We Have This Moment Today

Daniel’s liver biopsy came back on Thursday morning.  He had the biopsy done on Monday, November 2, and they told us that it wouldn’t be back for seven to ten working days, which would have put it NEXT Wednesday at the earliest, and possibly even Monday, the 16th.  I had spoken to the local oncologist’s office on Tuesday, reiterating again that we wanted a second opinion from UPenn, and they said they would get right on it.

Imagine my surprise on Thursday morning, only three days later, when I got awake to “You have test results available in My Chart.”  And I did hurry over there to check which it was (as there were still some labs out).  It was the biopsy results that were posted. I felt my heart drop into my shoes as I read the results.

Daniel does, in fact, have liver cancer. The biopsy was very clear.  I called the oncologist’s office and told them that the results were already in and they brought them up while I was still on the phone.  She reviewed them and then said to me that, “while this is not something, (obviously!) that he would want to deal with, the good news is that it is a liver cancer, not metastasized from anywhere else, and there are any of a number of treatments available that are specifically directed to these types of cancer.”

They had already sent a referral to UPenn The day before, but when the results were in his “My Chart,” the local oncologist office sent the results to UPenn, alerting them for the second day in a row that we wanted a second opinion and a treatment plan. Within a very short time, UPenn Called, and made an appointment for this coming Thursday (11/12/2026) with their cancer center where they will discuss the nature of the beast, and give us options for treatment.  The local office told us that the oncologist that we have been seeing recommended that we go with a University Hospital because the knowledge and options and resources are “better.” It has been absolutely fascinating to see the unusual rapidity of the tests, results and ensuing appointments coming together, and we choose to see it as providential miracles of timing!

One of the things that has been difficult for us from the very beginning was that the local oncologist (probably to keep us from building our hopes too high) had said that there are very few liver cancers that are not metastatic in nature. In addition to telling us that the mass was too large for surgery, he intoned on several occasions that he was concerned that Daniel would not be able to withstand the treatment needed and spoke of palliative care through the hospital, or an organization of our choice.  Daniel was not doing at all well on either of our visits.  The stomach bug was still bothering him, and his right hip was (and is) very painful and it makes him walk with a gait that causes people to worry if they know him (and stand back to make way for him if they don’t) and I wonder if the doctor got an inaccurate impression.

I came out to where Daniel was sitting in his chair and pulled a kitchen chair in beside him.  I told him what the results were saying and the information sat quiet between us.  We didn’t say much, and then he disappeared for a while and went into our bedroom.  Some time later, he came out and informed me that he was going to go do chores.  He was out for quite a while, and eventually I heard the tractor running, and looked out the window.  He was zipping around out there and it looked like he was okay.  We are currently out of chickens (another timing of Providence) but he was getting hay out for the steers and doing “farmer stuff.”

I thought about this man I married. It was how he has always processed bad news- to go out alone and work. He wasn’t feeling so bad physically that morning, but the news was hard. He has had so much pain in his right hip and thigh since his back surgery, and has been looking forward to receiving Platelet Rich Plasma (PRP) therapy that had been recommended by his Orthopedic doctor.  An MRI of his right hip was scheduled for that afternoon in preparation for that procedure.  This diagnosis and the uncertainty of the compatibility of the treatments was especially discouraging to us, but we decided to go ahead and get the MRI of the hip and let the doctors figure things out. 

Thursday afternoon, we traveled to Middletown and had the MRI.  Things went well, and we had time to think and talk and by evening, we both felt a great deal of peace concerning what was ahead for us. Besides, our out of state adult Offspringin’s were coming in on Friday, and both of us were certain that sadness combined with panic would do nobody any good.

Friday afternoon, they were all here.  They stayed overnight, and the time was sweet.  They cared for us with understanding as well as providing realistic options for our future.  Some time even before any of us knew there was a liver mass, the family (unknown to Daniel and I) had become very concerned about their Dad and had started working on some propositions to present to us to attempt to get him to slow down.  (Another timing of providence, actually, because there had already been quite a bit of research done concerning legal aspects of the farm).  They came armed and informed.  There were no immediate or hard and fast decisions made, but there was direction given, love spoken, support offered and there was never a single time when Daniel or I felt like we were being pushed into anything.  There was a “meeting,” yes, and it was sobering, but there was so much more to the weekend than the meeting.

The family worked at putting the garden to bed.  They put picnic tables away, sorted lawn chairs and blew leaves out of the pavilion.  They gathered sticks and branches from the yard and broke them into smaller pieces for the fire pit.  Daniel supervised from the golf card and was present and able to enjoy the gloriously beautiful day.  It was chilly, but the weather was delightful and there was so much accomplished. And, yes!!! The granddogs were here, too, livening up the gathering, begging for treats and in general, being a good diversion.

It wasn’t all noise and work. Our Stella-girl managed to tuck herself away for some good reading!

Then, before we quite knew what was happening, and far too soon to suit us, it was time to say goodbye. There were hard hugs, hot tears, and promises of Thanksgiving visits. Suddenly the chaos was over, the shoes were out of the laundry room, the suitcases carried out and the taillights disappeared down the driveway. Deborah and Flori and Christina and Jesse came and put the house back together and all was well.

One of the things that I said to the family in the middle of our meeting was that it is so important to us to remember that we have this moment. There are happy times to be had, good memories to make, and we do not want to waste the time we have being sad. We do not pretend that this isn’t hard. We are often afraid. We do not know how this will turn out. But the other morning, I got awake and Daniel was sleeping there beside me, and I reached over and felt the warmth of him and I thought about how privileged I am to have him still here beside me. It was a splendiferous moment of love, awareness, and gratitude, but also a reminder of our mortality. Which turns my heart again to the future and the eternal. Jesus walks with us. And this Eternal God we serve is already in the future. He has made amazing provision to this 53 year old team in the last 5 weeks, and we choose to trust Him.

Our family is the best. Our friends couldn’t be better. The prayers are the best gifts, and we are grateful for every one. Thank you!


It was more than a Dove Promise when two separate members of our family (Regina, out in Ohio, and Rachel in Washington, DC) unwrapped the same timely promise. We do not intend to let the hard days win, but we cannot do it alone. We need Jesus, and we need the prayers of those we love.