Jake lost his battle against cancer

Jake

The journey we take with cancer can sometimes take a fatal turn on us. I had a cancer battle buddy named Jake. He had bone and brain cancer. I admired his courage through all of the tough times and I highly respect his wife, for being there following the course with him. She was at every turn, supporting him, encouraging him, praying with him.

Jake passed away one Sunday morning in September. He was younger than me and we both had different types of cancer. We rode a teeter totter together, it appeared. With cancer, there are highs and lows in physical, emotional and spiritual conditions. And it seemed like when he was on the high side of the teeter totter I was on the low side. We alternated for several months, up and down, back and forth.

Two weeks before he passed, Jake was at a low and some thought he could not tolerate a new treatment plan they proposed that could possibly pull him out of it. But he was stubborn, actually, it was more like he was determined, and he wanted to make the new plan work. Jake fought hard for his right to live. He exercised, he went through rigorous physical therapy and he tried to surpass that which was expected of him. But it was not enough.

The cancer was too powerful, it consumed his body, but not his soul. The doctors felt that hospice care would be best for him and his wife. So they checked into the hospice care facility and waited for Jesus to take him home. Again, he was not going to go without a fight.

He was constantly surrounded by family, friends, co-workers, neighbors, fellow church members. He waited and we waited. Perhaps he wanted to make sure that his house was in order first. Not his heavenly house, but the house he would leave behind to his wife. It seems he wanted to make sure she was cared for in all the right ways.

On Sunday morning, he passed into the arms of Jesus. He will be missed but we will never forget him and how he walked with me in my own journey with cancer. He did what he could for himself, but he always asked his wife how I was doing and where I was with my treatment.

He cared for us. And we cared for him. One day last week in hospice, I took his hand and said "Thank you for walking with me. I am still walking with you." He squeezed my hand in acknowledgment with the only gentle force he was capable of.

He sang in the church choir, and a fellow choir member noted that at about the time of his passing,"we were just singing ‘my chains are gone, I’ve been set free.’”

Rest easy, my friend. You are in good hands and so is your loving wife.