Rylands Family Support
Donation protected
From Angie ~
The words I have to share today are perpetually stuck in my throat. I hear them in my mind on a continuous loop, but have struggled to put them in writing.
How do I articulate the reality of what we've learned? And if I do, then where do we go from there?
My heart, my mind, my body... they are all fighting to find another answer, another solution to what we are battling. But for now, for today, there seems to be no practical answer given.
Thursday afternoon, Tom and I went to see Dr. Rose. It was meeting. The one where we ask the hard questions and get even harder answers, answers that we are still trying to process.
My precious husband is dying. That is the news we received.
How can something seem so very real and yet impossible at the same time? Medically speaking, it is a question of when, not if. He and I are still digesting the information, and the proposed treatment plan. Maybe a more appropriate term would be "management plan" as treatment has a curative implication and we were given no hope, outside of a decision from God to intervene, that we would get past this. Despite the grim nature of our meeting today, Dr. Rose did recommend that Tom strongly consider chemotherapy. While he said that there is really only a 20-30% chance that it will help, if it successful, he estimates that it could add another 3-9 months to his life. He said that if Tom was his Dad, he'd want him to try. He shared that it will take 2 complete rounds of chemo for him to be able to assess if it is helping at all. If Tom decides to move forward, there will, of course, be side effects of treatment for as long as he chooses to continue. He is still praying through all of this, but for now, he has said he will try. The primary reason is that if they can shrink his tumor, even a little, it should provide some relief to the pain he is experiencing and alleviate some of his breathing and swallowing issues.
The doctor also recommended that they send out a "palliative care team" to the house to address issues of comfort as we move ahead. This team, as I understand it in my limited experience, is the step before hospice. They are the professionals who can examine the house and meet with us about ways to make Tom's quality of life as enjoyable as possible for the time that remains. Since we've spent three nights on the sofa, and since we still have not heard anything from the insurance company about getting Tom the medical bed that he needs (or wheelchair, or anything else), we've reached out to a friend who has one of these beds and has offered it to us. Hopefully, we will hear back from them today and be able to get it set up by tonight.
Of course, while all these things are important realities, the biggest thing weighing on our hearts is, of course, our family. Tom called both his grown daughters yesterday and shared the news with them. Those were, indeed, very emotionally charged conversations. The bigger challenge though will be sharing this with our sons. For those on this email who may not know, our 5 boys range in age from 10 up to 17. Four of them were adopted as older children from China. They have been through so much already in their young lives and so this news, while always devastating, is increasingly so due to the compounding affect of this additional trauma. We know that we cannot wait too long to tell them what we know. We know they deserve time to fully comprehend this and soak up every day with their Dad that they can. But, we also know that they will need a strong support system beyond their Mom and Dad. One of my greatest fears is the knowledge that I cannot fix this for any of them and that I will not be able to meet all of their emotional needs as we all walk this out. I am relying on God to supernaturally strengthen and support our children. We are counting on the body of Christ to love our children well as we all grieve. To that end, Tom has asked the boys' pastors to come to the house and meet with us this Sunday afternoon. He wants to talk to them about how they can shepherd our sons through this well. There will be others that we will reach out to soon as well. I know that I cannot be all things to my boys, no matter how much I try. I cannot be the strong male influence that they so need, so they will need other godly men to embrace the hard task of helping me to raise these young men to know Him well. But this I know- God loves our boys infinitely more than I am capable of. I know that they will be everything the Lord has planned for their lives and I will claim that promise. I know that I am only responsible to teach and to model Christ to my children, and while that is a daunting task, to be sure, the results are truly not mine to control.
Friends, please know that in Christ, we are never without hope. I have not given up hope. But, I know deeply that my hope is not in a cure for Tom's cancer. I would rejoice for that gift, but my hope, my joy, my peace is in the Lord and His faithfulness to us. The thought of there being a day when I will no longer be able to look into his eyes, or touch his arm, or hear his voice is a painful one. It is a thought that makes it hard to breathe. But I will breathe. I will do what I can, minute by minute to enjoy him while I can and save the mourning till its season.
I know from your many messages that you are holding us up before our Father faithfully. Please do not stop. This is not the time for us to back away from the throne of grace. As the old hymn says, "We need thee every hour". I'd ask specifically that you pray for us as we plan how and when we will tell our boys. Also, that they would not hear this news from anyone but us. It is critically important that we do this well. As soon as we have the appropriate folks in place to help us support them in this news, we will tell them what we are dealing with. Please also pray for financial provision from the Lord. As much as I love the work I am privileged to do at Lifeline, it is clear that I can not return to work anytime soon. This will impose a significant financial strain on us, at least for a time, but there is no greater priority right now than being with my family and no greater privilege than to care for my husband right now. Today I learned that while I am out on FMLA (family medical leave), I will have to pay our full insurance premium to keep our health insurance in force. I know that the Lord will provide for this and all of our needs as we hold fast to him, but it is indeed a practical need to call out for prayer. Clearly, doing without insurance right now is not an option. :-)
Tom and I send our love to each of you who are walking this road with us and we thank you.
Blessings,
Angie
The words I have to share today are perpetually stuck in my throat. I hear them in my mind on a continuous loop, but have struggled to put them in writing.
How do I articulate the reality of what we've learned? And if I do, then where do we go from there?
My heart, my mind, my body... they are all fighting to find another answer, another solution to what we are battling. But for now, for today, there seems to be no practical answer given.
Thursday afternoon, Tom and I went to see Dr. Rose. It was meeting. The one where we ask the hard questions and get even harder answers, answers that we are still trying to process.
My precious husband is dying. That is the news we received.
How can something seem so very real and yet impossible at the same time? Medically speaking, it is a question of when, not if. He and I are still digesting the information, and the proposed treatment plan. Maybe a more appropriate term would be "management plan" as treatment has a curative implication and we were given no hope, outside of a decision from God to intervene, that we would get past this. Despite the grim nature of our meeting today, Dr. Rose did recommend that Tom strongly consider chemotherapy. While he said that there is really only a 20-30% chance that it will help, if it successful, he estimates that it could add another 3-9 months to his life. He said that if Tom was his Dad, he'd want him to try. He shared that it will take 2 complete rounds of chemo for him to be able to assess if it is helping at all. If Tom decides to move forward, there will, of course, be side effects of treatment for as long as he chooses to continue. He is still praying through all of this, but for now, he has said he will try. The primary reason is that if they can shrink his tumor, even a little, it should provide some relief to the pain he is experiencing and alleviate some of his breathing and swallowing issues.
The doctor also recommended that they send out a "palliative care team" to the house to address issues of comfort as we move ahead. This team, as I understand it in my limited experience, is the step before hospice. They are the professionals who can examine the house and meet with us about ways to make Tom's quality of life as enjoyable as possible for the time that remains. Since we've spent three nights on the sofa, and since we still have not heard anything from the insurance company about getting Tom the medical bed that he needs (or wheelchair, or anything else), we've reached out to a friend who has one of these beds and has offered it to us. Hopefully, we will hear back from them today and be able to get it set up by tonight.
Of course, while all these things are important realities, the biggest thing weighing on our hearts is, of course, our family. Tom called both his grown daughters yesterday and shared the news with them. Those were, indeed, very emotionally charged conversations. The bigger challenge though will be sharing this with our sons. For those on this email who may not know, our 5 boys range in age from 10 up to 17. Four of them were adopted as older children from China. They have been through so much already in their young lives and so this news, while always devastating, is increasingly so due to the compounding affect of this additional trauma. We know that we cannot wait too long to tell them what we know. We know they deserve time to fully comprehend this and soak up every day with their Dad that they can. But, we also know that they will need a strong support system beyond their Mom and Dad. One of my greatest fears is the knowledge that I cannot fix this for any of them and that I will not be able to meet all of their emotional needs as we all walk this out. I am relying on God to supernaturally strengthen and support our children. We are counting on the body of Christ to love our children well as we all grieve. To that end, Tom has asked the boys' pastors to come to the house and meet with us this Sunday afternoon. He wants to talk to them about how they can shepherd our sons through this well. There will be others that we will reach out to soon as well. I know that I cannot be all things to my boys, no matter how much I try. I cannot be the strong male influence that they so need, so they will need other godly men to embrace the hard task of helping me to raise these young men to know Him well. But this I know- God loves our boys infinitely more than I am capable of. I know that they will be everything the Lord has planned for their lives and I will claim that promise. I know that I am only responsible to teach and to model Christ to my children, and while that is a daunting task, to be sure, the results are truly not mine to control.
Friends, please know that in Christ, we are never without hope. I have not given up hope. But, I know deeply that my hope is not in a cure for Tom's cancer. I would rejoice for that gift, but my hope, my joy, my peace is in the Lord and His faithfulness to us. The thought of there being a day when I will no longer be able to look into his eyes, or touch his arm, or hear his voice is a painful one. It is a thought that makes it hard to breathe. But I will breathe. I will do what I can, minute by minute to enjoy him while I can and save the mourning till its season.
I know from your many messages that you are holding us up before our Father faithfully. Please do not stop. This is not the time for us to back away from the throne of grace. As the old hymn says, "We need thee every hour". I'd ask specifically that you pray for us as we plan how and when we will tell our boys. Also, that they would not hear this news from anyone but us. It is critically important that we do this well. As soon as we have the appropriate folks in place to help us support them in this news, we will tell them what we are dealing with. Please also pray for financial provision from the Lord. As much as I love the work I am privileged to do at Lifeline, it is clear that I can not return to work anytime soon. This will impose a significant financial strain on us, at least for a time, but there is no greater priority right now than being with my family and no greater privilege than to care for my husband right now. Today I learned that while I am out on FMLA (family medical leave), I will have to pay our full insurance premium to keep our health insurance in force. I know that the Lord will provide for this and all of our needs as we hold fast to him, but it is indeed a practical need to call out for prayer. Clearly, doing without insurance right now is not an option. :-)
Tom and I send our love to each of you who are walking this road with us and we thank you.
Blessings,
Angie
Organizer and beneficiary
Laura Giguere Lewis
Organizer
Mt. Pleasant, SC
Angie Rylands
Beneficiary
