We're at our condo (global time share type) and we're both enjoying the rest. One problem: we've agreed to a three foot 'personal space' until I'm over this cold. Lot's of fun...

Other than that, my wife, as usual, is the absolute best friend and nurse I could ever be blessed with. We use a germ killing wipe to share the remote and literally maintain a 'space' so that coughing, sneezing and wheezing (hopefully) respect that area. That takes real faith.

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. Stay tuned...

With chemo, I mean.

The rest of my life begins four days from now. I'll have a scan a week later and then every 3-4 months, depending on how the scans look.

But my life begins to get back to 'normal' four days from now. I'm having a hard time processing that.

I've had twelve rounds of chemo, most of them 21 days straight, taking a little over a year to complete. As I've said before, my body has almost gotten used to it. The resilence of the human body will never cease to amaze me.

My next post will share the results of my next scan. Stay tuned...

Thank you all for your continued prayers and support. You have no idea how much they have meant.

Boring is a bit tedious, but my family would tell you that we've had enough excitement to last a couple of decades.

Next Monday I begin my last, 21 day round of chemo. After that I get another scan to see what's up, and then I go into really boring mode. I'll have scans every three months, then every four, then every six, etc., unless something changes. I'm not anticipating that.

And then last night...

Last night I experienced something I hadn't felt in years: a panic/anxiety attack. Years ago, battling a sickness after returning from Siberia, I had severe anxiety with panic attacks, even hallucinations. I got so scared at times I couldn't even walk the fifty feet to my mailbox. For those who know me, I don't get scared, but this was completely out of my control.

Back to last night. I was sitting in my family room reading a book and this slithery feeling started crawling up my back, up my neck, and then it enveloped me like a shroud. As it did, I felt like I had the beginning of a severe fever. I began to shake, uncontrollably, but I wasn't. I was certain I had the onslaught of a vicious illness or infection and that I was going to wind up in the hospital. In a split second I could see the doctors and nurses scrambling, pumping me full of antibiotics, all with very worried looks on their faces. It was so real, just like before. Sandy was out of town and my mind was so messed up I didn't think I could figure out how to call anyone.

I made it to the kitchen and heated up some soup while I prayed. Slowly I began to realize what was going on. I told myself you've been here before and that there was nothing wrong with me; I was fine and I was going to be fine.

When I had these attacks before I would wind up in the emergency room with blood pressure of 220/130. Each time they could find nothing wrong with me. After a few hours they would send me home and all night I would go through hell trying to stay sane. This went on relentlessly for two years.

I'm not certain why I'm sharing this; I really am doing fine. This just came out of nowhere. I've been putting in a lot of hours and maybe I overdid it. Who knows? But, my God is still bigger than anything life or the devil can throw at me and once again He faithfully helped me get through last night. I slept like a rock and woke up refreshed. In fact, today I had enough energy and brain power to work for hours on a friend's ministry web site.

If I were to venture a guess, I think our enemy is trying to scare me again. He can't touch my spirit, and he's on a tight leash by God's command. I know how to submit to God, resist Satan, and watch him flee from me. I know my Big Brother stands at my side and the demons see Him and run.

I know that I will live a long, fruitful life. God has way too much invested in me to see my life end sooner that it should. Heck, it's only been forty years since God spoke to me. Looking at the people in the Bible, I'm just finishing boot camp and getting ready for the next forty years of real harvest.

Run the race to win it. Shalom.

This video is about my neurosurgeon, Dr. Gregory Foltz. On course for a career as a touring concert pianist, he put that aside to pursue a cure for brain cancer. I am one of those who has personally benefited from his decision. You'll be inspired.

I'll finish the original treatment schedule and have another scan. After that there will be no more chemo, but will continue the MRI's every three months indefinitely.

Very, very good news. :) Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Our Adventure: 09/06/2011 Update from Chris Bayer on Vimeo.

I'm feeling a bit woozy today which is a bit different than I normally feel (that might be due to the extra week I took off), but my guess is I'll settle into this in a couple of days.

A good friend wrote, "21 rounds. My goodness. Shouldn't you get a prize or something?" I replied, "Thanks. My chemo is a breeze compared to those whose bodies are racked with pain, sores, severe nausea, etc. I have unpleasant side effects, but nothing compared to many I know. I count my blessings every day that I can think, function, do my job(s), etc. It could be much, much worse. They deserve the medals."

Having said that I'd encourage you to pray for them. People with cancer are some of the most courageous you will ever meet but they are just people. Most acknowledge their need for God's help with the difficulties they face and appreciate prayer.

Life and death take on a whole new perspective for the person with cancer. The moment the 'c' word is a part of their daily life it is ever present. It may be in the background or the foreground but it is always present.

If you know a person who has cancer, please understand that they want to live. They work very hard to live a normal, productive life. They don't want others to worry about them. They do not want to be burden on anyone.

At the same time they know that they may not make it and, at some point, they decide to get their affairs in order in case they don't. Many times, family and friends misunderstand this and think they're giving up or worrying about things they shouldn't worry about. As hard as it is for family and friends, when the person decides it's time to do this, please let them, help them. It doesn't mean they're going to die.

Quite quickly, life seems to revolve around the cancer. It seems all your time is spent explaining your situation to others, comforting family and friends, trying hard to be patient with all the advice that folks feel obligated to offer, new medical appointments and ongoing follow-up appointments, trips to the pharmacy, medication side effects, study and research, endless rounds of medication and supplements, prayer, and moments of overwhelming fear, anxiety and uncertainty.

In the beginning there is overwhelming attention, some welcome and some not. As time goes on, it can be quite lonely as family and friends go back to their normal lives, or they just can't deal with you being sick. Many don't want the reminder of sickness, disease and death as part of their routine so they don't call or write. Then they feel guilty about it. The patient tries to comfort them.

During all of this the cancer patient slowly gets weaker and it's harder and harder to be diplomatic and patient. At times, normal lights and sounds become unbearable; normal stimulus is overwhelming to their senses. This can come and go, but it always seems to show up at the most inconvenient times.

I guess I got on a roll there. I have a deep compassion for cancer patients, or anyone dealing with physical, mental or emotional difficulties. Maybe writing this will help others have a better understanding.

Thanks to all who continue to follow our adventure and pray for my family and me.

Thanks so much for your prayers for my family and me.

What this means is that they don't want to blast me again with chemo when my defenses are already down. That's fine with me.

I am getting stronger and that's a good sign. I'm still able to get my work done with minimal errors and Facebook stimulates my mind quite a bit. What a life... :)

I'll let you know when something happens. Until then...

Thank you all, again, for praying for my family and me.

P.S. If you joined my personal mailing list, be looking for an email in a few days concerning, A Kingdom Walk.

* * *

For those of you acquainted with how this goes, my labs were good enough to continue, but life isn't just about labs. God help us if life ever gets to being 'just about the labs'.

* * *

I've been asking God to help me summarize things I've learned about Him, life, marriage, family, relationships, business, money, etc. and condense them into short 'proverbials'. I've just started working on them but you can read what I've come up with in the past few days by clicking here. I've been posting them on Facebook (and I'm already seeing that others are 'stealing' them). No worries... spread them around if you like.

* * *

Sorry... kind of wandered off there. I should be starting my next round of chemo next Wednesday. I've been asking God if we could shorten this up a bit but at the same time I'm committed to hacking it out to the end. There's a fine line between trusting the doctor's wisdom and experience, and just running into the arms of God and trusting Him to heal my boo boos. Who knows, maybe He's already healed me and I'm just thirty days and one MRI away from those answers.

In the mean time, faith, patience and the grace of God will rule the day. I can do all things through Christ and I am more than a conqueror in Christ.  :)

And, so are you!

Thank you for praying for my family and me.

When I go overseas, at some point there's a few hours when I 'hit the wall'; and some times are worse than others. For me, it goes something like this:

"I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home."

It's not a tantrum, it's just how I feel. To elaborate a bit, "I want my own bed. I want food I recognize. I want to sleep where and when my body wants to sleep. I'm tired of 'dealing with it'." (Take your issue and fill in the blanks.)

That's where I've been with chemo that last few days: "I don't want to do this anymore. I want to be done. I want all the boo boo's to be healed. Damn this cancer (literally)."

I'm back in the groove this morning so don't worry about me. But, I still want to be done with this.

For those who've been dealing with chronic issues such as raising teenagers, a lousy boss, toe fungus, or whatever, I feel for you. It doesn't really matter what it is, when you hit the wall it feels the same.

You're not a bad person, and you don't 'lack faith'. You're just human, and, last I heard, there's not much you can do about that, except, you can give the whole thing back to God and let Him carry you, listen to you, feed you, nurse you, comfort you, slap you on the behind, encourage you; whatever it takes.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” - Jesus Christ

Yeah, that's the ticket. Takin' a ride on the JC Peace Train.

Thank you, always, for your prayers for my family and me.

I'm a bivocational pastor. For the past few years I've chosen to work at home doing various internet related jobs, and also have a successful online ecommerce business. I made the error processing a credit card.

I make mistakes, but not $4200.00 mistakes. I've run multi-million dollar businesses and never made an error like that (or anything close to it). I would never have made the error before the surgery and never ending chemo. There are additional costs related to cancer.

If you know someone dealing with cancer, and they run a business, pray for them, especially about silly mistakes that cost them money and time. Pray for the Mom with kids and all that she has to do. It's difficult for them to concentrate and, if they're like me, they're going over everything at least four times to make sure they've got it right, which is exhausting.

And, when they get it wrong, they want to scream at the moon because it's already costing them plenty.

I'm not writing this to gain your sympathy. My hope is that sharing my personal experiences will encourage someone: First, to encourage those who are dealing with the same things, and second, to encourage those who know people like us to pray for us.

Tomorrow I start my ten day break and then I begin the next 21 day round of chemo. Thank you, again, for your continued prayers for my family and me.

I'm well into my ?th round of 21 day chemo regimens and, having no idea how I should feel, common sense tells me I shouldn't feel as good as I do, but I'll take it.  :)

One thing I'm sure of is that I'm getting exceptionally tired again in the third week. My gate is slow but not labored. I truly believe I need to get some exercise to help with that, but I don't have the strength. I have to remind myself I'm not doing anything wrong; I just need to be patient and the strength will return.

The one thing that wears on me mentally is that I have no idea what's happening in my brain, meaning, I can only go on past results to try to gauge present and future results, and I hate that. I have to remind myself that my last two MRI's have been wonderful, I'm doing exactly the same things I've been doing, the doctors are very pleased, and my oncologist increased the time between appointments. All of that is great, but I want a window into my brain where I can visually monitor the cancer cells dying every day.

This desire is even more exaggerated because I have two more 21 day regimens to go before my next MRI! But, when you have brain cancer, and they increase time between MRI's, that's very encouraging.

So... I feel good, I'm a bit tired, and I need to be patient during the next two rounds. My upcoming MRI is the next signpost on this marathon. God has been my strength and my faith shield. He is Who He says He is, and He never fails me. His love is perpetual and tangible.

If you'll allow me to encourage anyone out there that needs it, I try to be as honest as possible when I post, and I encourage you to be honest as well. There's no downside to it, and people free honored to be trusted with your intimate thoughts and feelings. It feels a bit awkward to lay it all out there, but it helps people to know how to pray for you, and it's cheaper than a therapist.

Thank you all, again, for your prayers for my family.

But, I'm glad I went.

After taking a deep breath (literally), we walked the plank and found a table near the windows. The boat was rocking pretty good and I reminded myself I had just taken an anti-nausea pill for the chemo and wondered if it would work for this as well. As others filed onboard we were delighted to see old friends and the hugs and small talk commenced. I was praying that as we got into open water the vessel would stabilize (it did) and for the next couple of hours the ride was uneventful, until they asked everyone to go topside, in the cold wind (did I mention it was cold?), for a group picture. While we all shivered (and prayed that photographer Heidi wouldn't fall off the chair she was standing on), the photo's were taken and the herd headed below decks for warmth.

People's hearts were exceptionally warm, concerned and caring. They always are, but brain cancer is so serious that, many times, people don't know what to do or what to say. But, this was a room full of pastors... and they were wonderful.

I'm hesitant to single anyone out (so many were so kind), but I will in Jerry's case. Jerry sat next to me and we chatted about all sorts of things. As we talked, Jerry not only had a look of compassion, I could feel his compassion. He cared about this guy sitting next to him. He listened intently, and he prayed for me. He prophesied over me. He ministered to me.

Jerry (and others, too) made me glad I went.

Thanks, Dave and staff, for all the work it took to provide a time and place where I could sit next to Jerry.

Immediately after the MRI we (Sandy, Tammi, Dana and me) met with Dr. Henson to review the images.

When the Dr. and his assistant came in they were all smiles again, just like last time. They said all is well, that all is 'stable'. That means there was no new activity since the last scan, which to them is just short of a miracle.

So, the decision was made to have me continue with four more, twenty-one day chemo treatments, for a total of twelve, with an MRI in three months.

Doesn't sound flashy, but anytime your oncologist is all smiles it's a good day.

We're continuing to pray for a full-blown miracle (perfectly clean scan), of course, but this works fine for now. Thanks, as always, for your continued prayers. :)

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

On Friday, July 1st, I'll have my next scheduled MRI and we'll sit down with my doctor afterwards to go over the 'films'. I'll post the results here as soon as I have them.

For those of you who are still following our little adventure, thank you for your interest, your concern and your prayers. They mean a lot to both Sandy and I, and of course our entire family.

Celebrating Father's Day was pretty sweet this year. Dana and Aaron were home from their trip around the world and my Dad has found a fun thing to do... he's playing ukulele with a group of Hawaians near where he lives. He looks and sounds twenty years younger when he's playing. Fun to watch him have so much fun. He's pretty good, too.

Stay tuned...

Before you think I've lost my mind, let me point you to the grace of God. One doesn't do as well as I'm doing without the touch of God. Actually, it's a bit more than a touch.

When I'm done with this round I'll have a week off and then get my next MRI to see how I'm doing. The last one was over the top good so we'll see.

The only thing I deal with is being tired, all the time. I'm setting up a Total Gym in my new home office and hopefully that will help. I think my body just needs some reps.

That's about it. I've got a great appetite, both physical and spiritual. I must say, though, that I struggle with wondering if the folks (congregation) need someone with more energy and can help them more than I can. Or, maybe they're appreciating the break.  ;)

And, I miss like crazy my good friends and co-laborers in Mongolia and other parts of the world.

Patience...

Thank you, always, for your prayers for my family.

Three more days and I'll be finished with this latest 21 day chemo regimen. If we remember the doctor correctly I'll get a week off and begin my last (hopefully) 21 day regimen after that.

Overall I'm doing very well. My appetite is good and I've gained a few pounds, which I really don't need.  :)  The last week is pretty predictable: fatigue sets in, my brain needs a rest, and I need more sleep.

They'll do another MRI after the next round of chemo. This, of course, will give them definitive evidence of how things are going in my brain. I expect they'll be amazed like they were last time.

You'd think that as the months go by it would get to be more of a routine, something we all get used to. That isn't the case. Every cancer patient wants their cancer to just move along so life can get back to "normal", whatever that is. At the very least, normal does not include cancer.

Thanks, again, for all your prayers for my family.

The upper left image has a horizontal line above my ear that shows the location of the "slice" that is shown in three different ways. (All the images are mirrored; the tumor was actually on the right side of my head.)

If you look closely you can see the basic outline of the mass and then the faint perimeter of what we call the "blush" of cells proceeding from the mass. Dr. Foltz was able to remove the entire mass and the radiation and ongoing prayer/chemo/nutrition are dealing with the remaining blush area.

When I get the images from the last scan I'll try to put up some comparisons.

Enjoy!

All in all I feel good. I have a good appetite. I'm actually eating a bit too much and am allowing some treats I really shouldn't (like tiny bowls of ice cream). I'm back to my normal sleeping pattern of getting up around 5:30AM. My mind is strong. I still crash around 3:00PM but as I start exercising that will probably change.

The main thing is how good I feel. Maybe I was feeling horrible and now I don't feel so horrible so I feel good, but, I don't think that's it. I really do feel good. When your body, soul and spirit are clicking it feels good.

I'm on day seven of twenty one. The real truth, though, is I'm on day 20,605 of the days God has laid out for me. In those 20,605 days I've felt and experienced all sorts of things and I've learned a few things as well.

I've learned to praise Him and worship Him no matter what the day brings. The longer I walk with Him the more I understand how faithful He is. It's been years since I needed to 'know why'; now I just trust. The only thing, or more accurately, the only One I need to know is Him. As He reveals more about Himself to me, my soul is even more securely moored to the Rock.

Thank you all for your continued prayers for my family.

As always, I (we) appreciate all of your prayers and kind encouragements. Even though the doctor has to believe it's the chemo, we believe, at the very least, it's God and the chemo, if not simply God alone. And, for those who want to know, God hasn't told me to stop so I walk on.

Every time I take the pills I ask God to either energize them or neutralize them,  and to protect my body from harm. Apparently God is honoring this prayer because no matter how they test me I'm doing fine, the residual tumor cells are at bay, or shrinking, and other than being tired I'm doing fine. A warmer climate would be nice, however...

God has provided everything, and I mean everything, for this Adventure. He's provided family, friends, physicians, finances, and even choices of vacation homes if needed. We are blessed beyond blessed.

I've got to go pray over my medication and get on with it.  :)  Stay tuned...

Sandy, my daughter Tammi, and I got up at 4:45AM this morning to make a 7:30AM MRI appointment in Seattle. The MRI lasted about 75 minutes and then we waited until 10:00AM to meet with my oncologist to go over the films.

The doctor comes into the exam room with the biggest smile I've even seen on his face. (This is significant because he doesn't smile much. After all... he's an oncologist.)  :)

He briefly explained the MRI results. We listened, not exactly understanding what he was saying. He looked at us and said, "Why aren't you on your feet celebrating?" Apparently he had good news.

He explained it again and we finally began to understand. He said he's never seen anything like it. He said this just doesn't happen. And, of course, he said that the only thing he could credit was the new chemo regimen he's got me on. We'll add God's faithfulness to the mix.  :)

I wish I had pictures to show you what he's talking about but this is the bottom line: My last MRI showed a troubling spot of what they thought was new tumor growth and they were concerned. Today, that spot is completely gone! He said, "This just doesn't happen." He said, "Many times there's no further growth but to have it be gone just doesn't happen."

It gets better. He mentioned a few other results that amazed him and then his assistant came in with a big smile and said, "You're the poster boy." She also told us that what they saw on the MRI just doesn't happen.

I was really excited for my doctor and his staff. Because of the rarity of this type of brain cancer they do not have a large arsenal to draw from to help people like me. Even with the state of the art medications they usually don't see brain tumor tissue go in reverse. It's heartwarming to be the patient that rejoices with those who are helping him.

Today's victory is a victory for everyone involved, especially for those who pray for me. What happened to me is rare and we all get to share in it.

The doctor made it clear that we're not done but we're on the right path. We're going to keep hammering this thing so he's putting me on another 21 day regimen beginning tomorrow. Yippee!

From the heart... while everyone (including me) was celebrating today's victory, I was thinking about taking those pills tomorrow. I've had only a week off where normally I would have had four weeks off. Once again I covet your prayers for this next round.

What a treasure to know that my God is with me, my family is with me, my friends are with me, and together we're going to see vista after vista on this adventure. I'm convinced the trail will lead to long life, strengthened friendships, fruitful ministry, and growing old with my incredible wife.

Stay tuned...

NOTE:  Apparently I wasn't completely clear in my note. The spot they were worried about is gone, but there is another area that's been there from the beginning. This area is getting smaller, which is really not supposed to happen, at least at this rate, this early in the game. I still have a ways to go to be completely healed. Even so, each miracle is worthy of praise to God and rejoicing.  :)

I should explain. I'm not trying to overdue it; just the opposite. I've actually been cutting things out of my calendar. The last few days a quick nap does wonders. And, I'm absolutely convinced that a couple of weeks ago the Lord miraculously healed the brain fog and gave me a boost of strength, both of which continue.

My weight loss has leveled off at about 178. Again, I'm not doing anything special and it's not because of the medication or disease other than I'm more tired than normal. I simply changed my diet, eat about half of what I used to eat, and I don't worry about it. My body knows what's best for it and I try to listen and obey. (Except for the Garrett's that arrived on my door step yesterday.)

I'll be done with this round of chemo on Sunday. On Monday (25th) I have another MRI and consultation to see if there's been any changes. Please keep this in prayer.

Just to be clear... I feel good, I'm getting work done, I can think clearly, I have strength, and I'm getting sick of all of this.  :)  I've learned in every trial and difficulty that there is a beginning and an end, that the Lord is always with me, and that I might as well rejoice now because I will in the end. And, that my wife is the best friend that I will ever have.

Shalom.

On March 8th I had a routine follow-up MRI. An hour later we went over the films with my doctor (this is normal). He spotted a very small area that concerned him but wanted to wait until the entire tumor board reviewed it before doing anything. As you can imagine, Sandy and the kids were concerned.

A week or so later we met with my oncologist at Swedish Hospital, who also has an amazing knack at reading films. The tumor board could not come to a conclusion and neither could he. So, he erred on the side of caution and changed my chemo regimen.

I had been taking 300mg for five days straight, per month, but my doctor changed this to 150mg for twenty one straight days, per month. I started this regimen yesterday.

Overall I've been getting stronger and stronger even while I work more and more each day. I should be wiped out but, praise God, I'm just tired like a normal working person would be. The doctors are very encouraged by this.

Over  the weekend we celebrated my Mom's seventy-fifth birthday. Almost the entire clan was there from all over the place. For whatever reason, those that hadn't seen me expected to see a really skinny guy with greyish colored skin. They were blessed to see a normal looking guy.

By God's grace, life goes on. I'll let you know if there are any changes. Thank you for your prayers.

Love,

Chris

For the bottom liners: all is well and progressing exactly as they expected. My next MRI is in June. Carry on.

For the detail people: The area where the tumor was is healing perfectly. There are stray cells but no signs of these cells becoming aggressive and fingering out from the original tumor site. This is good news.

The doctor said that the radiation will continue to gain strength for two more months before it begins to start diminishing. Amazing stuff. It will take 6-12 months for the radiation to completely dissipate. My brain fog and short term memory issues are getting more difficult but they will come back as the months go by.

I have my next MRI in three months. I begin my next chemo regimen is a couple of weeks.

Thank you, as always, for your prayers.

Each day I'm aware of God's power to completely heal and restore and trust Him to do just that. He purchased my body a long time ago and the timing is up to Him. Even though we've been told it might take a year to truly gauge the effectiveness of the treatment regimen I get a little bit nerved up: at the very least I want to see measurable results, but my petitions are for a completely healed brain. Today.

I'm reminded of how many times I've expedited things like visas by paying a little extra money. I remember dealing with the Mafia in Far East Russia and paying a little premium to get train tickets or whatever. I've never thought of trying something like that on God... but I can see how people could be tempted.

I'll let you know how it goes. As always, we appreciate your prayers.

Love to all.

Chris & Sandy

It seems like we're in the 'trek to Everest' phase. I started my next round of chemo this morning and am doing well. I'm back to taking three pills in the morning which is so much better than the IV. I'll do three pills each morning for five days.

By 'trek to Everest' I mean this. In the beginning there's months of planning, etc. When you finally hit the trail it's a very long trek (14 days and well over 100 miles) until you get to base camp. You start at 4,383' elevation and end at 17,000'.

I'm in that phase of "normal life", accented by one week of chemo, month after month. It's like a very long hike you've never been on. You trust your guides but you never know what's around the next bend. You never know when the switchbacks will end. They keep telling you that camp is just around the corner but it seems like eternity before the corner shows up. So, in order to keep your sanity you get into a mental 'groove'. Miles go by and you don't even notice it.

That's kind of where I am. I'm in the groove.

This ananogy comes to mind because my daughter Dana and son-in-law Aaron will be treking to base camp at Everest in a few weeks. I am so jealous. There was a time when I dreamed of at least treking to base camp but that dream is over. Not due to cancer, but common sense.  :)  A man has to know his limitations. And his calling... and his responsiblities.

There are times and seasons in life and, right now, for Dana and Aaron, it's an incredible trip around the world. For me, it's a trek, with God as my strength, and the Holy Spirit as my Guide and Comforter.

My wife, daughters, parents, and friends, from all around the world, add a real strength to me and my family.

And, once I make this trek maybe I can help someone else make it, too.