The Chemo Bell

 

And he said unto me,

My grace is sufficient for thee:

for my strength is made perfect in weakness.

Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities,

that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

            — 2 Corinthians 12:9

 

 

            A beautiful, caring friend of mine was recently inducted into the Hall of Fame of the Springfield (Mo.) Public Schools. Ginger Holmes Robinson is a humanitarian who has organized medical mission trips for surgeries, and specialized lectures for local medical teams, to developing countries around the world.

 

You know: exotic vacation hotspots like Vietnam, Bolivia, China, and the Ukraine. Her efforts have helped 1,100 people, mostly children with disfigured faces, be able to smile again. Each success story adds to the happy sparkle of Ginger's own smile.

 

 

Ginger Holmes Robinson . . . photo from http://www.spshalloffame.org/inductees/

 

 

Her organization, Face the Challenge, reaches out to modern-day "lepers" in poor countries whose faces are disfigured by giant tumors and appalling cleft lips and palates. It would be impossible for them to pay. But Ginger's volunteer facial reconstruction surgery teams charge nothing. Led by her world-renowned surgeon husband Randy and featuring Ginger as one of the highly efficient nurses, Face the Challenge teams have restored them to normalcy and revolutionized their lives.

 

 

Here's Ginger flanked by Third World patients . . . photo from www.417mag.com

 

 

I need to write about her organization soon. But today is about Ginger. You see, Ginger has demonstrated her courage and faith in a different way in recent months. She has faced the challenge of breast cancer.

 

 

Ginger Holmes Robinson receiving her Hall of Fame award last week . . .

photo from www.news-leader.com, the Springfield, Mo., newspaper's online version.

 

 

Last week, she embarked on the first of as many as 35 radiation treatments, forced to lie completely still on a table for 15 minutes with her feet connected by the world's largest rubber band. The Hall of Fame festivities were wedged between her last chemo treatment, and last week's start date for radiation. Miraculously, Ginger found the strength and confidence to travel from Denver back to her hometown of Springfield, and participate fully, including hobknobbing with her fellow Hall of Famer, Brad Pitt's brother Doug.

 

But make no mistake. This has been no cakewalk. Ginger is still dealing with the ravages of six rounds of chemotherapy this past summer. Let her describe the impact:

 

 

Hair: Long-gone since ~14-15 days after Chemo #1. Was proud to have my eyebrows, though, but after Chemo #5 we have mostly parted ways. Can't quite get the eyebrow liner even, so don't be surprised if I look surprised.

Head: Still fuzzy at times, may resolve in the weeks ahead, but may take years. Please pray for better clarity and recall.

Spirits: Revved, but that may be due to the Decadron (dexamethosone) three-day dosing at the time of chemo. It helps minimize swelling and allergic reactions to the meds. "Bottoming out" likely will be on Saturday 9/17.

Eyelids: Left eyelid twitches almost constantly. If you think I'm winking at you, feel flattered. Just know I may not always do that every time I regard you. ;)

Body Thermostat: Damaged! Suddenly hot, cold, hot, cold, hot, cold.... and hot, cold. Poor Randy.

Appetite: More nausea this time in the evenings, perhaps from the Neurontin to counter the effects of chemo. Yogurt, Diet Ginger Ale, & Crackers helped; am looking forward to greens and variety once again.

Weight: Despite eating half portions, it now climbs. Whaa. I wear support stockings to keep the pitting edema (swelling) down around my ankles. In the meantime I accuse the chemo nurses of infusing lead into my veins. I'm told my weight should return closer to normal once I'm done with the Taxotere. Avoid yew bark, when not needed.

Nerve Changes: Loss of dexterity and sensation in my feet. Please pray normal function and sensation return in the weeks ahead. Am told it may take years.

Muscles and Joints: Took the biggest hit this time. Much discomfort. Have relied on Tylenol the whole time, but something stronger would have been rightfully warranted. Nights are the worst.

Fatigue: Four naps a day on some days; more than some babies, I realize.

Muscle Fatigue: Putting on body lotion was exhausting, requiring rest afterwards. Also, mopping was tough. (Ah, rats.)

Finger and Toe Nails: Ugly things! I took photos intending to post them, but all are hideously brown with "splinter" hemorrhages under some. Have not lost them, so I am thankful. But I must find a pleasant polish color to cover them for a few weeks.

Walks: Maintained them 2x/day, or 2 miles/day. Have only missed one walk since 6/2. It was on the afternoon I developed the fever. Gait would rightly be described as staggering. Our son, Eric, walks with me in the afternoons. I now have difficulty getting up steep inclines, so Eric dutifully gives me a push while suppressing a grunt.

 

She has maintained her great sense of humor and has been totally transparent about what chemo is like. Her frank reports have been revealing for everybody who wants to help and support someone in that situation, which, these days, seems like all of us.

 

She jokes about radiation technology: "Nothing beats a multileaf collimator upgrade." She admits that stiffness and swelling have caused her a few "I've fallen and I can't get up" moments. She reports without whining that her coffee tastes like dishwater, her nose runs constantly, and her beautiful red hair, which is growing back in, makes her look like "Red Skelton on a bad hair day."

 

She even kept up her longtime family tradition of jumping on the trampoline on one special day each year. She and Randy and their three grown children and spouses or friends do everything they can to outdo each other with tricks. Just before undergoing chemo round #4, here's a playful Ginger, showing us all how to bounce back from anything, even the trials of cancer treatment:

 

 

 

But now . . . seriously . . . significantly . . . what is the source of her strength?

 

Ginger has given herself to the Lord Jesus Christ. Not a molecule of her being has retreated from that faith stance. If anything, she loves Him and trusts Him more. She has been bathed in Bible verses in countless warm notes and visits from friends, which are healing her body of the cancer just as surely as the powerful chemicals.

 

I have no doubt that the Enemy hates how much good Ginger is doing in the world, and, as he did to Job, is attacking her. But he can never win. She will never, never, never give in to fear, depression and despair . . . because of her unshakeable faith.

 

Her influence on others is even more powerful now than ever, as people observe how she is responding to this challenge. Out of her weakness, truly, has emerged a glimpse of her source of strength - the Lord she loves and serves.

 

What I find most inspiring is how her honest and brave attitude about the frightening diagnosis, surgery and treatment battle have been completely in character. She's honest and brave because she's ALWAYS honest and brave.

 

No doubt that gives glory to God, and spreads the gospel truth that life is better with Him than without Him.

 

Who can guess how many people Ginger has already pointed toward God through her selfless, tireless Face the Challenge work? Now, it's maybe even more through the beautiful way she has fought this fight.

 

Of all the things she has done, my favorite is the way she celebrated the end of chemotherapy.

 

Many years ago, when her father was a young man, he worked in a lowly job, clearing the rights of way along train tracks. He put his earnings toward medical school, and was a highly-respected doctor. He was so poor, he used to sleep near the train tracks at night while he had the job - a key reason he never much cared for snakes.

 

But to remind himself of where he had been, and where he was going, he kept a heavy, old, brass train bell for the rest of his life.

 

Ginger has it now, on her front porch. She and Randy have rung it a few times for major events - when the Broncos won the Super Bowl, and to mark the recent capture of Osama bin Laden.

 

But after the sixth and final round of chemo, when Ginger was finally feeling human again, she went out there and polished that bell. She thought of her dad, and prayed a little. She thought about what the ringing of a train bell means: Pay attention! Things are happening! Either get on board, or get out of the way! This train is moving!

 

A ringing bell means freedom, too. That's a biggie.

 

Around sunset, she was ready. She went out there and she rang that bell, loud and clear. If you've ever rung one, you know. Whoa! That is L - O - U - D!!!!!

 

 

 

 

BONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!

 

A few neighbors were in their driveways and yards. She hopes they weren't too startled. She thinks they knew what the ringing was for. Based on the way her neighbors have supported her during chemo, she hopes it made them smile and celebrate along with her.

 

Ginger says she timed the sound and vibration, which continued for 45 seconds. She could barely dampen it with her hand.

 

No, you bellringer, you. You CAN'T dampen the sound of joy that that ringing bell signifies, in the hearts of those who know you and love you - the hope that the sound of that bell gives to those of us who are praying for the cancer to vanish forever from your body.

 

All of your friends and family members - all of the kids and grownups around the world whom you've helped - all of us lift our heads and hear the bell's rich sounding.

 

We all smile, we praise God, and we wish you well as you continue your life's journey, staying on track, facing every challenge around every bend, always chugging along cheerfully with grace and love.

 

The G-train has left the station, Ginger . . . with your Lord as the Great Conductor . . . and we're all on board with you, always and forever, wherever you go. †