Change In A Moment

The weather here is sunny and warm one day, and then cold and windy the next. Much like the ups and downs we are feeling being here. Today the sky looks how my soul feels, downcast and covered in layers of grey. We had an incredibly tough weekend. J was so uncomfortable and in pain that he couldn't sleep for two days straight. We now think the pain in his tailbone area is from the affects of surgery, and not the cancer. Our surgeon did an amazing job of removing all the visible signs of the cancer out of J's body, but to have been so successful, he had to be quite aggressive in extracting it. The tumor had grown out of the colon, through the muscle and into the fascia layer, up to the tailbone and right pelvic area. The fascia layer is the connective tissue that surrounds muscles, bones, and joints, providing support. Our surgeon compared the process of what he had to do to extract the tumor to eating ribs. He basically had to rip off the fascia, where the tumor had grown through, to take it out. Like when you eat a babyback rib, and you can actually strip the meat and encasing off to leave the bone completely dry and bare. He basically had to do this with J. Then he took a laser and went across the whole area to burn it, hoping to destroy any remaining cancer left. All of this was necessary, and we thank GOD for our surgeon, but it is just a harder recovery than we anticipated.

Before we left for Texas, J had said to me a few times that he may not be around. The first time he said it to me, I jokingly scolded him that is just not what is going to happen and he can't say that to me anymore. He would say it so casually, and usually like a phrase that he has tacked on, like an afterthought to our conversation. It bothered me, but I was able to somewhat brush it off. I kept thinking, we aren't at this place yet...I shouldn't be thinking about my husband not being around. Aren't we in the positive thinking mode place? I know that I have had unforgiving thoughts the past how many months, that this whole senario would be easier if we didn't have small children to take care of during such a tough time. And, I feel like an ungrateful mother even now admitting that loss of perspective, and even letting that thought cross my mind. But, I always retracted those thoughts quickly because I cannot imagine our life without them, and especially now with the joy they bring to us in the midst of our pain. I always think about their future and how this will affect them, how it will make them stronger, more appreciative, grounded and to love and be loved more intensely. So, transferring that thinking into J...I cannot imagine my life without him taking care of me, partnering with me, encouraging me. I purposely build my life around him and our family, and this family does not work without him in it. But last night, after a discouraging few days, we fell to such a down place. I don't know if you could call what we had an argument per se. I have always considered an argument to be about where the proper place is to squeeze the toothpaste or how to reload the toilet roll dispenser. Should the paper roll out on the top or on the bottom side? But, last night we argued about continuing on or quitting and letting the cancer run its course. It is harder here in Texas, and we cannot figure out why exactly. We don't know if we are just tired from pushing so hard to fight the past how many months, and we are out of steam, or if the treatment is just more intensive here.

We have been up since 4am. J's pain and discomfort was unbearable. My heart could do nothing my ache, and ponder our last night's argument. Last night, I know my motive for being on the side to keep fighting was a mixture of selfish desire, to have my J around, and fears of being on my own as a single mom. But, today I know he is suffering, and I was beginning to change sides and put together my argument to pack up and go home. I had wanted to call a girlfriend in Hawaii, but knew it was still 5am there, so I excused myself and went to the restroom to cry in a stall. Our nurse, who is incredible, saw on my face how fragile I was this morning. She pulled me aside, gave me a giant hug, and helped talk me out of the fears I was surrounded by. She said firmly, but lovingly..."I told Jim this morning...you are here for a purpose."

Well, that purpose has been fulfilled. After a difficult and emotional morning, we met with Dr. Tennant in the afternoon and finally heard the news we were waiting to hear. Dr. Tennant had brought in several graphs that had charted his body's voltage in the past weeks. It showed the voltage throughout his entire body had gone up in all the meridians, and selectively higher in the large Intestine. As you put voltage in body, everything gets better, but the body selectively sends voltage where it needs it. So we were shooting for the large Intestine, and we got the results we wanted. The large Intestine has responded. YES!

As we started the process of killing cells, the discomfort comes along with it. Dr. Tennant assured us the pain and discomfort J has been suffering through will begin to calm down soon. He said you don't see voltage staying at high levels for a long periods of time because the body will only send voltage to where there are tumors or to the circuits that need it, something like a power surge. When the healing has peaked, the voltage comes down to normal levels signifying that healing has taken place. So, J has been at the voltage range where tumor cells die, and is already beginning to come down. So, basically we have accomplished what we came here to do. We reached healing voltage range, cleaned up the toxicity in J's body, which means his liver can now do a better job with his immune system, and he can adequately absorb better nutrition now to keep him strong and healthy.

We will be continuing on through the treatment daily, and J will be taking some more tests at the end of the week to continue tracking his healing. I began this posting in the early morning, and finished it after our meeting with Dr. Tennant. It is so amazing how things can change in a moment. When we left the clinic, the weather was still overcast, loud, deep thunder was booming and the rain was beginning to fall. But, in my heart and head the air was lighter, hopeful again and assured of the repeated promise we came here for.


Team JIMSTRONG Contributors

Tina Pierce
Brooke DeRenne Clark
Ryker Wada
Elaine Marr
Garett Chau
Katie Brennan and Dennis Sarmiento
Sharon Spooler
Lisa Mitsunaga & Family