For Better and Worse -

People ask me how I'm feeling and I tell them I'm feeling better, that I'm getting stronger. And I do feel better. But the better I get, the more I realize how sick I was.

Part of it goes back to the discussion I had about what it means when someone says "you look good". My initial thoughts on the subject were correct. It IS a RELATIVE term. It means you look better than someone expected or better than the last time they saw you. It has nothing to do with how you really look. The reality is I looked like.....well.....I didn't look very good, because I wasn't very good. The better I get, the more people share with me how I really looked.

But it was confusing because I didn't see how I looked. I didn't see me as sick. I also didn't think I was as sick as they say I looked. I think it's part of God's way to protect us at times like this. The body has built in mechanisms that protect us from bad things. I saw it as a first responder to bad highway accidents and now I think I have experienced some of it. The better I get, the more I realize how sick I was.

Another part of it is the healing time. It's been nearly eight weeks since my last treatment and I'm still not back to being myself. I've never taken eight days, let alone eight weeks, to heal. Broken bones heal faster than this! I went through an explosion of the radio station in Laramie that totaled the building and two cars and spent less than two weeks in the hospital! The better I get, the more I realize how sick I was.

The third poignant example came yesterday. I went back to the gym for the first time since this ordeal started. Now anyone who knows me, knows I like to run. I don't know if I run because I like it, or if I like running because I can. I have the heart of a runner.....a very slow heartbeat. I don't run fast, I just run forever. I ran three 5K's in the two weeks before my first surgery. Yesterday I couldn't run for more than two minutes! In the weight room it was the same story. I knew I needed to drop weight and I did by twenty-five percent. It wasn't enough. I had to cut the amount of weight I had been using by HALF. And it was still a struggle. The better I get, well enough to go back to the gym, the more I realize just how sick I really was.

It's another in a growing list of experiences I have never had before. This has been quite the journey. I am better, much better. And I keep being told I'm ahead of the curve and that's the direct result of all of your support. I have a ways to go, but we're tracking the right direction.

Next.......understanding attitude, or calling your own shots. No, they're not connected. I just don't know which one will come together first.

The Tube is Gone -

I got my feeding tube removed yesterday.....a sure sign of improvement. It was a simple, painless procedure. And that's the good news.

What was not good was the rigor and anxiety they needlessly put me through. So this is for anyone whoever has a 'g' tube, or knows someone who does.

I made the appointment a week in advance and the earliest time I could get was noon at the hospital in Salt Lake City....something about the necessary personnel were not available before then. I inquired about the nature of this procedure and was told it would take about forty minutes. I was told I'd be given something that would block the pain and prevent me from remembering anything. I was instructed to fast for eight hours before the procedure and take in no fluids for four hours prior.

By the time I arrived at the hospital I was totally focused on the upcoming surgical prep, actual procedure, and recovery. I would like to tell you this stuff doesn't bother me, but it does. I don't think I'm overanxious, but I conscientiously work on anxiety control.

Upon arrival I was told to don a hospital gown, pajama bottoms, a robe and booties. I then waited another thirty minutes before being called back to a room where I expected to be prepped, including an IV.

The next sixty seconds were shocking. Someone, could have been a doctor, nurse, or aide, came in, asked me to stand up and show her my tube. With a pair of scissors she cut the tube (which I later learned also severed an internal string that was connected to something in my stomach that kept the tube in place) and pulled it out, like pulling a noodle out of a pile of spaghetti. She put a small gauze bandage on the hole (no stitches) and sent me on my way!

That was it! It took you longer to read about it. I could have done it myself at home. The doctor, nurse, or whoever did it, agreed. I asked about the fasting and the hospital gown and was told it was all just procedure. Not a problem, except four hours without water is troublesome for someone who can't produce saliva. Not a problem, except it was a day in Salt Lake I didn't need. No problem, except I spent a week thinking about another surgery.

Now this part is NOT a problem.....it was quick and painless. And just like that I'm no longer a pull toy....my string (tube) is gone!

Reflections -

I've decided to share some reflections on the journey of the past few months. Originally, I thought this would speak mostly to other cancer patients, because it was something I discovered being a patient and wanted to tell others. But as this entry developed, I sensed it might resonate with others. Maybe, somewhere, it will have meaning for you.


From the beginning, June 10, 2009, I focused on me. I don't think that was selfish, but instead a requisite. I concentrated on a plan of attack, the preparation for battle, getting my head in the right place, and the logistics of a lengthy campaign. I know the diagnosis had a significant impact on me, but it took time and concentration to know the extent of the impact and which reactions were real and which were imaginary. (I'm still sorting through that today.)

Now, I don't think I'm an insentsitive guy, though others may have something to offer to the contrary. I may not see Faith's hair the moment she walks in from the salon, but I'll usually notice before the day is out. Hey, in a guy's world, that's sensitive!

Yet in the midst of this battle, I missed several things. I knew this cancer thing had hit Faith hard, even though she has rarely shown it. What I didn't see is how it impacted the other people around me.......family, co-workers, close friends. And I didn't see it until just recently. Oh, I had tremendous support from all sectors, but I was blind to see how these people were really affected. And not as an excuse, but to some extent I think these caring people shielded me, thinking I had enough on my plate.

Regardless, I now know this cancer and the past few months have hit close to home and deeply touched more than just Faith and me. My parents, Faith's parents, my kids, my brothers, their kids, close friends and all the others. I see now these people have had their lives touched, and in some cases, profoundly so.

I can't apologize for taking you through this, because believe me, it wasn't my idea or my decision to be on this journey. But I am sorry for not seeing what you were going through. Just as you have supported me, this is my way of supporting you. We'll be okay....and stronger for what we've experienced. I call it the blessings of cancer. Yes, there are some, as strange as that sounds, and I pray you have been blessed through this ordeal as we have.

To come full circle, I want other cancer patients to know you're not going through this alone. I know there are times it feels like a solo ride, but I now know there are others around us taking this very ride with us. The better I get, the more I see; the more I see, the more I'm touched.

God bless all of you.