OK, God, Back To You

When I started this cancer fight nearly three years ago, I said there were three possible outcomes:  1) God heals me “naturally” (i.e. through the medical process), 2) God heals me miraculously, or 3) God takes me home to be with him.  Well, the likelihood of #1 seems to be decreasing.

As you likely know, I had surgery two weeks ago in which the surgeon removed a piece of my lung and subsequently reported that it was cancerous.  Yesterday we spoke with the oncologist.  I’ll do my best to relate the way he put it, without making it sound too good nor too bad.  Basically he said that the cancer is back, as demonstrated by the piece they removed.  That means that the medical attempts to cure me seem to have failed.  Going forward, the medical attempts would simply be to lengthen my life or improve the quality of it.  If another tumor appears anywhere within a year, that would be particularly bad and there might not be anything worth doing.  If it takes longer than that, then more chemo and/or more cherry-picking might still be an option.

So, the news is not really as good as we’d have liked, but I don’t see it limiting God in any way. :-)

Besides, after the Christmas our family had, I had been thinking of Luke 2:29-30 back in January.  Yesterday I was reminded of that, and perhaps that is His plan for me. :-)

Perspectives

So, we got the results back from the chunk they cut out of my lung this time, and it turns out that it was cancerous.  It certainly would have been nicer had it not been, but it wasn’t unexpected.  At this point, of course, we don’t know what the implications are – I see the oncologist on Friday.  However, this conversation might provide some insight into the different feelings at our house:

Sue:  “That’s your fourth cancer diagnosis in three years.”

Brad:  “Yeah, but they cut it out so it’s not there any more.  They said they couldn’t see any other cancerous material.”

Sue:  “Sure, but when they finished the surgery on your mother that June, they said they’d gotten it all as well.  We buried her before Christmas.”

Brad:  “Well, that was a different kind of cancer.”

So, as you can see, there aren’t right or wrong thoughts/emotions, but certainly different ones.  Fortunately we both agree that God has it all under control. :-)

Anyway, as I said, I see the oncologist Friday and hopefully we’ll have a little more information about what the future holds after that.  Thanks again for your continued thoughts and prayers!

What was that? A Mosquito?

I’ve had stubbed toes that bothered me more than that surgery!  I’m assuming all your prayers hurried the process.

OK, maybe I’m getting carried away, but seriously, that was the easiest one yet by far.  From the time I was admitted to the time I left the hospital:  48 hours!  I was up and walking around the ward just a few hours after the surgery.  In the entire 48 hours I was in the hospital, I don’t think my pain ever exceeded 3/10.  I only used the morphine pump on two occasions:  1) when the physio nurse recommended I do so because of some of the things she was about to put me through, and 2) when the nurse recommended I do because she was about to pull an eighteen inch tube out of my chest. In retrospect, I’m not sure I’d have needed to for those either.  I guess I’m just getting to be an old pro at this. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad! :-)

Anyway, I’m home and feeling (relatively) fine.  I still have that groggy post-general anesthetic thing going on, but that’s about it.

So, as I understand it, I should find out in a week or two whether that growth was cancer.  However, it seems life will go on quite normally again for a while.

Thanks again for all your thoughts and prayers!

Life is Good; God is Good

I’m writing this from a place that fills me with anticipation:  a departure gate at the Calgary airport.  Yes, I’m a lucky guy!  I’m on my way to San Francisco.  If you’re like me, you’ll likely get a twinge of jealousy because, despite the fact that the trip is for work and I know I’ll drop into bed exhausted from the conference every day, the conference is not in Calgary or even Alberta.  J

 

We’ve just spent a WONDERFUL Easter weekend with my sister, her family, and two young women from Nigeria.  In addition to lots of movies, it included a trip to Banff/Lake Louise – how can one go wrong?

 

So, you can be jealous of my Easter weekend and my trip to San Francisco, but you’re less likely to be jealous of what happens after that.  I get home from San Francisco on Sunday, get blood work done on Monday, and then into surgery on Wednesday.  It’s an exciting spring!

 

Unfortunately, last night our kitchen sink blocked up and, despite a couple of hours of working on it with Drano, a plunger, and a 25-foot snake, we had no joy.  So, in addition to the stress of school, my being away, and my impending surgery, I had to leave Sue to deal with a plumber sometime this week.  If you’re so inclined, please pray for her.  I may be living the life of my dreams, but much of it causes my dear wife stress.

 

Anyway, I expect my next update will be post-surgery.  Until then, God bless you!

 

Brad.

 

P.S.  I’ve always been jealous of people who get big offers to change flights.  I just had to turn down a $500 offer to change flights because the next one would take some hops and get me there too late for the start of the conference.  Why don’t I get an offer like that when I’ve got more time?!!

Experience Junkie

I’ve never wanted a boring life, and God has blessed me abundantly.  God is good!  Life is good!  My sister, who shares my desire in this regard, calls us “experience junkies”.  We’re always looking for something new and exciting that we haven’t tried yet.  It’s one of the things that drives my insatiable appetite for travel.  It’s also the thing that, for example, when I go for a snowmobile tour with my brother-in-law and nephew as I did a few weeks ago, has me reluctant to admit just how much I love that kind of thing:  I’ve done it a few times and love it, but we can’t possibly afford to get into that kind of hobby!

 

A couple of weeks ago I had my normal, routine, every-so-often PET scan.  When we got the results, the oncologist was a little bit concerned:  there was a pea-sized “nodule” showing up in one of my lungs that had grown from the previous scans.  He referred us to a thoracic surgeon.  Today (Friday) Sue accompanied me to my appointment.

 

Here’s an interesting tidbit before I get to the gist of this post:  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a specialist (let alone had any other medical appointment) that was as timely.  My appointment was for 9:45 AM.  While I was walking from the car to the appointment, too busy to answer the phone, I got a voicemail from the nurse.  Time?  9:46 AM.  They were worried I wasn’t coming.  I got there at about 9:46:15 and didn’t even get a chance to sit down.  They whisked me through the usual height/weight/blood pressure directly into the “small back room”.  We hadn’t been there for more than about 10 seconds before the doctor entered.  Despite the subject matter, we were out of the office by 10:15, and didn’t feel like we’d been rushed!

 

Anyway, the doctor described the situation by saying they weren’t that worried about it, but given my history and the fact that it had grown, they recommended surgery to remove it.  They wanted both to get it out of there (stop further growth) and to determine if it actually is more cancer or something benign.  The surgery was described as relatively straight-forward, with just some small incisions and probably only a couple of days in the hospital.  It sounds like it will be much less invasive than the surgeries I’ve already had.  It helps that there’s only one “nodule” of concern, and that it’s right at the edge of my lung.  Also, when I got my first liver surgery, the doctor had explained how they sometimes “cherry-pick” these things for years.

 

Well, I can’t explain my reaction without referring to the subject of this post.  My first thought was “cool – I haven’t had a lung surgery yet”!  I have something new to look forward to. J

 

Unfortunately, it’s not quite as easy on Sue.  Especially given some of the other challenges she’s facing, she has a bit more trouble with this roller coaster ride.  So, if you’re so inclined and you think of her, please pray for her.

 

So… I’m headed for another surgery.  It will likely take place at the beginning of April, after my San Francisco trip (conference for work – another exciting adventure!).  As always, I’ll keep you posted.

 

By the way, I’d love to hear what’s going on in YOUR life, too!

August Update

Time files when you’re having fun, and I’m having so much fun it’s hard to believe!  I love God, my wife, my kids, my family, my friends, my job, …, my LIFE!  Between church, hockey, drives in the foothills and mountains, movies, tennis, canoe trips, soccer, weekends with friends, etc., it’s hard not to think of this as a good life!

What I hate is cancer, and its potential to separate me from all of those things except God.  But, for today I don’t have to worry about that.  Last week I had a CT scan and blood work in preparation for my 3-month check-up.  Today I went to said check-up.  One of the first things they do after you sign in is check your weight and blood pressure.  I lamented that I’d been gaining too much weight.  Their response?  Well, we’re glad it’s not going the other way.  Always look on the bright side of life.  ?  Then I got the really good news:  both the CT scan and the bloodwork were clear!  There is no sign of cancer returning.  My next significant scan, assuming all else continues normally, will not be for another six months (i.e. in the February timeframe).

It’s interesting, though, that God has a way of tempering joy and/or reminding us that it’s in His hands.  On our way out of the doctor’s office we met an acquaintance.  It seems she is not, from a cancer perspective, as fortunate as I.  She also had stage 4 colon cancer, but hers, as I understand it, has not only returned but spread.  So, while you’re thanking God for my progress, perhaps you can also petition God on Katrina’s behalf.

USB Port

I had to post a follow-up because a friend sent me a joke after the last post that I had to share:  I'm getting my USB removed - my Unsurprising Surgical Bump.

Yet Another Surgery

If you read my last update you know that I was scheduled to meet with the doctor to get my latest test results back.  That was over a week ago.  I don’t know why it took me so long to send out an update.  Unfortunately, they found a lump on my chest, so I’m going under the knife again on Monday.  The good news is that finding the lump was expected:  after all, they put it there!  I’m referring to the port I had installed for chemo.  Yep, I appear to be cancer free for now, and the three month checkup was so good that 1) they’re going to remove my port (which, by implication, means they don’t anticipate any more chemo in the foreseeable future), and 2) I don’t have to have another doctor visit for SIX months!  So, barring a sudden change, I probably won’t send out any more updates for approximately six months.  Life is good.  God is good!

Signing off for now with Philippians 3:20,
Brad.

P.S.  For those that misunderstood my last update, no, I’m not writing a book.  That was just an excuse for a joke/play on words. J

My Book

Sue tells me that in writing circles it is often suggested that coming up with a title is half the battle.  In that case, I guess I’m half way done writing my book!  I hope you’ll enjoy it:  it’s called “How A Semi-Colon Punctuated My Life’s Sentence”.  I admit I’m dubious, though, that you’ll ever be able to get that one on Amazon, unless Sue takes ownership of the project.  :-)

Anyway, what I’m really writing about is to provide a short update and to remind you that 1) I’m not dead yet, 2) I haven’t forgotten about you, and 3) that I’d love to hear from you, too.

So, my situation is that I can hardly believe how good I’m feeling these days.  I’d say it’s the polar opposite of how I felt a year ago when I was going through the depression following my first liver surgery.  I don’t think I’m quite at 100% for energy/stamina, but I’m coming close, and I think that’s the only issue left at this point (apart from the neuropathy that I expect to have to live with the rest of my life).  I was able to stand up for an entire hockey game last weekend!  In fact, I’m feeling so good that my family (I and my three siblings and families) are making plans for NEXT Christmas!  Just a few months ago I didn’t know if I’d see LAST Christmas!  Life is good!  God is good!

That, I suppose, is a good prelude for this week.  Today I had my PET scan and blood work done in preparation for my 3-month check-up next week (I know, it’s closer to 4 months by now, but…).  I honestly don’t know what I should be expecting next week.  On the one hand, I’m feeling quite good, but on the other hand we’ve been here before.  Perhaps I should start worrying, eh?  My Mom always said “worrying must work because 99% of the things you worry about never happen”.  But, that doesn’t really seem to be my nature, so I’ll live my life and send another update after next week’s appointment, when hopefully we’ll have just a little more idea of what God has in store for me in the coming months/years.

Thanks for reading!
Brad.

Pardon?

“But doctor, you’re the one who, on three different occasions in the last eighteen months, told me I was knocking on death’s door.  What do you mean there’s no apparent cancer left?”

My apologies for the delay in this update, especially to those of you who were aware that we met with the oncologist on Tuesday, and have been waiting to hear.  It’s just that we’re still digesting the news (and, of course, working, driving boys to hockey, etc., etc.).

Apparently, the pathology report from this last surgery was good.  Really good.  So good that the oncologist said “this confirms for us that your cancer was not a true recurrence.  The pathology from your first liver surgery showed that there had been a bit left behind, but the surgeon was hoping that the fact that he had cauterized the margins would be enough to deal with that.”

And then he said he had asked for a second opinion, and he had talked to someone more senior than he, who agreed that there was no value to be had in offering more chemo, since there appeared to be no cancer to deal with, and the next thing we knew, we were booking an appointment for a three month checkup, and just like that, we were in the monitoring phase.  (To be fair, it’s the same phase we were in last May, but this time with a little more confidence.)

When we were alone in the room again, we just sat and looked at each other, and that’s when I uttered the “F” word.  I looked at my wife and said “Perhaps I can begin to think about the Future again.”

An extension to my expiry date?

This week, in a sermon on hope, I was reminded of Romans 5:3-5: “but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope.  Now hope does not disappoint”.  I’m not so sure I’ve done much glorying in my tribulations (I’m trying!), nor got much perseverance nor character, but I continue to have hope.

Today I finally got to meet with the surgeon who performed my most recent surgery.  It was a wonderful meeting!  He started by telling me how blown away he was with my recovery.  He was practically gushing.  He stopped short of calling it miraculous, but I guess I’m his star pupil this year.  :-)  In fact, he casually asked my secret.  I told him quite simply:  a lot of people were praying both for him and for me!  He admitted that in his line of work, death is a very real possibility with each patient.  He went on to read through the pathology report with us, and it all sounded like good news.  Whereas in the first liver surgery the pathology on the margins came back somewhat ambiguous (which is the most likely reason for the recurrence), this time it was more clear.  He was able to get the margins he wanted, and the testing from the edges all came back negative for cancer.  So, as far as he is concerned, there is no cancer in my liver.  Admittedly we’ve heard that before, but it was still great to hear.  It also seemed to be spoken with a little more confidence than the last time we heard it.  So, perhaps my expiry date has been extended a little bit. :-)

Of course, we see the oncologist in a week and a half, so I expect my world will come crashing down again during that visit, but for now, life is good!  God is good!

There but for the grace of God...

We received some fairly sobering news today.  When I was in the hospital with my last surgery, I briefly shared a room with a man who’d had essentially the same surgery as mine (though his had been about a month prior to mine).  For reasons unknown, his body did not recover as well as mine.  We got word today that he’d passed away last Thursday.  Then we also got news that another friend from Edmonton had been diagnosed with the same cancer as my own.  Yep, sobering.

In case you’re wondering how I’m doing, I believe things are progressing as they should.  I’m recovering.  I was able to work a full 40 hours (from home) last week, though it exhausted me (I slept most of Saturday :-).  My incision hurts a little more than I remember the previous ones doing, but the staples are out and I think it’s coming along as it should.

Unfortunately, I still don’t know much in terms of a prognosis.  About all the surgeon told me was that the operation had been a success.  I have an appointment with the surgeon (in which I’ll hopefully get more details) on November 7, and an appointment with the oncologist on November 18.

So, I continue in God’s hands, and if He wants me on this planet for another 30 years, that’s absolutely no problem for Him! :-)

Update From Susan #3

All I have to say is:

 

HE’S HOME.

 

Just so very thankful.

Post-Surgery Update

(Susan here.  Brad's on an extended sleep over.)

Surgery was Monday, no big surprises, still no major concerns about how well he’s recovering. He’s been moved from the “High Observation” room to a different room, which just happens to be private, so he’s on Unit 102, Room 1059.

 

He’s finding the time passes very verrrry slowly, so he said “Tell people even if they just want to sit and read a book, company makes the time go faster.”  So if you were thinking of visiting …  (particulary tomorrow, because I am working from 3 till 9:30, so will not be able to spend much time there.)

 

Your notes and prayers and cards are so encouraging, I can’t even tell you. 

 

“Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail, they are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness.”

The Knife

Well, I’ve had a wonderful few months living essentially symptom-free.  Just today I got to do one of my favourite things:  go on a road trip with my wonderful wife to watch my awesome son play hockey.  Friday I got to celebrate my incredible daughter’s 19^th birthday with my family and some friends.  Tomorrow I will get rudely yanked back into a reality where I am fighting for my life against an uncaring unfeeling opponent that is doing its best to kill me.  (How’s that for a  little melodrama?  J)

 

Thankfully I’m in the hands of The Great Physician, who is capable of healing me or of giving me a glorious eternity.  Right now I’m kinda hoping He helps the physicians in the operating room.  I don’t feel like my work here is done, but it’s His call.

 

I’m glad I don’t have to be awake or responsive during this procedure.  After all, given that I have to be at the Foothills hospital by 5:30AM, my hunch is I’ll be sound asleep again before the anesthetic has a chance to do its job.  J

 

Anyway, I’ll try to send an update out as soon as I can after the surgery.  I’m hoping we’ll know a little better what the future holds after the surgeons operate.

 

See you on the other side (of my surgery, that is – sheesh, I’m not dying just yet!).  Thanks for all your prayers, thoughts, and support!

Surgery Date

Just a quick update to let you know that my next surgery is slated for October 6, and to answer a couple of questions I get asked often, especially by people who don’t see me day-to-day.

• “How are you feeling?  Are you in any pain or discomfort?”  The simple answer is that at present I feel no pain nor discomfort.  I feel pretty much 100% normal.  I’m working, going to lots of hockey, going to movies, playing Settlers with my wife and friends, etc., etc.  In fact, if it weren’t for the doctors telling me so, I wouldn’t know there was anything wrong.  I was recently asked (indirectly) how the cancer could have snuck up on me without my knowing and the answer is simple:  either there is no pain/discomfort or I’m oblivious to it.  In fact, if you want reassurance, feel free to check out the video (yes, I have it on the web, though you have to download it to see it – it’s at the bottom of this page) of me jumping out of a plane.
• “What about a liver transplant?”  Yes, liver transplants are fairly routine by now.  No, I’m not eligible.  Once cancer has metastasized (spread) to the liver, the person is considered too high a risk, since there are so few livers available.  I guess it’s assumed that the cancer is too likely to infect the new liver as well.

Until next time….

Windows Support (yes, a diversion from my cancer posts)

I just had a delightful time on a phone call that I thought I had to share.  The home phone rang, and since I was expecting a call from the surgeon’s office about a surgery date, I answered it.  Well, it was a very nice phone call from a very helpful “Windows Support” agent suggesting there might be something wrong with my computer.  I really wish I’d recorded the conversation!  I think the first words out of my mouth were “does this actually work for you guys?  Do you actually manage to suck people’s credit cards out of them over the phone?”  He mumbled on for a bit and I asked my question again.  At that his response was “well it doesn’t work on dickheads like you” (his exact words (crude language), not mine).  I laughed harder than I had been and suggested that if it actually worked, I wasn’t worthy and should really go work for him.  At that point he challenged me and said “I bet I can suck your credit card information out of you, too.”  I said “OK, give it a try.”  He said “OK, are you in front of your computer now?”  I said “Yes, I am, but you’ll have to tell me which one:  my primary server, my backup server, my desktop, my laptop, my kids’ computer, my wife’s laptop, my wife’s Surface, my Mac, or my daughter’s iPad.”  At that point the line went dead.  J

Hope

Isn’t that one of the best words in the English language?  I echo the Psalmist when he says “Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” Psalm 25:5.

So I was listening to music while working on Friday, and I often just shuffle everything on my phone.  It drives Sue nuts when I do that because of all the weird transitions between people like The Beatles, Michael Card, The Rolling Stones, Sara Groves, Pink Floyd, John Denver, Billy Joel, Carolyn Arends, Dwight Plett, etc.  Anyway, at one point MercyMe’s “I Can Only Imagine” came on and I closed my eyes to do some imagining.  Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face and I was glad to be facing my screens in such a way that people walking by wouldn’t notice.

I can only imagine what it will be like
When I walk by your side
I can only imagine what my eyes will see
When your face is before me
I can only imagine

Surrounded by your glory
What will my heart feel
Will I dance for your Jesus
Or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence
Or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah
Will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
I can only imagine

Yeah, it completely caught me:  I was overwhelmed by joy.  What a hope!  (Well, ok, maybe not the dancing.  :-O)

I eventually managed to compose myself and continue working.  A few hours later Sue called.  The surgeon had called.  He wanted to offer me another liver resection (surgery).  Apparently the tumour board had decided it was at least worth another try.  Unfortunately he was in a hurry, so we have a number of questions outstanding (e.g. when, what the chance of success is, etc., etc.), but it seems there may be a little hope for a bit more time here after all.  And that after I’d so much begun looking forward to the next phase of my existence.  :-)

Aren’t roller-coasters fun?  And now from MercyMe to Billy Joel:  “From the high To the low to the end of the show For the rest of their lives.” :-)

I'm not dead yet...

What a fantastic couple of weeks I’ve had!

On Sunday, August 17, I fulfilled a life-long dream by jumping out of a plane.  As a bonus, I got to do that with my daughter Amy, and my good friend Bill.  What a treat!  My pictures are here, and I’ll eventually get around to posting the video.  I had no idea the skin on my face was so loose.  Amy is just so much more photogenic than I am!!! :-)

Later the same week, I got to go on a wonderful road trip with my son Brodie.  I drove him out to Vancouver for the Giants rookie camp.  It was quite a thrill for both of us.  He played very well.  (In case you’re wondering, he’s not actually old enough to make the team yet.  They do this for 15-year-olds that they consider prospects to get a better look at them and give them a taste of the WHL.)  I know that since we’re both guys we shouldn’t talk too much about bonding, but I think we did some of that.  And it was such a great GUY trip.  How can five banzai burgers in five days and taking turns complaining about the traffic be bad? :-)

On the medical front, the good news is that it doesn’t look like there’s a surgery in my near future after all.  The bad news is that it doesn’t look like there’s a surgery in my near future after all.  Unfortunately, in my case, that really is bad news.  After numerous tests over the last few weeks (MRI, colonoscopy, CT scan, PET scan) we met with the liver surgeon today.  I hope I capture the essence of what he said correctly, but it was not good.  Essentially he said that the tumour had, in fact, returned, and that the location meant that it was practically inoperable.  Also, since it returned so quickly after chemo, chemo doesn’t sound like a good option either.  He said that without treatment I may not have more than a couple of months, and that they’re running out of treatment options.  He and his colleagues were going to discuss it further on Friday or Tuesday and then we’ll get information about what’s next.  He did mention localized radiation might be an option, but at the end of the day, he didn’t give us much cause for hope.  So, whereas the subject says that I’m not dead yet, it would appear that it may not be all that much longer.  It does seem strange to hear/say that when I’m feeling as healthy as I am right now, but I guess that’s the way it is.  Still, we will continue to leave it in God’s hands, and if He wants me around longer or figures my work here isn’t done, He’ll pull me/us through it.  In the words of Job:

"Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
and naked I will depart.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
may the name of the Lord be praised."
Job 1:21 (NIV)

Or, in the words of a contemporary movie, “God is good, all the time!”  I’m still more familiar with Job’s words in the King James version:  “blessed be the name of the Lord”.

"Our present sufferings..."

I may have made reference to this scripture in a previous update, but I was reading Romans 8 today and verse 18 kinda jumped out at me:  “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”  Then, just a bit further along verse 21 says “in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God”.  There is so much more in that chapter – I encourage you to read it in its entirety.  I read it while in the lobby of my oncologist’s office, waiting to hear about my 3-month (after chemo) CT scan.

It’s almost not right that I open by talking about “present suffering”.  The last three months have been fantastic!  My spirits have seldom been higher.  However, when one has just had a CT scan and one’s oncologist moves one’s appointment up by a week, it does cause one to wonder a little.  Well, sure enough, the cancer is either back or was never all gone after all.  Apparently there is growth around the edges of where the liver surgery was.  Right now they’re planning to open me up again and clean up the growth on the liver.  I find myself once again caught between the bleakness of the oncologist’s outlook and the optimism of the liver surgeon’s outlook.  The liver surgeon seems to think he can clean it up quite easily.  The oncologist says if the liver surgery can’t happen quickly enough, we’ll need to do some more chemo.  However, he was also saying that he wasn’t sure the “tumour board” (I don’t know what that is either, but it sounds like a few doctors/specialists need to agree?) might not approve more chemo since the chemo between my liver surgery and now wasn’t effective enough and they might start to think “incurable” (yes, that word did come up).  The oncologist is really hoping the surgery happens toward the end of August.  He used the word “urgency” when describing the timetable.  I think I’ve stated that as accurately and objectively as possible.

So, if you’re so inclined, please feel free to pray especially for Sue, Amy, and Brodie.  I’m not exactly looking forward to all the medical appointments, procedures, etc., either, but my welfare doesn’t concern me nearly as much as theirs.  Another verse that I may have used before (I guess I should keep track J) comes to mind:  “I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body.” Philippians 1:23-24.  I guess I’m kinda wishing I could say, with Paul: “Convinced of this, I know that I will remain” (v25), but my future does not seem that clear.