Caleb's presence for ten days after the final scan results was a boon. Although he too had been devastated when we told him of Dr. Hinkleman's prognosis, his mood had improved when we told him of Dr. Hanson's comments, and he heard for himself what Dr. Legarde had to say.

Since I was obviously feeling upbeat, he followed my lead. We played games, cooked nutritious meals like his famous grilled broccoli, and painted my ugly gold bathroom blue. He actually did most of the painting. One side effect from the chemo that persisted was swelling in my ankles and feet. Dr. Hanson said the nerves in my legs had been damaged by the chemo, and it could take up to two years to regenerate. In the meantime I would have to put up with swelling in my lower extremities and neuropathy in my toes. So when my feet would start to swell, I'd prop them up and watch Caleb, giving him verbal encouragement.

Now that I was feeling pretty good and wasn't facing surgery, Caleb suggested I come to Mexico for a week. Aaron and his family were joining Caleb and Hector near Puerto Vallarta for a week on the beach in a rented condo. There was an extra bed. I would share a room with Bella, but that was no hardship, as long as we didn't have to share a bed.

I shared a bed with Bella before taking Caleb to the airport in April. She went to bed early and was asleep a little after 10:00 pm when I joined her. I was thankful that when her knee felt someone, she jerked it back and turned over. You see when he was small, I refused to sleep with Aaron unless he was sick, because he used the whole bed. Arms in the face, or feet, were quite common and tame. Aaron had informed me that Bella had the same sleeping habits, and I hoped to avoid a repeat of the remembered nightmares of a night in bed with Aaron.

Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep because of itchy hands and got Aaron to turn on the fan. He accidentally turned on the light and awoke sleeping beauty. Aaron covered Bella, and I said, "I've done that three times but she keeps kicking them off." She yawned and said, "That's probably because I like to use the whole bed, Gandi." Or at least that's what my sleep deprived mind heard. Now that she knew I was there, I was subjected to her version of snuggling.

I was the recipient of a knee to the shin followed by two rapid lefts and then a toenail scrape from toe to hip. She must have still been practicing ballet. With that side battered and bruised, I turned on my side facing her. She immediately went after the other leg like a heat-seeking missile. When she found my right knee with hers, I turn my back. She had evidently gone from ballet to the gym because I got a swift kick to the butt, after which she used it as a kickboxing warm up bag. Luckily there's more padding there than on the shins. When she finally turned over, I breathed a sigh of relief only to receive a backwards kick as a warning.

Four hours after getting to bed I finally dosed off. Less than an hour later a sharp elbow jab between the shoulder blades brought me fully awake; my bladder was already nudging me in that direction. I walked into the hall and encountered Caleb heading for the shower. "It's 3:30," he said. "We have to leave for the airport in 30 minutes." Never before had I been thrilled to be told I had to get up at that time in the morning. I considered writing a poem to Bella: How Do I Love You, Let Me Count the Bruises. Needless to say, this was not an experience I cared to repeat, especially for multiple nights.

Caleb and I checked flights on line. The only affordable flight had me flying into Guadalajara on the 6th and returning home on the 17th. It meant a jaunt through LA, with a seven hour layover, and a return via red-eye through Atlanta, but those were things I was willing to endure to spend a week on the beach with family.  Wayne wasn't too thrilled to have me leaving, but he graciously agreed that I could go.

I spent several days in Guadalajara with Caleb and Hector. It was a fun and relaxing time. We then took a bus to Puerto Vallarta and met Aaron, Katherine and Bella at the airport where we rented two cars for a week.

If you've never taken a bus in Mexico, you really should try it. The Plus buses are air conditioned, so much so that I needed a blanket. Each person has their own reclining seat with a screen to watch movies. Free Wi-Fi is available. They provide you with a sack lunch and a drink before you embark. The bus beats a cramped car any day.

Once we got to Vallarta and met Aaron's plane, we split up. Caleb and I went to Cosco to get a week's worth of groceries while the rest took the luggage and headed to the condo.

The week was very relaxing. We played games every evening. We played ones that Bella could participate in until she went to bed around 8:30. After that we played more complex games. I would bow out between 11 and 12. The rest would stay up until the wee hours of the morning.

Bella and I would get up first and enjoy some time together. We played UNO, ate breakfast and then took a dip in the pool. We had some great Gandi/Bella time. Since I hadn't been able to spend much time with her during chemo, those mornings were precious to both of us.

Three mornings during the week, a masseuse came in to give massages. I tend to carry my stress in my shoulders and had her do a lot of work on them. It took all three sessions, but she finally worked most of the kinks out. 

We went shopping in a small market in a nearby town one day. I got a nice beach hat. I enjoyed sitting on the beach and relaxing. My body still was not back to normal, and if whatever the rest had planned was more than I thought I could handle, I would simply take my Kindle and sit on the beach and read or take some time to commune with God.

One day, they planned an evening horse ride into the mountains. I graciously declined. I knew I didn't have the stamina for a three hour ride, but even if I did, I am not exactly a horse person. I like petting horses, but riding them is a totally different matter. I leave that to the more experienced.

I stayed in my chair on the beach while the others went inside to change. They were going to come back and meet the horses on the beach. While they were gone, I decided to go into the surf and relieve my bladder. It seemed simpler than returning to the condo. That venture was almost my undoing. I was weaker than I thought.

I waded out into the ocean a short ways and stood in the water enjoying the view. When I tried to return to my chair, a problem surfaced. The tiny waves were more than I could handle. I had worn my rubber sandals into the water. The waves were trying to suck them off as they pulled my legs backwards. I would take two steps forward and one backwards.

I wasn't that far out and the tide was not that strong, but I was that weak. Halfway in I managed to fall down. I tried crawling, but the waves kept pulling me backward. Gradually, I was inching forward but despaired of ever making it to shore. I imagined myself sitting in the waves crying when my family came back to take their horse ride. Luckily, a nice young lady had been watching my struggles from a towel down the beach. She came over and asked if I needed help. Hearing the grateful affirmative answer,  she waded out, helped me to my feet, and escorted me to my chair.

I was thoroughly humiliated. After sitting for a few minutes and regaining my strength, I headed back to the house. By the time I got there, I was past my embarrassment and could see the humor in the situation. Using a humorous tone, I told the boys of my dilemma. They laughed with me, but were still concerned. I assured them that I was fine. They left on their horse ride, and I ate a little something and read.

Another night, the rest of the adults went into town to shop and eat and maybe dance a little. Bella and I stayed at the condo and made blueberry pancakes. We had a lot of fun gaming and reading together.

After a week on the beach, it was good to get home and see Wayne. The phone service from where we were staying had not been the best. Many evenings, I could hear him, but he couldn't hear me except for a word now and then. Most of our conversations were a monologue on his part, but at least I knew what he was doing, even if he didn't get much news from my end.

The best thing about being home was being able to have meaningful conversations with Wayne again. He has been my best friend for over 45 years. I missed talking to him every night in the hot tub.

One night, I asked him what my diagnosis had done to his faith. While it strengthened mine, it had weakened his. He said he tried using devotion books, but it didn't help. Just reading scripture was not helping either; he was struggling to hear God's voice. He finally decided that writing his own devotionals might help him to hear the voice of the Holy Spirit. Perhaps God would direct his thoughts and speak to his heart as he wrote. This exercise in faith worked. He wrote three that he shared with me. They did help him to reach God and allowed Him to speak to Wayne's heart. I shared them on Facebook, allowing God to speak to others who were hurting and trying to come to grips with loss. With his permission, I want to share one here.

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Don't Forget About Today

Sometimes I have been so focused on mistakes in the past and worries about the future, I miss out on opportunities today. I remember while in seminary that there were a number of guys that wanted to rush out of school as quickly as possible. For some, they missed out on the special thrill of the experience. I knew that I was not ready to be a pastor yet, so I was able to enjoy nearly every aspect of learning. I enjoyed the classes, the teachers, the classmates -- I enjoyed debating obscure questions. I found answers to questions that nobody in congregations I later pastored were asking. Now, in looking back, I realized that being there was one of the highlights of my life.

I had accepted a new and challenging job just after we discovered that my wife of nearly 44 years had cancer. Within a few months I was able to implement many, but not all the visions that I had for the position. It seemed that the initial news about the cancer was hopeful, but progressively the prognosis became less optimistic. Eventually we were told that the cancer had metastasized to the lungs, making it a stage 4. The doctors indicated that the chances of it returning after a successful chemo series were high. Together, Andi and I, made a joint decision for me to retire.

A number of people made comments about how noble it was for me to leave, but I cringed a little inside each time I heard that. It is not that I am a wonderful and caring husband -- although I want to be. In fact part of it is selfish. If it turns out that I do not have as many years with Andi as I planned, I want the time now to be the best ever; I want to have memories that will last forever. While it is true that whatever comes, I want to be there for her, I also want to be with my best friend as much as I can.

Jesus spoke of the importance of today. He said in Matthew 6:34, "Take therefore no thought for tomorrow: for tomorrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." The promise of the passage is that since God is in control of the little birds of the air and the flowers of the field, he will make provisions for us. If I were to spend all my time worrying about what the future holds, I would perhaps miss this special moment that God has given us.

Andi has two items on her "make a wish" list: to spend time with her adult "boys" and to travel. I plan to help her realize them. I also want to be as devoted to her as I was when we were courting. On the road of life, I fear all too often I have taken for granted just how special she is, and how God made her exactly as she is because she provides the balance I need in life. I was attracted to my wife's spunkiness and her readiness to stand her ground. Admittedly there have been a few occasions when I thought that God may have added one or two drops more of spunk to her composition than was absolutely needed.

Since Andi became sick, I have frequently prayed that God would give me the grace to be a perfect husband -- kind, gentle, tolerant, never disagreeable. It has been discouraging when I have failed in those things, but then I realize that perfection is bigger that just those idealistic concepts. Even when my wife and I disagree, we are reflecting the reality of who we are. I suspect we would both be bored with a bland marriage and no spice. That would not be our relationship, but an unreal pretense. The relationship we have thrives on our differentness, and so we will likely challenge each other.

I have spoken to people and read about others who lost a loved one suddenly without warning -- a heart attack, a car accident, a drowning. There was no opportunity to say "Good-bye," "I'm sorry," and "I love you." There are no guarantees of how long Andi or I will be around -- a few years -- perhaps many years, if God allows. My hope and prayer is that they will be the best. Meanwhile, we will enjoy each other today.

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Wayne's devotional reminded me of something cancer has given us back -- the ability to live in the moment. Too often we are so focused on future goals or on past mistakes that we don't enjoy the present. We now realize that each minute of every day is a gift from God. We are endeavoring to find what God wants us to do with each moment. We are focusing on each day as it comes and living life one day at a time. What a joy to be given back what we didn't even know we had lost in the hustle and bustle of the world.