Treasures Gleaned

I am pleased to announce that my brother-in-law, Greg Lineberger, opened a counseling practice last month in Charlotte, North Carolina!  It’s special (and rare) when seemingly all aspects of a person’s life converge to clearly form their calling and vocation.  That is exactly what I see as Greg begins his practice.

First and foremost, he is a man of true integrity who daily walks out his faith.  His heart is for serving people, and I know he will be an agent of guidance and healing in the lives of his clients.

Greg is a Licensed Professional Counselor Associate (LPCA) and a National Certified Counselor (NCC).  He enjoys serving individuals and couples of all ages and is passionate about helping families thrive.

In addition to professional counseling, Greg is a Licensed North Carolina School Counselor with more than 6 years of experience practicing in a private high school setting.  He has helped hundreds of students apply and become accepted to a wide range of schools (including Ivy League schools, US Service Academies, etc.).

As an Independent Education Consultant, he provides guidance for families with students in 8^th-12^th grade who are home-schooled, do not have a school counselor, or who need more than their school counselor can provide.  He has a thorough understanding of college planning, college financing options, and how to best prepare a college application.

Congratulations, Greg!  We are so pleased for you and those fortunate enough to be your clients.

It is hard to believe it’s almost been two months since I finished radiation.  Though I continue to go in for a maintenance dose of chemo every three weeks, the side effects have been minimal.  That is a true gift.  One of the chemo drugs I’m on (Perjeta) is known to wreak havoc on digestive systems, but honestly has not on mine.  I praise God for that.  It’s not that way for every patient.

The last two months have been an interesting journey.  Here’s a quick summary:

• First week after completing radiation: sheer joy and celebration! Feels great to “be done” with the three big hurdles of cancer treatment
• The next few weeks: very surreal. For so many months, I’ve been marching through treatment.  All of a sudden, it was over.  Certainly, I was glad.  But I remember going to a dental appointment, or picking up Abby at school, and feeling like “no one knows this part of me.  To everyone else, I’m back to normal.  But I don’t feel normal.  I still am processing what’s happened to us.”
• Fear: Boy, I really dealt with fear those first few weeks after treatment ended. During treatment, you’re doing everything you can.  Everyone is being as proactive as possible to kill the invader.  (and technically, I’m still being treated!).  In those first few weeks after radiation, I wrestled with “what now?  I guess I wait to see if it reoccurs…for days, months, years.”  The fear grew until I was obsessing over the worry of reoccurrence.

Several people spoke into my life powerfully during this season.  One was a mentor who encouraged me to sit with the Lord as long as it takes to experience His freedom in this area.  He certainly does not want us in bondage to fear.  My mentor also encouraged me to share more with Gabe.  Process with him daily if needed.  I tend to pull inward when I am concerned / stressed / worried.

Gabe has been such a precious support during this year.  I was telling someone recently that you cannot know how your spouse is going to walk out his marriage vows until something like this happens.  From the first week, Gabe has been honest with his emotions, steady, faithful, helpful, and encouraging.  As I opened up about the fear I was experiencing, God used something he said to really free me.  It sounds a little morbid at first, but keep reading!  Here’s what he said.  Powerful.

You know, Leigh Anne, I know you’ve had a life-threatening illness, but nothing has really changed.  Either you or I could die in a car accident today or any time.  God has always known the number of our days.  God is still sovereign and in control after cancer.  You are feeling more perceived threat to your life, but it’s not really there.

What he said was a reminder of one of the main truths I’ve experienced during this journey.

“Worry is not going to change anything.” 

There’s a lot to worry about on a cancer journey!  Would Gabe and the kids be ok if I died?  What fears will my kids have from this journey?  Will this pain ever clear up, or will I always deal with this?  Will I be able to juggle like I used to?

I can choose to worry about various things, but the reality is that it’s not going to change a thing!  Obsessing about a cancer reoccurrence is not going to keep it from happening.  We’ll have to cross that bridge if we come to it.  And before you’re too impressed with my incredible wisdom, I want you to know that it’s not mine at all.

Matthew 6:27

“And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”

So the last few weeks have been about living and healing, and once again, enjoying and celebrating each day.  I am probably back 85-90% physically.  Truthfully, more than I thought I would be at this stage.  To most people, I seem like I’m already “back”.  I’m exercising, keeping up with the kids, doing the daily routine (with help: my parents have continued to be here).

I tire out more than I used to.  I still have some intermittent discomfort or pain physically.  The biggest thing I notice is that I cannot juggle like I used to.  (ie. Standing at the kitchen sink trying to make breakfasts, lunches, and juggle kid noise is truly difficult now.  Used to be effortless).  But honestly, that’s not necessarily a bad thing!  To compensate, I am acquiring some of the structure and organization that I’ve always wanted in my life, but did not have the motivation or discipline to implement.  Out of necessity, I am very carefully organizing my time.  Excellent!  It’s always been a goal of mine.  I simply thought it may be a pipe dream during this busy season of precious little kids.

Thank you for continuing to pray for us.  I’ll do my best to be more faithful to post updates.

Thank you for praying for Jill’s surgery!  The doctor removed the stitches from her tendon (that he thinks may have been causing the pain), and I’m so thankful to report that she has feeling in her thumb.  So hopefully no nerve damage.

Please keep praying hard for her.  She is in tremendous pain, which hurts me.  Her thumb is swollen to twice the size of the other.  Here is a text she sent yesterday:

“Ouch! You’re really sweet to ask but I am in a lot of pain.  I’m supposed to be doing therapy on it every hour and waking up twice at night to do therapy to get ahead of the scar tissue.  I’m not quite sure how this is going to get done, but I’ll try 🙂  I so appreciate your prayers.”

Thank you for joining me in praying for incredible healing in her thumb.  She told me yesterday that it feels really unnatural to move it when it hurts so badly.  Of course, her inclination is to baby it and protect it, but to hopefully regain her mobility, she has to be diligent about doing the therapy each hour.

God, would you be Jill’s solid rock through these pain-filled days?  Would you bring about more healing and mobility than she thinks is possible?  Please bring total healing to her thumb, so she doesn’t have any more pain going forward.  Give her strength to do the therapy each hour, and encourage her heart.

 

Please pray for my big sis today around 3pm EST.

She cut her thumb pretty badly in May, and underwent hand surgery to repair the severed tendon.  Even with the extensive therapy she’s done, the scar tissue has made her thumb fairly immobile.  On top of that, she has several places on the hurt thumb that cause her tremendous pain when she grabs a door-knob (or puts any pressure on it).  See picture below.

The decision was made earlier this week to take her back to surgery – and it will be from about 3-4pm today.  I believe the doctor will try to remove those areas causing her pain, as well as try to remove scar tissue so she can have more mobility.  Evidently, both scar tissue and nerve tissue is white, so it can be difficult for him to know exactly what he’s operating on.

We are asking for God to bring total healing to her thumb through today’s surgery.  Please join us in praying for the doctor’s skill and wisdom, for no nerve damage, for resolution of those painful places, and for her to recover mobility in that left thumb.  Thanks!

We have much to celebrate.  I am done with radiation!

On my last day of radiation treatment (Friday, Sept 7^th), I was very emotional.  It honestly caught me off-guard.  Of course, I was pleased to be finishing.  Thoughts came like waves: one after another most of the day.  The beginning of treatment seven months ago.  The shock of the diagnosis eight months ago.  So many trials along the journey.  The gift of incredible support God has given us through family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, and my team of medical providers.

The day wore on in normal fashion, as I waited for 3:15pm to arrive.  Because of Labor Day, I did my last two boost treatments on Friday, the 7^th – one at 8am and the second at 3:15pm.  Gabe arrived home from clinic.  He was there for my first radiation treatment.  Now, he’d be coming to my last.  The boys were down for rest time.  My mom went to pick up Abby from kindergarten.  They would be joining us for my last treatment.

I busied myself with writing notes to the incredible team at Duke Macon Pond where I was treated.  A loud knock on the door: it feels like 95% of packages are delivered to our door when a baby is sleeping!  How do they know?  I hurried to the door, and threw it open before another knock.

My precious sisters, my 8 day old nephew Gregory, and two of my nieces (Ashley and Anna Grace) formed a line on our lawn holding signs to celebrate the completion of this hard road.  I was utterly confused.  How did Jill get here from Colorado?  I’d only told her the night before that I was finishing treatment today.  (Little did I know that my sweet nine year old niece, Anna Grace, had only asked for one thing for her birthday the day before: a plane ticket to visit me!  Isn’t that the most precious thing ever?).  Though Brett and Jill didn’t know when they made the travel plans for Jill and Anna Grace to come, God knew they would be there to celebrate the last treatment with me.  And Autumn.  Dear Autumn.  Eight days after delivering a baby, she’s standing on my front lawn to celebrate with me.  How sweet to meet my brand-new nephew on my very last day of treatment.

My day went from emotional to celebratory!  We caravanned in three cars over to Macon Pond:

• Gabe & I
• Abby & Will
• My Mama (dear Mom Chong stayed behind with the sleeping babies)
• Jill and Autumn
• Ashley, Anna Grace, and Gregory

That evening, Ashley and Anna Grace babysat, so the adults could go out to dinner.  We went to the same restaurant we went two days before I began chemo in February.  Full circle.  It was all the same people except Mom Chong replaced Dad Page this time – my family.  My biggest cheerleaders and support system over this year.  What a sweet time.

As if that’s not enough celebrating, Gabe and I’d planned a trip to San Francisco the week of Sept 10^th months ago (before we knew my radiation schedule).  He’d go to a glaucoma conference to fulfill his annual continuing education hours; I scheduled a doctor’s appointment with an integrative oncologist at UCSF for advice on diet and lifestyle choices after cancer.  With Hurricane Florence a few days away, we had a difficult time deciding whether to go or not.  I’m so glad we did.

It was so good to celebrate life!  We caught up with good friends (Kelly Kimmel and the Beltrans), slept a lot, laughed and enjoyed being together.  For months, I’ve not been able to wear earrings.  Perhaps chemo made them irritated?  In San Francisco, Gabe purchased the most lovely pair of earrings as a gift.  For years, they will serve as a reminder of God’s faithfulness to us in this season.

As for next steps, I will continue “chemo light” treatments every three weeks until the end of January.  The first six chemo treatments I had (February through May), I was on four different chemo drugs: Taxotere, Carboplatin, Herceptin, and Perjeta.  Taxotere and Carboplatin kills “healthy dividing cells”, thus the energy and hair loss, nausea, etc.  Herceptin and Perjeta are immunotherapy drugs that target the HER2+ cancer cells only.  Thus, when Taxotere and Carboplatin were dropped from the regimen after six chemo treatments, the subsequent infusions of Herceptin and Perjeta only have been really mild in comparison.

Several friends have asked how the nerves are in my left arm (a potential side effect of the radiation).  Thank you so much for praying with us for protection for that!  Every day that I laid on the radiation table, I asked God’s protection over those nerves during that session.  The bottom line is that I won’t know for awhile.  My radiation oncologist said the side effect would typically present in six months to several years.  He said if all is feeling normal in three to four years, I should be in the clear.

Thank you again for praying with us, supporting us, and celebrating with us along this journey.

A few days ago, Gabe got a text from a technician at the periodontist’s office.  She was confirming his follow-up appointment for next week.  He replied that he would be there, and then asked when he’d receive his biopsy results.  (We’d been told a doctor would call him with the results within a week to two weeks; it had been two weeks to the day since his biopsy).

The technician texted back that he’d get them when he came in for his follow-up with the periodontist.  We looked at each other soberly, knowing it would be hard to wait another 5 days to hear the news.  This was a departure from what we’d been told – that a doctor would call him with the results.  It scared us.

He called the office immediately, and asked if his results were in.  A long pause.  The technician came back on the line and said that they were.

“Would you like me to email them to you, Dr. Chong?”

We breathed a sigh of relief.  Surely she wouldn’t send over results containing news of cancer without the periodontist reaching out.  But it was still a really long 5 minutes until that email came through.

Lichen Planus with no evidence of malignancy!  Some of the most exciting words I’ve ever heard.  Thank you for praying for us, friends.  We are praising God for this gift.

Today was session 25 out of 30.  It was my last “normal” radiation session before “the boost” next week.  And in my opinion, radiation has gone quite well!  The side noticeable side effects are skin irritation and fatigue (both of which sounded doable to me after chemo).  Radiation sessions have taken roughly an hour start to finish, and are M – F for 6 weeks.  Here’s what the experience has been like for me:

• Week 1: Anxiety during the session itself and “fatigue”. The first few days, I felt wiped out immediately after the radiation sessions and thought it must be from holding so still in an awkward position for a long time.  As it persisted, I asked the nurse if it could be the fatigue side effect I’d heard so much about.  She said that would be very unusual this early on in radiation.  I guess it was simply my body “coming down” after the sessions were over.
• Week 2: more anxiety during the sessions
• Week 3: Some of the irradiated skin began to itch quite a bit toward the end of the week. God gave me the sweetest reassurance, which I’ll share in a minute.  It melted the anxiety, which has not returned since.  I certainly had some fatigue.
• Week 4: The irradiated skin began to darken (looking like a tan). It is easy to see the exact area being irradiated.  More fatigue.  I was still able to live my routine, but simply felt quite a bit more tired some afternoons or evenings.
• Week 5: Session 21 was the turning point for me: the skin turned from tan to quite red all in one day. It’s not painful.  It itches, is quite tender, but painful is too strong an adjective. I put Aquaphor and other lotions on multiple times a day.

On Monday, my radiation oncologist (Dr. Scott Sailer) explained the risks of “the boost” that I’ll have next week.  The bottom line is that the nerve bundle that controls my left arm is immediately next to the lymph nodes that will be irradiated.  Research has shown that the “tolerance” nerves have for radiation is 6,000 rads.  That is almost exactly what I will be given.  Therefore, I have an increased risk (which is 3-4%) of permanent nerve damage by undergoing the boost.  When I asked what damage would look like, he said “well, in extreme cases, you’d lose the use of your left arm.”  More likely scenarios are permanent weakness or pain, but a physician has to tell a patient all the risks, right?

As has happened at many points along this journey, my eyes filled up with tears as Dr. Sailer and I discussed the risks.  It is sobering to consider the many risks of cancer treatments.  I do not feel brave.  But when he asked if I needed time to talk to Gabe or decide whether to move forward, I told him, “Dr. Sailer, I will certainly talk to Gabe, but if you are recommending the boost, I am doing it.  Obviously, the benefit outweighs the risk to you.  I want to live!  I will do anything you recommend.”  When I discussed it with Gabe, he felt exactly the same way.

The definition of courage is “the ability to do something that frightens one” or “strength in the face of pain or grief.”  I do have the ability to do things that frighten me, like the radiation boost.  I’ve done many, many things that have frightened me this year.

James 1:17

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”

The courage I have is a gift from God, straight from our Father who loves me.  It’s not my strength or power.  Allow me to share the story of the turning point during the radiation journey.  The moment when the anxiety turned off.

I was laying on the table during week three undergoing radiation.  It is the same every day.  Check-in, get changed into a hospital gown, wait for one of the four amazing technicians to come get me.  Lay down on the table, turn my head to the right, arms above my head.  And they do the rest.  With incredible care and precision, my team lines me up with the machine.  The colorful lines they’ve drawn on me (covered by Tegaderm stickers to keep the markers on during showers) are their guide.  My job is to hold still and follow their instructions.  They tell me when to take a deep breath, when to hold it, when to breath normally, etc.

Once the team of technicians has lined me up, they leave the room and begin the radiation session.  It was only me and the Lord in the radiation room.  I was laying as still as possible, doing my job!  My mind was obsessing about one or two of the stickers that had shifted from the lotion.  I’d asked one of the technicians about it, but could not let go of feeling like perhaps I was not lined up correctly.  Perhaps I was receiving radiation in the wrong place.  I was very anxious.  And then, as God has done for me many times this year, he spoke so clearly and gave me peace.  I don’t remember the exact words, but this is close.

Am I not in control, Leigh Anne?  I love you.  I will take care of you.  Could I not work even in a technician’s mistake, if I wanted to?

It was the reassurance I needed to let go once again.  To trust the God who loves me so much.  He sent his Son, Jesus Christ, to die for my sin and to redeem my life.  God, my designer and creator.  He formed me, he knows me more intimately that I know myself.  And he loves me so much.  God has saved my life twice.  Most importantly and with all confidence, I know he has saved my soul.  Of second importance and in faith, I believe God has saved my physical life from cancer.  Regardless of the circumstances that this broken world bring, God is trustworthy and so I can be at rest.  I am at peace.  What a gift from God.

Please pray with us for protection from permanent damage as I undergo the boost next week (the 5 sessions will be Tues, Sept 4th through Monday, Sept 10th).  Please also pray for peace for Gabe as we await the results of a biopsy he had done on Wednesday.  A periodontist did the procedure on his gums, and we were told it is either “lichen planus, cancer, or pre-cancer.”  I believe we’ll have results next week.  Thank you for loving us during this journey!

 

I leave in about an hour for my first radiation appointment.  This one will take longer since it’s the first time, so I’ve left the afternoon open.  Subsequent treatments should only take 30 min to an hour start to finish.  It is every day (M-F) for 6 weeks.  My precious husband is working hard to finish his day early, so he can meet me there.

Noticeable side effects include “sunburned skin” and fatigue, which sound really doable after chemo and surgery.  The side effects I won’t be able to see are some radiation to my heart and lungs (since mine was a left-sided breast cancer).  I’ll be at a Duke clinic here in Raleigh, and the type of radiation is Deep Inhalation Breath Hold 3D conformal on a breast board with custom bolus (chest molds).

My oncologist (Dr. Mark Graham) recommended the radiation oncologist (Dr. Scott Sailer), who will be directing this next phase of treatment.  He is top-notch.  I know he is extremely skilled at his profession, as Dr. Graham said he will be excellent “for a complex case” like mine.  But in my opinion, one of the hallmarks of superb physician is empathy.  His or her ability to see each patient as a person, not a “case”.  Dr. Sailer certainly is superb in this regard.  Extremely kind and empathtic.

Another day, I’ll have to share more about the different types of radiation: photon vs proton therapy, and how God made it abundantly clear that I should undergo traditional (photon) therapy.  Today, I have one sweet reassurance to share…

A few days ago, I was waking up in the early morning. Still half-way between sleep and awake.  I had a mental image of myself doing the “breath holding” technique during radiation.  Deep breath.  Hold.  Radiate briefly.  Breath normally.  And repeat.  Dr. Sailer told me that when I take a deep breath, and my chest wall moves away from my heart an inch or two,  the heart “hides away” and so radiation is really quite safe.  I had an image of a hand (which I knew was God’s) tucked around my heart, shielding it from the photon (radiation) beams.  That is reassurance.  I am as safe as can be.

The last few weeks have been, for the most part, quiet and routine.  Except for one weekend when the kids came back to Raleigh “to visit”, Abby, Will, and Nate have continued their summer vacation in Charlotte.  And they are having an absolute ball.

Last week was “Grand Camp” with three of Autumn & Greg’s kiddos (Maddie, Katie & Hadley) and two of ours (Abby and Will).  Each morning, the five cousins attended a superb VBS at Sharon Baptist.  Each afternoon, my parents had a different activity for the kids.  We saw videos from Carowinds, McAlisters, Discovery Place Kids, the Page backyard “water slide”.  They played UNO, had treats, and enjoyed a giant week-long “cousin sleepover”.  Honestly, at ages 4 & 5, can you think of anything more fun?

Nate spent the week at Autumn & Greg’s, where he was perpetually spoiled by the nearly all female Lineberger household (thank you, Ashley & Kelly!).  He discovered a new-found passion for bacon thanks to Uncle Greg, went swimming, and in general, relished being the center of attention – a very unfamiliar but delightful experience for a 3^rd born.

Gabe, Mom Chong, Kai, and I have been in a unusually quiet home these last 5 weeks.  After my surgeries, we enjoyed visits from:

Allen & Anita (Gabe’s sis)

Greg & Autumn (my sis)

Stephen & Elma (dear friends from Gabe’s fellowship days in Miami)

Scott & Tina Lawrence (Scott is a glaucoma doctor like Gabe; the Lawrences are missionaries in Ethiopia)

Josh & Ashley Karshen and Eve Van Devender (friends from our original small group 6 yrs ago here in Raleigh)

Jennifer Yin (one of my best friend from college days at UNC)

 

All the sleeping and resting from surgery was doubly beneficial: by mid-July, I was healing from not only the two surgeries but also the chemo effects.  I have felt more normal in the last few weeks than since this journey began in February.

After three weeks of “arms quietly by my side” (doctors’ orders after the surgeries), my range of motion was greatly diminished.  Knowing that I needed to raise my arms over my head for radiation, I sought out a PT and began exercising.  Within a week, my range of motion was almost back to normal!

The biggest side effect continues to be some back pain that began during chemo.  It is near my left shoulder blade, and at its worst, it “radiates” across the band of my mid-back area.  I believe it could be an “old injury” (perhaps from pregnancies?) that was irritated by chemo and the surgeries.  During one of my pregnancies, I remember working with an excellent trainer Nick Outlaw to address pain in that same left shoulder blade area.  Since my range of motion has greatly increased, the PT (Samantha Brown at Emerge Ortho) and I have been focused on this left shoulder blade pain.  Though I feel good most of the time, I continue to have the pain off and on, at varying levels of intensity.  Thank you for praying for us to get to the bottom of this, and have the patience and wisdom to continue to rest and heal.

I’ll leave you with some picture of our “Victory weekend”, when the kids came back for a visit after the surgeries were done.

 

After having drains the majority of the last two weeks, all four of them were removed yesterday afternoon.  I was thrilled.  Below is a picture of the drains.  Although I understand the important function they served, boy, was I glad to see them go!

Abby, Will, and Nate are still in Charlotte, and so our holiday was much more low-key than normal.  We miss them so much!  They spent the day with my parents and Greg and Autumn’s family celebrating to the hilt.  Nate was so tuckered out after the morning, that he fell asleep on big cousin Ashley’s shoulder…in the pool!  Adorable.  Here in Raleigh, we enjoyed undivided time with Kai, a rare treat for us with our 4^th little one.  He is so close to walking.

Today, when our thoughts so naturally turn to the country where we live, my overwhelming feelings are of gratitude.  Certainly, I am thankful for the many men and women who have sacrificed for our freedom (especially for the St. George family!), and continue to do so.

This year, my gratefulness has taken on a different depth.  I am alive and on the road toward healing because God chose that I would be born into an American family.  I have been blessed by the opportunity to travel all over the world, so I have seen the unparalleled beauties and tragedies that exist in 3^rd world countries.

The most humbling moments of my life have been in the homes of African men and women.  With complete joy, and such tremendous sacrifice, they welcomed me into their homes for a meal.  Nothing was spared.  Whatever they have was shared – with joy!  Some homes I have visited are what many of us have only seen in documentaries: modest one room huts that the entire extended family shares.  Mud floors, earthen walls.  I’ve held and loved the beautiful children, witnessed a mama giving birth at a bare-bones health clinic with no pain relief, mourned as malaria and other preventable diseases ravage children and families.

During this journey of cancer, my thoughts have often returned to the men and women in other countries who have no access to the incredible health care that is only a few miles from my home.  Here’s the truth: chemo was a very unpleasant experience.  It was four months of sincere suffering.  The symptoms and severity of symptoms were always changing, so each day was full of unpleasant surprises.  With energy low and sick feelings high, the time passes so slowly.

But when I was tempted to complain during chemo, I simply could not.  My thoughts were often haunted by the mamas I’ve met overseas.  They are as young as me…or younger.  They have as many precious little ones as I have…or maybe even more.  And if they are diagnosed with stage 3b Her2+ breast cancer, they have very little chance for healing unless God chooses a miracle.

Within a few days of my diagnosis, I had a team of world-class physicians pooling their knowledge to direct a life-saving treatment plan.  The chemo that ravaged my body is part of what God is using to save my life.  My bilateral mastectomy was performed a mile from our home, at an excellent hospital (Rex).  I’ll be doing radiation treatments at a Duke clinic, a pinnacle of world-class health care.  Many women need to walk a few days to even see a physician, and certainly would not have the financial resources to pursue treatment.   Our stories are similar in so many regards (we are wives, moms, sisters, daughters), and yet, the outcome from a cancer diagnosis is worlds apart.  Ah, the world is not fair.  We who are blessed with so much have a tremendous God-given responsibility to find the place where we can alleviate the sufferings of those who are impoverished and oppressed.

Though the journey through cancer treatments certainly is suffering (I’m not trying to minimize that), my personal feelings today are of such deep gratefulness to live where I do.  God has given us the health, the wealth, and the access to fight the disease of cancer.  With all I am, I want to live many more years as Gabe’s wife and our kids’ mom.  And I believe I will.