Because His Heart Was Strong: The Story of Rick Owens

By Chelsey L. Owens

“That was the moment, the turning point. That was the moment I fully understood the depth of Daddy’s love for me. Similar to the love of Christ, I knew his lack of consciousness—or even more realistically, the hostility of death’s doorstep—could not interfere with my father’s matchless love for his only daughter. While Christ’s suffering made me realize His love for me, my daddy’s suffering made me realize my love for him.”

Losing a parent is never easy. Losing a good parent is even crueler. But losing an admirable parent comparable to Christ, it’s an extremely bitter truth to accept. Written from the viewpoint of an undeniable Daddy’s girl, Because His Heart was Strong entwines the captivating journey of Rick Owens’ final decade of life through her own story, including the remarkable courage he demonstrated amidst prolonged suffering and the sheer legacy he imparted in death, highlighting the faith he placed in his Savior through it all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781973647225

Chelsey L. Owens

Chelsey Owens is the proud daughter of Ricky (in Heaven) and Patricia Owens. She was inspired to write Because his Heart was Strong after a brief conversation she had with her father during his extended illness. Apart from the special bond she shared with her dad, the two things Chelsey wants her readers to take away from the book are how remarkably strong he was and just how much she loved him. She also hopes her book will encourage those who have experienced profound heartache through suffering or intense grief through loss and influence fathers and daughters alike. While Chelsey wrote this book for her earthly father, she gives all the credit to her Heavenly Father and prays He uses it for His glory.

Book preview

PART I

HIS SCARY START

CHAPTER 1

We’re All in This Together

You never realize how valuable your keys are until you lock them in the car.

You never realize how valuable your job is until it’s eliminated.

You never realize how valuable your health is until it declines.

You never realize how valuable your father is until something life-threatening happens to him.

And until it’s gone, you never realize just how valuable one’s life truly is.

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In middle school, your biggest worries typically consist of who you sit beside at lunch and what they can trade you to eat, whether you and your best friend are in the same pre-algebra class together, and what your social plans are each weekend—not cancer. School, homework, sports, recreational actives, and the like are usually the norm during those years; not cancer. But as an eighth grader, cancer was my biggest worry—leukemia to be exact—and my life has unfortunately never been the same since that word darkened the door of our home. I wish I could say that strictly abiding by the latest fashion guidelines was at the top of my stress list, along with the other teenage girls my age, but somehow, nothing of this nature seemed to matter the slightest anymore. Life was on hold for the Owens.

We were your typical all-American family…Rick, Patty, Chelsey, and Tanner: the hard-working father making a generous living to provide for his household, the devoted mother who cared for her kids first and foremost while holding down a part-time job herself, and two happy-go-lucky children—a girl and a boy who were only three years apart—simply enjoying their childhood in east Tennessee. To say the least, we had everything but the white picket fence. Our family of four took a vacation to Myrtle Beach the same week in June every year, went out to eat regularly on Friday nights, absolutely loved tuning in to college football, and always had a dog running around the house. Above all, we loved the Lord fervently and served Him faithfully as a family unit. There wasn’t a Sunday or Wednesday service where you wouldn’t find us worshipping and serving Christ together at Gunnings Baptist, the local church Daddy had grown up in. Incessantly, our home was filled with joy, laughter, and most recognizably, love.

It was 2006, another year flying by as usual. My father had a standard physical in early March, a routine appointment he, like most individuals, scheduled annually. Unexpectedly just a few days after his visit, he received word his white cell count was slightly elevated and additional tests would need to be run. My parents did not share this information with me or my brother as there wasn’t anything to alarm us over at the time, but they were no doubt concerned to hear this bothersome news. In my opinion, there is nothing worse than discovering something abnormal is going on inside your body, something that needs further exploration or testing. As humans, our finite minds automatically tend to think the worst and I’m sure this was no exception for my daddy.

He went to have his numbers reviewed a second time, just hoping it was a fluke or he was fighting something off the first time his blood was drawn. Realizing he would greatly worry until he found out what the issue was, Mommy tried her best to encourage Daddy to think optimistically, you know, the famous we’ll worry when there’s a reason to conversation rehashed over and over again. You’ve never been sick a day in your life, Rick, she kept repeating, which, interestingly enough, was so true. Daddy was rarely sick, and I can probably count on my hand the number of times he complained of even having a common cold while I was growing up. High blood pressure was the only thing he really suffered from, an effortless fix with prescription medication he’d begun taking when he was in high school. Although he did have a very defensive immune system, to me, he was invincible in every way imaginable. In my eyes, nothing ever could or would hinder my daddy because he was the strongest and smartest man I knew. And ultimately, that would never change.

As we were getting ready for church the following Sunday, the phone rang out of the clear blue, something that never happened on Sunday mornings. Realizing it was rare, Mommy answered it politely, "uh-huh’ed for a few minutes, and then immediately went to speak with Daddy in private. Evidently, a nurse practitioner from Daddy’s doctor’s office called to inform him his counts were up even more after the initial reading. While his first lab results showed Daddy’s white cell count to read roughly 14,000, after being tested a second time only days later, his count had already jumped to 18,000. The nurse practitioner mentioned getting Daddy in to see a hematologist as soon as possible. Doctor’s orders."

Things were getting serious now.

What could possibly be going on? At only forty-four years of age, Daddy was still extremely active. On top of fulfilling a very demanding job in sales at Eastman Chemical Company, he completed yard work, voluntarily coached various sports and youth teams, and served as a deacon at our church. He didn’t show any symptoms of an ill person, but if he was in fact sick, he surely didn’t have time to be.

Eager to get into see an oncologist ASAP, they scheduled an appointment with the first available physician. At the original consultation, this doctor explained what a high white cell count could be an indication of and what conditions Daddy was actually being tested for. Without question, this was the last office my parents thought they’d find themselves idly sitting in, especially in their early forties. For the next few days, they tried to live normally, if that were even possible. Though Daddy continued to work and travel and Mommy continued to take care of things around the house, one thing and one thing only consumed their minds.

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Fast-forward to Thursday, March 23. Why won’t the phone quit ringing? I asked Mommy in repetitive annoyance. No answer. We must be popular! I joked immaturely, and she didn’t even crack a smile. The phone was buzzing off the hook almost the entire afternoon, and though my brother and I consciously noticed, we were too worried about our plans later that night to put much thought into the constant telephone banter going on in our parents’ bedroom. We should’ve known something was up, considering Mommy would hurriedly answer the phone each time it rang and only talk with their bedroom door shut. In everything she accomplished that evening, she carried herself with an apparent nervousness that couldn’t go unnoticed no matter how much she tried to hide it. Daddy was out of town on a business trip, which was almost a weekly occurrence for him, but as for Mommy, something was definitely up.

"Mommy, please! It’s so good!" My brother and I all but begged her to watch the very first High School Musical with us, the infamous Disney Channel original movie which, released that January, was sweeping the nation. I had just turned fourteen, Tanner was almost eleven, and along with the rest of American adolescents at the time, we were obsessed with the newest and most prevalent installment Disney Channel had ever franchised—a classic during our era anyways. Mommy obviously had more important things on her mind but eventually gave in to our persistent, pleading requests.

So here the three of us are, 8:00 p.m., sitting in the family den watching a talented group of high school students sing and dance around a ridiculously nice school. Daddy’s flight was supposed to arrive sometime after nine-thirty, and an antsy Mommy appeared distracted, but it didn’t take her long to dive into the simple yet captivating story line with us. Naturally, Tanner and I sang along as if we were members of the cast because it was hard not to with all those catchy songs. And while I’m sure seeing us carefree and happy lightened her mood, in the back of her mind, I guarantee all Mommy could think about was the conversation she was destined to have later on. How am I going to tell Rick? How am I going to raise these two kids on my own? How…? Her questions were endless. You see, Mommy’s greatest fears had been confirmed earlier that day when she received word Daddy did in fact have something wrong with him, something none of us were expecting, something that totally blindsided our family:

He had been diagnosed with leukemia.

Oh, how that word must have loomed in the forefront of her thoughts for hours and hours on end. This news in and of itself was enough to make anyone anxious, but to think she had to be the one to tell him the reasoning behind his abnormally high white cell count…What a beyond nauseating feeling. Come to find out, that’s the reason the phone had been ringing off the hook earlier that day. Mommy decided to let close family members know even before sharing this alarming news with the man who had the life-threatening condition himself.

No wonder she wasn’t really up for watching an upbeat musical with her oblivious children.

As the movie came to an end, Mommy realized her night was just beginning. That was a cute movie with a really good storyline. See? We should always be ourselves and go for the things we want in life and not care what people think, she reassured us, mimicking the actors on the screen. Then, referring to the final song at the end of the film, she added, It’s true. We’re all in this together. Boy, did this song and statement mean way more to her than us at the time. Way more.

A few minutes later, we heard the garage door open. Yay! Daddy’s home! we eagerly cheered as we stood up from our seated positions on the couch. Whenever he was out of town, he’d be in constant communication with us, wondering what was going on in our worlds. So when he’d return home, it was always great to see him walk in after being gone for a few days as we were such a tight-knit group. A minute or two later, we heard the garage door shutting and his suit case rolling through the entryway. I’m home family! he exclaimed in his usual chipper voice, proving the fact he was just as excited to see us. Already in our pajamas, we ran to hug him, but our dog got the first ounce of attention because he beat us to the punch. Although he had been away on a tiring trip, like every other time he returned home, he asked us how we were doing. He asked me and Tanner how school was going and how work was going for Mom. He asked how we were feeling and what was new in our lives. He asked about us because it was never about him. Rather, it was always, always, always about his family. And when we asked him about his trip, regardless of how stressful it may have been, he summed it up the way he did every other time we asked him: Fine. Easily, he was the most selfless man in each of our lives.

As we finished eating our pre-bedtime goodies, Daddy unpacked his belongings and took a quick shower before eating leftovers from the dinner Mommy had earlier prepared. My brother and I told our parents goodnight and exchanged our I love you’s as we headed upstairs to our bedrooms. Friday was on the horizon and life couldn’t be any better for our little family except for, oh yeah, one thing,…the leukemia. Watching Daddy place his toothbrush away after brushing up, Mommy intentionally shut their bedroom door and braced herself for what she knew she’d inevitably have to share with him. Rick, she said, placing her hand over her heart in attempt to catch her breath. Sitting in his common Dad-like position wearing his plaid pajamas, he could tell something was awry. What is it Pat? he asked innocently, prompting her to close her eyes and explain how she didn’t quite know how to tell him. Pat, what is it? Though it was by no means straightforward, in due time, God gave her the boldness to openly share the dreaded news with him. Ricky, the hematologist’s office called today, she said, pausing to let at least that much sink in. Realizing her introduction had more than likely already given way to the news, she broke it to him gently. "Leukemia. You have leukemia."

Beyond their vacant stares, moments of silence passed with nothing but tears of fright to fill their time. Neither of them could find the words to say until finally, with denial in his voice, Daddy guardedly asked, What am I going to do? Trying to find the silver lining in the situation, Mommy hopefully added, They said if there was a cancer you had to get, Ri, this would be the one…chronic lymphocytic leukemia. Not impressed by her positivity, he again deliberately questioned what he was going to do, and she couldn’t help but focus on the fear in his eyes.

Her companion, her best friend, her blue-eyed Tennessee boy just found out he had a chronic illness, and she had to be the one to tell him, leaving a permanent scar of their conversation that night and the many emotions it fostered on both their hearts. The stunned look on his face when she shared this unfriendly news is one Mommy will forever remember, one of shock, horror, and disbelief. With an abundance of unwelcome thoughts swarming his vulnerable mind, ranging from his young age to his demanding job, his close-knit family to battling sickness, or even worse, death, the same question was repeated consistently, as if it were the only thing he could ask or even say. What am I going to do? Giving him a stern look of determination herself, Mommy made it very clear what he was going to do. You’re going fight, Ricky. You’re going to fight with everything you’ve got.

And fight is exactly what he did.

CHAPTER 2

The Fear of the Unknown

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Somehow, it was always easier to get out of bed on Fridays as a student, especially when I knew school was dismissing early, and with a fun weekend ahead of me, I was readily up and at ‘em. I heard my parents also stirring around, shuffling about their usual morning routine. I trotted downstairs with a pep in my step, sporting my number eighteen Colts jersey proudly. After all, it was Peyton Manning’s thirtieth birthday so naturally, as one of his most devout fans, I wanted to celebrate the momentous occasion in every possible way that I could. What a great day it’d already been, and the clock only read 6:52 a.m.

TGIF! I eagerly exclaimed as I walked into Mommy and Daddy’s lamp-lit bedroom. They both agreed with me in unison, but their usual excitement was lacking. Not thinking a thing of it, I went and sat down at Mommy’s vanity to finish getting myself ready. Unmindful of the news I was about to receive, they both turned the corner with sheepish looks on their faces. It was in their pale stares of emptiness I realized something was definitely up. Chelsey, I really don’t know how to tell you this, Daddy said in a serious tone, totally unlike his jolly self. When I turned to give him my undivided attention, I noticed Mommy in the corner crying. He gingerly grabbed my hand, and I couldn’t help but notice his trembling as it loosely gripped mine. Speaking in third-person, he timidly shared the news that had more than likely kept him awake all night. Daddy has been to the doctor a lot lately and I found out I have a form of leukemia, he said in pauses. But it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay, I promise. I gazed up at him for a long time, then glanced over at Mommy, then back again at him in attempt to process the news I’d just received. How could he promise me everything was going to be okay when a form of cancer was involved?

Suddenly, Peyton Manning turning the big ‘three O’ didn’t matter so much to me anymore.

Hugging through tears and unwanted feelings, we decided to face the reality none of us wanted to admit; hour one of my new life, our new lives. Daddy drove me to school that morning like he did every other day if he wasn’t on a business trip. Though we took the same standard route, passed the same habitual scenes, and listened to the same boring radio talk show, this car ride was quite different than usual…a somber commute. We didn’t listen to music and spoke very little, if any at all, and it seemed to be dragging on, especially with the heavy rain that set the mood perfectly. When we finally approached the drop-off line at school, Daddy said what he’d say to me every other day he would drop me off, Bye, hon. Have a good day, except this time, he also included, Have fun with your friends later. That afternoon, I had plans to go out to eat with some friends then we were heading over to one of her houses to hangout until the newest highly anticipated new show on Disney Channel, Hannah Montana, premiered. Bye Daddy, I said as I got out of the car to trek up the steps, thousands of things running through my naïve mind as I stared down at the concrete.

The school day seemed to drag on for me, and I tried to analyze why it was barely ticking by. Maybe it was because short days sometimes feel longer than regular ones. Maybe it was because I was looking forward to being with my friends later on, and my excitement was occupying my attention. Maybe it was because my teachers weren’t captivating my interest with their mundane lessons. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because earlier that morning, I found out my daddy had leukemia. Whatever the reasoning, something was making my day appear endless, and it didn’t help that I couldn’t tell anyone, not even my best friend, what was going on. Before leaving the house for school, Daddy and Mommy requested I keep the news under wraps until they knew more about the status of his condition. But truth be told, I later figured out they didn’t want me sharing this news publicly because Daddy didn’t want anyone treating him as if he were sick. He craved absolutely no attention whatsoever. It was all about his family, remember?

Ahh, music to my ears, the early dismissal bell finally rang. It was race weekend at Bristol Motor Speedway, something all children who grew up in Sullivan County anticipated because we knew it meant school would be letting out a few hours early. My friends and I all piled into a minivan, adamantly proclaiming the extent of our hunger. We’re starving, Mom! one of them shouted from the passenger seat. She offered to take us anywhere we wanted to go and after our brief deliberation, we conclusively decided on Cheddars, not that anyone’s dining preference really mattered to me at the moment. On our way to the restaurant, the van humming with middle school gossip, the rain still poured steadily. And even though I was in the midst of dramatic teenage girl chaos, it was a blur in comparison to the chaos going on inside of my finite mind. Engaging in chatter was never an issue for me but on that day, I had nothing to say. Instead, I just peered out the window silently, watching the rain bead up on the glass.

Our time spent at the restaurant wasn’t much different for me either. All I could think about was my family, my daddy. The last time I’d eaten there was nearly two months prior with them, the loves of my life. As I picked through my pasta, I caught a glimpse of where we’d sat that not-so-distant Friday evening when our lives were carefree and normal. Quickly losing my appetite, I almost asked my friend’s mom if she could just drop me off at my house on our way over to her place but, not wanting to spoil the fun for my friends, I decided to resiliently stick out the rest of the afternoon. The show we were dying to watch with one another wouldn’t be on for hours though, hours I could’ve been spending with my family, my daddy, and my helplessness left me feeling helplessly miserable.

While at my friend’s house, I found myself drifting in and out of reality. There were moments I’d be joking wittingly and laughing hysterically like nothing was wrong then there were moments of complete quietness and solemnness. Even though I was distracted, the conversation I’d had with my parents earlier kept completely hitting me out of nowhere and replaying in the forefront of my mind. This was the kind of stuff that only happened to other people, not me or my relatives, especially immediate ones. As I zoned in and out of the here-and-now, I faintly heard, "You get the best of both worlds" being sung loudly from my friend’s bedroom. It was finally time! We all piled on her bed to watch the long-awaited debut of Hannah Montana, a show about a country teen-age girl from Tennessee who leads a double life as an average student by day but a well-known pop singer by night. Throughout the opening, I thought of how cool it’d be to live a double life like that, to have both fame and normalcy. And although I had neither at that point in my own life, I put myself in her shoes for the time being and pretended it were possible.

But hey, at least I had the country teen-age girl from Tennessee thing going for me.

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The next few weeks were brutal for us. As one might imagine, nothing seemed to be going right, especially for my parents. Life was at a standstill and following a not-so-encouraging first visit to see his oncologist as an official cancer patient, Daddy was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. The doctor who diagnosed him with chronic lymphocytic leukemia, better known as CLL, was the same doctor who mentioned things weren’t looking very promising for him. There aren’t a lot of options here. We can try chemotherapy, but you may have to have a bone marrow transplant, which can be extremely risky, and we’d have to find a match first. Do you have any siblings, or possibly your children, you’d feel comfortable testing? All my parents could do was stare at each other in disbelief and shake their heads as if to ask, Is this really happening? Before exhausting all their options, the doctor also suggested Daddy see a hematologist at Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville, Tennessee. Both of their faces lit-up at this mention as they were grasping at straws for second opinions, other possibilities, and better news. Yes, I want Rick to see a doctor at Vanderbilt. Please get him in as soon as you can, the sooner the better. Set him up with the most skilled specialist in leukemia there, Mommy firmly petitioned for Daddy. Apart from Christ, she was his number one advocate from day one.

Anytime things happen to be stressful at work, the other pressures of life usually intensify with the job and in Daddy’s case, on top of the fear of the unknown, his workload was extremely demanding too. To make matters worse, there were also various things happening around the house that required his immediate attention. In addition to all the emotional and medical disarray, we found out our street was going to be annexed, meaning me and Tanner would have to enroll in different schools, and my parents would have to start paying city taxes and utilities. Could things get any worse for our family?

Just when we thought things couldn’t, a distracted Daddy accidentally knocked the driver’s-side mirror off his car while backing out of the garage one day, which wasn’t a huge deal until a few literal days later, he noticed he had a flat tire. This incident, though small in comparison to the other situations he was dealing with, essentially did him in. Leaving the scene of the flat, he sauntered inside where he sat on the bed and simply got things off his chest. For nearly the first time in seventeen years of marriage, my mom witnessed my dad cry. I don’t know how much more I can take. Honestly. To see not only her husband but the rock of our family so distraught, it nearly broke her. Realistically realizing the strain of it all would only cause his sickness to worsen, she did her best remain calm when he couldn’t. Rick, it’s going to be okay. You haven’t been to Vanderbilt yet, so you don’t even know what the doctor there will say. And all these things around the house can be fixed, no worries. As for your car, I can take it in to have the tire repaired or replaced. You just need to focus on yourself and your health right now. Fighting demons of anxiety in her own life, she understood she had to be her rock’s rock, not only for his sake, but also for the sake of her children.

Much to our relief, it didn’t take long to get an appointment scheduled at Vanderbilt and we were grateful because sometimes, that can be half the battle. But having an actual date set on the calendar for such a crucial appointment was most certainly unnerving. While we were counting down the weeks leading up, those weeks eventually became days and soon enough, those days became hours. Since Daddy’s labs were arranged before he was scheduled to meet with the doctor, and neither of them knew what to expect to any degree, my parents thought it’d be best to head to Nashville the evening before his appointment, which assured them plenty of time to get there and situated without having to battle traffic or construction. Not to mention, they had no experience navigating downtown Nashville under such pressure. Therefore, with absolutely no idea what the day had in store, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Daddy’s appointment was on a Thursday which meant my brother and I had to spend the Wednesday night beforehand somewhere else because we had school the next day. Tanner stayed with a friend while I spent the night with my Aunt Tina, Daddy’s only sibling, and her family. For the most part, sleepovers are fun and lighthearted but that wasn’t the case for me that mid-April night. As hard as it was, I had to tell my Daddy goodbye when he dropped me off at my aunt’s house, not knowing what his fate, or mine for that matter, held. I love you Daddy, I whispered as I watched his taillights slowly fade away, fully acknowledging those exact lights would be in route to Nashville all too soon.

CHAPTER 3

Praise You in This Storm

Finally, the day my family had been anxiously awaiting arrived, April 13th, and to me, there was a fine line between anticipation and relief, just hoping to receive some straightforward answers. My parents made the trip down to Nashville the evening before, but I can assure you, they received very little, if any, sleep that night, and the same went for me. It felt like I spent the majority of the night praying as I listened to stagnant traffic pass by on Shadowtown Road, the street Daddy had grown up on. Eventually, morning dawned, and it was time to get ready for school like any other day but for Chelsey Owens, that day was everything but ordinary.

I was awakened by the smell of bacon and cinnamon rolls. Though the thought of eating made my stomach turn, I knew I had to force an appetite upon myself. Apart from the events the day was destined to hold, Tina was making conversation on our way to school, but nothing could shatter my distraction. We quickly made it through the drop-off line, and as my cousin and I were walking across the parking lot, I accidentally dropped my purse on the ground. Embarrassed, I fumbled to pick it up, along with all the contents that fell out during its awkward descent, not wanting anyone else to notice my slip-up. To say the least, I was a backward, frazzled mess that morning. Clumsy, fretful, and distracted: three words that summed up my emotional state perfectly, and school hadn’t even started yet.

It was going to be a long day.

Meanwhile in Nashville, there was a certain couple who was also feeling clumsy, fretful, and distracted only on a much larger scale. I’m unaware of the various discussions they may have engaged in or the lack thereof, as I’m positive there was plenty of silence too. The minute hand seemed to trickle by and rather than hours away, his appointment felt as though it would take years to arrive. Daddy wasn’t scheduled to be there until 1:00 p.m., making it 2:00 p.m. our time, five minutes after school adjourned for me. Since they were already in town and didn’t know what to expect, they decided to make their way to the hospital early. It was go time. Although I wasn’t there with them physically, my heart was with my parents in every possible way. Scared and insecure, I could just picture the two of them as they pulled up and walked into one of the most renowned medical schools not only in the south, not only in America, but in the world arguably. Suddenly, the University of Vanderbilt was no longer a rivalry school to us as beloved Tennessee Volunteers; it was a place my family desperately sought hope and healing for my daddy.

Inexperienced at such a facility, my parents had no idea what they were doing, where they were going, and had to ask the hospital staff what felt like dozens of questions regarding their intended locations. Because their nerves had gotten the best of them, they also felt the need to use the restroom each time they happened to stumble upon one. After initial check-in and the completion of paperwork, that’s when the waiting became gruesome for the two of them. I’ve often put myself in my dad’s shoes and pictured how it must have felt to sit in a topnotch medical center just waiting to hear my fate. I’m sure every little noise made him flinch as he expected the doctor to walk through the door at any moment. I’ve also put myself in my mom’s shoes, realizing it was probably equally as terrifying for her. Then it happened, the knock finally came, and the door slowly opened, which no doubt caused their hearts to beat like never before.

All the while, school was dismissed at 1:55 and by the grace of God, I somehow made it through the day. My mamaw, Daddy’s mother, picked me and Tanner up from school along with our cousins, Brandon and Brittany, and then we went over to her house to spend the afternoon together. I immediately asked if she’d heard from my parents but the only piece of information she could offer was that they had made it to the hospital and were waiting to see the doctor. I figured that’s all she knew, but I thought I’d check anyways. Trying to stay busy, I worked on some homework until my crew began taunting me to play basketball with them, and since I never won arguments of this nature growing up, I reluctantly gave in, and off to the legendary court we went. Our basketball site was located outside of my Aunt Jan’s house, directly above where our grandparents lived. Considering we hustled on slanted, uneven blacktop and shot at a mangled goal that was at least double my age or older, it was by no means fancy, but to me, it was more ideal than playing in an air-conditioned NBA arena. Not only was it the exact spot Daddy learned to play basketball, his favorite pastime: It was the precise location he learned to dominate the game. And every single time I was out there, particularly that early spring afternoon, I proudly played for him.

Why is Mamaw walking up the hill? I wondered to myself although in my heart, I already knew the answer. I was so engaged in our mini basketball games and preoccupied in giving it my all for my all-star daddy that time totally slipped away from me. My heart skipped a beat and so did the bouncing of the ball because it was game over as I knew she was getting ready to share the details of Daddy’s appointment. I cautiously braced myself for the news I was about to receive, good, bad, or in-between, and my stomach was in twisted knots. Your dad called, were the first words out of her mouth, but like I said, somehow, I already knew that he had. I figured it must’ve been an unpleasant update, but as it turns out, there was really no update at all. Well, we really didn’t find much out today. Your dad and mom were able to meet and talk with the doctor who has reviewed all the info from Kingsport. He ordered blood work but they are running a few more tests, like a bone marrow biopsy, just to be sure it is in fact leukemia and not some type of lymphoma. Disappointed I had worked myself up to essentially, find out nothing new, I asked, When will we know for sure? That’s when she explained he would need to go back the next week for additional testing and then there would be a follow-up appointment scheduled after that. Oh great. I was going to have to experience these enormously draining emotions all over again, times two? At least the school year was quickly coming to an end that way I could focus all my time and attention on Daddy and his unpredictable health.

One week passed by: he went back for a bone marrow biopsy.

Two weeks passed by: we patiently waited.

Three weeks passed by: we thought the waiting would never end.

Four weeks passed by…four long weeks exactly.

May 11th, the day we had already braced ourselves for time and time again, the day he would find out the extent of his illness, the day the prognosis would be as clear as mud, the day. My parents left early that Thursday morning to head to the capital of Tennessee and let’s just say, I didn’t fully know what butterflies were until then, although his preceding appointments came fairly close to knowing their unnerving effects. After a whirlwind of events, my weary parents arrived home where friends and family were filled-in on the details. With Rick as the subject, Mommy took the time to send this email out at 10:25 p.m.:

First of all let me start this note by thanking each one of you for praying for Rick and our family. God has and will continue to work in our lives each and every day.

Today we were blessed with some AWESOME news from his doctor at Vanderbilt. He confirmed that Rick indeed has CLL, but we are happy and relieved to know that he is very LOW risk. It will be years and years before any symptoms should occur (if at all). If and when they do this type is very treatable and with future medical technology in a few years it may be curable with just a pill. His CT scans came back totally normal and his blood counts are good except his white cell in which it is still very low at 17—but out of the norm. With no symptoms they have rated him Stage 0—this being the best. The bone marrow biopsy showed very view lymphocytes which is great. They had to check to see if he has the B chrome or T. He has B which is good low risk. If it were T we would have been looking at a more aggressive form that would have been harder to treat with many complications.

Rick will only need to have his blood checked every 6 months (no scans) here and will not have to go back to Vanderbilt until next May for a checkup and routine blood work. Dr. Farr told him before we walked out of his office go and have a normal life. I praise God for his goodness, mercy and grace!!!! With this experience it has only brought Rick and I closer than ever before and we have learned that life is so precious and not to be taken for granted. We are forever changed by this!

Miracles happen around us every day. Just look and the Lord will show them to you! We left here this am and hit rain all the way to Nashville. Just before getting off the highway to head toward Vanderbilt the rain ended and the prettiest, most colorful rainbow appeared before us. It wasn’t just half…..it was from earth to earth across the sky. We were hopeful that this would bring good news our way!!! On our way home after feeling like things just couldn’t be better and praising God, there in the Knoxville sky another full rainbow appears…..can this be? I don’t know about you, but between us we have not seen a rainbow in years…….then we see 2 in the same day—going and coming back. This one happened to be over the billboard sign advertising for Owens Electric……….HE just knows what you need when you need it the most!

Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers. We appreciate them more than you know!! Remember to continue to pray for the sick and their families. Prayer works….Rick is proof:)

A well-known song by Casting Crowns, Praise You in This Storm was released in January of 2006, and it repeatedly resounded over Christian radio stations across the south. My parents heard it frequently as they made the trip to and from Nashville numerous times that spring, the chorus saying:

And I will lift my hands

For You are who You are

No matter where I am

And every tear I’ve cried

You hold in Your hand

You never left my side

And though my heart is torn

I will praise You in this storm

With powerful words that clearly hit home, it quickly became my family’s go-to song through the initial stages of Daddy’s illness. While our hearts were torn at the situation we were facing, though mild, we chose to praise God in the storm we confronted head on. Whenever I’d hear this song in the months to follow, I’d always envision my parents as they made their way through Knoxville, Daddy’s college stomping grounds, where they spotted that full, vibrant rainbow with our surname poised directly through its center. Only God could paint such a glorious picture of His presence through the storm we encountered, even intimately personalizing this specific reminder for us. Regardless of the trials we faced, because they didn’t limit His power, he consistently and inevitably remained faithful.

The weeks following, Mommy and Daddy would share bits and pieces of their numerous journeys with us and furthered the details of what Dr. Farr told them, never ceasing to acknowledge their love for him from the get-go. He is so cute you guys, Mommy would often say to us before trying to re-state some of the things he’d said during their visits, impersonating his accent to give us the full imitation. One statement she repeated quite frequently was the one he adamantly exclaimed after they described what the doctor in Kingsport had told them about Daddy possibly needing a bone marrow transplant. That’s crazy! You do not need transplant! I could kill you if I risked that. We wait. However, there was another statement he made that would eventually come back to haunt us. Something else will take you before this CLL will, which gives me chills to think about all things considering. But for the time being, we were extremely happy this experienced physician was assigned to Daddy’s case. After receiving such disheartening news from his hometown oncologist, we took everything Dr. Farr pronounced as gospel.

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From that point forward, a plan was in place for our little family which eventually became a routine in no time flat. Daddy would see his hematologist in Kingsport every three months then make a special trip to Nashville every six months for labs and an appointment with Dr. Farr. By Daddy’s side for each and every visit, he and Mommy became pros at navigating these waters, especially when compared to their primary experiences at Vandy. His hometown cancer doctor, the one who initially made things sound much grimmer than they really were, ended up moving out of state so Daddy’s file was transferred to another doctor in town, Dr. Sells, the one he was referred to by several individuals when he was first diagnosed with leukemia. Both hematologists worked in close collaboration, so they could respond to the CLL dynamically. Of course, Dr. Farr was calling the shots from Nashville and had the final say when it came to any major decisions that had to be made but other than that, it was smooth sailing.

This set-up went on for nearly three years. I don’t want to say I wasn’t grateful for all the, we are just going to continue reviewing your labs and monitoring your counts until they are elevated more so, dialogues each visit because that was by no means the case. At the same time, however, I also can’t truthfully admit I didn’t take these passive reports for granted either. Same song, different verse, they are going to keep an eye of your dad for now, I’d hear time and time again. I think we all got used to this spiel, even Daddy, almost as if we expected it to be the report each time he was seen. In fact, one day, he received such a good update, Mommy and Daddy locked arms and skipped out of Vanderbilt, describing it as if they were on the yellow brick road. To be honest, I myself began to wonder if Daddy would ever need treatment considering no action had been taken thus far.

But then we heard them.

Simple yet so powerful, we heard those three dreaded words. Just as it had been three quick years of predictable doctor’s visits, scans, and lab work, we were spoken three short words, one for each year we anticipated their sequential arrival.

It is time.

CHAPTER 4

The Sweetest R

Ahh, senior year, the time I was frantically applying to college, prayerfully making important decisions regarding my career, meticulously choosing a prom dress, and thoughtfully considering how I was going to sign others’ yearbooks in a classy yet memorable way. Add graduation excitement and Daddy’s first round of treatment to the mix while simultaneously trying to create lifelong memories with my friends, it made for a very unforgettable final year of high school.

I have been feeling tired lately, Daddy casually mentioned at one of his Vanderbilt appointments. Without skipping a beat, Dr. Farr told him, "You not tired; you lazy. Compared to a large majority of people with cancer, Daddy had it easy, if there is such a thing when it comes to that awful disease. I witnessed many individuals my age or younger who’d already lost loved ones after a long battle with critical cancer so I almost, through my thankfulness, felt guilty about the mildness of Daddy’s condition. Up until 2009, the only symptom of leukemia he really exhibited was a continuously elevating abnormal white cell count. Like Dr. Farr encouraged him, Daddy, went and lived a normal life. Literally nothing changed for him or our family after he was diagnosed. He still worked his demanding, travel-heavy job, served at church in multiple capacities, took his family on fun vacations, and maintained the yard, though he did have to wear a mask for this endeavor. The L" word was never even brought up unless he was going to one of his appointments. Life was good, life was normal, even with leukemia.

Subtle changes quickly began creeping up and worsening, however, and it didn’t take long to begin noticing them over a very short period of time. It all started with his drastic weight loss. Suddenly, my 230 plus pound father was becoming thinner and thinner. The weight was just falling off him and the big belly we once made fun of, we missed terribly. It didn’t matter how much he ate or the contents of the food he ingested—carbs, protein, dairy, healthy or junk—he couldn’t keep weight on. Then the fun really kicked in when he began experiencing night sweats which became more severe as time went on. Mommy would have to change the sheets daily but then it got to the point where, after a few hours of sleep, they’d both get up so she could change the sheets before laying back down to finish their night’s rest. One time as I was leaving for school, I asked Daddy, How’d you sleep? Just as positive as can be, he replied, Great! I only had to change my pajamas twice during the night! I smiled as if it were a good thing but truthfully wished I could change the situation, knowing it was the farthest thing from normal to profusely sweat to such an extreme. I greatly admired his unpretentious optimism, though, and hoped some of it would eventually rub-off on me. His change in appearance became more noticeable when his lymph nodes began to swell, especially those in his neck which grew immensely in a matter of days. The olive-tone his skin usually kept changed, and the sicker he became, the paler he became. Picture a tall, thin, pale man with a huge neck walking around; that was Daddy in a nutshell. Watching this unfold before my eyes was almost all I could stand. For three years he lived a regular life with this chronic disease then suddenly, this chronic disease was rapidly taking over his regular life.

Of course, his hometown hematologist knew it was time to begin treatment, but it was up to Dr. Farr to make the official call, so off to Vandy my parents went. Because he attended a different one than me at the time, I vividly remember driving Tanner to school that sunny, August morning. As I told him goodbye and wished him a swell day, I could tell the only thing on his mind was the same thing consuming mine: our parents in a separate vehicle, driving the opposite direction. Their trip wasn’t as laid back as previous ones because deep down, they knew the news they’d receive this go-around. It is time, Dr. Farr told them after one succinct glance at Daddy’s results. One glimpse of his white cell count number, nearly approaching two-hundred forty thousand at that point, was enough proof it was time for action. We treat the symptoms and the symptoms have appeared. It is time. The look came after hearing these words. The same look they gave when they were told there weren’t many options; the same look they gave anytime they received unpleasant news; the same look my parents always gave one another when they were speechless. Almost as if they could read each other’s minds, just looking into each other’s eyes, Mommy and Daddy could speak thousands of unspoken words. The "look was their bond, their thing, and it started the day they said, I do."

While it always crossed our minds, we never fully believed this day would arrive, at least I didn’t anyways. The past three years flashed before my eyes when I reflected how much I had taken them for granted, though that was the least of my intentions. All those initial emotions of fear and helplessness came flooding back, a truly sickening feeling with no control whatsoever over the situation. The only thing I could do was pray. Pray for Daddy as he faced this giant, pray for Mommy as she faced it with him, pray for our family as our lives were on hold for the time being, pray, and remember what didn’t kill us would eventually make us stronger, better people.

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It was consultation day and let’s just say Daddy was less than gung-ho about it. With dozens of questions no doubt searing his conscience, he was apprehensive and agitated at the inconvenience his forthcoming treatment posed. Although Daddy was quiet and tended to hold most of his stress in, he was wearing his emotions on his sleeve and I could envision the various hesitations that must’ve been swarming his thoughts. "Will I have energy? Will I feel sick? Will I look sick? Will people act differently around and towards me? Will I be able to still do the things I love?" The list could go on and on but the biggest worry that consumed his mind was the uncertainty of whether he would be able to continue working during the six-month chemotherapy duration. Even though the doctors weren’t concerned and didn’t seem to think resuming his duties at work would be an issue, they had no way of knowing how he’d react to such high-powered drugs. As the main bread winner, he wasn’t the only one concerned at this point. Here I had just started my senior year at a private school and college was in the very near future. I wanted to finish my high school career at Tri-Cities Christian but worried the financial burden it would cause if I stayed and Daddy couldn’t work. I also wanted a college education but understood the magnitude of money it required. So, on top of worrying about my father’s well-being, selfishly, I was on edge…we were all on edge. Anxiety was in full swing around the Owens household.

Well, how’d it go? I asked when my parents returned home from his oncology consultation. I’m going to go ahead and shave my hair, Daddy said, not even trying to soften the delicacy of the matter. Sad to hear this but even sadder to see his forlorn expression while sharing it with me, I begged him, Please don’t shave it yet, Daddy. You don’t know what’s going to happen. He sensitively replied, They said I would lose my hair, Chels. I’d rather have Mommy shave it than watch it fall out. It all became reality to me at that point. Will you have to go to Vanderbilt any for treatment? Tanner asked him. No, only for my regular appointments; Dr. Farr is placing orders from Nashville and sending them to Kingsport. He calls it the specific ‘cocktail’ my body needs. That’s when Mommy chimed in, Yes, Dr. Farr knows exactly what to mix drug-wise for Daddy. He will have six months of chemo, which puts us in January sometime. My first thought was, Six months, that’s half a year, that’s forever away, but before I could comment, she added, Every 28 days. Then a half a day the next day, the 29th day to finish the cycle." Okay. It didn’t seem so bad when she put in in terms of days, but I wasn’t so sure if Daddy’s feelings were mutual.

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Round one, August 18, 2009. They say there’s a first time for everything and this was one of the biggest firsts of Daddy’s life. Aiming to stay cheerful throughout the entirety of the day, I decided to wear a soft yellow t-shirt that loosely tied in the back. I can’t remember the reason why, but Tri-Cities Christian was closed that day and, since I don’t believe in coincidence, I knew it was God’s way of allowing me to help my frazzled parents out even if it was only in a miniscule way by driving Tanner to school that morning. After dropping him off, I prayed, prayed, then prayed some more as I listened to the radio. That’s when I heard the powerful lyrics of Revelation Song and there alone on Center Street in my little red Volkswagen Beetle, I experienced one of the most memorable moments of worship. While spending this quality time with God in my car, my parents were spending some quality time together too, only not in the fashion or the place they preferred. With a heavy heart, I decided to make the most of my free day by doing something productive and what’s more productive than spreading the Gospel? So, I went straight to the church to help put scriptures together. My papaw was there too, Daddy’s father, so we sat beside of each other as we assembled John and Romans. Daddy’s hair is going to fall out. He told me he was going to shave it before he started treatment, but he decided not to, I tentatively told him. With his foot on the staple pedal, Papaw reassuringly said, Your dad’s hair is going to grow back beautiful. It may even come back curly like yours. I grinned at the thought and since I’ve always been known for my curly locks, I could only hope me and my daddy matched in such a recognizable, encompassing way.

Since they had been gone all day and were absolutely exhausted, my parents decided to stop and pick up pizza for dinner on their way home but not just any pizza, my favorite kind. Little did we know that this Tuesday night carry-out special would easily become our treatment day go-to meal. When they arrived home after such a long day, I knew the last thing they wanted to do was answer a series of questions, but my curiosity was racing. Being the close family we were, Daddy and Mommy openly shared everything with us before we even had the chance to ask. The four of us sat down in our assigned seats, the same spots we had sat for years, around our dining room table.

After blessing the food, the looming conversation began when Mommy broke the ice. Well, things went smooth for it being the first time except for his shaking spell. "Shaking spell? I questioned seriously. With his mouth full, Daddy said, Yeah. It was crazy. I was just sitting there being pumped with chemo then all of a sudden, I started shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop, could I? he asked Mommy, as if we didn’t believe him. Grateful he had an appetite, I was taken aback when he started reenacting the spell to some degree, which was scary enough to see; I couldn’t imagine watching it take place live and unscripted. Remembering she has a tendency to panic, I asked her, Were you not worried when this was going on, Mommy? With pride, she answered, Surprisingly, I did really well," and Daddy didn’t disagree with her self-appraisal.

Do you feel okay though? Tanner asked him thoughtfully. I’m tired, but I feel okay…just weak. It’s a long, slow drip. Tomorrow’s dose won’t be nearly as time-consuming. They totally wiped my immune system out today. Mommy thought out loud, Speaking of immune systems, we have to be really careful right now. Your dad can’t afford an infection, so we must do everything we can not to bring anything home to him. I could tell she meant business and so could Tanner. That’ll be hard with all the germs that go around school and stuff, he sensibly noted. "Not if you’re