“We found a mass”

“You have a 3cm cystic mass on your pancreas.”

If I had been hooked up to a heart monitor the moment these words were spoken, I’m certain there would be evidence that it literally stopped beating for a moment. Possibly two.

On our drive to Nashville a few days ago, Kevin began experiencing extreme upper abdominal

pain about an hour out from our destination.

We got some over the counter remedies we thought would give relief, but after attending his NCAA rules meeting and grabbing dinner at the sports bar in the hotel, the pain began worsening.

I, of course, began to worry.

I’d never seen him like that.

& something told me not to give him the Tylenol I had on hand. Weird right? Most normal people take pain medication when in pain. But for some reason I just wouldn’t budge on it. This is an important part of the story – I promise.

After watching him agonize in the room for close to an hour I told him we needed to go to an ER.

He didn’t fight me on it.

That’s when I knew this was serious.

While there they did a CT with contrast. Ran bloodwork. Did the typical ER things. And we waited. And waited. And waited.

5.5 hours we sat there.

Wondering. Googling.

They told us it could be hours before we got the CT results back. News we begrudgingly accepted.

We could leave. We thought about it.

We were tired. We’d been in a car for close to 8 hours. Little sleep going into the convention. And a full schedule ahead.

If we left we wouldn’t know the results.

If we stayed, we could be there well into the morning.

But again. Something said stay.

The pain eventually subsided without pain medication and he was able to get some sleep while we waited.

I stayed up. Watched Hulu on my phone.

Talked to God. Kept my anxiety in check.

And longed for a bed and pillow I could find rest on. Thinking to myself that we were probably wasting our time and would need to go home with some extra strong antacids and laxative support.

After watching an episode and a half of The Rookie, the news came. The CT showed a 3cm cystic mass on his pancreas.

I will never forget the silence of the room. The stillness of everyone sitting there. The drop of my heart sinking. And the look on Kevin’s face as he tried to wake himself up from the dream he was having. Only to enter the nightmare reality we just found ourselves in.

His blood work looked good.

There were no other abdominal abnormalities to note.

But this.

This was there.

It’s been there.

For how long?

Who knows.

But now it’s known.

And now we act.

We were told we didn’t need to leave immediately to head home but that we definitely needed to followup with gastroenterology once we got here.

That was 11 days ago.

And by the grace of God alone, we’ve been able to get in with a gastroenterologist and complete an endoscopic ultrasound with biopsy today.

We are grateful for the prayer warriors that have been standing in the gap for us these past few days.

We are grateful for the quickly opened doors for investigation to get answers.

We are grateful that the initial biopsy does NOT scream cancer right now.

But we still have more work to do.

More imagining to complete.

Pathology to run and examine.

We do not have a definitive diagnosis as of yet, but so far they are leaning toward a serous cystadenoma of the pancreas.

These are almost always benign.

Another PRAISE to be grateful for.

He will be having an MRI in the next few days to get better imaging of the characteristics of this alien within and pathology reports should be back in the next 2 weeks.

And then we put together a plan for best treatment. It’s possible we do nothing. It’s possible we have to operate.

But for now, we wait.

And we praise God for the provision thus far.

We thank Him for the pain that landed us in the hospital to begin with. He needed that CT.

We thank Him for prompting my heart to not give Tylenol. Had the pain gone down a notch he likely would have refused to go.

We thank Him for allowing it to happen while we were gone. Yes, scary. But we were able to process the news and feel the emotions by ourselves. Without the kids. Keeping them protected from the potential scary mountain we were just placed in front of.

We thank Him for opening doors so quickly last week so that we could act swiftly and put some initial worries to rest.

Curveballs are normal around here.

Being the wife of a pitcher, I’ve seen plenty thrown from his hands to the plate.

As a pitching coach, I’ve seen him call plenty of them and teach even more.

But today, we’re in the box.

& we aren’t backing down.

We’ve got second and third opinions in the works. We’re exhausting all options and will stop at nothing to make sure Kevin receives an accurate, quick diagnosis and the best care team possible.

Whatever that looks like.

Wherever it takes us.

We’re hoping for continued manageable news.

We’re praying for continued quick action.

And we’re believing that God is still at work.

Going before us and standing behind.

Just as He has been this whole time.

His pain didn’t happen by chance.

This mass wasn’t found by accident.

& this story of grace is just beginning.

We share this now because God is good.

Even in the worry of the unknown during the past few days, He’s been calming our hearts and providing clarity. Putting the right people in our lives as far as 15 years back for this very moment.

Giving us wisdom and discernment.

Directing our path before we took a step.

Proving over and over that He never leaves.

He never forsakes. & He is never surprised.

We got home earlier this evening.

Kevin was able to eat some food.

We watched a movie with the kids.

And now he’s working on charts and practice plans like the dedicated coach he is.

We find rest in the positive knowledge we’ve gained today.

We praise God for the smooth procedure & recovery.

& we place our trust for the next steps in His hands.

“..help us to stay steadfast,

let your will be done.

You get the glory from this.”