8/31/2023
Five years ago today, this gem of a photo was taken:
That photo was taken just before I went into surgery to remove an almond sized lump from my right armpit that multiple physicians were confident was just a fatty deposit. Little did we know when the photo was taken just how much our life together would change following that surgery. I still remember coming out of anesthesia and Kim telling me that my uncle had informed her that what he had pulled out was cancerous. I remember spending days wondering what the biopsy would reveal and hoping that it was a “good” cancer to get, only to find out that it was one of the “bad” cancers to get: melanoma. Not just melanoma, but melanoma that was already in an advanced stage given that it came from a lymph node. Fortunately, my naivete prevented me from responding the way the rest of my family responded. I just figured I’d beat it and move on.
As we began looking into the statistics and preparing for the future, it became pretty clear that I wasn’t fully aware of what I had just been diagnosed with. The official diagnosis would eventually come back as stage 4. I remember receiving a priesthood blessing from my bishop who promised me in the blessing that “life would go on as normal.” I had a hard time understanding how life would be “normal” with stage 4 cancer.
The next several years were very not normal and full of ups and downs: moments of grave concern and moments of elation. The last five years have included:
- a trip to Mexico for treatment
- 130+ visible tumors on my body
- 23 brain tumors at one point
- 7 surgeries by 7 surgeons (initial biopsy, two emergency surgeries: brain and spine, a second brain surgery, two arm surgeries, and a port insertion)
- 6 sessions of radiation (4 brain, 1 spine, and 1 arm)
- five oncologists (three great and two not so great)
- 66 infusion cycles
- the loss of multiple family members and friends to cancer
- fractured familial relationships
- several trips to the emergency room
- several forms of treatment (juicing, tonics, kinesiology, water, Chinese medicine, hyperbaric chambers, surgeries, radiation, chemo pills, immunotherapy, physical therapy, and sleep)
- several sets of scans
- seizures
- complications from medications
- physical changes caused by fatigue and pharmaceuticals
- countless IV’s and blown veins
- thousands and thousands of miles and hours spent driving back and forth to hospitals and time in hospitals
- a closer and stronger relationship with my parents
- a scan that showed 16 brain tumors had somehow disappeared miraculously
- priesthood blessings that gave me peace, strength, and a desire to push on when I wondered how I would get through the next hour
- scriptures that took on new meaning to me
- walking side by side with my amazing wife through a road full of twists and turns
- the birth of three beautiful children
- a move to Texas
- beginning law school
- an ever strengthening testimony of my Father in Heaven and my Savior, Jesus Christ
- and a front row seat to miracles that I could have never imagined.
Has this journey been hard? Absolutely. Have I been stretched? In ways I never imagined. Have I wept and shed tears? Too many to remember. Tears caused by pain, exhaustion, joy, concern, and love. Would I undo all of it if I could? Not a chance.
This journey has taught me lessons that only cancer could teach me. I’ve learned what true love looks and feels like. I’ve learned what Christlike service and ministering truly consist of. I’ve learned the value of life by coming close enough to death. I’ve learned that my Savior is ever present and that His love, mercy, grace, and peace surpass anything that can be produced by anyone or anything in this world. I’ve learned to walk with faith and trust in God and His plan for me. I’ve learned that God isn’t limited to the statistics and medical abilities of the world.
When I first sat down with an oncologist, I was told I had maybe a 60% chance to live three years. I almost didn’t make it to the three year mark, but here I am at the five year anniversary. I know that’s because of God. Though I don’t know why I am still here when so many lose their lives to cancer, I know that it is my responsibility to make the most of what I have been blessed with.
I have done my best to do just that.
Manti, Utah was my home. That’s where Kim and I built our life together, raised our family, and welcomed our beautiful trio into the world. Pulling out of that driveway for the last time was sure hard. So many loving and kind friends were left behind and we headed off into the unknown of Texas. Several promptings led us here, but the biggest question was “Why?”.
Why did God bring us to Texas? It’s hot and muggy. Our yard is a fraction of what it was and the grass is awful here. Our house has no front window to see what the outside world is doing. We rarely see our neighbors. And worst of all… likely no snow for Christmas!
But we are here and we have prayed and prayed for answers regarding His purpose in bringing us here. That is still an open question that we are hoping for more clarity on. However, we believe that question has been answered in part.
I had never heard of MD Anderson Cancer Hospital until I was diagnosed. MD Anderson is viewed as the best cancer hospital in the country and one of the best in the world. I absolutely loved Huntsman and it became another home to me, but I prayed that MD Anderson would be able to help me in my cancer journey. Would they want to try different treatments on me? Would their research be ahead of Huntsman’s and provide me with cutting edge findings that would allow me to be declared “cancer free”? Would they look at my scans and have an unwelcome prognosis? Maybe Huntsman missed something… I prayed for answers and hoped that MD Anderson could provide me with the help that I need.
After learning a bit about my new oncologist, I was anxious and excited to meet her and to jump into my new treatment plan (or maybe the same plan just in a new place). I met with her on August 3rd and what she told Kim and me was a very hard pill to swallow for me. I’ve received a lot of news since my diagnosis and have learned to take things in stride, but I wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say.
After acknowledging that I had been on immunotherapy for four years and looked fairly healthy, she told me that I should stop the treatment. That’s right… She told me to stop the treatment. I thought to myself “Wait, what? Nope. Can’t do it!”. In fact, those words that came out of her mouth were my biggest fear going into that appointment. Isn’t that odd? I remember becoming defensive and throwing out all sorts of questions. From day one up until that moment, everyone had told me that I would be on immunotherapy for the rest of my life. And so, I grew to believe that the only way I would get off of treatments would be because I died or because a new treatment had emerged that had shown an amazing ability to kill and remove melanoma from the body.
My last oncologist at Huntsman told me that the enhancements on my scans, in both my brain and my body, were likely lesions, but that he had no way of knowing if they were alive, dormant, or dead. The only way forward was to continue with treatment. And that’s what I had heard from the first four oncologists. This new oncologist was the first to suggest that I didn’t need the treatment anymore. As we discussed the situation, she explained that the immunotherapy trains your body to produce cells that know how to handle melanoma and that once your body knows how to do that properly, your body will continue to do so and there is no need to continue with treatments. The enhancements in my body can be residual enhancements that aren’t actually cancerous anymore. While there is no way to tell without cutting me open, me being stable and alive with no disease progression for years is indicative of “No Active Disease”. I will never be declared in remission, but her belief is that I have no active cancer in my body at this point and that stopping the infusions would actually be good for my body. I told her I wanted to think about it. We scheduled scans for the 23rd and a follow up on the 24th.
Because MD Anderson didn’t have an image of my port when I went in for scans on the 23rd, my port couldn’t be used for my scans. That meant a traditional IV, which my veins do not handle well. It took four attempts (one fishing adventure, two blown veins, and one success) to get an IV going with me. Following scans, I needed blood drawn, but they couldn’t use my IV. So two more jabs. My first visit to MD Anderson broke my personal record of 4 jabs with an impressive 6!
The following day, my oncologist reviewed the scans and reiterated her comfort with me stopping my infusions. I guess her patients only go two years in general on the immunotherapy. After much prayer and fasting, Kim and I opted to stop treatments and we cancelled my infusion scheduled for later that day. I never imagined writing these words, but I am no longer a cancer patient. I will continue to get scans on a regular basis for monitoring moving forward, but that’s all. If things change, we will course correct and work with the oncologist to deal with it, but I trust that God knows what’s best and will continue to carry us through whatever comes. He has through the last five years, so why not the next fifty?
We came to Texas believing that MD Anderson would be a great thing for me. I was so excited to meet my oncologist and jump on board with whatever she had in mind for me, but I wasn’t ready for what she told me. Through prayer I learned a valuable lesson: just because the answer you get isn’t what you wanted doesn’t meant it’s not right. My expectation was a new treatment plan or cutting edge insight into how to help me, but I never expected or wanted to be told what I was. My infusions had become my “safe space” so to speak and I was reluctant to walk away from them.
There is so much irony and almost hypocrisy in my thinking. “Faith Over Fear” and trust in God has been our motto, but my thoughts and fears added to that “…only if I receive infusions”. Does that make sense? Not really… I had prayed that MD Anderson would be a good thing for me, but when it wasn’t what I had expected, I resisted.
Over those few weeks between the first visit and my scans, my prayers helped me understand that God may very well have sent us to Texas to get a different perspective on my cancer from an oncologist that wouldn’t tell me that I need treatments for the rest of my life. If that was the case, then why not run with it and continue to trust in God and not infusions?
God continues to teach me in hard and challenging ways. Cancer continues to stretch me spiritually and I’m sure it will continue to do just that. I never imagined having a hard time walking away from infusions and modern medicine, but this was possibly the hardest decision to date. This “dilemma” has helped to put into perspective my faith and all that I still lack. My hope is that this helps me to solidify and strengthen my faith moving forward into the unknown. I trust Him. Even though I don’t understand His ways, I’m learning to look beyond the means and simply trust the one in control.
Kim has been my rock and support through all of this. I have never seen someone care for someone with such love, compassion, and patience. She sacrificed so much for me throughout this journey and I certainly wouldn’t be here without her. She has believed for a long time that I was cancer free. A blood doctor in Idaho told me that my blood did not resemble the blood of a cancer patient years ago and Kim has clung to that…while I didn’t. Her faith and her confidence has helped me through some trying times, including the decision to stop treatments.
I don’t know what the next five years will look like. We have a home in Texas, I’ve started law school, we have three crazy two-year-olds at home, and a lot of unknowns ahead of us. Where will God lead us? Back to Utah? Somewhere else that’s new and unknown? Only time will tell, but I’m sure excited to find out! As Elder Wirthlin’s mother counseled him… “Come what may and love it!”
My last infusion was on July 19, 2023 at Huntsman. I was asked if I wanted to hit the gong when I left since it was my last treatment there. I declined and told them I had several more to come in Texas. I’m alright walking away from cancer without the traditional gong hit. After all, my journey hasn’t been all that traditional anyway.
Five years ago today, my wife and I started this journey with a simple procedure, not expecting much to come of it. That simple procedure, however, changed our lives and continues to do so today. Through this journey, “I have learned what matters most is our relationships with Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, our families, and our neighbors, and allowing the Spirit of the Lord to guide us in those relationships so we can testify of the things that matter most and last longest” (Ballard, “Remember What Matters Most”). I had a testimony before this all started, but this journey has helped me to become more fully converted to the gospel. My love for and trust in my Heavenly Father and my Savior has grown to a level I never thought possible. My relationship with them surpasses any other relationship in this world or in the world to come and my diagnosis helped to strengthen that relationship. I have come to know that priesthood blessings are from God and can and do bless us with peace, power, and healing. My bishop’s blessing about life being normal? Here I am… My family and friends have loved and supported me in so many ways during these five years and my love for them has grown. I was given an opportunity and a platform to bear testimony of my Father in Heaven and of my Savior and I hope our journey and my testimony helped someone along the way. To those of you not members of God’s restored church, I invite you to come and learn of Him and of His restored gospel. He is real. He is there. His truth has been restored to the earth and He beckons to all of His children to come unto Him and to hear Him.
I do not know what God has in store for me or my family moving forward, but I have learned to trust in God and walk into the darkness knowing that He will bring the light. God truly is a god of miracles and with Him all things are possible.
#FaithOverFear
