Bigger than myself

May I say in advance, that though I have thought long and hard how to write about the events of the last few days, my thoughts continue to be jumbled. Please excuse the jagged approach.

Tonight I sat at my sister’s dinner table enjoying a home cooked meal with her family. Nights like these have been such a blessing to me for the last 2 years. But tonight as we finished my 5 year old nephew cupped his hands around my ear. I had to think and listen hard as he whispered, “Jay Jay, will you miss me? Don’t you want to stay here with us instead of moving to Kentucky?” I pulled him onto my lap and looked in to that sweet face. Of course I will miss you very much, but I have to go to Kentucky. If only he knew just how much I will miss him, his sister, and parents. If only he knew how deep down I selfishly wish I would stay here with them.

I just finished watching the series “Band of Brothers.” I have been struck by their discipline and willingness to endure enormous hardship for this country. Those were some strong, brave men. That generation had people volunteering to go to war, even lying about their age in order to fight. My generation seems to be quite the opposite. We have been handed everything we need and way too much more! We don’t know what sacrifice is, and we act like it.

Physiologically speaking, we know that bones and muscles that are never stretched waste away. Those bones crack under slight pressure and muscles atrophy so that barely anything is left. I don’t think it is a coincidence that we also must be stretched and tested to grow. If we never know the pain of sacrifice, how can we understand or love our LORD for what He did for us? So, yes Kelvin, even though I absolutely do not want to leave you and your family, I must. Though, I do not want to cause you any pain or sadness, I know that it will help make you a stronger man. And tough I do not want to work 80 hours a week for the next 3 years, nor do I want to face the mountain before me, I must.

I thought medical school was an impossible mountain, but God was faithful and on Saturday I graduated. I spent the week prior contemplating the magnitude of what that meant, and found myself in tears a few times from the weight of it. But when it was done I realized I am really no different. Yes, my responsibilities just became much much greater. But just because I have some letters after my name doesn’t mean squat. As I read in Luke the other morning, it hit me. Just as the master in the parable in Luke gave his servants things to be stewards of, and tasks to do, Christ has done with me. Those servants should not be rewarded for obeying the master, nor are they any different after completing one of his tasks. I likewise am no different. And though I am proud of what God has done in me, I cannot take pride in myself. I just did what I was told, and used what God gave me to do it. But now I must continue to obey and follow where He leads. Even when it leads to tough times for me and my family.

I do long to be tougher, not in a callous type of way. But stronger, braver, more willing to forsake all and follow Him. I know I need to be stretched, and so moving is part of that. And I am thankful that even though it may cause my nephew some pain in the short term, that God is using this situation to make me more like Him, and to help my nephew grow in Him as well. So, really when I think about it, God is answering my prayers.

I do pray that myself and the believers in my generation would wake up. I pray God will make us stronger, even though the cost is great. The days are coming where we will need to be. 

Overcomer

I got up today like any other day. I drove back to Johnson Memorial Hospital, parked in the back and walk in to the emergency department like I have for the last 4 weeks. I surveyed the list of patients currently there and the various ailments. Thankfully, my preceptor was in a light hearted, joyful mood, as was I. We went through the normal dance. Hi I'm Janie, the medical student. I'm with you today. A few minutes later he asks what I'm going into. "Are you a fourth year? Oh, so you've matched! Where'd you end up? Congratulations!" "Actually," I reply, "today is my last day, of my last rotation."

When I got in my car to drive away from that hospital for the last time, it started to hit me. The Mandisa's song 'Overcomer' came on. How appropriate, I thought. Today I HAVE overcome. . . Wait, no. I overcame 4 years ago, today I'm enjoying the fruit of it. You see I didn't want to go to medical school. I knew there was no way I could do that. Just getting into med school seemed like an impossible mountain to climb, not to mention actually finishing! It came down to a decision of whether or not to obey God. Do I step out in faith and apply, or do I say no, and run away in fear to do something easier. Well, thankfully, God gave me the grace to obey.  That decision right there, that's when I overcame! That's when I secured the victory in Christ! I don't think it's always about the end product. Sometimes it's about choosing to believe God no matter what!

I remember distinctly coming to the conclusion that even if God didn't want me to get into medical school, or even finish medical school, that obeying Him was more important. He would work out the other details. My motto for med school that day became, "He is worth it. He is enough." That phrase sits above my bed to this day. I woke up under that phase this morning, and it has remained true. He was worth it all! All the hours sitting in class, plus the hours of studying at home. The time away from family and friends. The stress, the exams, the feelings of inadequacy; He not only gave me the strength and joy to keep going, but He taught me more of Himself, and drew me closer to Him through it all! That in itself is enough. To know Him. Yet, today here I am, all boxes checked. Ready to walk across that stage to more responsibility than I can fathom at the moment. There's a lot more to come, but for the moment, this moment, it is finished. And I can rest, because the God who this day brought to completion what I thought was the impossible in me, He is faithful to go with me, behind me, and before me. He is STILL worth it, and He will STILL be enough!

The Final Countdown!

“It is my earnest expectation and hope that I will not fail Christ in anything, but will have the courage now as always to show the greatness of Christ in my life, here on Earth, whether I live or die. For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Philippians 1:20,21 This has been the verse that I strive towards since God lead me to it while I was in high school. I can honestly say it is my heart’s desire, yet I fall so short!

Monday morning I found out I had matched into residency. It was a welcomed relief, yet, not unexpected. The weeks prior I honestly had so much peace about matching and where I would end up. Sunday evening as I sat listening to my pastor preach the realization swept over me, “in just a few hours I’ll know IF I matched.” My heart started racing and pounding within my chest to the point I was sure people around me must think I was having a panic attack! Then the all familiar thought war ensued. “Stop that, Janie, you know God has it under control. This is just Satan trying to distract you from the message, Stop it, Stop it . . . ugh!” When God helped me reign my thoughts back in, I heard my pastor pose this simple yet all important question. “Who is in the center of your life? Is it you, or God?” To honestly think about it, I was acting as though I was the center of my life. As if the algorithm that is used to match medical school graduates to residencies decided my fate, not God Himself! As if not matching really meant the end of life and I was doomed. Seriously! That is absolutely absurd! God IS the center. That is fact, the problem is, I wasn’t acting like it. Good news or bad news it wasn’t ever about me, and it never will be. That is really hard to act upon every second of everyday. But that is the truth.

So, after I receive the long awaited email that I had indeed matched into residency, I had some relief and excitement. However, I didn’t get too wrapped up in it. I could go on thanking God for allowing this journey to continue. Now I did not find out where I had matched on Monday and had to wait all week until Friday afternoon. And again, I honestly didn’t think about it that much. Knowing I had matched took so much pressure off, and again it wasn’t about me, right? Yet, I must admit that several times this week I found myself in a thought battle. “Am I really good enough to get my first choice? I don’t know? That interview really could have been better, if I had just said this instead. But if I don’t get that one and go here then that will be really good on this level but not this one . . . and what if I get my last choice? Well, I’m sure it will be okay it’ll just be much harder to adjust to, but surely it will be fine!” On and on it could go, until God in His grace would allow me to refocus on Him and get out of my own head.

Yesterday came, and the one ‘o clock deadline came. . . And I saw the anticipated CONGRATULATIONS you have matched at . . . the University of Kentucky Medical Center Pediatrics. I did get my first choice, and I could hardly believe it! In the hours after, I am sure my classmates and I took over the cellular networks of Blacksburg. Numerous “Where did you match?” texts and “Whoohoo, way to go!” It was as if a chorus of excitement billowed from the city of Blacksburg as we all celebrated the culmination of our hard work from the last 4 years. I am usually not one to celebrate much. But I was proud, I had matched to my first choice, and it was not an easy residency to get into.

With all of the excitement of yesterday, this morning I am ashamed. Yes, God has done amazing things, great and numerous things, greater than I could have ever imagined. And He has done them in ME! He has taken this lump of clay and made it beautiful. And in the hype I forgot that yesterday. Yes, I thanked Him several times. But my actions, my thoughts, and my words said something else. I reveled in my accomplishment in a way I shouldn’t have. I am still just a sinner saved by amazing grace! What God has chosen to do with me, is His choice, and it is in His power. “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit says the LORD.” (Zechariah 4:6)

Here’s the thing. Other than my one post on Facebook, I wasn’t really outwardly saying, “Look at how amazing I am that I did this.” (and honestly I could have handled my facebook post that much better) What troubles me is the condition my heart was in. I have never felt so much pride well up inside of me as it did yesterday. No one could see it, but I felt it. I was tempted by so much pride and I entertained it. Oh how I long to be able to resist such temptation! I found myself teasing others in a joking manner. And though they may not have been hurt by it, I am so ashamed that I gave in to that pride and did such a thing! Oh LORD, how much mercy and grace you have lavished upon me that you continue to strive with me despite knowing the condition of my heart! Oh how I am in desperate need of humility! How can you use me without it, Lord? I hang my head in shame only to have the pleasure of feeling you gently lift it. This morning, though I failed you yesterday, you still call me your daughter. I am still righteous before your eyes, because I am covered in the blood of Christ. And I do not have to wallow in my guilt and shame because I am forgiven! Is there any greater joy? That is what I celebrate today. Christ took me from sin and darkness and shame, He set my feet on solid ground, forgave me and covered me in His perfect righteousness! But He didn’t stop there! Not only am I forgiven and made new, but He continues to shape and mold me into a vessel that He can use to bring others to Himself! Praise God! Praise God! He is so good! Oh Father, thank you for your forgiveness, for your mercy that reaches to the heavens! Thank you that I am yours; that I am clean and righteous in your eyes and no matter how I mess up nothing can separate me from your love!

To God immortal, invisible, God who alone is wise, be blessing and honor and glory and power forever and ever! Amen

Confessions of a 4th Year Medical Student

Just over five years ago I spent much of my Christmas break from college wrestling with God over the decision to go to medical school. I never really wanted to, and I really didn’t want to put in all that hard work for such a long time! Yet, God has instilled in me this overwhelming desire to obey; so strong that despite not wanting to be a doctor, I began the journey towards medical school. I knew that’s where He wanted me and I saw His blessing and His hand the whole way. Yet, deep down inside me I always had this fear. A fear that I didn’t even want to admit to myself and so every thought was quickly pushed back down. This fear began to surface when I started my 3^rd year clinical rotations. At that point I thought I wanted to do family medicine, but, during that rotation I was so bored that the thought of doing that the rest of my life scared me greatly. I was so afraid that I would put in all this work and accumulate all this debt and then not love what I was doing. But did that really matter? I knew I was doing what God wanted me to, and I do love helping people, and I love pleasing God. So even if I didn’t love every minute of practicing medicine it would be okay. Right?

Thankfully, that fear subsided some when I began doing pediatrics. It became evident to me that I would much rather deal with children than adults, and so I hoped it was settled. As long as I was doing pediatrics it should be fine right? Yet, on some rotations I found myself still watching the clock to see when I could get off. Wasn’t I supposed to want to be there and not want to leave? Maybe I just don’t like hospital medicine? I mean I’m not like that in the office setting. But, do I even really love always doing that? All of these questions have been swarming around my head lately. In 3 short, yet extremely long, weeks I will match into residency. All of medical school comes down to this. Without matching into residency I will still be a doctor on paper, but I won’t have a license to practice, and therefore will not be able to get a job and pay back these enormous loans. I could match into any of 8 residencies, based on where I interviewed. Places ranging from New Jersey to Savannah Georgia to Pennsylvania to Kentucky. Some of these places have warm environments where I could see myself thriving, others are more intense. As I began looking forward to residency I must admit the main emotion I have at the moment is fear. Fear of not matching anywhere, fear of matching where I want to but not being the competent applicant they thought I was, fear of getting neck deep into pediatrics and realizing I really hate it. And yes, I know the bible states 365 times “do not fear.” It is sin, and I seriously should repent of it daily. And yes, I know that God has called me to this and that He will provide for that which He asks of us. I know everything will work out for good, because I know I’m doing it for God. But, I’m still afraid. And then I get mad at myself for being afraid. I don’t really understand how any program is going to turn me into a competent physician, but I trust God. Whether I love it or not, whether it is extremely hard, or just very hard, I know I’m doing the right thing. And that gives me peace.

Today I am in Spartanburg doing a pediatric ICU rotation. PICU is the one rotation in residency I fear the most. So, I wanted to get my feet wet before then. I’ve learned a lot so far and I’m enjoying this rotation. Thankfully my preceptors are more than willing to teach and daily go out of their way to make sure we are learning. This morning I spent a good 30-40 minutes talking with my patient, a teenage girl who was very sick. I did get all excited because she was a teen and I do really like working with her age group. Through taking her history I was able to obtain a key piece of information that really changed how we managed her sickness. For the first time in a hospital setting I actually felt like I made a difference in a patient’s care. And not just a small difference, this wasn’t just RSV or a stomach bug, but could be really serious. When I rounded with my attending physician he fully agreed with me and did not add to or take away anything from how I said I would have managed her care. I actually felt like a resident, like maybe, just maybe I can do this. And then it hit me. The thought sept over me like a refreshing breeze, “I love this!” I knew right then, that yes, I can do this the rest of my life, I really do love medicine. I didn’t stop to fully breath it in because I dove into the details and information my preceptor began giving us about related disease processes. But now as I look back on the day I am overcome with relief and gratitude that God would allow me to have that moment and confirm His direction for me. He didn’t have to give me this. He didn’t even have to give me a profession I would enjoy.  This morning I read about Hosea and I remember thinking how unpleasant it had to have been for him to marry Gomer. How he did not get the chance to find his dream girl and live happily ever after. Yet, He obeyed God to be an example to his people. The point is obedience. That is where success lies. When we obey we are not guaranteed an outcome that is exactly what we want, because it is not about us. But we obey in order to glorify the God that made us, and when and if He chooses to bless us in our obedience, it is all the sweeter. Oh, He is good! His grace never ceases to amaze me! So bring it on, 90 hour weeks and all. I go under the banner or Almighty God, what else do I need?  

Dancing in the pain

This Christmas I decided to ask for a guitar. I have always wanted to learn to play but I never had a guitar that was small enough for my hands, nor have I ever really had time to learn to play. While medical school and residency are not the best times to be picking up a new instrument, I figured this spring and summer I would have more time to learn than I will in the next like 3 years at least. So Christmas Day I opened a junior Yamaha guitar. I spent my 2 weeks off of school to practice some easy common chords, and I tried playing them in simple worship songs. I've missed making music. Singing is great but, at least for me, I don't feel the music as deeply as I do when I'm making the music and singing to it. I don't have dreams of playing for a worship band again as I did once playing the drums. I don't even really want to play for my friends and family. Honestly as I thought about what to 'get' this Christmas, I wondered what I could give back to the God who gave me everything. And all I wanted to do was sit outside, make music, and sing to Him. I've gotten this guitar out several times and just played a little, but when I brought it with me to Memphis and set it in my room for the month, I wondered why in the world I had lugged it along. Yet one night this month I was very glad it was here. 

Death is a hard thing to deal with. Not only coming to terms with the physical absence of a person, but also facing the mortality of your own fleeting life. So many of the children I have met this last month unfortunately are very aware of their mortality. When I started this rotation I had this panic moment where I really asked myself why in the world I had signed up for this. Part of me thought it was because it's St Jude and how can you not sign up for an opportunity like this? Part of me thought it was so that I could see how these horrible things start so that I know what to look for in my own practice so I won't miss anything. But the more I thought about it, I think deep down I know that I need exposure to hard situations so that when I face them later I will be better equipped to handle them. I don't like cancer, and I don't like death. But inevitably, I will at some point have to have those awful conversations with unsuspecting families. I want to be able to process things now while I'm not in charge and I can take time to think through it. 

St Jude has been a wealth of knowledge in many ways. And I have learned much about handling difficult situations. Unfortunately, I also began learning how to deal with the death of a patient. We tried to get her home to die around family and friends. But things progressed more quickly than we expected. When we went to see her she didn't look good but still talked to us and even blew us kisses as we left. But I had a feeling she wasn't going to be with us long. That night as I prayed for her family I asked for mercy. Yet, as I prayed knowing they do not know Christ personally, I realized maybe God needs to allow it to be hard in order to bring them to Him. So I have been praying for God to use it all to bring them closer instead of pushing them away. If they need to hit bottom to look up, Lord help them find the bottom. 

I didn't have time to process her death for several hours. We had many other big things going on, and most of the day was a whirlwind. That night when I got home I ate, took a shower, and though I wanted to just pass out on my bed, I got out my guitar. And I realized God had given me this guitar for moments like this. Moments when my heart is overwhelmed and can't even understand everything. Yet, I could worship, and worship I did. Just me, my guitar and my all sufficient, and perfectly good God. More than my words could have helped me express my feelings, I sang about redemption, and grace, and going home. For a moment, I could leave the hard sciences and be one with the music that allowed my heart to dance. . . To dance before my God. 

The Beauty in the Ashes

I remember watching my aunt care for her little brother. My uncle had very bad diabetes and my aunt fought hard to make sure he got the best care possible. When he went for his transplant evaluation at UVA I heard my aunt made several employees mad by the way she fought for him. She was scared and trying desperately to give him this last chance at a better life. Watching how she loved him, and how she just wanted the best for him, has given me better insight into the fears faced by these families as they watch their children suffer.

I met a father this week whose son had just been diagnosed with cancer. He is terrified that his son may be ripped away from him. He is at the best hospital in the world for his son’s cancer, and they don't have to pay a cent. Yet, since his arrival, Kevin has not ceased to push back at everything done to his son. He questions it all, asks if things can be done a better way, and is not afraid to let you know he is very angry. To the staff he is rude, belligerent, and seams to even be a danger. But all I can see is his fear. His son's cancer is not the worst kind he could have, and he has a decent chance at survival. But does that really matter? He is scared, alone, and angry that it had to be his son in this hospital bed.

I have come to find the medical community in general is much better at treating leukemia than solid tumors. Most of the leukemia patients had a pretty good chance at survival even if they were high risk leukemia. I mean, even if all else failed there is bone marrow transplant that gives hope even when nothing else works. It’s awful to watch these children suffer in the present but there is much hope that it is only temporary, and that someday they can lead a somewhat normal life.  But for brain tumors and kidney tumors, and bone tumors, the challenge is much different. Many children don’t receive a diagnosis until the tumor is in advanced stages. I do realize that the snap shot I have is a unique subpopulation of the worst cases of solid tumors in the country or even the world. But so far these cases seem much worse.

My first day on solid tumor I not only noticed the severity of the cases we were dealing with, but I also notice the major difference in the staff that work with them. There was a certain level of stress as expected, however, almost every NP, fellow, and attending I have worked with on solid tumor have a different level of hardness about them. Every day this week has been met with short remarks, cursing, and bad attitudes. At first I thought it was just the personality differences, but I really think it’s almost a coping mechanism even for these staff members. I cannot even imagine how difficult it is to continue to care for someone and their family, to go through all the complications with them, and all the emotions, knowing that all you do is not enough to prolong their few years on earth. I found myself getting frustrated with the staff, and wishing I could work with other people. But thankfully God gently reminded me to look at everything through their eyes. It is much easier to take in all they say and how they act when I take myself out of it. Don’t get me wrong, every one of them is excellent at their job, and they can turn off all their emotions and frustrations the moment they walk into a room. They bring wonderful care, but it takes a major toll on them and likewise I am sure it affects their families as well.

All week I wanted to point out to my superiors how this poor father mentioned above does not mean to be so offensive in how he has been dealing with them. I wanted to ask them to just sit and listen to him, to explain things better, or maybe just give him some time process. I wanted to ask them to take a step back and look at everything through his eyes, but I also knew that to do so, for them, might be too much. Everyone is coping their own way the best they know how. Thankfully, as the week has progressed, tension has settled and things with this father are better, but this won’t be the last time this situation occurs.

And then there is the issue of pain. As a profession we can fix pain, at least we can make it so that you don’t have to feel pain. But, it comes with its caveats. The delicate balance between taking the pain away, but not sedating the patient to the point that their family can’t talk to them, or to the point that the patient is not even aware of life. I have seen in these few weeks that children are so resilient. Through the worst of their disease, we can keep their pain away or at least tolerable, and if things are really bad, then they stay asleep the whole time and have no clue what’s going on. So many children can bounce back from chemo and even bad complications and go on to live normal lives. But, it’s the parents for whom my heart has been breaking these weeks. Day after day they sit and watch their child’s body battle. And sometimes it wins, and sometimes it doesn’t.

Needless to say, this week has been very difficult for me. It is hard to face these challenges each day. I find myself in prayer most of the day. Praying for mercy, for peace, for hope, for strength and endurance; and yet, in all the sadness I do see so much mercy. I stood praying for a young child as the thought occurred to me, “he seems so innocent, what did he do to deserve this?” and that still small voice, “Oh, my child, you all deserve this and so much worse. It is only my mercy and grace that confine this devastation to so few families. And even now, I have not forsaken them. I hear their cry, and I hurt with them.”

I am reminded of Hagar in Genesis 16, as she is fleeing from Sarah. There by a fountain of water God met with her. She was told that she would have a son, and that she should call him Ishmael, “Because the LORD has given heed to your affliction (verse 11c).”  She then called God his name El Roi, the God who sees me.

Sometimes I forget that at the same time that God is powerful, and holy, and just, that He is still perfect in His mercy, grace, and love. I can see the mixture of these attributes in these families at St Jude. His justice in allowing the consequences of sin and evil in this world wreak havoc on every human born in Adam, yet at the same instance his mercy in limiting this pain not only in the number of families who deal with it, but in each individual person watching them and holding them, whether they know it or not. “For they that sow in tears shall reap in joy” (Psalm 126:5). “You have taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book” (Psalm 56:8).

God really is in control. In all His majesty and splendor, He alone can make beauty form the ashes. He is opening my eyes to more of the evilness of sin and the curse of death, and it is painful. It hurts and it cuts deeply. Yet, in seeing and growing in this knowledge of good and evil, I can say I hate sin more than I ever have before. And therefore, I see more of a glimpse of the awesomeness of God’s love, and my love for Him grows in exchange. The beauty in the ashes.

Finding Cures. Saving Children. St Jude Children's Research Hospital

This past week I made the 8 hour trek across the great state of Tennessee. Granted with family in Knoxville and in Nashville it took me 3 days because I had to stop and take advantage of seeing them. But Sunday evening I rolled into midtown Memphis. I’m not usually the sort to stay with random strangers (except almost all my trips to Africa). But, it is completely different when you know those strangers are in fact your brother and sister in Christ! Actually it makes ALL the difference. For the month of January I will be allowed to ‘work’ with hospital patients at St Jude Children’s Research Hospital. And if that wasn’t enough grace from God, He has also provided a wonderful family for me to stay with free of charge AND they even let me eat dinner with them free of charge. Like a free home cooked meal that I didn’t have to cook! I’m pretty sure every morning and every evening I sincerely thank God for each of these amazing blessings. Like I have told my sister before the big 3 for a college student or single post-grad person are 1: a warm bed 2: food 3: a place to do laundry. Jennifer graciously provides 2 of the big 3 for me on a semi regular basis for which I am eternally grateful. However, the King’s have stepped it up and have actually provided all 3 of the big 3, and I am still in amazement at their generosity!

Monday, I went to St Jude for the first time and spent all day in new employee orientation. And with it being the first Monday of 2016 there was quite the crowd.  Unfortunately, much of what they went over did not apply to me as I would not actually be receiving a pay check from them, but I did receive a really cool official St Jude bag! Tuesday I joined the inpatient leukemia team as they were doing morning table rounds. Talk about overwhelming! I realized very quickly that all of these patients are extremely complicated, and I knew I had jumped into the deep end! But as the day progressed the Heme/Onc fellow very kindly explained a lot to me and broke things down to where I could almost wrap my tiny little brain around them. Yet when I heard my attending tell her to assign me 2 patients because I was “qualified to see them” I was again terrified and questioned any sort of “qualified-ness” about me! But as with many things, once you make yourself jump in there and do it, things start to get a little easier. I have now had 2 days of successfully following my 2 patients and I have learned quite a lot. Although I still feel like I don’t know anything, so don’t ask me questions just yet!   

What has impressed me the most, however, of all the things I have learned (thus far) is what I have learned about St. Jude the institution. I always thought of it as a hospital that does research but it’s much more like a research institute that happens to have a hospital on site. Most of the buildings at St Jude are for research and I would venture to say most of their employees are scientists and not doctors or nurses. Actually, I felt a little out of place at orientation because most of the people were researchers or business men and things. Anyway, it was nice to see the amount of effort that was being put into researching childhood cancers. When St. Jude was opened in 1962 the survival rate for childhood leukemia was like 4% in just 20 years it jumped to around 75% and today it is at 94%. And even more amazing is that with a DAILY budget of 2 million dollars, all funds are raised by grants and outside donors (through ALSAC the American Lebanese Syrian Associated Charities). Patients do not pay a penny for their treatments at St Jude. It’s pretty amazing! On site they have a little mini museum telling the history of the founder Danny Thomas, the history of the research advancements and awards received etc. One of the quotes from a parent caught my eye, “when we looked out of our hospital windows at night the lights in the research buildings were always on, and it gave us hope.” The things being done at ST Jude are truly amazing, and it brings people from all over the world in search of a cure.

I expected this rotation to be really hard for me emotionally. It isn’t the easiest thing to see so many children with such horrible diseases. But, to my surprise there has been a lot of joy and hope. Because we know that for most of these kids we can make them better, and that is exhilarating! I must say though, I have had my moments of hard times. My heart aches for the mother who hasn’t slept in 4 days because her son was just diagnosed with cancer and she stays awake with him all night and all day trying to wrap her head around all that has happened and all the treatments and procedures her little boy is going though. And yet, I am so thankful she is here, because I know her son will be taken care of, and so will she. It has also been hard to see the 1% of cases that are so unique that we just don’t know what to do. With all the knowledge and research we still don’t know everything. And of course, all the most difficult cases of cancer around the world come to St Jude here in Memphis. It has been amazing to sit and watch experts in the field discuss the best course of action in each case and how to adjust them for specific things. And it is incredibly humbling to realize that I am sitting among them. I don’t have an inkling of their wisdom and yet I do have something much more powerful, direct access to the Great Physician.

I was standing in a room today listening to a frightened mother question my attending physician on the course of her son’s treatment. The chemo had given him such bad side effects that we had to stop it and use different chemo drugs that wouldn’t do that. She almost broke down as she asked if these new drugs would change the overall prognosis of her son’s condition. Obviously they were second best to what he had been getting, and she feared they would not cure him. My attending tried for a long time to explain everything to her. That in medicine we must first do no harm and these drugs were harming him, but it is a fine line between harm and benefits. After a while I stopped listening and just began praying. I know she is scared, terrified actually, it seemed like a lose, lose situation. . .  But God. . . I couldn’t help but think in that moment, ‘Lord you are more powerful than any chemo regimen, and you alone can bring comfort in this situation.’ I realized that no matter the advances in cancer research Christ is still the best medicine. Deep down He is who everyone needs no matter what they are facing. Even with the best cancer care in world and the best cancer research in the world, it’s not enough for the cancer patient without Christ. They may not know that, but it is so true. And so obviously they all need our prayers; but not just the ones at St Jude but the kids with cancer in Brazil and Honduras and Finland, and Zimbabwe, and next door. They don’t all get the best care, but they can all have the Great Physician. So then, can’t we all be physicians in some regard, praying for the Great physician to bring healing? That’s the best weapon I have against cancer, and we can all fight with it! Oh to contemplate the power of prayer, and yet I tap into that great power so little for all the people in my life. Can you imagine if any of us actually prayed without ceasing? If I, as a physician, could live in an attitude of prayer such that it saturated all my patients, what amazing things could I see God do?

That is what I am learning at St. Jude. . . thus far J