Nancy and I saw each other for the first time at the 1978 German Baptist Brethren Annual Conference in Eaton, Ohio, an outdoor event where it rained for three out of four days (I was 18, and Nancy 16). Held in a large field, it was so muddy that for thirty years it was universally referred to as ‘The Muddy Annual Meeting.’ Danny and I wisely parked a mile down the road to avoid the thirty acre swamp that served as a parking lot. We sat in the concession tent for a couple hours, where a lot of the young folks were.
Nancy sat across the aisle from me, and I noticed two things about her immediately. Her ankles and lower legs were rather muddy; she possessed a rare natural beauty and a world class smile. She later confessed that she noticed me as well and thought I was rather handsome with my construction tan and white shirt. We saw each other a couple times in the following years, and were privately attracted to each other, but never formally met. Our timing wasn’t real good, as we were dating other individuals at the time.
I lived away from home for two years with my cousin Terry, kind of an Anabaptist rumspringa. I moved home in the fall of 1981, ready for a new life closer to God.
In October of 1981 my father invited me to attend the Maple Grove church with him one Thursday night to hear a special preacher from California. I accepted. It was a good service and Nancy and I met for the first time afterwards. I thought she was prettier than those beautiful maple trees that the church was named for (hey, it worked for Solomon (Songs 4:1-2)). My older sister was standing there beside me. I had mentioned to her that I was considering asking this Nancy Riley out for a date. My sister was pretty excited about it, so much so that she answered almost every question that Nancy asked me in our first conversation. Darlene meant well. On the ride home, I told my father I was going to ask Nancy out for a date. He responded, in a classic Gerald Wagoner understatement “I believe that would be an improvement.” The next day I called Nancy and asked her to accompany me to a baptism at the Covington Church on Sunday evening. She accepted. We never parted again.
In October 1982, we stood before my uncle Carl Bowman who asked us if we did? We both admitted that we did, and he said “You are.” He tied the knot real tight (this was our wedding, if you hadn’t caught that already).
Thy People Shall be My People
Nancy was the epitome of a principle in the Book of Ruth (1:16). She loved my family and made them hers. There were a couple times when I was busy or working on something, and she wanted to go be with my family even more than I did. She loved them so.
The Bible calls both husband and wife to stop depending on their extended families for emotional intimacy and build a world of their own together (Psalm 45:10; Matthew 19:5; Genesis 2:2). By God’s grace, we did that.
We have two fine sons, and four grandchildren. We formed a family singing group in 1998 and made a CD recording in 2003. We began a counseling ministry in our home in 2003, helping couples resolve spiritual and emotional issues and strengthen their marriages (we didn’t charge for it). We did that for thirteen years, meeting a lot of fine people. I was part of Advindicate from 2012–2015, and started F7 on January 1, 2016. Nancy was a true helpmeet throughout this era.
We were blessed to be able to travel widely during our marriage, many times in ministry, and many times in recreation. Being Adventists opened lots of doors for travel. We had lots of favorite places, like Loenfjord, Norway, and Death Valley, CA.
Date Night
Nancy and I started having a Tuesday night date night in 2004, a practice that we kept up for 21 years. We took turns choosing where we would go eat, and almost always went for a walk after the meal. It was super fun and we looked forward to it every week. We sometimes would surprise each other with restaurant choices and fun activities afterwards.
Cancer: A Yucky Scary Time
Leprosy once struck fear because it disfigured the body, isolated the sufferer, and seemed beyond all cure. It was more than a disease—it was a sentence that shook the very core of a person’s life. In many ways, its modern equivalent is cancer.
Cancer is a thief that robs without warning, taking health, strength, and too often, life itself. It doesn’t discriminate—striking young and old, rich and poor, the cautious and the carefree. Beyond the physical toll, it invades the mind with fear, drains families emotionally and financially, and leaves scars—seen and unseen—that last a lifetime.
Two days before Thanksgiving 2024, Nancy went in for a lower digestive exam. They discovered a sore spot in her abdomen so she got a CT scan. It was Tuesday, so date night. At Panera Bread, she received the scan results on her phone—there was a large (14-15 cm) mass her abdomen. We finished our supper in a pensive mood, wondering what this 15 cm invader was. I had an inkling what it might be. We decided to go straight home instead of our usual walking. On the ride home and the next day I almost didn’t care about anything. Almost. It was a gutted feeling, as they say in Europe. Thus began an eight month long journey—which at times, was more like a nightmare. We blithely referred to the tumor as the ‘illegal alien’. She started juicing and avoided all refined sugar.
Word eventually got out. We received a lot of home remedy suggestions from people. I put them on a spreadsheet. From raw garlic juice, to blackstrap molasses, and kale enemas we had lots of free advice. They meant well, but some things are too aggressive and too advanced to fix with a kale enema. Let me know if that works for you…
On December 18, the abdominal mass was surgically removed in a 4.2 hour surgery. I asked the surgeon afterwards “Do you think it was malignant?” He nodded quietly. After six days, I brought her home and took care of her while she healed up, even administering shots as needed. It was the weirdest Christmass season ever, but we were glad the ‘invader was gone, and my dear wife was home.
It took a while to get the tumor analyzed by a pathologist, due to it being the Christmass season. When they finally analyzed it, they said it was a type of cancer that only strikes adolescents. Uhh, she’s 62 years old, guys. We sought a second pathology opinion from an expert at Harvard.
In late January, we went to Florida for three weeks. We had a great time and stopped at almost every Bucc-ees between Dayton and Orlando. We loved the place.
While in Florida, we had a zoom call with the oncologist to discuss the new (correct) pathology report. It wasn’t good. Carcinosarcoma. Carcinosarcoma has a 30% survival rate if caught in early stages and 10% in advanced stages. Nancy’s was a stage 3, advanced. This diagnosis was not just a medical condition, but a personal earthquake, shaking the foundation of our lives.
We returned home in mid-February, and got a CT scan the very next day. The cancer (carcinosarcoma) was back already. Ugly stuff. After we got the news, she came downstairs and we stood together in the fireplace room. She said tearfully, “What are we going to do?” I said “We are going to fight it, and hopefully beat it.” We clung together and prayed for wisdom. We had some optimism, and more hope.
On the advice of friends and through prayer, we decided to throw everything at this cancer, including chemotherapy, and holistic treatments. She also began taking ivermectin and fenbendazole. Both have had some success at treating cancer, according to numerous medical reports. She began receiving Myers cocktail infusions with Vitamin C and Vitamin D shots. She also had blood irradiation treatments. Chemo trashes your immune system and holistic infusions can help bring it back. I put my feelings on the shelf and told them I would call if I needed them. I knew that wasn’t healthy to do for too long, but I wanted a clear head to help her fight this battle. I would call them back when I needed them. I needed them on June 25.
RGCC
The holistic health center suggested an RGCC test as an option. For this, you send some of the patient’s blood to a laboratory in Belgium, Greece or Switzerland. They extract the cancer cells, culture them (make more of them) and place them in 100+ petri dishes, testing the cells to see what kills them the most effectively. I asked the doctor why we had to go to Europe for this test. You can guess the answer. It has to do with the power of the pharmaceutical industry in America, and the American medical system’s reluctance to approve it. Europe doesn’t have those restrictions. It wasn’t cheap, but we did it. The results were fascinating. Some of the chemotherapy ingredients we were using scored highly on the effective scale, and some didn’t. That was encouraging. We now had some optimism, and a lot of hope.
Chemotherapy
It’s nasty stuff. The symptoms are nausea, mild irritation, fatigue, hot flashes, and sleepless nights. And that was just me. Nancy was fine for the first three sessions. The side effects got more severe as we went along. By the way, any treatment that comes with a mandatory prescription for psychosis is not something that would get high marks in the Ministry of Healing. Fortunately, she didn’t need it. There were six treatments three weeks apart. Her lovely hair began to fall out, after the second session. It became so matted that I cut it off for her. I hated doing it. She felt ugly, so I told her she was still beautiful to me. She smiled and her smile still lit up the room.
We made it through 4 months of chemotherapy, even though she got septic poisoning from the port just before the last treatment. That required a week of hospital stay. Always something…
During the chemo period her CA 125 number went down from over 100 to the 20’s. That was good news—finally. Halfway through, a CT scan revealed that the tumor had shrunk. More good news. More optimism and much hope.
In June, we traveled to California to attend a wedding at Weimar. That was a nice break from the battle we were engaged in. When we arrived home, Nan had her final CT scan on June 25. In a huge reversal of progress, we discovered that the cancer was worsening. We had no optimism and very little hope. I called my feelings off the shelf and crawled in bed with my wife and held her for two hours as we both wept. I prayed that God’s will would be done.
We went to GC Session under a dark cloud of reality. Several dear souls prayed for us. I asked two of them to pray for an easy passing. We came home from Session early, as her left leg and ankle were swelling considerably. The tumor was pressuring the femoral artery and abdominal organs. The uncertainty of the last 7 months and the time invested in the battle was immeasurable.
On July 12, she traveled to Michigan with a sister, intending to stay four nights. She came home after two nights. She was having trouble sleeping and going to the bathroom. The next day (Tuesday the 15th) I took her to the ER. They admitted her for three nights. On my way to visit her, the oncologist called. I asked him for the bottom line. The tumor had tripled in size in the last month. It was crowding her organs and bladder. He said my wife was dying and hospice would be needed. I asked if the tumor could be removed? He said it was too large and wrapped around too many organs. Surgery would kill her. This hit hard. Zero optimism and zero hope. She told me she wasn’t afraid to die. She didn’t want to but she wasn’t afraid because of Jesus. I prayed with her. She loved it when I would pray.
We brought her home on Friday the 19th. I got a hospital bed and put it in the fireplace room. Hospice moved in (wonderful people). Our oldest son and his family arrived from Tennessee, and our youngest son was here too. There was a steady stream of visitors into our home, each wanting to say goodbye. We eventually had to monitor this and regulate it to one visit per person, as the activity was keeping Nancy from resting.
On Tuesday night as I put her to bed, we had a “Set your house in order” conversation. We discussed funeral arrangements and any last wishes. Knowing that the funeral would be much larger than our local church could accommodate, I suggested the Covington German Baptist church building. After all, our first date was there in 1981. She said “That is sweet of you to think of that.” It was. She said “Don’t let the funeral be all doom and gloom. Find some joy there too.”
On Wednesday there were lots of visitors. Some German Baptist friends came by and sang to her in the evening. It was the last time she would be alert.
On Thursday, she was unresponsive. I checked on her at 1 AM. I quoted John 17 (from memory) to her and held her hand. She squeezed my hand twice as she heard the Word whispered in her ear.
On Friday morning I checked her again at 1 AM. She was breathing but a bit labored. I spoke to her and held her hand. I went back to bed and tried unsuccessfully to sleep. I prayed to God and asked Him to have mercy on us. At 1:30 AM hospice knocked on the bedroom door. “It’s time.” I grabbed some pants and a shirt and raced downstairs. I held her right hand in both of mine. I could feel the pulse. At 1:36 AM the pulse raced for 30-seconds and then it was gone. The body often does this as a final effort to keep the person alive.
Funeral
The funeral was held in the Covington German Baptist church house. About 1,000 people came to pay their respects with 800 staying for the funeral. Nancy was both loving and loveable, and had touched a lot of people. The speakers were Andy Weaver and Conrad Vine. They did a very fine job, with some people commenting that it was the most beautiful funeral service they could remember attending. Many of the German Baptists commented that they appreciated both speakers. Several said they could listen to that Englishman for another hour, and many of them wanted to know the Weaver family better. It was a treat for them as well as us. I know Nancy would have approved of the service.
After the service the German Baptists sisters provided a meal for about 200 people in the basement. They did this out of their kindness, a wonderful example of generosity and Christian hospitality.
Lessons Learned from This Trial
Cancer is stupid. It needs a host to survive on. It kills the host and in the process, kills itself. Cancer is a perfect illustration of sin. You see, evil has painted itself into a corner on this planet. It has no future and nowhere to go. Ultimately it will be destroyed by the Lord Himself (Psalm 37:9-14; 34:16; 2 Peter 3:10-18; Revelation 20:9) on That Day. The earth will be made new, a fitting example of the resurrected body of the redeemed.
A sense of humor can help you through the darker times in life. Nancy & I were perfectly matched in many ways, especially our sense of humor. By God’s grace, we both kept ours during this trial.
When you are walking under a cloud, as we were for eight months, little problems can seem bigger. Reading the Bible kept our perspective in life.
It is important to have a clear conscience in life. Nancy and I had a wonderful marriage, made so by a shared faith in the Lord and putting effort into the relationship. We had no regrets at the end, just deep sadness that we were parting. We also tried every treatment to cure the cancer, including laetril. We did our best and left the results up to God. No regrets.
What happens within us is more important than what happens to us.
Till Death. When Uncle Carl asked us if we would remain faithful until death, we promised to God that we would. We did. Death came sooner than we hoped, but we were true to each other and to the Lord.
Nancy loved it when I would have a devotional on Friday nights. She would remind me if I was late. She also loved to hear me pray, and I did many times by her bedside or in the hospital over the last eight months. It bonds people together with spiritual intimacy. That’s special.
Optimism can die. Ours did as we fought this battle, and reality set in. Even our hope drained away at the end. But, our hope in Christ never wavered. For the believer, loved ones may pass away, but our hope in Christ and His wonderful plan of Redemption never faded. I leave you with two verses.
“If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable” (1 Corinthians 15:19).
“Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints” (Psalm 116:15).
There is hope, in Jesus Christ.
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