Immunotherapy

June 9th at Aaron's youngest sister's wedding.

It seems like things keep changing faster than I can keep up. Aaron started a new chemo, Gemzar, in April, but after two months of it, scans showed there was definite cancer progression in his lungs. He then completed the four week washout period (a specified amount of time you have to be off all cancer treatment drugs in order to qualify for certain drug trials) and then decided that instead of a drug trial consisting of two immunotherapy drugs combined, he would stick with the one immunotherapy drug, Keytruda (Pembrolizumab) that is as simple as going to the dr. office and running it through his port. The drug trial required a total of three needle biopsies over the course of his treatment. His biopsy,about two years ago, was painful and went from an outpatient procedure to a week-long stay at Huntsman Cancer Center. Drug trials also require a lot more dr. visits and tests, and in the case of the Huntsman drug trial a lot more side effects. Aaron just isn't up to all those things.

A couple of weeks ago, he had four days of splitting headaches that prompted the dr. to set up an MRI. The results of that scan showed there are about five small lesions in his brain, but the radiologist said lesions that small wouldn't have caused the headaches. They are also small enough that we can wait for a couple of months and rescan to see if they grow or if the new treatment is clearing up the brain. We like this option. If the lesions don't clear up and show signs they are growing then he will have to do Stereotactic Radiosurgery (SRS). Eventually, he will have to do some sort of radiation to the brain because that is the nature of lung cancer. We would like to prolong it as long as we safely can.

Aaron has been extremely tired and we aren't sure why. He has been off chemo for 5 weeks and his new treatment has no side effects at the outset. He can sit down anywhere and fall asleep. He has also continued to experience nausea and vomiting. He bears it all with patience. He is still pleasant and kind. I think I would have gotten depressed by now. Cancer really hammers a person.

I have been thinking about one of my favorite stories from one of my favorite talks, by James E. Faust, given in April 1979 "The Refiner's Fire":

Some years ago, President David O. McKay told from this pulpit of the experience of some of those in the Martin handcart company. Many of these early converts had emigrated from Europe and were too poor to buy oxen or horses and a wagon. They were forced by their poverty to pull handcarts containing all of their belongings across the plains by their own brute strength. President McKay relates an occurrence which took place some years after the heroic exodus: “A teacher, conducting a class, said it was unwise ever to attempt, even to permit them [the Martin handcart company] to come across the plains under such conditions.

“[According to a class member,] some sharp criticism of the Church and its leaders was being indulged in for permitting any company of converts to venture across the plains with no more supplies or protection than a handcart caravan afforded.

“An old man in the corner … sat silent and listened as long as he could stand it, then he arose and said things that no person who heard him will ever forget. His face was white with emotion, yet he spoke calmly, deliberately, but with great earnestness and sincerity.

“In substance [he] said, ‘I ask you to stop this criticism. You are discussing a matter you know nothing about. Cold historic facts mean nothing here, for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. Mistake to send the Handcart Company out so late in the season? Yes. But I was in that company and my wife was in it and Sister Nellie Unthank whom you have cited was there, too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church, because everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities.

“‘I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it.’” He continues: “‘I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.

“‘Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.’” (Relief Society Magazine, Jan. 1948, p. 8.)

"Here then is a great truth. In the pain, the agony, and the heroic endeavors of life, we pass through a refiner’s fire, and the insignificant and the unimportant in our lives can melt away like dross and make our faith bright, intact, and strong. In this way, the divine image can be mirrored from the soul. It is part of the purging toll exacted of some to become acquainted with God. In the agonies of life, we seem to listen better to the faint, godly whisperings of the Divine Shepherd."

In my mind this cancer is just part of our walk with the Lord. Our personal trek across the plains of mortality. I can say that I know this is true. We are paying a price to become acquainted with God and I wouldn't really want it any other way. This is why we came to Earth. No one's life is a leisurely walk in the park.