Christmas Eve Update -- 97-12-24
Dear Friends,
It's Christmas Eve. Just moments until Christmas. Our anticipation is
heightened..., and soon will be fulfilled. The big day is coming. Our
prepartions are done.
It's Christmas Eve at the Fenters. In the last few hours it has become a
day of anticipation unlike any other. It's the day before. Something is
about to happen. With each uneven breath of Gail's dying body our hearts
leap beyond the annual celebration of the Incarnation to the once and
forever experience of Glorification. Christmas fulfilled. Jesus come to
get us to take us home. And that's where Gail is headed. Home.
The last few days have been both agony and ecstasy. Agony at watching Gail
suffer, her cries of unrelieved pain rending the night, exploding
the stillness into a cacophony of distress and consuming hurt.
Agony. Agony at my own bitter helplessness. And, yes, unbelievably,
ecstasy. A grounded certainty that this woman, the finest person I've ever
known, will soon enter a glorious life, never again to be touched by pain,
helplessness, separation or grief. Ecstasy at watching the fruit of her
life, Marta and Rachel, shine like the jewels of heaven's foundation.
Ecstasy at watching her beautiful blue eyes glow with joy as her children
slide into her bed, cradling her in their arms, and sweetly kissing her
shaven head. Those eyes speak the words, paragraphs of words, cruelly
stolen from her since July.
Friday through noon today were endless. We could not discover the source
of Gail's pain. Often she would go for only moments before the pain
contorted her. Other times she would smile that glorious smile for several
minutes before her eyes hooded in retreat. Bill and Betty Tracy, dear
friends from San Diego, saw both the agony and ecstasy and left in tears.
Yet minutes later, when Max and Denalynn Lucado from San Antonio were
here, Gail glowed with "Gailness," a remarkable sweetness
indefinable by any other word. Shortly after their departure the agony
began again.
And then today, sometime around noon, the pain stopped. She closed
her eyes and drifted into sleep. Except for momentary eye flutters, and a
rare lopsided grin, Gail has been unresponsive for about twelve hours. She
lies beside me quietly. Sweetly. Peacefully. I do not believe that I will
ever look into her eyes again. Death normally comes within twenty-four to
forty-eight hours of this stage of the disease.
It's Christmas Eve. The anticipation of Incarnation. And for the Fenters,
the anticipation of Glorification. Gail going home. Gail glorified.
Gail welcomed by the Father.
It's Christmas Eve. Though sleepless for days, I will not sleep tonight. I
will hold her hand. I will catalog our memories. I will thank God for the
gift of this incredible woman. I will honor him for the two astonishing
young women molded by her goodness. And when the time comes I will let her
go home where she belongs.
Randy Fenter
Pre-Christmas Update on Gail -- 97-12-22
Randy and Gail returned from Dallas earlier this month with
discouraging news. Gail's tumor has continued to grow and she had been
removed from chemotheraphy. The tumor's growth has impacted further Gail's
speech, mobility and eye sight. Please keep Randy, Gail, Marta and Rachel
in your prayers over the holiday period that God will provide them with
special blessings during this very difficult and challenging time. Thank
you for your love and support to family.
Update on Gail. Update 8 --
97-11-01
We returned from Dallas this week with difficult news. Gail's tumor
continues to grow unabated. While there may be some dead cells in the
middle of the tumor, the tumor continues to expand putting pressure on
multiple parts of the brain.
Gail's movement of her right hand and leg have been due to the massive
dosages of decadron (a steroid) which reduces the swelling around the
tumor. The swelling (built up pressure) is as debilitating on brain
function as the tumor itself. However, we can only reduce this swelling
for a time. As the tumor grows, concomitant swelling also increases.
We're glad to still be in the temozolomide study group. Though we have
little to no hope of this chemo killing the tumor, we do believe that it
has slowed its relentless growth. However, since Gail's tumor is already
at the maximum size allowed in this group, this will probably be the last
round of this particular chemo.
Of course the problem with any chemotherapy is remarkable ineffectiveness
on brain tumors. The brain-blood barrier, a natural defense mechanism,
isolates the brain from such treatments. Too, the kind of tumor that Gail
has (a glioblastoma multiforme, phase 4) cloaks itself with a outer sheath
which hides it from any attack.
Medically we are at the same place that we were the first week of
December, 1996. Gail has the most aggressively malignant form of brain
cancer (glioblastoma multiforme) at the highest phase of development
(phase 4). There is no medical cure, nor does there appear to be any on
the horizon.
Though Gail is unable to speak (our last true conversation was July 19,
1997), we've "discussed" where we are at length in past few days
through "20 questions." We know what we're facing. We know there
is no medical hope. And we both had suspected for some time that her
improvement was due to the mega-steroids. Facing this is actually easier
on us that riding the emotional yo-yo of hoping against hope. We cherish
each day. With the grace of the Lord we purposefully make every day a good
day. We review the good things the Lord has done for us...today. We thank
God for you, for our girls, and for our time together. We entrust
ourselves to the One who loves us more than life itself.
Gail has had a difficult week physically. It's difficult for her to
sleep. We're often up multiple times for trips to the restroom or for
additional medication. Her headaches have been severe and she wrestles
with nausea and heartburn. It's hard to see her in pain.
In spite of all of this Gail is Gail. Sweet. Understanding. Patient.
Smiling. Loving her family. She is an amazing person. I'm blessed to live
with her.
We're taking chemo through this Tuesday. Keep us in strong prayer through
the next few days.
Marta and Rachel are stunning. Their care for their mother is a beautiful
thing to watch. They face each day with courage, confidence and a goodness
maternally inherited. In the worst of times they bring smiles to our faces
and pride to our hearts.
I return to the pulpit this week beginning a series, "The Heart's
Hunger for Home: The Promise of Heaven." Although I have not yet been
able to put the amount of time and effort into this series that I want, it
has already blessed our family.
For each of you, we are grateful. Now, and forever.
Randy, Gail, Marta and Rachel
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