The Cancer Coaster

When Todd and I were young and childless, we took a vacation to Walt Disney World. We both love roller coasters, and this is a pretty good destination for that kind of desire. At one of the Disney resorts, we encountered the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster. At the time of our trip, more than a decade ago, this particular amusement ride was a novelty and a big deal. The cool, new thing was the coaster used the force of a supersonic F-14 to accelerate from a stand-still stop to high speeds-- right at the start. We got strapped in, heard our safety instructions, and were then, accompanied by rock music, shot forward at breakneck speed. That's how the ride began.

The roller coaster metaphor has been used and overused to describe many of life's experiences, and, in fact, life itself. However, from the moment my in-laws received Harlan's cancer diagnosis, he-- and the rest of us-- have been launched on just such a ride. I kind of expected a "typical" roller coaster ride: the waiting in line; the anxiety as safety harnesses latch; the slow rolling of the train; the click-stop-click-stop of the painfully slow-building rise; a huge, stomach-losing drop; ups and downs, twists and turns, and more ups and downs; the disorientation of being flipped upside down; the rest of life passing in a peripheral blur; a few more bumps; and, finally, a gradual slowing to the end of the ride, followed by steps onto firm ground, and a walk into the future. But, what Harlan has gotten, what his family is riding along with him, is the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster.

Before anyone could even wrap thoughts around a diagnosis, and before Harlan and Connie could fully settle on a medical team and a treatment plan, Harlan entered the hospital for a "routine" procedure-- placement of a port and feeding tube-- that would "help" him better handle the pending cancer treatment. In the eight days that have followed, complications have kept Harlan in the hospital, off any kind of food and drink, in pain, and out of patience.

This afternoon, the dear man underwent his third surgery since last Tuesday. Follow Harlan's story here. Please keep Harlan in your prayers-- that his mind will rest, that his body will heal, that he will soon recover enough to take on the next big battle: cancer itself. Pray, too, for my MIL, who is Harlan's dedicated best friend, spokesperson, comforter and hope. God be with them both.