Jacob's experience with brain cancer- 9 months later

Exactly nine months ago today I made a dramatic afternoon exit from work feeling faint and with weakness in my right hand.  Later that night I ended up in the emergency room with a doctor telling me that an MRI revealed an “abnormal lesion” in my brain.  I didn’t know the meaning of “lesion” let alone other words they were tossing around like “malignant neoplasm” and “high-grade astrocytoma.”  It didn’t take long with a mobile phone and Google to shatter my world.  After learning what those new words meant, I hoped that it was all just a big mistake.  Maybe they switched my MRI with Robert Jacobsen or Jacob Robinson. Maybe the spot was just a harmless calcium deposit.  But it wasn’t to be.  By February I had a definitive diagnosis of glioblastoma multiforme, the most aggressive form of primary brain cancer.

Someone who was diagnosed with glioblastoma about the same time as me has been using her condition to promote assisted suicide laws, going so far as to announce that on November 1 she is going to end her own life with pills legally prescribed by a doctor in Oregon.  My first reaction was a strong feeling that what she was saying is wrong.  As scary as this diagnosis is, it’s never caused me to consider taking my own life (with the help of a doctor or otherwise).  But this story has spurred me to think really hard about why I feel the way I do.

I believe that God gave me the opportunity to come to earth to learn.  I wanted to be here.  I believe that I was among those who shouted for joy when God laid the foundations of the earth (see Job 38:6-7).  I shouted for joy because my progress without a body was stalled; there are certain things that I could learn only here on earth.  Whatever I learn will stay with me for eternity.  When I was a freshman at BYU, I attended a devotional in which Gordon B. Hinckley taught something he learned by watching the end of his father’s life:  “We must never cease to learn. We believe in eternal progression and that this life is a part of eternity to be profitably lived until the very end.”  I trust that God will take me when I have learned all that I am supposed to learn.  Until then, I will learn all I can with my beautiful yet imperfect body. In fact, I can’t think of a nine month stretch in my life where I learned more than I have learned this year.

On June 1, 2014, I shared ten spiritual lessons that my condition had taught me in a testimony meeting at church:

1.  My life is a gift from God.  Every day is precious.  If you let it, nothing can bring your life into focus like a cancer diagnosis.  I have a new appreciation and gratitude for the little things in life that I otherwise took for granted.

2.  Priesthood leaders are inspired.  God doesn’t ask his chosen people to serve because they have the longest resumes.  Rather, he calls those who He knows will listen and follow His promptings.  I can’t count the number of times our Bishop and others came or called just at the right time or said just the right thing that Jordan and I needed to hear.

3.  Nothing brings God’s Spirit more than selfless service.  As people reached out to us, many of whom we didn’t even know, we felt love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance in spades (see Gal. 5:22-23).  It’s one thing to know this in theory, but it’s another to experience it.  This Spirit is felt by both the giver and receiver of service.  I’ve also learned that you’re never too sick to try to help someone, even if it’s just thanking a nurse or doctor and trying to brighten their day.

4.  God hears and answers prayers of all faiths.  God loves all his children, regardless of their faith, and wants to hear from everyone.

5.  Living the word of wisdom and controlling appetites prepared me to have the spiritual and physical strength to recover from multiple brain surgeries and do a strenuous dietary intervention.

6.  God especially hears and answers children’s prayers.  So many times my children and other children (like my sweet nieces and nephews) have prayed for me.  They are so sincere and faithful that when they open their mouths to speak to Him, He feels so close.

7.  God wants to give us knowledge.  So many times we have felt God directing our path.  Often, this knowledge and direction has come through priesthood blessings.

8.  The words from prophets and apostles are inspired.  For years we have been counseled to get out of debt and build up our faith by praying, going to church, serving in and out of the church, having family home evening, paying tithing and more.  Not that Jordan and I have been by any means perfect in all the above, but we have tried.  Filling our tanks spiritually prepares us to handle life’s curve balls.

9.  The temple brings peace by giving us eternal perspective.  What’s really important is not the physical but where we stand with God.

10.  God lives.  During this process, I’ve experienced some of my darkest doubts and brightest, most peaceful reassurances.  He knows me and loves me.

I also believe that God has and will continue use my imperfect body to try to teach others the lessons they need to learn.  It’s not really for me to say what others have learned or should learn.  In this regard, an article authored by Maggie Karner resonated with me.  She was also diagnosed with glioblastoma this year and wrote a powerful counterpoint to Brittany Maynard’s assisted suicide advocacy.  Her article is a good read and the closest thing I've seen written that expresses how I feel.  Among other things, she tells about the final months of her father’s life in which he was left a paraplegic, “filled with utter helplessness.” Rather than wishing him dead, she and her siblings soaked up her father’s presence and learned unexpected things about themselves.  In her own condition, she hopes her daughters will learn the same selflessness and servant-hood that her father’s decline taught her.

This sums up my personal and religious thoughts on why assisted suicide is a bad idea.  I also think that assisted suicide laws are terrible public policy for believers and nonbelievers alike.  But that is a post for another day.