the email that our sons would serve together. It is incredible to contemplate how the connections we make in the gospel can continue across generations. It has been such a comfort—such an incredible tender mercy.
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