by Donna Poole
We were an unlikely trio, two women and a man, separated by many miles. One lived in Iowa, one in Michigan, and one in South Carolina. We began our song in May/June of 2020, a melody of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, sung in three-part harmony. When I prayed for one of us, I prayed for three of us.
Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma has a mind of its own and goes where it will go. Irv’s settled in his brain; Debbie’s went to her pancreas, and mine made itself at home in my abdomen and lung.
We went to college with Irv and hadn’t seen him since, but we followed him on Facebook. Irv earned degrees from Clarks Summit University, Bob Jones University, and the University of Cincinnati Conservatory of Music—and he had incredible, God-given musical talent. He became college professor at three different colleges and was a Minister of Music at four churches. His passion in life was Soli Deo Gloria—Glory to God alone. When he found out the NHL cancer had invaded his brain, he commented to loved ones, “Now is the time to practice our theology.”
Irv didn’t whimper or whine or ask, “Why me?” His life sang praise to God alone for all the short but brutal days of his cancer journey.
Irv’s daughter wrote, “June 2020 was the beginning. November 2020 was the end. 143 days fell in between.”
Now our trio was a duet. Debbie, a pastor’s wife beloved by her family and her church family, was still fighting. Her battle was hard; the side effects of the treatments were almost unbearable. But Debbie didn’t whimper or whine or ask why me, though I’m sure she sometimes sobbed in pain.
For all the days of her treatment Debbie wanted the same thing Irv wanted, Soli Deo Gloria.
In May of 2020 Debbie received her cancer diagnosis in the emergency room. She wrote, “God was in control—I knew that. I determined there in the ER that I would be a grateful, thankful patient, and trust God with everything.”
Finally, Debbie heard the wonderful news that she was cancer free. Through all the difficult days of chemotherapy and still today, Debbie’s life sings praise to God alone.
In May of 2020 I started wheezing, a funny noise that made me laugh. I thought it was just my Myasthenia Gravis. Kimmee, our daughter, wasn’t laughing. Concerned that I might have pneumonia, she insisted I see our family doctor. Within days I had my cancer diagnosis. At first the doctors thought it was small cell lung cancer, but a biopsy showed it was NHL, a cancer that usually responds well to treatment.
The key word is usually. If you’ve been walking these curving backroads with me long, you know that Morticia, my lung tumor, is stubborn and resistant to treatment. So far, she has survived six treatments of R-Chop chemotherapy, eight of GemOx, and eleven of radiation. I’m continuing with a drug trial of Epcoritamab, a new medication not yet on the market, but showing great promise for resistant cancers like mine.
I’m the last member of the trio still singing the melody of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Will I be like Irv, promoted to the heavenly choir? Or will I be like Debbie, restored to health and using every ounce of energy for God, her family, and her ministry? Only God knows.
All I know is I hope to practice my theology. Either God is all-loving and all- powerful, or He is not. He is, and He is my Father, and I don’t plan to live or die like an orphan!
Sometimes I’ve whimpered and whined. Then I remember whose child I am. And I recall wise words from Oswald Chambers, “Some moods don’t go by praying; they go by kicking!”
Like Irv and Debbie, the other two members of our unexpected trio, I want the song of my life to echo the joyful theme, Soli Deo Gloria—Glory to God alone.
