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.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, October 12, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Real Food -
Yeah! Hurray! We did it!
I'm talking about eating real food.....an entire meal. Now it doesn't sound like much, unless the last time you ate a complete meal was last July. In my head, this was the marker that would indicate I was really on the mend.
It actually happened last Friday at lunch. Faith said let's get something to eat. All the way to the restaurant I'm thinking what can I order.....it's too late for breakfast so oatmeal is out. So I had a hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy and corn. And I ate most of it! Now it didn't taste right, but it wasn't bad. I thought it was unusual to have beef gravy on turkey, but with my taste buds, it didn't matter.
I was nervous that this might be a fluke so we tried it again on Saturday. I got away with ham and eggs and hash browns. I've eaten two meals a day ever since. We are on our way. Just don't pass the desert. I don't taste sugar and most sweets that don't taste sweet don't taste very good.
We saw the doctor on Monday. Overall it was a very positive day. Specifically, there's no surgery on the table and we've moved to a long range appointment schedule to monitor our progress. The doctor says he relies on what he can see and feel and he liked what he saw and felt. The radiation doctor likes PET scans. So, between the two, we think we have good sentries at the gate.
This doctor says the healing starts now. I told him it's been slow and God didn't give me a lot of patience. He said he didn't have a lot of patience either....except for people like me. Imagine that. An oncologist with a sense of humor.
He also said the healing was a really a process. I think that's a fancy medical term for slow. I've learned that this healing process is not on a continuum. It's been more like two steps forward and one step back, something I found frustrating until I learned to expect it.
We won't see this doctor again until after the PET scan. And we know the cancer treatments are over until then. In addition to the scans, we also will get chest xrays and some kind of thyroid test on a regular basis. This is all good news.
Thank you all for your support and prayers. The power of prayer is stupendous.
Yeah! Hurray! We did it!
I'm talking about eating real food.....an entire meal. Now it doesn't sound like much, unless the last time you ate a complete meal was last July. In my head, this was the marker that would indicate I was really on the mend.
It actually happened last Friday at lunch. Faith said let's get something to eat. All the way to the restaurant I'm thinking what can I order.....it's too late for breakfast so oatmeal is out. So I had a hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy and corn. And I ate most of it! Now it didn't taste right, but it wasn't bad. I thought it was unusual to have beef gravy on turkey, but with my taste buds, it didn't matter.
I was nervous that this might be a fluke so we tried it again on Saturday. I got away with ham and eggs and hash browns. I've eaten two meals a day ever since. We are on our way. Just don't pass the desert. I don't taste sugar and most sweets that don't taste sweet don't taste very good.
We saw the doctor on Monday. Overall it was a very positive day. Specifically, there's no surgery on the table and we've moved to a long range appointment schedule to monitor our progress. The doctor says he relies on what he can see and feel and he liked what he saw and felt. The radiation doctor likes PET scans. So, between the two, we think we have good sentries at the gate.
This doctor says the healing starts now. I told him it's been slow and God didn't give me a lot of patience. He said he didn't have a lot of patience either....except for people like me. Imagine that. An oncologist with a sense of humor.
He also said the healing was a really a process. I think that's a fancy medical term for slow. I've learned that this healing process is not on a continuum. It's been more like two steps forward and one step back, something I found frustrating until I learned to expect it.
We won't see this doctor again until after the PET scan. And we know the cancer treatments are over until then. In addition to the scans, we also will get chest xrays and some kind of thyroid test on a regular basis. This is all good news.
Thank you all for your support and prayers. The power of prayer is stupendous.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Cure -
I know it's been some time since I made an entry, but I just haven't had much new to add. There has been speculation that it's because I haven't been feeling well, but that's not the case. I'm continuing to heal and feel better.
On a day-to-day basis I really sense no improvement, but if I think back to a week ago, I see definite progress. I'm nibbling at more food and not tiring as quickly. I've been into the radio station several times and even spent some most enjoyable time digging dandelions out of the station lawn. (It's amazing what activities can bring joy these days!)
We see the surgery oncologist a week from tomorrow. He's the one that removed the initial tumor. Hopefully, we'll learn if neck surgery is in our future. The lump has all but disappeared, so I'm hopeful the knife won't be necessary again.
I've had some time to reflect these past ten days, and would like to share some of those thoughts.
The treatment for cancer is nothing but barbaric! Simply put, they cut you, burn you, or pump poison into you until your body can't take any more. Then they send you home to recover.
We look back on the medical practices of a hundred years ago and see crude remedies and wonder "How could they do that do that to other human beings?" I hope in a hundred years, or even fifty years, society says the same about what we are doing today.
I hope, but I'm not confident. From what I see, cancer treatment hasn't changed in forty years. Despite all the money and research.....the treatment is the same cutting , burning and poisoning of forty years ago. I say this because my Dad went through this forty years ago and I thank God he and Mom are still with me today to share their journey and offer their support. I appreciate that the treatment is administered better and more efficiently, and hopefully with much less discomfort, but it's still the same basic remedy.
I'm not offering any conclusions or criticisms, just some observations. I do pray the days of barbaric therapy for cancer are numbered.....and my heart goes out to those who have had it much worse than me and to those yet to come down this cursed path.
I know it's been some time since I made an entry, but I just haven't had much new to add. There has been speculation that it's because I haven't been feeling well, but that's not the case. I'm continuing to heal and feel better.
On a day-to-day basis I really sense no improvement, but if I think back to a week ago, I see definite progress. I'm nibbling at more food and not tiring as quickly. I've been into the radio station several times and even spent some most enjoyable time digging dandelions out of the station lawn. (It's amazing what activities can bring joy these days!)
We see the surgery oncologist a week from tomorrow. He's the one that removed the initial tumor. Hopefully, we'll learn if neck surgery is in our future. The lump has all but disappeared, so I'm hopeful the knife won't be necessary again.
I've had some time to reflect these past ten days, and would like to share some of those thoughts.
The treatment for cancer is nothing but barbaric! Simply put, they cut you, burn you, or pump poison into you until your body can't take any more. Then they send you home to recover.
We look back on the medical practices of a hundred years ago and see crude remedies and wonder "How could they do that do that to other human beings?" I hope in a hundred years, or even fifty years, society says the same about what we are doing today.
I hope, but I'm not confident. From what I see, cancer treatment hasn't changed in forty years. Despite all the money and research.....the treatment is the same cutting , burning and poisoning of forty years ago. I say this because my Dad went through this forty years ago and I thank God he and Mom are still with me today to share their journey and offer their support. I appreciate that the treatment is administered better and more efficiently, and hopefully with much less discomfort, but it's still the same basic remedy.
I'm not offering any conclusions or criticisms, just some observations. I do pray the days of barbaric therapy for cancer are numbered.....and my heart goes out to those who have had it much worse than me and to those yet to come down this cursed path.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Finding out When? -
We met with the radiation doctor yesterday, and even though it was close to "You're looking good, make another appointment", we did learn a few things.
She said I'm right on track for how I'm healing and feeling, and that the terrible taste of food is pretty normal. She also said it takes about a month after the last radiation treatment to heal. I guess that means a couple more weeks of liquid dining. The doctor also said I was healthy, but I sure don't feel healthy. She also accused me of having an attitude. Who? Me? Faith thought it was funny. I'm not sure what I thought.
We did find out that we won't find out until the end of November if this chemo and radiation worked. That's when they do another PET scan to see if the cancer is gone.
Back in the car, I grumbled about not knowing anything till after Thanksgiving. Faith said, "Don't worry about it." I said, "What!?!?" She said, "Give it to God." She was right again.
It's out of my control, so what is there to worry about? I need to channel my energy into things I can do and areas where I can be productive.
Whoa! I think I just gave myself a little pep talk. I guess I needed one.
We met with the radiation doctor yesterday, and even though it was close to "You're looking good, make another appointment", we did learn a few things.
She said I'm right on track for how I'm healing and feeling, and that the terrible taste of food is pretty normal. She also said it takes about a month after the last radiation treatment to heal. I guess that means a couple more weeks of liquid dining. The doctor also said I was healthy, but I sure don't feel healthy. She also accused me of having an attitude. Who? Me? Faith thought it was funny. I'm not sure what I thought.
We did find out that we won't find out until the end of November if this chemo and radiation worked. That's when they do another PET scan to see if the cancer is gone.
Back in the car, I grumbled about not knowing anything till after Thanksgiving. Faith said, "Don't worry about it." I said, "What!?!?" She said, "Give it to God." She was right again.
It's out of my control, so what is there to worry about? I need to channel my energy into things I can do and areas where I can be productive.
Whoa! I think I just gave myself a little pep talk. I guess I needed one.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Healing Slowly -
I'm getting better, I know I am, but on a day-to-day basis the change is imperceptible. I'd say it's like watching paint dry, except it's worse.
Everyone says I look good. In fact I've heard it so many times, I'm starting to believe it. Now, I just need to know what they mean. Do they mean I really look good? Or is it akin to telling your ninety year old grandmother she looks good....when you really mean she looks good for ninety. Or maybe it means I look better than they expected. Or maybe it's, you look really good for having cancer and chemo and radiation. The bottom line is the qualifier.......you look good compared to what? Since I don't know, I've decided it means I look good......compared to George Clooney. And thanks! I feel better already.
I do feel better. If I think back to Tuesday, speaking still required tremendous effort. I won't say it's effortless now, but it's not difficult. It's been nice to have an evening conversation with Faith and not struggle.
I made a trip to Pinedale on Thursday in connection with work. Shane did the driving or I wouldn't have gone, but it was still a long day.
Yesterday, I helped Chad a little with his deck rebuilding project....key words are "a little". Still, a couple of hours and I was wiped out. Not happy about that, but Faith finds ways to spin it to the positive and make it seem encouraging.
I continue to experiment with different food. It all tastes the same......and that's not good........so I'm basically eating nothing. Getting the morsels to my stomach is not a problem, it's getting them by the gateway. My taste buds are not cooperating.
It's been two weeks now since the last treatment. I know that's not long, but there are times when it feels endless. We see the doctor again on Wednesday and are hopeful it'll be more than "you look good....see me again in two weeks". Hopefully we'll find out when we can learn some results and plan a blue band burning bonfire.
I'm getting better, I know I am, but on a day-to-day basis the change is imperceptible. I'd say it's like watching paint dry, except it's worse.
Everyone says I look good. In fact I've heard it so many times, I'm starting to believe it. Now, I just need to know what they mean. Do they mean I really look good? Or is it akin to telling your ninety year old grandmother she looks good....when you really mean she looks good for ninety. Or maybe it means I look better than they expected. Or maybe it's, you look really good for having cancer and chemo and radiation. The bottom line is the qualifier.......you look good compared to what? Since I don't know, I've decided it means I look good......compared to George Clooney. And thanks! I feel better already.
I do feel better. If I think back to Tuesday, speaking still required tremendous effort. I won't say it's effortless now, but it's not difficult. It's been nice to have an evening conversation with Faith and not struggle.
I made a trip to Pinedale on Thursday in connection with work. Shane did the driving or I wouldn't have gone, but it was still a long day.
Yesterday, I helped Chad a little with his deck rebuilding project....key words are "a little". Still, a couple of hours and I was wiped out. Not happy about that, but Faith finds ways to spin it to the positive and make it seem encouraging.
I continue to experiment with different food. It all tastes the same......and that's not good........so I'm basically eating nothing. Getting the morsels to my stomach is not a problem, it's getting them by the gateway. My taste buds are not cooperating.
It's been two weeks now since the last treatment. I know that's not long, but there are times when it feels endless. We see the doctor again on Wednesday and are hopeful it'll be more than "you look good....see me again in two weeks". Hopefully we'll find out when we can learn some results and plan a blue band burning bonfire.
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