Monthly Archives: May 2009


“So when they were assembled they asked Him, ‘Lord, is this the time when you will re-establish your kingdom and restore it to Israel?’ He said to them, ‘It is not for you to know or become acquainted what time brings [the things and events of time and their definite periods] or fixed years and seasons (their critical niche in time), which the Father has been appointed (fixed and reserved) by His own choice and authority and personal power. BUT you SHALL receive POWER (ability, efficiency, power and might) when the HOLY SPIRIT has come UPON YOU, and you shall be MY WITNESSES.’” Acts 1:6-8 (Amplified Bible, emphasise mine)

Sam and I were playing a game of “Upwords” in the waiting room at 1 o’clock today when a man and his wife came to sit. His bed wasn’t ready. “Hmm, Sam said, “same time we got here yesterday mum. I wonder if he will have to wait 8 hours like we did.” All year, it seems we have been waiting. Waiting to go to x-ray, waiting for a bone marrow biopsy, waiting for a specialist, waiting for chemotherapy, waiting for pharmacy, waiting for a car space, waiting in traffic, waiting for her counts to go up, waiting for her liver functions to go down, waiting for a bed. Waiting for a miracle.

Back in the beginning Sam was told “You have Leukaemia.” After the original disbelief that this could actually be happening to us the next question was when will she be better? When will the treatment end? When will she be able to go back to Uni? When will she be able to work again? How much leave will I need to take?

When, when, when? It reminds me of that New Zealand comedy (Flight of the Conchords): “Win, win, win?” “Stop qistioning me!”

Although this doesn’t feel like a comedy!

I wonder how God feels when we constantly ask to know and become acquainted with what time brings. He doesn’t explain the seasons but He tells us how to endure them.

Hebrews 10:36 For you have need of steadfast patience and endurance, so that you may perform and fully accomplish the will of God, and thus receive and carry away [and enjoy to the full] what is promised.

Romans 5:4 And endurance (fortitude) develops maturity of character (approved faith and tried integrity). And character [of this sort] produces [the habit of] joyful and confident hope of eternal salvation.

2 Corinthians 1:10 [For it is He] Who rescued and saved us from such a perilous death, and He will still rescue and save us; in and on Him we have set our hope (our joyful and confident expectation) that He will again deliver us [from danger and destruction and draw us to Himself].

There is not one thing we can do to change where we are at right now. None of this is easy. We can do it alone and in fear or we can:

1 Peter 5:7 Cast the whole of our care [all our anxieties, all our worries, all our concerns, once and for all] on Him, for He cares for us affectionately and cares about us watchfully.

Sometimes as a mum I feel it is my responsibility to worry. I used to make my mum worry when I was a teenager. She used to tell me that she “Prayed and she worried, then she prayed and she worried.” I understand! I am exactly that same. I love my children so much. I want their lives to be perfect.

Yet God reminds me that it is: 2 Corinthians 12:9 My grace (My favor and loving-kindness and mercy) is enough for you [sufficient against any danger and enables you to bear the trouble manfully]; for My strength and power are made perfect (fulfilled and completed) and show themselves most effective in [your] weakness. Therefore, I will all the more gladly glory in my weaknesses and infirmities, that the strength and power of Christ (the Messiah) may rest (yes, may pitch a tent over and dwell) upon me!

For once in my life, I can’t be home on time for Jack. I can’t get another job to pay the bills; I can’t always be home for Emma’s late night chats: I can’t even stay awake long enough some nights for Sam’s midnight rigors resulting from chemotherapy.

Though I try, I can’t demand a bed when it’s convenient for me. I can’t even walk out of the hospital and complain that the service is so bad I am taking her somewhere else. I can’t make my daughter better. I can’t take her place. I would if I could, but I can’t. And through it all God knows. He knows the time. He knows the season. He knows… He knows…

Many, many years ago when I was 12, my journal records the words “Whenever, wherever, however, whatever, God use my life. Here I am send me.” This is a far cry from what I ever imagined. Somehow after attending every single night of the Billy Graham Crusade of 1979 I thought I’d be preaching in stadiums by now. I used to sit at the very highest spot in the bleachers at the Randwick Racecourse; I used to sing my heart out “Just as I am, I come.” Then, while my Dad went forward to counsel on the altar call, I used to cry out to God and dream that I would stand on that platform one day. I thought my generation was the “stadium generation.” Just ask my Mum and Dad. I’d even let you read my journals.

I didn’t think this would be my ‘whatever’ but my song resounds the same line, “Just as I am, I come.” What I do know though, is that God’s work continues throughout the generations. That the work He has begun in me continues through my offspring. I know when I prayed for Samantha I promised God her life on the altar. We called her Samantha after Samuel ‘who listened for the voice of God.’ I wanted to be like Hannah. Her middle name is “Kate” which means pure because we wanted her to live a holy life. She has.

Every now and then, Sam says it’s weird when she has lived her life as ‘right’ as she possibly could, that this would happen to her. I have to agree. It is weird. We’ve been through lots of stuff. It doesn’t always make sense.

“But we shall receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon us.” My precious Holy Spirit. You call my name. You whisper your promises again and again. You recall your word. You promise your faithfulness. You remind me of eternity. You make all things beautiful in your time. You “plant eternity in men’s hearts, you alone satisfy me.”

When I left today (to come home to help with Jack’s English assignment only to get here and find he’d gone surfing instead) Sam had still not started chemo. Dr Greenwood came at 12, to say we were going ahead with it. That as much as it’s a ‘full on regime’ in time, it could be the thing that saves her life. He said they will continue to do bone marrow and look at the molecular tests to see if she is responding. They will keep going like this for as long as it takes and in the meanwhile we will look for an unrelated donor. It’s in God’s hands. I am empowered by Him. He intercedes on Sam’s behalf through me and through us.

I just called her and it is 6pm. The chemotherapy has started. She is feeling sick, weak and like vomiting. Reid is with her. I will go back later if she needs me to by with her and stay the night if necessary. This regime, as you may remember, if you have read earlier blogs is made up of an assortment of chemotherapy drugs administered intravenously 24 hours a day over 6 days. A lumber puncture and a bone marrow will be conducted with every cycle.

The road ahead is not easy for any of us, especially not for Sam. God’s word and the presence of His Holy Spirit sustains us. Join us to pray by clicking on “Prayers For Sam” in the blog roll.

Feel free to leave words of encouragement in the comments. We appreciate you for coming along side us for miracles.



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Rainbows and Promises

We’ve had such a lovely day together even though we were sitting
around waiting for Sam to have a Lumbar Puncture. We played ten rounds
of Phase 10 down in the courtyard of level 2. Its lots of fun and by
the end of the game I’m a little bit better at shuffling the cards. I
think we should add card shuffling to our fine motor skills programme
in Kindy.
The sounds in the ward drive Sam crazy and its good to get out for
fresh air. It’s a trek to get down. Three of the eight lifts have been
closed while they move furniture around. They are relocating maternity.
Sam was remembering yesterday how three days before she was admitted
she had been to maternity to meet Miya, Justin and Tahlie’s baby girl.
She had stopped half way that day to ring me for directions. How weird
it is that now we are at RNSH nearly everyday.
Chemotherapy has been postponed until Thursday. Even then we’ll need
to check bloods. She hasn’t recovered yet from the chemo she received
two weeks ago. Everyone keeps reminding us that this regime is more
intense. She needs to be better.
Today her potassium is too low, her magnesium is too low, her liver
function tests aren’t good and neither are her neutrophils.
When we get back to 12D Rowen tells us the Lumber Puncture has been
rescheduled for 3 o’clock. We have time to watch a film on her
beautiful laptop. We decide on ‘You’ve Got Mail’ with Meg Ryan. It’s a
favourite of both of ours.
I love the dialogue, the New York apartments, and all the delightful
children’s books. Maybe one day I’ll open a book shop just like ‘The
Shop Around the Corner’ and dress up for story time.
Or maybe I’ll return to Kindy and do that there.
Sam and I laugh out loud as she reads from Roald Dahl’s ‘Boy.’ It’s
also one of our favourite autobiographies. Today is full of delightful
memories. I think when the film first came out Sam was only 10.
Sam has been ‘nil by mouth’ all day and even though she’s outwardly
calm I suddenly release she’s nervous. She pauses the film while I pop
out to the desk to request some Ativan and I run into Jonathon Curtis.
Jonathon is Jemah Joy’s dad who I taught in Kindy last year.
As her name would suggest, beautiful Jemah brought me joy all year. I
loved all the children in KF but Jemah had the special quality of
reminding me of Sam. I relayed this information to Sarah, her Mum,
many times throughout the year. If ever there was a moment I was stuck
on how to respond to Jemah I would ask myself ‘what would Sam need
now?” like Sam, Jemah is also a little bit like Charlie Parsley in
her character. Not to look at Jemah Joy, don’t be worried!
Jemah, like Sam has porcelian features, a sensitive heart and is only
happy to be centre of attention when she’s done something of
excellence. Which is almost always anyway!
As I run into Jonathon I remember that I have promised Jemah to write
about her special card on Samantha’s blog page.
The day after Sam was diagnosed with Leukemia I ran into Jonathon in
radiology. As you can imagine it was a most stressful time. Sam was
there to have her very first Lumber Puncture and to have her Hickmans
cathetar inserted. I stood anxiously by her side trying to digest what
was about to happen to my girl when out of the corner of my eye I saw
Jonathon. Relieved to see someone familiar I called out to him,
“Jonathon, you’re Jemah Joy’s dad!” (I remember what I said because it
was such an embarassing thing to say. As if he didn’t know who he was!)
Anyway, he was gracious to me and came over to chat. I’m sure I
bombarded him with lots of fuzzy information. He told me that they
would pray for Sam. Days later Sam was allowed to go home for the
evening for dinner so we missed them when the Curtis family came into
12A with balloons for Sam and Jemah’s card.
“You really must write about Jemah’s card on your blog,” my Mum says
every time I see her. “You know Dad prays for Sam everyday and thanks
God for that vision of Jemah Joy’s.”
It’s true. “Out of the mouth of babes, God has ordained strength.”
Strength is the thing we need most of all right now.
Jemah drew the most beautiful picture for Sam. On the picture is a
horse on his hind legs, a rainbow and some flowers.
Sarah wrote on the back of the card what Jemah had told her while she
was drawing.
“The horse is on his hind legs because he is in a position of courage
and victory.
The rainbow is the promises of God and this flower at the bottom is
crying and crying as it drops its seeds. But don’t worry Mum, there
are many, many more seeds to come.”

Before heading down to radiology they decided to do another ECG to
make sure Sam’s chest pains were no cause for concern  and to leave
the stickers on incase the doctor wants to run it again on our return.
When it was necessary for me to leave radiology I dashed across to the
private hospital to pharmacy to see if they sold earplugs. Sam didn’t
sleep all night because dear, 75 year old Brian in the opposite bed
snored so loudly.
In the pharmacy I noticed they sell Mustella baby products. I haven’t
seen them for sale since Sam and Emma were born. The smell of the
lotion from the tester transports me back 21 years. My eyes well up
with sentimental tears as I recall rubbing that lotion on Sam’s little
I remember Tracey and I having the love of that product ‘in common’
when we met. Then suddenly I see us both with Matt and Emma in their
Maclaren strollers sporting Mustella baby bags over the handles. We
thought we were the ‘bees knees’, my Mum would say. Tracey bought my
mine as a gift when Emma was born. What a delightful memory!

I’m snapped out of my daydream to see Sam being wheeled out of xray.
She is sleepy from sedation and quickly slips off into dreams of her

When we get back to the ward, there’s a rainbow over the Harbour.
Yvonne brings it to my attention and I stop to take a photo on my phone.

What a perfect ending to the daylight hours. The reminder of a promise!

At 6:50pm I still sit here by Sam’s side. She is still sleeping. Her
ward is filled with visitors making conversation. The city is all lit
up behind me. When Sam wakes up, and when the staff are happy that
she’s well enough, we are going home.
I’ve repacked all her stuff and taken trips to the car, moving it to a
lower level for a speedy escape. We’ll be back on Thursday to try again.
I’m not sure what God’s plan is in all of this but I know His promise
to us.
Everyday, when I listen to the Holy Spirit, he whispers me a promise.
Sometimes I have to search the Bible to find it. Today it was this one
in Malachi and Monica Olander helped me find it.
Like the courageous horse, “He is risen with healing in His wings. And
we will go out like calves released from our stalls.  We will trample
down the wicked. They will be like ashes under our feet.”(Malachi 4:2)


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The Lord goes before me

Deuteronomy 31:8

The Lord goes before me; He will not fail me; therefore I will not fear neither become broken (in spirit – depressed, dismayed or unnerved with alarm)

As I left hospital today Judy Chapman sent me this verse. How did she know my despair? I am uplifted and encouraged to not be on my own in this journey.

I didn’t sleep at all last night. I lay awake in fear. All night long I turned over in my sheets as thoughts turned over in my mind. The memories of the last time we stayed in 12D were haunting me; the sounds, the images and the seemingly helpless desire to escape. (see my blog from last week)

I woke again last night from all the noises in my dreams: hospital trolleys, curtains being drawn around beds, people talking about their diagnosis to friends, doctors questioning their patients about the last 24 hours. These sounds compete with the voice in my head concerning my Sam and her prognosis. My heart becomes restless and anxious within me.

I remember my God. Reid wakes up to pray with me.

Psalm 16

5 Lord, you alone are my inheritance, my cup of blessing.
You guard all that is mine.
6 The land you have given me is a pleasant land.
What a wonderful inheritance!

7 I will bless the Lord who guides me;
even at night my heart instructs me.
8 I know the Lord is always with me.
I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me.

9 No wonder my heart is glad, and I rejoice.
My body rests in safety.
10 For you will not leave my soul among the dead[
or allow your holy one[to rot in the grave.
11 You will show me the way of life,
granting me the joy of your presence
and the pleasures of living with you forever.

I am still awake when the alarm goes off. I drag my tired body into the shower. Exhausted, I iron my ear with the GHD when I straighten my hair. I joke with Jack that I have no rim around my ear now. He buys me a coffee before he catches his bus. An SMS arrives from Bronte, she is praying for strength and boldness to keep going. I feel so blessed. I drop Emma to her bus and return home to wake Sam, do dressings, drugs and pack for hospital. I make Sam breakfast of buttermilk pancakes and rhubarb. I pack a healthy lunch. Food is the highlight of the day when Sam isn’t vomiting so I make it a high priority. She feels like salad, so I wash the baby rocket thoroughly and pat it dry. I choose beurre bosc pears and wrap them so they will not bruise in transport. I shave parmesan and mix a dressing of verjuice, Dijon mustard, olive oil and a dash of honey. I include china bowls, cutlery and paper serviettes. I pack a tin of ‘Oops’, Coco Pops, raisin toast, Nutella, Chunky Soup for one, an Up and Go, some little packets of chips, a brunch bar, apples, passionfruit and some Tim Tams. These will be her emergency meals if she is up to eating this week after chemo.

Sam takes her times to get ready. Making sure her makeup and wig are just so. I am getting edgy, aware that our appointment for bloods was at 8:30am. We arrive to hospital at 10:30am instead. No one is in a hurry.

Sam Chapman is there in 12A and we greet him like an old friend. He is sitting on the edge of his seat looking as if he is hoping to be out as soon as possible. His transplant took place in December and he is in receiving drugs to help him be strong. He is the brightest I have ever seen him. His eyes no longer look sore, his hair has grown back. He has heard about Sam’s transplant and is encouraging. “Cassandra will have you sorted in no time.” he says. It is lovely to have him there. It is out of place for there to be another young person in 12A.

I check my emails. Rozzi is praying for God’s hands over each step. “Let me know anything, anytime you want me to join with you in prayer.” It lifts my vision.

We wait until 11:30 for the nurse to take Sam’s blood. Then we fill in time at admissions, eating our salads, putting her things in drawers, reading, chatting, checking our emails and SMS. By 3:00pm we are still waiting. Yvonne pops her head in asking if we definitely took blood. Her results have gone missing or her blood has gone missing or something.

We wait. Sam locates her brand new thongs she left here on our last visit. A nurse had labeled them for her and put them in the equipment room. I am relieved, not used to my new forgetful daughter who prior to chemo never lost anything in her life.

My phone beeps through an SMS from Tracey. Her and Sue are praying with the pastoral staff. These are the things that keep me strong. Help me move on.

We are so bored. “I wonder if we could pop down to Chatswood to buy a game?” Sam suggests. She goes to ask Yvonne if we can. Yvonne comes and sits on the bed with Sam. She is tender today. I ask her about the new protocol. She has studied it in detail and is extremely sympathetic that it is going to be a challenge. “You know they’ve been talking about you Sam in this conference in Italy,” she says in her thick Scottish accent. I ask her has she followed the procedure they are about to do with Sam with another patient before. “No, never!” she remarks discussing each drug with Sam and trying to gauge her response when she has had them in low dose before. I can see that Yvonne is going to make Sam her priority this week. She tells Sam what she will do to try to avoid the nausea, the vomiting, the rigors etc this time. I don’t think you’ll be going home this week Sam. I can’t see you going home before Wednesday of next in fact.

After our chat she tells us a new shortcut to Kmart in Chatswood and we head out to buy ‘Upwords’ and some DVDs.

I drop Sam back at the car park so that I can be home for Jack before dark. Reid is working back and Emma has Night School after Uni, after work. I feel guilty about all the time Jack is spending alone. I am not sure what to do about it. I phone him and suggest we eat dinner out since it is just us two. He seems pleased with that and asks how Sam is, sends her his love.

By the time I am home Sam has sent me a text so I call her. Her neutrophils are 0.4, too low to start chemo. So she is having a transfusion of red blood, GCSF and maybe platelets tonight. Grant is there with her. Tomorrow she will need to have blood tests and reassess the chemo. At 2:00pm she will have her lumber puncture then lie flat on her back for four hours.

Luke 2:16-19 (Amplified Bible)

16So they went with haste and [by searching] found Mary and Joseph, and the Baby lying in a manger.

17And when they saw it, they made known what had been told them concerning this Child,

18And all who heard it were astounded and marveled at what the shepherds told them.

19But Mary was keeping within herself all these things (sayings), weighing and pondering them in her heart.

Deep in the core of my being I hear the call of the Holy Spirit reminding me of who I am. It is ferocious, it doesn’t back down. Enormous arms envelop me. He restores my soul.

The anthem of a great organ rises, I stand to sing. I find strength in the quiet places. I pay attention to the voice of my God.

I ponder again all that ‘has been told me concerning this child.’

People will be astounded and marvel. I know what my God has poured into her life. I watch over her, praying, seeking strength from Heaven.

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Paying Attention

Proverbs 4:1,2 & 5

1Hear my sons, the instruction of a father, and pay attention in order to gain and to know intelligent discernment, comprehension, and interpretation [of spiritual matters]. 2For I give you good doctrine [what is to be received]; do not forsake my teaching Let your heart hold fast my words; keep my commandments and live.

5Get skillful and godly Wisdom, get understanding (discernment, comprehension, and interpretation); do not forget and do not turn back from the words of my mouth. 6Forsake not [Wisdom], and she will keep, defend, and protect you; love her, and she will guard you.

I am learning to pay attention. Discovering that in the terrible there is always a sense of the extraordinary.

Something to celebrate, to marvel at, a beauty to behold

Life goes by at such a rapid pace. There is hardly time to stop and appreciate God’s bounty.

In this season of waiting I am learning the capacity for delight.

To look for abundance of life amidst the despair

In the solitude I notice an array of colours, smells, extravagances.

The world is rich with promise and people to meet.

My pace is much slower now.

A season for waiting

No plans for tomorrow

I relinquish control, surrendering all to the Majesty of my creator

My life is in His hands.

I’ve never known such stillness.

I’m usually active, ambitious, and lively.

Yet in exchange for a life punctuated by exclamation marks my days are punctuated by ‘selahs’

I pause and think on this.

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Grace like honey

As I drove away from hospital the sunlight drenched me through the windows of my car.

I seemed to hear God whisper:

“My Grace is rich like honey

Warm and thick

Covering you

It’s filigree strands

Hold tight my daughter

Not easily removed from you

By Satan’s wire brush

I protect,

I lay my waxy seal

You are secure,

Strong in my arms.”

Emma wrote the most beautiful post today on her blog. She is yellow. Like the honey. Carrying God’s grace in her words and her end of the day hugs. Her soft demeanor is like the salve that lubricates this journey. How God knew I needed my Emma.

Sam is blue. I am red. Emma is yellow. The perfect colour wheel.

I love how God ordains His daughters.

When they were little he promised me Isaiah 60:5 “Your daughters will be carried and nursed in the arms.”

I hold them close.

Meredith Harvey sent me Isaiah 46:4 Even to your old age and grey hairs I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you. I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” What perfect timing!

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Pearl Barley and Charlie Parsley

Pearl Barley and Charlie Parsley

A little note to say the poem below is about Sam and I and our opposite and complimentary personality traits . I am reminded of the delightful children’s story “Pearl Barley and Charlie Parsley” by Aaron Blabey and therefore called this post “Pearl Barley and Charlie Parsley.” The poem is not an extract from the book but I recommend the book to both adults and children. You will see someone you know in its pages.

Thanks I needed to clarify that! Clare

I am fiery, loud, always talking
She is calm, quiet, happy in silence
I’m expressive
She is contemplative
I love the limelight, the drama, the debate
She likes to stay in the background, make no fuss, to accept things
I am red
She is blue
I try to be quiet
I try to balance who I am to be who she needs me to be

She is strong, unbreakable
A porcelain cup
Fine bone china
Gilded edge

I am ceramic, crackle glazed
Faults exposed
Good for daily use

I am Pearl Barley
She is Charlie Parsley
We are the perfect team
Side by side we have what we need

Blabey, Aaron. Pearl Barley and Charlie Parsley. The Penguin Group. Victoria. 2007


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In The Silence

“The Angel of the Lord came to Him a second time and touched him and said, Arise and Eat, for the journey is great for you.”

1 Kings 19:7

It’s silent today.
Two of the loud TV ladies have been discharged, hairy bottom man has gone for surgery.
We have two new men in our ward both with Lymphoma, both in their late 40s, I guess. It still doesn’t seem right that my darling girl shares a ward with all these men.Where are all the young people with Cancer?

Dr Greenward visited yesterday to explain his dilemma! -To proceed with a transplant or not. The molecular tests, the clinical trials, cameback earlier than we expected. If you have been following our journey then you already know about the ‘accidental’ bone marrow biopsy. The one the pretty ‘Brats’ doll doctor did. She had misunderstood instructions and on checking the blood results, gave Sam a platelets transfusion and neglected to check her neutophils (the part of the white cells that fights infection). Dr Greenwood was certain that there would not be enough in it to conduct the molecular tests/the clinical trials and that another bone marrow biopsy (BMB) would need to be performed instead.

Well, it turns out that there was enough (of whatever it is they needed) to culture both the first (the accidental) and the second BMB. Only the first result had came back on Monday when Dr Chris had seen us, and when Dr Greenwood had come to see Sam. It showed a high positive(+) result which is the worst result. It shows that there is still much leukaemic activity in the bone marrow. (Years ago before clinical testing the fluid was examined under a microscope onlybut now molecular tests show much more information because the molecules within the cells are also examined. Under the microscope, Sam is in remission but the molecular test show she is not.)

Dr Greenwood told us we needed two negative results to avoid the risk of relapse. This one, high positive result caused enough concern for a donor search to begin. Late Monday the other Bone Marrow Biopsy (BMB) came through. This test showed a positive result also but not as high as the first. The second BMB was conducted on the Monday after we all prayed at the Presence Conference. It put Sam in the medium risk category. Dr Greenwood is confused. He has never seen a medium risk result, only a high risk or a low risk. So I asked,
“What if we do another test and it’s low risk.?”
His answer wasn’t straight forward but he said that BMBs have to be done at the time decided by the lab and he had to do some convincing to test the second time and that there wouldn’t be the need for another BMB for now. He said he is unsure what to do. If Sam was high risk for both, a transfusion was her only hope to decrease the risk of relapse. But transfusions are full of risk. He said only 50% of transfusions are successful because the patients body rejects the unknown donors stem cells. 50% die because of things unrelated to leukaemia. On the other hand if we don’t do the transplant Sam has a medium to high risk of having a relapse.

Adult cancer patients who relapse have 5% chance of survival.(The statistics for children under the age of 18 are much better. Generally they don’t relapse. I have forgotten thepercentages. Being 21, puts Sam in a higher risk category than if she were 18. How weird is that!)

Dr Greenwood has instructed Cassandra to begin the search. In February, 9 vials of blood were collected from Sam. Yesterday 9 more vials were taken to confirm the lab information is correct. The results are entered into a worldwide computer search. All of Sam’s unique DNA is recorded and eventually, they hope, the computer will find a match. That can take months apparently and then they contact the donor to see if they are still willing. If they are, they receive 4 daily injections of GCSF and they go to the hospital in their country to donate. After that the stem cells/ bone marrow fluid are couriered to Sam. She then receives them through IV. Her body begins the fight to see if she can accept these stem cells.

Dr Greenwood said he is seeking advice. When he told Sam on Monday about the transplant he only had the high risk result to go from. The medium risk result was unexpected. I think she’s getting better. I think our united prayer at Presence changed the result. I’m a little unsure why God didn’t show off with a negative. So now we wait! I’m getting so good at it!!

Dr Greenwood has gone to Italy for a month. His wife, an oncologist, has a conference and they are staying for a family holiday. At the conference are all the doctors who conducted the clinical trials. Dr Greenwood is going to seek their advice. So why don’t we just all agree for a miracle. I know a God who is able. He could come back and request another BMB and the result can be negative. Or God can do something else to show His glory.

Will you pray for us?

I feel so much better today.
I just asked a lady on crutches if I could go get her a wheelchair. I told her she needs to learn to fight for what she needs here. Told her about my broken leg, introduced her to Sam. Ha ha! We ended up sharing and laughing about the lioness in every mother who fights for her child and doesn’t back down.

Sam said she loves me being here with her! So loving being a mum right now! Wouldn’t be anywhere else!

This morning Jack  did his devotional about Shadrech, and the rest of the brothers in the fire! He got such a revelation of faith!  He said to me “Mum, without great faith, no miracle can take place.” Go God! Help him write a song from that!

Yes the journey is great but shoulder to shoulder we stand in the battle. Leaning in on our God who knows our frame. His word is alive in me and with this sword I fight.

“And behold the Lord passed by, and a great strong wind rent the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire ; and after the fire [ a sound of gentle stillness and ] a still small voice. When Elijah heard the voice he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out  and stood in the entrance of the cave.” And the voice of the Lord said to him  ‘What are you doing here Elijah?”

1 Kings 19:11 – 13

Elijah thought he was alone, that the battle was too great, that the enemy was seeking to take his life. He thought he was alone in the battle. After he heard the still, small voice however Elijah arose. He went and gathered the team. He found Elisha. Together they went to battle. Just like we are now. Our prayers are mighty for the pulling down of strongholds. See “Prayers for Sam” in Blog Roll to be a part of this army.


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