and this is hope

There is a difference between pleasure and blessedness. Paul experienced imprisonment, pain, sacrifice, and suffering to their very limits, yet through it all he was blessed.

Dearest tested and tried believer, it is your mission to walk onto the stage of this world in order to reveal to all of heaven and earth that the music of life lies not in your circumstances or external things but in your own soul.

~Streams in the Desert, excerpts

This morning I woke feeling a sense of instability. Equal parts joy, weariness, and expectancy. Judah is low sick. And we got amazing news. If this cancer fight has taught me anything, it’s the beauty of balance. Balancing possibility and expectation. Faith and fear. Hope and suffering. Seeking and resting. And that necessary balance is impossible without Jesus. 

Sunday Judah got a fever accompanied by a hateful cough and we had to take a trip to the Medicine Room at St. Jude. They agreed that he was wheezing a bit but felt comfortable sending us home after fluids and a prescription for a humidifier, rest, and lots of water.  By Tuesday, the cold that sent me to bed for 3 days, feeling worse than I remember ever feeling, had taken up residence in my son’s chest.  It almost delayed an exciting procedure where an ENT inflated Judah’s vocal cord to give him more support and strength. That, along with Botox injections into some of his salvitory glands to reduce secretions, hope to put an end to Judah’s micro aspirations and chronic cough. But through God’s great grace, the Nurse Practitioner and CNA saw my vulnerability and decided to go against protocol and give Judah 24hrs to sound better. And God parted the congestion, like He did for the Israelites with the Red Sea, just long enough for Judah to safely have his procedure. The congestion crashed back down on him, complete with wheezing and sinus headache. And even though Judah was sick, I praised God’s name because He blessed us.

For the last 3 weeks, I’ve woken with a different praise and worship song in my head, embedded and on repeat. Thursday I woke, dreading our long day at the hospital. I was also feeling a sadness because the day before I had finished a 40 day prayer plan that had become part of my day-to-day. It was integral in me finding my way back to the heart of Jesus. And the song Old for New by Bethel Music kept circling in my head, pushing the dread and sadness aside.

V1
What was torn you mend again
You redesign the tatter thread by thread
You take the broken and destroyed
You rebuild, You make whole
Chorus
Joy begins to rise
Hope begins to light the dark
Our God exchanges old for new
Dawn has conquered the night
Death has lost to life
V2
And now we are exchanging old for new
You turn flame into a fire
In you we walk in the impossible
We take Your love into the world
We let our light shine, we let it burn
Bridge
There’s nothing that Your love won’t do
There’s not a mountain with can’t move
There’s power in the blood
There’s power in the cross

I did as I always do, give in to the gift of a song for my day, and claim it.

And then when we got to Judah’s Neuro Oncology appointment and found out the genetic testing results were back.

For those who haven’t been following our journey, St. Jude sent a sample of Judah’s tumor to a lab to be genetic tested, broken down, to look for clues to a possible treatment option. Because in the last 9 months Judah’s tumor has shifted from a low grade Pilocytic Astrocytoma to High Grade Diffuse Intrinsic Midline Glioma, it’s terminal. Radiation has a lot of side effects and his tumor is chemo resistant. The genetic testing was our last ditch effort to find SOMETHING.

And it wasn’t until the Drs said the results were back that I realized I had hung my hope on what they were about to say. And they were smiling.

The test showed that Judah had 4 relevant gene mutations:
K27M
P53
NF-1
NF-1 (variant)

We already knew about the K27M mutation. It’s the murderer. The one no one knows how to stop. The P53 mutation is common in cancer and isn’t targetable. And then 2 variations of the NF-1 gene mutation. This is one the drs seemed excited about. 

They explained that the NF-1 gene is like a controller for cell division. It’s job is to make sure that cell division stays balanced by turning on and off. When it mutates, it never turns off.

My eyes began to blur. 

They continued. The NF-1 mutation is typically a “driver” in tumor growth. But it’s rarely found in High Grade tumors. It’s more often found in Low Grade tumors. So its possible that this mutation is what made Judah’s tumor shift from Low Grade to High Grade.

Now I’m holding my breath

Drs again. And we think we can use MEK Inhibitors to counteract the NF-1 mutation. 

WHAT?!? (Internal dialogue: KIND OF BURIED THE LEAD! Are they saying they have a cure?)

Drs explain. This is ALL speculative. We do think MEK Inhibitors work to counteract the NF-1 mutation, but we do not know if the NF-1 mutation is what’s causing Judah’s tumor growth. And we won’t know until the growth halting effects of radiation wear off. In 3 months to a year we will either see tumor growth or we won’t. And there is literally NO clinical data to look to. Judah is 1 of 3 kids reported to have a shifted tumor kind with the presence of the K27M gene mutation in both tumor types. And the other 2 don’t have the NF-1 mutation, as far as we know. This is NEW territory for us. But when you brought Judah to St. Jude, we wanted to be able to give you guys hope. And this is hope!

So basically we are all stumbling around in the dark together but St.Jude and Jesus have resources like flashlights! I’ll take it. And praise God for His victory over my doubt.

Prayer is a funny thing. I’ve spent the last 8 weeks praying for healing. Praying for more time. Praying for acceptance. For daily joy. For closeness. I have been specific and general. And over time, my prayers have widened. I still pray for the same things but I have learned to pray God’s word. To pray to have his eyes and ears so I can see His hands and hear His encouragements. To pray that His will be done and mean it. To believe that God’s love for me is greater than my unbelief. His peace is greater than my fear. His strength, my only chance for strength. His word, truth. 

I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have perfect peace. In the world you have tribulation and distress and suffering, but be courageous [be confident, be undaunted, be filled with joy]; I have overcome the world. [My conquest is accomplished, My victory abiding.] John 16:33 AMP

This verse thrown around a lot when people are suffering. I’ll be honest, when I see it, I usually roll my eyes. But today when it popped up in my quiet time, I wept. Because God can overcome our cynicism. 2 months ago, when a praise and worship song came on about God being a mountain mover, or how great His love is for us, or worse, how they’ll praise Him even though everything is falling apart, I would roll my eyes and change the station. I would say, what trials have these super famous worship bands been through? When did they have to choose to praise God as their heart broke in half? It Is Well my foot. They don’t know.  

But now, I let loose my hands, close my eyes, and praise Him with the words inspired by God’s nature and goodness. Because recently I had an epiphany. It  doesn’t matter if the writer or singer or friend has been broken and spilled out. What matters is that I believe the Holy Spirit inspires, moves and works in the lives of God’s people for His glory. I must give Him glory in the big and small. For the things I asked for and the things I didn’t.

We praise God that He is showing us His works in this new treatment option for Judah. We praise Him that our hope is stronger than our strife. We praise Him that He fights for our hearts. And if there comes a time when we can no longer see Him working, we will remember His truth, that he is still working.

Everything is the same. Everything is different

Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.
Are you aware the shape I’m in?
My hands they shake my head it spins.
Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me me in.
Dumbed down and numbed by time and age.
Your dreams they catch the world the cage.
The highway sets the traveler’s stage
All the exits look the same.

To be honest, I never got on the Avett Brothers train. I don’t NOT like them. Just never sought them out. So I have no idea what this song is supposed to be about. But as I was listening to a Prime Station, the above song came on. And some of the words struck a chord. 

I wonder if Jesus sees the shape we are in down here? 

When we got invited to St. Jude we were filled with a renewed hope. And then Friday happened. Judah had a MRI and the news was not what we were expecting. His new tumor is continuing to grow. It has taken up the entire 4th ventricle. The original mass from 5 years ago is also growing. Chemo isn’t working. The neuro oncologist didn’t know if surgery would be an option. Surgery? Biopsy? Radiation? Inhibitors? All were mentioned. 

An appointment with a pediatric neuro surgeon was made. He told us that surgery wasn’t an option. That Judah’s tumor is diffusing and that makes differentiating between healthy brain tissue and excising tumor tissue impossible. He did say he wanted to do a biopsy. That a biopsy would allow St. Jude to sequence his tumor, look for markers and find a more targeted treatment. But what does no surgery mean? It means our options for treatment just got smaller. And the truth is, we never wanted Judah to have to go through surgery again because of how incredibly hard and heart wrenching it was to watch him relearn shaping and speaking his words, taking steps, concentrating on getting basic things down that no kid should have to do twice. But we would do surgery again if it meant he had to option to fight for ‘himself’ back.

 

Radiation oncology consult was yesterday. We went into that meeting feeling so vulnerable and frightened. Lack of factual information can do that to a person. What we had always heard was that because of where Judah’s tumor is (brain stem), radiation would be the last choice. That it was dangerous. That it could cause cognitive deficits. Physical deficits. New cancer later in life. 

I wish I could say that all our fears were assuaged. They were not. If anything, the hypotheticals made sitting in this awful waiting cycle worse. Because now we know, if the biopsy comes back 1 way, those hypotheticals all of a sudden become reality. We are doing our best to set all the information we learned aside. Store it away with all the other information we have learned over the last 10 days. It will still be there when we need it.

Today we were admitted to Le Bonheur Children’s Hospital. Judah will have a CT scan and MRI for precision measuring to prepare for his biopsy surgery tomorrow. While we are here, the Tumor Board at St. Jude is happening. All of their best and brightest minds will be together to review Judah’s case to try to come up with the best course of action to stop Judah’s tumor from growing more. 

The biopsy will happen tomorrow and is scheduled for 7:30 AM. We have been told that this is will not be traumatizing for him. That the surgery will take ~2 hours and that if all goes well, Judah will be off the vent and in his normal room right away. He will have normal recovery from anesthesia; groggy, grumpy, sore throat, and that his head will hurt. But it already hurts more than it should. The surgeon said he should wake up talking and walking etc. And that is such a relief to all of us! Before the biopsy, we decided it would be a good idea to cut Judah’s much loved long hair. Surgeons are not barbers. We know this from last time! Judah was very unhappy about having to have his hair cut off but we gave him the coolest hair cut we could think of, considering her had to have the whole back of his head shaved!

The biopsy results will take about a week. And Judah will be in the hospital for the same amount of time. We spend that time trying to be present and also distract ourselves. Food. Conversations. Movies. Switch playing. Snuggles. Kids being kids.

But we are going into this biopsy already wounded. We aren’t in the best shape…dumbed down and numbed. All the options in front us feel like bad ones. We covet prayers. Over the last 6 months, it has become immensely difficult to find words, any words, to pray. We cannot keep asking for God to show us He cares. Asking Him if He sees our suffering. Asking Him to give us a glimpse of His goodness. Because we’ve been begging. We believe that God is providing for us through our family and community. Moving their hearts to love us. Meals. Finances. Encouragement. And it has been more than we could ever say thank you for. Then we wake at 3AM to Judah screaming in pain. And we go to another Dr and they tell us more and more bad news. And then our 3 year old asks his big brother if he is better yet. Our 5 year old asks when we get to go home so she can see her friends and go to Kindergarten. It is all we can do to keep moving forward. We do our best. Smile and squeeze all our kids and say yes as often as is possible. And then hide when the wracking sobs come. The moment passes. We breathe. Matthew looks at me. There is an understanding and “here-ness” shared between us and we collect ourselves and start over. And I think it’s that “here-ness” that I miss from God. I used to feel His presence so keenly. I could feel his heart for me. For Judah. And could see His love for us in the little everyday things. Even when things were bad with Judah (or anything else), He was with me. But that’s gone. In it’s place is a wretched, broken, emptiness. A constant reminder of just how small and alone we are on this Earth. And I want so badly to keep believing that He isn’t finished with this story. That I can trust Him with my heart. With our son, his future, his life. It feels like too far to go. And it’s not because God hasn’t miraculously healed Judah, though that’s what we long for. It is because we feel abandoned and isolated from our Maker. And we don’t know why?

Where is the God who tells us he loves us and has plans for us? The Good Father, our creator. The mountain mover. The raiser of Lazarus. The silencer of storms. The healer of many. 

I don’t know. I wish I did.

St.Jude journey beings today

We are pulling out of the driveway, headed to St. Jude for Judah’s patient evaluation. We will be there through Monday so we had to pack like we are going on a week long vacation. 

Toys and books for the kids, books and technology for parents, clothes, sleep friends, toiletries, medicines, chargers, waters, snacks, wallets, phones, glasses, hair ties, swim stuff, and then all of Judah’s oncology stuff! And it it just a lot. Even with packing most of the stuff yesterday, we still ran around for 2 hours trying to check every box. 

But we are on the way now. We are so very thankful. And also incredibly anxious. So many unknowns and hopes. St. Jude has pursued us over the last month. Seeking out all of Judah’s medical records from his various providers, connecting with us several times a week with questions and encouragement. They made it abundantly clear that they wanted Judah at St. Jude. That they had plans, ideas. That they were moving pieces to get Judah a spot. 

Last Thursday, while I was enjoying a birthday evening at the Spa with my best friend, St. Jude called with 3 days of scheduled appts for Judah! I missed the call but surprisingly, the number in my ‘Missed Calls’ was a direct line. Matthew and I could hardly believe our luck. When we miss a call from any non-person, it is always a switchboard. I then spend 10 mins trying to ask for the right place/person, hold for awhile, and then leave a message, only to wait 8-24 hrs to hear back from a nurse. Not at St. Jude. 

Today is New Patient Registration. Thursday will be a full day of Drs, consults, and labs. Friday is more consults and the MRI. We aren’t sure when or how we will get the results. We are planning to stay in Memphis over the weekend to spend time with my brother and his family. That way if St. Jude wants to see us Monday, we will be there.

We are in need of prayer and encouragement. We are not sure what St. Jude is going to want to do but we are assuming it will be different than Judah’s current course of treatment. And that is both exciting and scary. The last thing we want is to walk down the road we walked 5 yrs ago. Surgery. But we also want Judah to have the best quality of life. So we are praying that whatever course of treatment he ends up on, where ever he ends up being cared for, gives him just that. And that Matthew and I are able to hear, process, and make adequate decisions for Judah. That we will be strong enough to delay our immediate responses to think, pray, talk, gather information BEFORE making any decisions. That Judah’s tumor will be stable enough to allow us that time.

School is about to start. And it’s Cricket’s Kindergarten year. And I don’t want her to miss that with her friends. I don’t want Judah to miss 4th grade either!We don’t want to spend a long chunk of time away from Knoxville. Our friends, church, school. And we are struggling with the idea of moving Judah’s current care to somewhere other than Nashville. Really because the Kellett’s have been with us since day one 5 yrs ago. Caring, laughing, feeding, distracting us. Talking things out with us, pushing us individually and as a couple to be better. Being our inner circle and safe place to share or not; cry or not; be. And that’s not easy to give up. 

But I’m borrowing troubles from tomorrow. We don’t not know what is in store for us. What we do know is that Judah is suffering and we need answers. We have given Vanderbilt and ETCH a shot and now we are trying something different. 

We love receiving texts and emails from you guys. Encouragement helps so much. Thank you!

The wait

Some nights I go to bed with a gut feeling that something is going to be off in the night. Falling asleep becomes a trial and when, inevitably, the bad thing happens, I’ve had less sleep than I should have had. Matthew and I team up, doing what we each do best. We spend the early, early morning hours comforting and treating Judah, all 3 of us really longing for sleep. And then the bad passes and the 2 littles wake, and our “morning” starts. We spend the day trying to keep upright, all the while, dreading the repetitive nature of our new normal.

We are beyond tired. Beyond frustrated. Beyond sad. 

We are in Nashville to try an find some answers. Judah has an appointment with the infectious disease Dr here at Vanderbilt. And he is getting a spinal tap to look for possible causes of the fevers. Judah has gotten 4 fever/headache episodes in 4 days. This morning, his fever was 104.6. This is exactly why we are wanting the spinal tap. But get this, the anesthesia Dr doesn’t want to do anesthesia on him because he had a fever in the last 24 hrs…even though the spinal tap is being done BECAUSE of the chronic fevers. It feels so ridiculous. Dr. Esbenshade wants it done and has plead his case to the anesthesia Dr. 

We will see.

For now, we do what we have become really good at. We wait. Wait for Drs plans, for blood and urine tests to come back, for  the ok for the spinal tap, for any new clues, for the middle of the night and the next fever, for relief for Judah.

Much love and gratitude from the Thacker Family

July 3rd and remembering

What comes to mind when you think 4th of July? Traditions? Places? People? Fireworks? BBQ? For us, that question is simple. It is the holiday weekend when everything we knew about anything changed. The weekend all the fun plans went out the window. The race we had planned to run as a family. The sibling time staying up late movie-watching. The lake time with Dad. The yard games. The food Mom would prepare for us. The weekend we learned who our people were. Who our God was. It was the weekend we learned that Judah had a brain tumor. 

Tuesday, sitting on the porch at my parents home, looking at the lake, my older sister said, “5 yrs ago today”. That’s all she said. We all knew what she was referring to. Because for us, the 4th of July holiday is a harsh reminder that we are not in control and cancer is indiscriminate.

Judah got 2 fevers around the 4th weekend. He is getting chemo today. Needless to say, we didn’t need a reminder that Judah is battling brain cancer. And yet, Judah was present throughout our 3 days at my folks. He played the Ninentdo Switch with his cousins, teaching them to play his favorite game (Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle) and learning to play theirs (Fortnite). He watched Little Einstein’s (Pat Pat?) with his Emmett and Stella. He came out for the fireworks, which he has never really done, and loved every second of the booms and lights. 

As I watched on, in awe of this kid who has sensitivity to loud sounds and has an acute memory for negative experiences, and thanked God for him. For the warrior He made Judah from the beginning. For the memory, now burned into my memory,  of my husband guarding and helping Judah assist him with fireworks. For my 4 oldest nephews who have never stopped stepping into the akward spaces with Judah to join him, encourage him, and accept him. For siblings who sit in the muck with us and play cards, cracking jokes, and lifting our collective spirits. For parents who help with it all without a smidge of martyrdom or jealousy.  For the sunshine and water and great books. For our 2 beautiful younger kids who are navigating Judah’s cancer better than I ever imagined while unknowingly wrapping up my wounded guilty-mom-heart with their smiles and requests for stories and snuggles. 

I have floundered the last 3 weeks. I have battled shame and disgust. I’ve been both bound up and emotional. I have been manic about tasks until I am no longer able to function and all the things fall to the wayside. My people love me anyway. But as I spin, my thoughts latch to the idea that I can wrest control from this cancer. And when I have enforced my control on all the moveable pieces in my world, making us all miserable, Judah still wakes in the middle of the night sick. His drs still don’t have answers. Matthew and I still have no peace or deep sleep. Because the idea of control is a lie. There is no control. There is only being confident in God’s faithfulness. And then moving, carrying all the swirling doubts if necessary, in the direction of the of the One who fights for us and goes before us. Every ‘yes’ and every step is progress.

The song giving me life this week is Oxygen by Stephany Gretzinger. A bit of it goes:

          Sometimes my very best

           Is only my weakest yes

          You see strength in every

           movement.

           Baby steps and short breaths

           Anything is progress

           You sustain my every moment

~Wendi

Another headache and fever but…

No ER!


We got to Mom and Dad’s around 3:30 yesterday and played and swam (when it was raining ?). The day and evening went as usual. The kids ate while playing video games and stayed up late just goofing off.
Fast forward to midnight when Judah comes into our room complaining of a headache. We got him in our bed, took his temp (normal), and propped him up hoping this was the worst of it.
At 4:30AM, I felt his belly and it was super hot. So we took his temperature – 102.8. We decided to wait 30 mins. If it went up, we’d call the on-call Dr. If it went down, we’d wait it out. 5:00AM rolled around d and his temp was up to 103.4. So I called the on-call Dr. He was so lovely. He didn’t know Judah or his history but he listened and was reasonable. I told him that they have always gone down by the time we get to the ER and that we are actually farther than normal for the holiday. Sonhe said, ok his counts are good, yes? I’m going to let you watch him. If it goes up, call me back and he has to go to the ER. If it goes down, you can stay home. I will let Dr Spiller know tomorrow.” And by 6:30AM it was normal.
We are tired again. And hoping this is not a foreshadowing of what this week will look like. Because this is how it startedast time we had 3 fevers in 4 days.
Prayers we get to enjoy our time here at Mumzy and Papa’s and Judah doesn’t get anymore fevers until chemo Thursday.