Friday, August 24, 2012


It’s 5:00 in the morning, and I just can’t sleep.  Adam and I have been talking, holding hands in the dark.  The bedroom is actually dark for the first time in 6 months.  And completely silent.  The whooshing of the pump is gone, as is the pump’s bright display that used to cast a glow around the whole room.  It’s over.  We received a call yesterday that shocked both of us to the core.  Adam’s lesions have grown since the last MRI 8 weeks ago, and there is now a third lesion.  The treatment didn’t work.  It’s worked for so many others.  It is the one treatment that gave us any hope of Adam seeing the boys grow up.  He probably won’t ever get to meet his grandchildren.  He probably won’t see his boys get married or finish school.  He may not ever get to hear Finlay say "Daddy".

We are both so confused.  God led us to Dr. Burzynski’s clinic.  We know that.  The Divine landmarks were so clear.  Some signs were subtle, others blatant.  We were meant to go there, and this treatment seemed made for Adam.  Why didn’t it work?  Why the horrible 6-month detour?  Adam will never get those 6 months back, and right now every month counts.  He’s been like an old man, unable to wrestle with his three young boys.  Unable to take them to the park, or hike the beautiful trails we are blessed to have nearby.  The kids’ lives were put completely on hold.  When God paves a clear path for you, when He asks you to go somewhere and do something so very hard, it’s supposed to work out, right?  When you do what He tells you… it’s supposed to end well, isn’t it?

We don’t know what we are supposed to do next.  We have discussed a few options, but they all look so awfully wrong.  The Burzynski clinic is encouraging us to come back to Houston so he can start gene-targeted therapy.  It just feels wrong.  First of all, we need to come up with $30,000 to start the other treatment, not to mention all the expenses of going down there.  It makes both of us nauseous just thinking of going back to that place and starting over.  The monthly cost of the treatment is over $20,000.  And it has a much lower rate of success than the antineoplastons.  Not to mention the horrible side-effects of the drugs.  Adam just doesn’t want to go there.  Another option is maybe Dr. Gonzalez in NY.  His protocol is absolutely grueling.  It’s a massive total-body detox, involving several coffee enemas a day, a dozen freshly-made juices a day, liver flushes, handfuls of vitamins and enzymes several times a day… it would make the last 6 months look like a freaking holiday.  And we don’t know if he’s had much success with brain tumors.  Finally, we could go back to England.  Adam could receive radiation and chemotherapy on the NHS, which might buy him a couple of years.  It would destroy his body in the meantime, and might disable him to the point where he couldn’t enjoy the boys during his remaining time with us.  Adam doesn’t want it.  He actually groans everytime I mention the possibility of chemo.

I looked into my trusted Streams in the Desert last night and it didn’t fail me.  What I found was this:
            “It is faith without sight.  When we can see, it is not faith, but reasoning.  In crossing the Atlantic we observed this very principle of faith.  We saw no path upon the sea, nor sign of shore.  And yet day by day we were marking our path upon the chart as exactly as if there had followed us a great chalk line upon the sea.  And when we came within twenty miles of land, we knew where we were as exactly as if we had seen it all three thousand miles ahead…  So faith looks up and sails on, by God’s great Sun, not seeing one shoreline or earthly lighthouse or path upon the way.  Often its steps seem to lead into utter uncertainty, and even darkness and disaster; but He opens the way, and often makes such midnight hours the very gates of day.  Let us go forth this day, not knowing, but trusting.”

That’s all we can do right now.  Trust in Him.  We are looking for signs and instructions from Above.  We will go wherever He tells us to go, and we will do whatever He commands.  Our faith is all we have.


  1. We are trusting, watching, and praying with you. Love, Caroline

  2. Oh Vanessa, I don't know what to say. My heart breaks for you and your husband and family at such hard decisions. We will continue to pray for you all that the Lord will guide you to what is right.