Understanding

Our best wishes for you and your loved ones in 2008.

I completed 30 hyperbaric treatments by last Friday. The wound is finally showing some small but definite signs of improvement. For example, a small amount of new tissue has begun to emerge at one end. That small area bled readily when the doctor debrided it, and the doctor said that was a sign of much improved blood supply due to the growth of new capillaries. (It is kind of strange that we celebrate bleeding.) The pain has also diminished markedly in the last week, although nobody knows for sure why and if it will last. Hopefully, it is more than just a holiday break because tolerable pain is a pre-requisite for me to return to teaching. Except for a scary bleeding incident of the wound, everything else including my chemo has been more or less the same.

A simple life style of two Ph.D.’s: (The less we consume, the more we can spare for others.)

On the outset, I want to acknowledge that modern society does provide numerous benefits that many of us can’t live without. For example, I, at least for the moment, can only survive around cities where access to modern medical care is available. I am telling this story because I believe in simple life style no matter where we choose to or have to live

This is a story of why two Ph.D.’s dumped a city life for a tribal one, traded in their teaching careers for a shovel and a hoe, and opted to live on 12,000 rupees ($300) a year. 

Both Dhirendra and Smita Soneji were professors at an Engineering College in Ahmedabad, India. He had a degree in Engineering and she studied Physics and Space Science in college. Around 1983, they realized four pressing issues that were of great importance to them: 1) Can we live a sustainable and conscious life? 2) Can knowledge, work and devotion to life be combined together as a lifestyle? 3) Can humans coexist peacefully with animals? And 4) Can we be the change with our own lives?

“We did not want to exploit — or be exploited. In the city you inadvertently take advantage of the environment and end up exploiting one section of the society or another. We wanted to get away from it all,” Smita says. They wanted a way out of the cramped flats, polluted air, impure water, and stale produce. Most importantly, they wanted a way out of the “more” mindset that creates so much mental instability. “If we want to have a stable mind, we have to be with nature. For example, if we use a fan or an air conditioner, our bodies don’t self-correct,” Dhirendra says.

In 1986, a year into their marriage, Sonejis arrived at a simple conclusion: the best lifestyle is one which is in tune with nature. Instead of just talking about their values, the Sonejis decided to make the boldest move of their lives. They bought two and a half acres of land and moved into a 400-person tribal village named Sakwa. Most of their family and friends thought they were crazy.

From scratch, they built their own two-room house and embarked on an entirely different lifestyle. No electricity, no vehicles, no running water. Instead, they would work on farms, eat fresh, pesticide-free produce and their own cow’s milk, and live with the rhythms of nature. 

They struggled initially. Because they didn’t have running water, they could only farm in the monsoons and they were only able to fulfill 60% of their needs; Dhirendra had to earn some supplemental income by doing several small projects, like installing bio-gas plants in villages and training locals to work in oil mills. 

After five years, though, it was a different story altogether. Dhirendra and Smita started thinking up creative, organic solutions for common tribal problems. For example, they dug up a well and installed a bio-gas plant to utilize cow-dung for basic electricity. This enabled them to use power tools like a flour mill for the entire village. They also experimented with a wind mill and solar cooking. And they came up with tons of farming innovations, everything from water development to land management to crop rotation, which increased their efficiency with locally available resources. They didn’t tie up their animals and they stopped “stealing” milk from mother cow. Instead of using pesticides to kill bugs, they copied nature and dug up an aqua-pond; every monsoon when the big bugs came out, the frogs also emerged and allowed nature to correct itself. Their farm didn’t have any scarecrows either. “There’s enough for us and the birds to eat . . . We want to develop truth, non-violence and love within ourselves and stop the violence, anger, and greed. That’s our spirituality. That’s it.”

What about money and other expenses? “Our yearly budget averages to about 12,000 rupees (less than $300),” says Smita. “That comes from selling a sweet-sour cold drink powder made from a plant in our farm, some Ayurvedic medicine, and hand-made organic soap from a Neem plant.” That budget is not just for the two of them; it also includes their 19 and 17 year old sons who were home-schooled! More than half of their expenses go toward travel and books, and the rest are used for clothes, shoes, some food items that they don’t grow, like salt or jaggery. To keep all the wheels moving, everyone averages about 4 hours of work daily. 

May this find you and your loved ones in good spirit and health.

We want to wish you a merry Christmas and to thank you for your constant support and prayers.

Living by Vows- a story of love

Christmas, as one of my pastor friends said, is a story of love— For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son…(John 3:16). As I reflected upon my first anniversary of the diagnosis, I must say that I am living a love story of my own in which a wife has stood by and cared for her husband with the highest dedication and love. It hurts to see how much has fallen on my wife’s tiny shoulders because of my debilitating disease. For example, I was saddened when I could only watch from inside the house as she struggled with the snow blower to plow a path early in the morning in the midst of a snow storm to enable the dedicated visiting nurse to come through and care for my wound. Ironically, it is the same hurt that motivates me to get well so that I may share the load again. However, it does not really sound that extraordinary because we are just two ordinary people, and as a distinguished oncologist, who lives constantly with dying people, said, “Almost all women stand by their men; very few men stand by their women.” Hence, I am going to tell you a love story about an extraordinary man, a college president, who stood by his wife and his vows for more than 13 years until the very end.

Muriel Webendorfer and Robertson McQuilkin met as students at Columbia Bible College. He proposed on Valentine’s Day in 1948, and they married in August of the same year. For the next three decades, they raised six children and served God together at a variety of posts, including 12 years as missionaries in Japan. In 1968, they returned to the United States, and Robertson became president of Columbia Bible College (now Columbia International University) and its graduate school. Muriel taught at the college, spoke at women’s conferences, appeared on television, and was featured on a radio program that was considered for national syndication.

In 1978, Muriel began to forget the things she had just said a few minutes ago, and found it difficult to plan menus for parties. She would speak at public functions and lose her train of thought. She had to give up her radio show.

In 1981, doctors confirmed that Muriel had Alzheimer’s disease. As the next few years went by, Robertson watched helplessly as his fun, creative, loving partner slowly faded away. When he was away from her, she became distressed, and would often walk the one-mile round trip to his office as many as ten times a day to look for him. Sometimes, Robertson found bloody feed at night when he helped her undress. He was amazed by her love for him, and wished he loved God that desperately to be near Him at all times.

So began years of struggle with the question of what should be sacrificed: ministry or caring for Muriel. Robertson McQuilkin found himself torn between two commitments, two divine callings. Should he put the kingdom of God first, “hate” his wife and, for the sake of Christ and the kingdom, arrange for institutionalization? Trusted, lifelong friends—wise and godly—urged him to do so. By 1990, Robertson knew he needed to make a decision about his career. Both the school and Muriel needed him 100 percent. In the end, Robertson says, the choice to step down from his position was easy for him to make. He wrote to the Columbia Bible College constituency to explain his decision:

“…recently it has become apparent that Muriel is contented most of the time she is with me and almost none of the time I am away from her. It is not just “discontent.” She is filled with fear—even terror—that she has lost me and always goes in search of me when I leave home. So it is clear to me that she needs me now, full-time…

The decision was made, in a way, 42 years ago when I promised to care for Muriel “in sickness and in health…till death do us part.” So, as I told the students and faculty, as a man of my word, integrity has something to do with it. But so does fairness. She has cared for me fully and sacrificially all these years; if I cared for her for the next 40 years I would not be out of her debt.

Duty, however, can be grim and stoic. But there is more: I love Muriel. She is a delight to me—her childlike dependence and confidence in me, her warm love, occasional flashes of that wit I used to relish so, her happy spirit and tough resilience in the face of her continual distressing frustration. I don’t have to care for her. I get to! It is a high honor to care for so wonderful a person.”

So Robertson became a homemaker and a caregiver. It was nothing like meeting a $10 million budget gap or designing a program to grasp some emerging global opportunity, to be sure. It was not nearly as public or exhilarating. But it demanded greater resources than he could have imagined, and thus highlighted more clearly than ever his own inadequacies, as well as providing constant opportunities to draw on our Lord’s vast reservoir of resources.

When Robertson resigned to care for his wife, he thought his public ministry was ending. Instead, it transformed into something altogether different. In a culture where people prize their individual freedoms above all else, this simple story of a man who loved and served his wifetouched people in a way that he never anticipated. The story of Robertson’s act of love spread across the country. Husbands and wives renewed marriage vows, pastors told the story to their congregations. Christianity Today printed two articles by Robertson, and in 1998, he expanded that material into a book, A Promise Kept. He has appeared on television and radio. FamilyLife showed a video about his decision at its Rekindling the Romance events.

Muriel stopped recognizing him in 1993. “At any rate, I would love her, but she couldn’t love me back, and that’s a painful thing. … I thought, Lord, is that the way it is between you and me? You pouring out your love and care so consciously, and what do you get back—a brief salute in the morning, we connect, grumbling when I don’t get what I want, when you don’t do it the way I like?”

Robertson relied on God to give him the strength to meet his wife’s needs week after week, month after month. When people asked him if he ever tired of caring for Muriel, he would often say, “No, I love to care for her. She’s my precious.” Robertson continued to love his wife this way all the way until the end of her life. By the time their 50th anniversary passed in 1999, she had lost all ability to function on her own, and spent each day lying in bed.

Muriel died September 19, 2003. In a letter to friends, Robertson wrote, “For 55 years Muriel was flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. So it’s like a ripping of my flesh and deeper—my very bones,” Robertson says. “But there is also profound gratitude. For ten years I’ve delighted in recalling happy memories. I still do. No regrets. I’m grateful.”

May this find you and your loved ones in good spirit and health.

The localized infection and sharp debridement have made the wound pretty painful at times. The doctor thinks the reason behind the infection is because the radiation damaged tissue has inadequate blood flow to deliver enough immune cells and antibiotics to fight off the bacteria, and the infection will stop by itself when the most damaged tissue is gone.  The doctor seems to be right because the infection has not spread to other areas of the wound. Initially, I tried to tough it out like before. (I didn’t even have the pain medication prescription filled when I had the major surgery.)  However, it did not work this time.  While the pain back then was initially more severe, it diminished pretty quickly from one day to the next. This time, the recurring pain had no immediate end in sight, and it eventually worn me out. When I finally took some Tylenol, it did almost nothing, and I had to use something stronger. I was told that I violated the first principle of pain management, i.e., stay ahead of the pain and take the medication at the first sign.  The pain medication is much less effective once the pain has reached a certain threshold because that is how our brain works. I can now empathize much better with those who have chronic pains.  My chemo continues without any new major side effects, and hopefully, it will stay that way.

A true teacher, model and light: Anne Sullivan

The life of Helen Keller, a woman who was deaf and blind, is inspiring and her contributions are significant and long-lasting. She has directly or indirectly influenced millions.  However, it was Helen Keller’s great teacher, Anne Sullivan, who first inspired and breathed life into her.

Helen Keller: “I was a phantom; robbed as an infant of my sight and hearing. I lived like a creature of the deepest ocean waters, feeling my way through a world without light or sound and only vaguely aware of the concept of light or even of my own existence. Until I was seven years old I was like a ship at sea in a dense fog groping my way to shore. Only I was a ship without a compass or sounding line and I had no way of knowing how near the harbor was. Light, give me light was the wordless cry of my soul. Then one day the most important day that I can remember in all my life, the woman who would guide me to shore, my teacher, who would reveal all things to me, came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrast between the two lives this important day connected.”

Ann Sullivan began having trouble with her eyesight when she was three.  Her mother died from TB when she was nine.  She and her younger brother had to move in with a relative who then sent them to the Tewksbury Almshouse (a charitable shelter) where her younger brother died just three months later.  She stayed there, against her will, for four years and was determined to go to school.  She grabbed Mr. Sandborn, who was conducting a state inspection of the Almshouse, and asked him to help her.

Anne entered the Perkins School for the Blind where she underwent surgery and regained some of her sight, although she was still legally blind. In just six years, having had no other formal education, she graduated valedictorian of her class in 1886. Subsequently, the director of the Institute, Michael Anagnos, encouraged her to teach Helen Keller.

Helen Keller: “Her (Anne’s) desire to assault the effects of blindness and deafness were born of the Institute. … I was her first and last student. In my life, my body had a birthday. I didn’t know it on that day when I first touched the teacher, but that was my soul’s birthday. All through that year of 1887, I did nothing but explore with my hands and learn the name of every object I touched and all through that first year, as in the 50 years that followed, my teacher was at my side using the right moments to impart knowledge to me. Anyone can take children to a classroom, but only a teacher can lead them to learn. They must feel that liberty is theirs. They must feel the flush of victory and they must also feel the heart-sinking of disappointment. They must feel these things. With the passing of time came the passing away of my teacher. In her separation from me, I have often remembered and taken comfort in her saying that real independence is obtained through your mind and spirit. This was the very center of Teacher’s work with me, to lessen my physical dependence on her and make it possible for me to some day continue my work without her. Teacher believed in me and I have resolved not to betray her faith. Conscious of her always, I have sought for new ways to give life and get more life to men and women whom darkness, silence, sickness and sorrow are wearing away and at times it seems my teacher who touched my night to flame is still about her work using me to kindle other fires for good.”

May this find you and your loved ones in good spirit and health.

We have received a miraculous Christmas gift, and I want to thank all of you for your continuous prayers and thoughts.  On Monday, we learned from the doctor that the latest CT showed fairly significant shrinkage of most of the larger tumors in my lungs. These are the best results we have gotten ever since the diagnosis almost a year ago. (Previous four scans all showed steady growth except one that showed no growth.) The good results even surprised the doctor because of the unlikely odds. First of all, the drug is experimental (i.e., not clinically proven to be effective for the cancer I have). Secondly, it is a growth inhibitor and therefore works mostly by stabilizing the tumors.  In clinical trials for the cancer it is approved for, only 2% of the patients had any tumor shrinkage at all. Thirdly, chemotherapies are usually less effective on larger tumors. At the end, my doctor concluded, “I don’t know whether it is the chemo, or the hyperbaric, or…  We will just continue whatever we are doing.”  Hopefully, this is the first of many more good news to come. On the wound front, there is a localized infection, and it has made the wound larger and much more painful .  Hyperbaric continues like a part-time job.

Asymmetry between good and evil:

I can’t remember exactly when I began to notice the asymmetry between good and evil, but it was at some point during my childhood. I noticed, for example, that my playmate could knock down a structure of toy building blocks constructed with much time and effort just like that, but nobody, not even my parents (who were like superheroes to me back then), had a magic touch that could  restore it in the blink of an eye.  Anyone can pull the trigger of a gun to take a life while somebody has yet to invent a “gun” that can restore a life with a single trigger pull. An accidental slip can shatter a glass, but there is no “reverse” slip to restore it. It only takes one hole to sink a ship. One can go on and on. The same is true in the realm of human relationships as well.  Trust that takes years to build can be shattered by a single betrayal.  Reputation can be ruined overnight by a rumor. Integrity can be compromised by a moment of weakness, etc.  

So, it is easier to destruct than to build and easier to do harm than to help.  The question is why.  The answer is because an evil is just a degradation or a negative form of the good. Let’s use a true circle to represent the good.  A circle is only true when all the points (and there are infinite number of them) are of the same distance to its center. On the other hand, misplacing just a single point makes the circle untrue.  An untrue circle is a degradation of the true one, and there is an infinite number of ways for it to be untrue. In a similar way, an evil is just a degradation of the good and it can be evil in any one of the infinite number of ways. Hence, good and evil are not two equal and opposing parts of the universe. Good is qualitatively at a higher level than evil.  The power of good (i.e., God) is stronger than the power of evil, and therefore, it is easier to be bad than to be good. (Anyone who has tried to be good knows, to some extent, how much harder it is to be good than to be bad.)

May this find you and your loved ones in good spirit and health.

The hyperbaric treatment continues.  There is both gain and loss in the wound front.  The wound is now mostly showing good colors, red and pink, and some nurses said they see the growth of new tissue.  However, there is a local infection in part of the wound and a small piece of skin may be lost.  The wound has been more painful than before.

A new side effect of the chemo has appeared. Some skin is peeling off from my right hand, and the skin is thinning.  It is not painful, and I just have to avoid putting stress on the thinning skin.  Hopefully, it won’t get much worse. Diarrhea has been less frequent.  My fingers are crossed, hoping it will stay that way so I might gain some weight back.  

Stepping into the pain!

Some have said to me, “You are courageous.”  Well, they are greatly mistaken.  I am a coward, and I am afraid.  If I could find a hole in which to hide in order to avoid the fight, I would dive in and stay there.  However, I see no other choice. I can either just give up and roll over or try to fight it with whatever grace and strength are bestowed on me by God. (Whining about it certainly wouldn’t change a thing.) I have to get to the shore of the Red Sea to see if the water will be split or not.

Battling cancer is unnatural, because in order to have a chance to win, one has to step into the pain instead of backing away from it, and that takes courage. The state-of-the-art cancer treatment demands that one inflicts collateral damage on oneself in order to inflict damage on this enemy from within. One must be willing to be cut up (I have had one major and three minor surgeries, not counting debridements so far this year), take poisonous drugs that have horrible side-effects, and receive large doses of radiation that leave long-term damage on one’s body.

Furthermore, it is longsuffering, and therefore takes not only courage but also perseverance. It is one thing to charge an enemy in a battlefield when the adrenaline is in overdrive.  It is another to battle a disease that gives one constant pain and wastes one’s body away gradually along with one’s will power. There is an old Chinese saying, “Even the bravest fears the torture of a wasting illness.” In this holiday season, we get days off from work, but no patient gets a single day off from his/her illness and pain. I can’t do this by myself because whatever little strength I had in me ran out a long time ago.  Day by day, I have to draw courage and strength from my faith.

2 Corinthians 12:9 But he (Lord) said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

May this find you and your loved ones in good spirit and health.