Reflections From My Battle With Cancer

This cancer is not my fault, and God is not inflicting me purposely with pain. It is just an illness which is tenacious. It encouraged me to keep running the race and to realize I also have a spiritual race to run in the Kingdom.

In 2018, my friend Bro. Chris Stickney and I traveled to China for a week-long fun vacation. We were heading to the airport at the end of the trip, and I stumbled down some stairs, twisting my ankle. I didn’t mention anything to my wife, Sis. Jennifer, about my fall, because I thought I could walk it off and didn’t want to worry her. When we got home, my swollen ankle was not improving, and she was concerned. So, she made me go to my general practitioner to have it examined.

It just so happened I turned fifty years old that year, so my doctor also ordered me to do a stool test, which is standard practice for that age milestone. The stool test ended up being abnormal, which I also didn’t tell Jennifer about, but the next step was a colonoscopy. The day after the colonoscopy, the tests revealed that there was a large dark tumor. The following day, I got the news of having cancer. 

Truth be told, this began a series of hundreds of doctor visits, hospital stays, and cancer treatments. It has not been a short journey, nor has it been simple. The odd thing, and possibly the most challenging part of it all, is that most of it has been a “silent” illness. Most of the time, I felt normal. I also looked normal once I was past the current treatment. So, I felt guilty for getting all the prayers for something where people couldn’t even see that I was very ill. I didn’t want others praying for me when there were some who were in greater need of prayers.

At the start, before any treatment, my surgeon discussed my cancer, which was either Stage 2 or 3, and its typical survivability, which was around 75%. That didn’t sound too bad—I like to be optimistic. But he also said something that stuck with us and turned out to be so true. Cancer treatment is “A marathon, not a sprint.” It was true because there was something new, something worse to tackle at each point.

The biggest turn was during my first colon surgery, where they found the cancer had spread to my liver. They later discovered it had also spread to both of my lungs. At this point, it is Stage 4 cancer, and my survivability went down, but not my determination. Over the past five years, I have had three rounds of chemo, three rounds of radiation, four different resection surgeries, a handful of other minor surgeries, implants, near liver failure, and stents inserted into my liver to handle all the complications from having all these cancer treatments. This regimen resulted in multiple days in the hospital. Indeed, we were running a marathon.

I must emphasize the incredible support Jennifer has provided. She has never failed me, standing by my side as my advocate with medical professionals and keeping both our family and the ecclesial community informed about my condition. Without her insisting, I probably would not have gone to the doctor for my ankle. I probably would not have asked to announce my condition to the ecclesia, which led to so many prayers on my behalf. Honestly, I would probably be dead now and most likely would not have positively changed spiritually either. 

I truly believe, and it might sound odd to hear this, that cancer was definitely one of the best things that have happened to me. I don’t recommend it, of course, but for me, there has been so much spiritual reflection and quality time spent with my family. If I were given a choice not to have cancer, I would struggle with that, as I would be afraid I would lose the positive experiences that come with the disease. That said, the journey through cancer treatments has been overwhelming, intense, and surreal at times.

It is hard to capture the emotional and physical challenges experienced. Asking, receiving, and accepting that others are praying for you is a very powerful and humbling experience. I am eternally grateful for the prayers, cards, and support from my family and the ecclesial community. It has been a great strength for my hope—not just my hope for surviving cancer but of ultimately being in God’s Kingdom by His grace.

Another aspect of being ill is the impact on your own family. Memories still haunt me as I told my parents I had cancer and how it distressed them that one of their children might die before them. When I told my sister, her exclamation was to wail and repeat, “No!” It was a wake-up call to know how serious my illness could be. 

Since then, constant prayers and love were mixed with recurring bad news as the prognosis changed. It was an emotional roller coaster. Just thinking about it makes my heart sink and eyes well with tears. These feelings associated with the illness and how it affects those around me led me to understand why “Jesus wept.” in John 11:35.

I was writing an exhortation, and John 11 spoke to me because of the health situation I was going through. So many in the ecclesia have told me they have prayed that God might heal my cancer. Certainly, my family and I have prayed too. But I realized this illness wasn’t just impacting me, for we know many are suffering and struggling with their faith. We all want our loved ones saved and healed. So, the illness tends to affect many others beyond the sick person. Sometimes, the loved ones suffer more than the sick person does.

From my point of view, what I see in John 11 is more than a miracle. It includes a group of many people. It is Jesus, his Father, Jesus’ friends, a family of two sisters and a brother, his disciples, a community circling around Mary and Martha, and Lazarus, Jesus’ good friend. I pictured this story in my head and how it was similar to my life of family and friends. I felt Mary and Martha’s urgency as they called for Jesus to come and heal Lazarus. I was struck by how my family and spiritual community all were pleading for the Lord’s healing hand to touch me and save my life.

We see from the beginning of John 11 that it is the plan of God for Jesus to stay away from the village of Bethany, where Lazarus was gravely ill. It was very painful for Jesus not to be with his friend during his illness. It was painful for Jesus not to heal him, as he had done for so many strangers before.

When Lazarus died, Jesus finally went to visit his family in Bethany. As he neared the village, people came to greet Jesus. First, Martha met him, and Jesus shared that his delay was for a Godly purpose. Next, he saw Mary, who ran to him and fell at his feet. When Jesus saw Mary weeping at his feet, he was moved. Jesus saw the pain of the situation, and it finally overwhelmed him. He saw Mary’s anguish and helplessness in wanting Jesus to be there to heal her brother. Despite Jesus knowing that he needed to show the glory of God, Jesus broke down and wept. The pain of Jesus seeing his family and friends so sad was more overwhelming. This empathy for those in pain is what I now feel sometimes, and I, too, just weep.

Even though I have been through so much over the years, I still can’t resolve the question of why I am still here. When you are in a large community, there will be plenty of others that also have cancer. There will be survivors like you, coupled with others who aren’t. These experiences make you ask: “Why should I be saved?” Apparently, this reaction is called “survivor’s guilt,” and it is sometimes hard to take. 

A couple of weeks ago, I gave an exhortation at our ecclesia. As I prepared for the exhortation, I came to an epiphany about why I was saved. The circumstances of my exhortation were unusual. I wasn’t scheduled to speak, but a series of events led me to be requested to speak by another brother who had a conflict.

In Sunday School class the week before, we were studying Philippians 2. The class leader, Bro. Jeff Gelineau, presented a quote from the movie Saving Private Ryan, where Private Ryan, much later in life, questioned the worth of his being saved at the expense of so many lives of the men who were sent to save him. This thought made me question why I have been saved and what I will do with this gift.

This quote was reinforced by the recent passing of Sis. Doreen Green. Her story was an inspiration, as she did so much for others across the world. She was always looking far ahead to the race to the Kingdom and her resurrection. The key point of my exhortation was to be glad and thankful for all the grace of God that He provides. He saves us all. We just need to respond to God’s love and grace.

I have been continuing my physical marathon with regular blood tests, MRI, and CT scans every three months as they search for any new growth. It has been almost seven years since my initial diagnosis. My final lung resection was almost two years ago, which brought about the start of my cancer remission. Just a week ago, I went to have my quarterly medical body scans. Like every visit, I enter with anxiety and hopefulness that it will go well and that the cancer will still be in remission. It was more stressful this time because if the scans showed no tumors, it would mark two years in remission. Two years of remission is considered a milestone because the chances of recurrence drop dramatically going forward. 

The MRI scan is always emotionally exhausting since it is almost an hour long. Technicians always ask what music you would like to listen to during the long scan. I always ask for Frank Sinatra because he is my daughter’s favorite and why she named her son Francis, my first grandson. I usually tear up while lying there, thinking about my family and journey.

After the morning tests, I headed to my doctor. You get to know your doctor’s personality despite the short visits with him. He is always straight-faced, rarely joking. He might sometimes hint at a smile and speak with a quiet, gentle voice. This time, his nurse joined him when he came into the room. His face betrayed him; there were no jokes, no smile, and only a somber look. He paused for a moment to tell me the results. Hiding there at the edge of the old scar tissue was a new tumor that was slowly growing. It was now about 10×8 mm. Most likely, the tumor was always there but was previously too small to see. 

My two-year cancer remission hopes were dashed. My first thought was about my family, my ecclesia, and everyone who has prayed for me. I was concerned I had given false hope during my exhortation a couple of weeks before. I felt like I had let brothers and sisters down, and my eyes welled up. The doctor gently touched my shoulder and reassured me that this was not my fault. He encouraged me by saying he knew I had been through a lot and had been strong.

The feeling of that day was like going up a steep hill, pushing to get to the top, hoping for the finish to be in sight, but getting to the top and not seeing the finish line at all. I was feeling a bit alone, thinking about having to tell Jennifer and my kids I hadn’t passed the remission milestone. We have yet to announce the news to the ecclesia and again ask for prayers. We will wait to hear the plan from the lung surgeon on February 27th. I would appreciate any prayers for me; they mean a lot.

The news made me think of an object lesson that my brother, Bro. Rodney had given on “Or what man is there of you, who, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone?” (Matthew 7:9 NKJV). My brother had a plate of stones and one of bread, asking the child who got the stones if they liked the snack he gave them to eat. He took the stones back and said no one in their right mind would ever feed their hungry children stones. That lesson brought me comfort. This cancer is not my fault, and God is not inflicting me purposely with pain. It is just an illness which is tenacious. It encouraged me to keep running the race and to realize I also have a spiritual race to run in the Kingdom. It teaches me I can look forward to that spiritual hope, even if I continue to have bad news and lose hope in my flesh. I know I can always look forward to the resurrection. Paul wrote:

But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself. (Philippians 3:20-21 ESV).

If I have any advice to pass along, it would be that prayer and cards have been a very important part of my journey. By telling people about your own journey and always asking for prayers, people know what is going wrong and that you would appreciate their help. Also, realize that the more you share, the more people might be empathic and offer suggestions. Try to be gracious and listen gently to them. Later, while alone, you can reflect on their thoughts and decide if it is worth pursuing or rejecting.

I received many suggestions for cures, some of which I later tried, but some I rejected. I also tried to include my doctor in some of the “extra” things I would do as supplements, and my doctors were typically open. Communication with your physician is important to make sure it doesn’t affect the cancer regimen that has been prescribed. Definitely listen to your doctor and follow the standard cancer regimen because researchers are constantly improving the techniques, and they do help.

Since it is a marathon, be ready to keep going, and don’t lose hope. My wife has been extremely helpful to me. She is my advocate and does all the work I don’t enjoy doing, like updating others on my status. Your family and ecclesial community are rooting for you. I’ve also learned there are many people with terrible illnesses, some of whom are spiritual. You can help them in their journey, which will make your journey memorable and spiritually fulfilling.

Glenn de Caussin,
Simi Hills Ecclesia, CA