Constant Faith, Abiding Love

As I’m typing this, it’s about one and a half months before I know this post will see the light of day (for reasons which will be evident below). It’s about one and a half months before our second wedding anniversary on 17 March 2014, and shortly after PJ’s sermon on marking the milestones in our lives, just as God commanded the Isarelites to set up a memorial before they entered the Promised Land. So this is why I am typing this now, because I was inspired by that sermon and wanted to remember how I felt right now, to share with you at some point. This post will be longer than a Thought Catalog article, but I promise it will be infinitely more interesting and less…annoying.

Here it is, the story of our second year together. That is, what happened besides the washing of toilets, doing of laundry, watching of bad TV and discussing of boybands.

***

Last July, Jon left his job at the Angmoh Firm. Just before he started his new job in October, I discovered a lump at his right love handle. It had been hidden beneath a layer or so of fat (unfortunately, that is what working at an Angmoh Firm tends to do) which he had lost during his break. It felt smooth, as though there was a smallish hard-boiled egg lodged in his right hip. We didn’t think much of it at the time; doctor friends said it could be a lipoma, although it was “a bit firm”, others said it could just be a benign tumour.

Jon got it checked up at the polyclinic nonetheless, and was referred to Alexandra Hospital ("AH") for an MRI scan because the polyclinic doctor rightly didn’t want to brush it off as a lipoma. Miraculously, he got an appointment for the scan about a week after his first consultation at AH.

The lump showed up on the MRI scan as an egg shaped lump just above the muscle bed. It was smooth edged, and was initially diagnosed as a tumour “likely to be benign” due to its smooth edges. Jon was referred to the orthopaedic surgery department at AH, given the tumour’s proximity to the muscle bed. He chose to have it excised and then sent for a biopsy, and the excision was performed on 3 December 2013, just after we returned from our first overseas half-marathon in Siem Reap. We were optimistic, the doctors were optimistic, and it looked like everything would return to normal and we could go ahead and plan for Christmas and the year ahead after he recovered.

The preliminary biopsy results were out the Monday after the Little India riots. I was on attachment to the police then, and I remember that it was a pretty chill Monday, having rightly guessed as I watched events unfold on Channel News Asia the night before that the repercussions of said riots would be far reaching and would end up in the purview of someone with a paygrade much higher than mine.

I was engaged in that great tradition of “speaking IP” – I even remember that it was about some silly argument which escalated into a scuffle  – when Jon called me sounding slightly panicked. I told him that I was busy and could he call me back later, but he insisted on speaking to me there and then, which is quite unlike him. So I excused myself from “speaking IP”, left the room, and heard my husband telling me that the tumour was malignant, a rare tumour called a liposarcoma. It’s a cancer of the soft tissues and is even more rarely found in the trunk as his was.

I won’t bore you with the details, but the days leading up to Christmas were bittersweet, and surreal. We went ahead with our yearly party, me thinking morbid thoughts all the time as I made the shepherd’s pie, marinated chicken wings and diced apples for apple crumble about whether it would be one of our last Christmases together, or even our last. I remember sitting in my car at the carpark at the police station and crying and crying and crying some more and pleading with God to spare Jon. We’d been referred to the National University Hospital ("NUH") from AH, and the doctors there, whom we saw sometime after the Little India riots (really, when did they happen again? It’s all a blur) were bandying words like radiation therapy and chemotherapy about, because Jon’s liposarcoma comprised round cells, which are more malignant, although his margins were clear. His tumour was also about 5cm in length, which put it right on the border of Stage 2/ Stage 3 cancer, as we later found out. What’s more, Jon’s lymph nodes had “lit up” on his PET scan, which could be post-surgery inflammation or could mean that the cancer cells had spread there (which is rare, but not unheard of).

But through it all, I constantly desired to be thankful. It’s amazing how many things there were to be thankful for. It wasn’t the kind of stuff that was just grasping at straws, they were real displays of God’s grace and mercy and His great love for us. For instance:

1. We’d gotten insurance, proper insurance, in June, just before Jon left the Angmoh Firm. Any later, and he may not have been insurable. His hospitalisation and treatment were all covered;
2. S’s wife G was on attachment with THE sarcoma specialist in Singapore, Dr Richard Quek, at the National Cancer Centre ("NCC") at the time we found out about the nature of the tumour. It was S who nagged (as usual) at me to make sure Jon’s insurance was in order, ordered me (like a true AUNTIE) to direct Jon to make various arrangements so his treatment and consultations  could be as subsidised as possible. And it was G who got us an appointment with her boss on Boxing Day, and who offered whatever help she could give as an MO;
3. The speed at which Jon had gotten diagnosed and follow-up action planned – the fact that we knew by December, barely two months after the lump had first been discovered, was nothing less than amazing. Also the fact that the tumour grew where it grew – they usually appear in the stomach, and are difficult to remove completely when they are located there;
4. The strengthening of relationships between us and our families;
5. The overwhelming love and support of our friends – D and AK, all the way from Norway, all the guys, our cell group – especially D and K, my girlfriends, colleagues. 

I’d been struggling with the idea of prayer for a while at the time all this happened. If God wanted things to happen, they would happen anyway – so why pray so hard? Of course this is absolutely fallacious theology and is borne out of sheer human laziness. But through this experience, I’ve seen that God does hear our prayers, and it truly touches His heart when we depend on Him for our needs. The peace that comforted us in our darkest times was often peace that I didn’t understand the origins of. Peace which surpassed my understanding, and peace which I was sure Christ had given, as He guarded my heart and mind.

And now this is where the story arcs, where THE event happens.

I’d earlier mentioned that we were looking forward to planning for 2014. This included trying to conceive (also known in pregnancy forums as "TTC"), which accounts for why I insisted on doing so many half-marathons (in a last blaze of running glory) towards the end of last year, and why I strove so hard to achieve a timing of less than two hours (okay, maybe it’s too somber a story for me to brag about this but – achievement unlocked. Twice. And once almost. 2:06 at the Great Eastern Women's Run. Bleddy hills).

After the good doctors at NUH told us they were recommending chemotherapy, even more scary things you never think about at this age like “sperm banking” came up. So of course we started trying to conceive, although neither of us truly expected that anything would come out of it. Not so soon, anyway.

We eventually decided that Jon would continue treatment at NCC (as noted above), and NCC wanted to do further surgery to cut out even more flesh and also test the lymph nodes which lit up. Jon’s initial surgeon at AH had taken out a narrower margin on one side of his tumour to avoid the muscle bed, and although that margin was clear, it was a little too close for NCC’s comfort. Another thing to be thankful for was that Jon was slated to be operated on by Professor Soo Kee Chee, whom our doctor friends spoke in hushed and reverent tones of.

Following the operation, NCC would then review Jon’s case and if necessary send him for radiation therapy. If anyone is interested, we understand that recent studies have shown that wide, negative margins are deemed probably the most important factor when treating sarcomas.

The surgery was fixed for 21 January 2014, a Tuesday just before Chinese New Year. The Friday before, K made me take a bag of pregnancy test kits home with me after cell group – she no longer had any use for them, she said, because she was having a baby! I hadn’t officially missed my period then, but I thought, ah why not.

And the thought of praying that I would conceive as a sign that Jon would be completely healed had crossed my mind, but I had been too afraid to pray the actual thought out, because what if I didn’t conceive? Would that then mean that God didn't want Jon to be healed?  

It was about 2am on Saturday morning, 18 January 2014, when THE LINE faintly appeared. Of course I dismissed it as dye leakage and went to bed, although I was a little excited. And I remembered that it had been absolutely impossible to wake up in the morning for a run the week before, and that on one of my runs I had felt like throwing up after ending in a sprint. Which has never happened. 

Being kiasu, and of course totally unable to believe what was happening, I did two more pregnancy tests, which were both positive. The ClearBlue test even tells you how many weeks pregnant you are (and it was pretty accurate).

I won’t say this story has a happy ending per se – cancer never does end, does it, although we are hopeful that Jon is healed completely. As JKY puts it, got mens rea can already lor. And TSI mentioned this verse “Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us…” Ephesians 3:20. I remember just knowing, as we waited for the doctors to call after the surgery, that Jon’s lymph nodes would be clear and the lymph node basin wouldn’t have to be removed. Though chunks of his flesh, which were all negative for cancer and would have made pretty awesome slabs of steak if they’d come from a cow, were.

There are check-ups for the next ten years or so, we still have a few more weeks to decide if Jon should go for radiation therapy (the NCC doctors are not too keen, as his margins and lymph nodes are clear and he is still “young”), and there are my worries about being widowed at a young age (greatly exacerbated by the pregnancy hormones) to deal with. But God holds the future, and He holds our hands. How can I keep from singing Your praise? How can I ever say enough, how majestic is Your love.

By sharing this with everyone, I know that I will have to bear whatever unhappiness may come in the future publicly too. For instance, if Jon has a relapse, or God forbid I miscarry. But that will be a story for another time. Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Matthew 6:33-34.

Do remember us in your prayers, whenever. I'd be happy to remember you in mine if you let me know about your life. 

***

Friends have said this story is a great testimony. Perhaps it is. But honestly, in the midst of all that was going on, I would have given anything for it to all go away. Still, I remember one day just before Christmas when I was too exhausted from crying to go to the gym, and I thought to myself, what would I be doing if I wasn’t going home to crash on the sofa and worry some more? I realised that I would have just gone to the gym, Jon would probably work late, we would meet for a late dinner, and the cycle would repeat itself. We would be happy, contented, but I figured that that wasn’t how life could have gone on either, if we were serious about becoming more serious in our faith and raising a God-centred family.

Jon thinks the tumour resulted because of the immense pressure he was under at the Angmoh Firm. We’ll never know while we’re on Earth I guess, but I think there’s a pretty good chance he’s right. And whatever it is, it was definitely God’s wake up call to us; baby was His way of assuring us that He is real and with us, and that the grace and mercy He has shown us is but a mere glimmer of His love for us, the depths of which are far greater than anything we can ever imagine.

***

Okay, now that I have told you our story, I must move on to something which has been troubling me since I found out I was expecting but was unable to share on Facebook because, you know, first trimester pantang and everything. You can stop reading now, but if you are thinking of having a kid do consider reading on, if this post hasn’t already bored you to tears. Sorry, one of the cons of my job is a resultant inability to write floweri-ly (see, I even have to make up words to express what I’m thinking).

I’m troubled that there seems to be a sort of understanding amongst Singaporeans that exercise is bad for pregnant women. What I understand however is that unless you are having pregnancy complications, exercise is good and should be done. Even the book released by the Health Promotion Board ("HPB") (very progressive, the HPB, applause in this regard) says so, and so does my gynae. Further if you have a fitness routine and were in good shape before pregnancy, it’s okay to keep up with said fitness routine, within certain limits of course.

At the risk of attracting negative comments, I will come out and say that I have been doing RPM twice weekly (full choreography) and swimming at least once or twice a week since I found out I was pregnant. Baby is perfectly healthy and has a good strong heartbeat. I drink plenty of water during RPM, wear a heart rate monitor, and sit in front of the fan (which I never used to). I am intending to start Body Balance and a bit of yoga (not pre-natal, it is BORING) with the necessary modifications again soon. I have had to give up running though, and boy do I miss it. 

I will end this post with the answers to some FAQs and a request. If you read this, please do not ask me the same questions in real life. But I will still answer you if you do, because these are happy times. 

Q. Do you have any cravings?

A. No, not really, but I am very into beehoon because it has been the sole food I have been able to eat without throwing up/ feeling like throwing up throughout my first trimester. Either fried beehoon (no processed anything, maybe a hard-boiled egg if they have it), or beehoon with yong tau foo, dry with some chilli.

I have sadly developed an ice cream intolerance, and have also stopped cooking because it makes me nauseous. So if you hear any throwing up in the office female toilets, it’s me, and no I have not developed bulimia.

Q. When will you have your next child?

A. I intend to run at least two half-marathons before trying again, one local and one overseas. Jon will hopefully be pushing baby in one of those jogging strollers at the latter. And we will achieve a sub-2 timing. I wish. 

Q. Is it a boy or girl?

A. It was unobliging at today's scan, so we don't know yet. 

Q. Do you want a boy or girl?

A. Either is okay, although I have a slight preference for my first child to be a boy. But I'd be happy in any event. This baby is a miracle, God's little gift to us. 

Q. Do you have a name in mind?

A. Yes. But why would I tell you now?

Finally, and this is incredibly vain of me, but if you notice that I am now a bit plumper around the middle, please do not assume that I have stopped going to the gym or that I have let myself go. I am merely having a baby.