December 20, 2015 (Sun) – Yippie Ki Yay – What a Ride

Those that know me really well would certainly not classify me as a huge fan of country western. Sorry Courtney. But just not diggin’ the twangy parts. The rest, not so bad.

But as I was trying to come up with a theme for my very overdue blog post, I could not get the image of a rodeo cowboy riding a bronco, especially to describe the last 6-8 weeks or so.

Unfortunately this wild ride has been anything but fun. And you’ll understand reading below why this blog post will be more of just a short health update than any deep philosophical blog endeavor like most of my posts. Yeah, right.

Back in early November, yes, that’s how long it’s been since my last personal post, we were in the middle of Lung Cancer Awareness Month. Unbeknownst to me, my wonderful Rotary club conspired to have as many of our members as possible show up for our luncheon all wearing white in honor of the occasion. Here’s an awesome shot of that day. What an amazing group of people.

Back on November 11, I began a 15-day course of radiation to my pancreas. While I had little difficulty handling previous radiation treatments (brain, lung, hip, sacrum etc.), they warned me that this would be different. Boy, they were not kidding. It started ominously as I had to switch to another hospital for the treatment because my regular radiology center could not get me in for two weeks due to “staffing issues.” And three days into treatment at the other location, I showed up one morning early and waited and waited. Eventually they came out and told me there was a technical issue and they were not sure when the machine would be back up. The technician even went as far as to tell me she wasn’t sure if the problem was a technical problem or just “operator error.” OK, that just instilled an overdose of confidence in the process. I came back later in the day once they got it figured out. Of course deja vu struck the very next day with the exact same scenario. Finally, because of the Thanksgiving holiday, one of my treatments was on a Saturday to make up time and the unfamiliar technician was working solo because of limited staff. No big deal until after the procedure when she asked me if the machine had sounded “normal.” Apparently she wasn’t as familiar with the machine being used and couldn’t remember what it was supposed to sound like. Wow.

Finally I finished my 15 day course and what can I say? It. Knocked. Me. On. My. Butt. I was warned about the side effects, especially nausea and loss of appetite but little did I know what was in store.

My last radiation treatment was on December 2nd and I began my first cycle of chemotherapy a week later on the 8th. Because the after effects of radiation can hang around for several weeks, it was difficult to separate out what symptoms were being caused by what.

So in the last few weeks I’ve been to the ER twice and the main hospital twice. The hospital visits were planned with the lung biopsy one day and a chemo port installation just this past Friday. The ER visits were not on the agenda as you might imagine. The first was near my final radiation treatment when I was experiencing increased shortness of breath. Although I am on Lovenox blood thinner, there was a minor chance I might have developed another pulmonary embolism. However, all tests came back OK and it was just chalked up to everything that my body was being put through. The other ER visit was due to some major plumbing issues. Eventually it all worked out. And for your benefit and mine, that is all I’m going to say about that.

As for the challenges, I not only didn’t have much of an appetite, I had an anti-appetite where even the thought or sight of food started to make me nauseous. Hmm. Maybe I’m pregnant. There was a span of almost a week where I ate virtually nothing other than a fruit smoothie my wife made up. We even doctored it up with some appetite enhancing ingredients that I may have have partaken of 45 years ago in college. Had some limited success. But overall I’ve lost 30+ pounds in the past 8 weeks. Good thing I saved my “skinny” clothes. My wife is a wee bit jealous.

But now two days after my port placement, I have turned a tiny corner not having barfed for three days. And for the past two, I have actually eaten solid food with my goal of increasing my intake just a little more each day. So far so good. However, I am still extremely weak with most of the day spent on my recliner. I even had to borrow a walker for the hospital visit Friday which entailed about a 150 foot walk. Yesterday I walked to the end of our driveway and back twice. Small steps. Tomorrow it will be an entire loop of our cul-de-sac. At least that is the goal. Small steps turning into bigger ones.

So, right now I am much better than I was just less than a week ago. My next cycle of chemo is on Monday the 28th. At least now I have a port they can use instead of using my arms as dart boards to find a vein. The intent is for the chemo to hold things at least in check until the results of the biopsy come back that might point to some other treatment options whether it be a certain drug combo or another clinical trial.

This will most likely be my last post until after the new year. I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday season. Here’s to next year.

Business as usual. Well, maybe not at the moment. But definitely – day at a time.

July 18, 2015 (Sat) – Why Me? If Only. And Other Time Wasters

Early in a cancer patient’s diagnosis, the “why me” pops its ugly head. I say ugly because no good comes from asking that question. Some of us quickly get past that futile endeavor while others have a tough time shaking it off. Certainly lung cancer can have some obvious direct causation connections: smoking, long term asbestos exposure, even living in an area with high levels of naturally occurring radon gas. Yet many of us without any obvious causes have to accept the fact that life can be random. Roll of the dice. Luck of the draw. Turn of the wheel. Mutant gene. Who knows? And more importantly, should I care? No. It is what it is and stressing over what might have caused it just takes energy you need to weather the storm.

If only is not any better.

If only I had built a better wall with my cereal boxes when I was a kid sitting at the breakfast table with my smoking parents. I would surround my bowl and duck my head into the enclosure with boxes of Sugar Pops, Sugar Frosted Flakes and Sugar Jets forming a barrier. Now that I think about it, it’s more surprising that I don’t have diabetes with that diet. Yes, those were the actual names of the cereals back then when they weren’t so PC health conscious. I can almost guarantee they have just as much sugar these days but that is a bad word now. But perhaps second-hand smoke from 50 years ago was the culprit.

If only I hadn’t partaken in college. Could that have caused the bad boy fuzzy that sat around for 40+ years and just now decided to rear its ugly head? Would have enjoyed eating the brownie version more anyway.

If only I hadn’t scraped the asbestos-laden popcorn off all of our ceilings in our house. Although I wore a good respirator, maybe something slipped past. Could one of those minuscule fibers that I possibly inhaled been the snowball that got the avalanche started many years later?

But once again, do any of these “if only’s” have any proactive benefit in the healing process? Of course not. So why waste what valuable time I have in doing something so detrimental? Not gonna.

Now “what if,” “if only’s” cousin, can play both sides of the fence. If used looking backwards, it takes the same shape as “if only” since wondering what might have been is wasted breath. And trust me, wasting breath is the last thing you want to do as a lung cancer survivor. But if you use “what if” looking forward, it can have a positive benefit, as long as what follows that phrase are actual steps taken. What if I am able to get into that clinical trial? What if I spend more time Googling new treatment options and bring them to my oncologist? What if I connect with other NSCLC survivors to compare notes and exchange info? What if I win the lottery? OK, maybe that last one is a bit out of my control but hey, hope is a good thing too. And I have to pay for our bathroom remodel somehow.

How’s that for a segue? Yes, we are biting the bullet once again and are currently remodeling our master bathroom. Only a couple months after redoing our guest bath. And only two years after our total kitchen transformation. I figure if I let my wife keep changing things in the house, she might lay off changing her husband. Or changing him out. So far so good. We were what-iffing whether we should do this remodel, just as we asked that same question two years ago before doing the kitchen. But now, like then, we are looking toward the future and I plan on getting many years of magazine reading time on the new throne. OK, these days it would be iPad reading time, but I think you get the picture, even though you may not want to.

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I’m going to cheat and use a “what if” in the past. What if I hadn’t joined Rotary almost 10 years ago? That is not something I want to think about as it was one of the more important, and rewarding, decisions in my life.

Recently I was asked by our incoming Rotary President (Peter) to provide the beginning-of-the-meeting 2-minute inspirational message. It was truly an honor to be asked, especially for Peter’s inaugural meeting. Our club always has the Mayor of San Diego do the swearing-in ceremony so I was sitting next to him at the front table. So how about the Chargers, Mr. Mayor? Nah, we only chit chatted about nothing in particular. But as for my message, the last time I gave one at this club was just after being diagnosed a little over two years ago. It was my coming-out party, so to speak, although I had already started up my blog.

So this time around it was a similar message. If interested in reading the text, you can click on the graphic.

But the major surprise at Rotary was something I never saw coming. My wife had told me she wanted to come to the luncheon and I had assumed it was to hear me give the inspirational message. Yeah, right. Little did I know the true reason.

Here’s the background: many of you know that I have volunteered as a Rotarian “reader” to one of our elementary schools we have partnered with. However, instead of reading, I found I was much better able to keep the 1st grader’s attention by doing simple science experiments. If the students were any older the science would have gotten over my head. There is another Rotarian, Doug, that has been teaching science as a volunteer for many years at another school. So, that sets the stage. Speaking of stage, Doug was sitting next to me at the head table but he did not have a clue as to why. They just asked him to.

The incoming President always has their own agenda for the year and typically has one or two new programs they are introducing. So as Peter was introducing his plan, he mentioned a new science scholarship that they were creating and began discussing what it would be named and in whose honor. So I thought thought “Cool, that’s why Doug is up here. They are going to honor him by naming the scholarship after him. Awesome.” Yet when I turned to see the PowerPoint slide behind me, I saw both my picture and Doug’s. Turned out the scholarship was in honor of both of us, and in a nod to Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure movie, it was named “Craig and Doug’s Excellent Science (CADES) Scholarship.” It was jump started by a very generous $30K donation by another Rotarian and is intended to be perpetual. I was absolutely humbled and I must say, wiped a drought-breaking drop or two off my face. Very cool. The scholarship(s) will be given to students that are entering the science field in college.

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On the medical front, next Friday I will be enjoying a 3-way. OK, get your minds out of the gutter. I’m talking scans here. Of course there will be the usual CT scan of my chest area and the MRI of my brain to check on fuzzies in those locales. But since I have had an ongoing shoulder issue that has prevented me from playing softball, I asked if they could “throw in” a third MRI of my shoulder to at least determine what is going on there. I have done PT, and then I’ve rested it for months, to no avail. So we shall see what my options are. I may have the results of the scans by the end of the day on Friday. Stay tuned. And yesterday was my one-year anniversary from entering the A-Team (AZD9291) clinical trial. Yes, I’ve been popping that magic pill for 12 months and I will continue to see how long I can milk this puppy. Although I cannot imagine anyone wanting to milk a puppy…

Business as usual. Day at a time.

June 7, 2015 (Sun) – I’m Just an Itsy, Bitsy Spider

I’ll be the first one to admit that I’m not the biggest fan of spiders. Right now my wife is reading this and going “Not a big fan? You hate them!” Well, let’s not exaggerate. Hate them? Nah. Afraid of them? Not as long as they keep their distance. But walking through a spider web would definitely send me into muscle-pulling, swatting gyrations wondering where the little bugger was.

Unfortunately what my father passed down to me and my brothers (let’s call it respect for spiders), my son inherited as well. Yet he had the ultimate scare that sends tingles down my spine. See the picture on the right? That is a brown widow spider, something I did not know existed until that fateful day a few years back. If you tap on the picture to get the bigger version, you will not only get a better view of its hourglass signature, you will also notice the white round edge on the perimeter. And that, my friends, is the edge of a toilet bowl. Getting the picture? My son discovered this 8-legger after making use of the facilities in a sit down mode. Now that will give you the heebie-jeebies.

But where does the itsy-bitsy (aka incy wincy) version come in? Not sure if this is a universal nursery rhyme so I will repeat the verse here:

The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.
Down came the rain
and washed the spider out.
Out came the sun
and dried up all the rain
and the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again

Now if that does not describe a cancer journey, I’m not sure what does. Each time I feel like I am near the top of the drain spout, along comes a rainstorm (eg. bad scans) that knocks me back. Then a new treatment comes along, whether it’s Tarceva or AZD9291, which dries up all the rain and allows me to climb back up. Now with my new set of scans coming up this Friday the 12th, I am hoping this California drought keeps up.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

May 17, 2015 (Sun) – What Router to Buy? A Cancer Blog?

If you think a hard drive is a tough commute or Adobe Acrobat is a gymnast rolling in the mud, you may not get this one.

Yesterday I spent the better (or worse, depending on your point of view) part of 3 hours researching and then traipsing all over town to replace my aging wireless router. For you nerds out there, I had an old “G” Linksys that would not keep our dueling iPads connected to the internet all the way across the house. Ended up buying a higher-powered “N” version that seems to have done the trick.

But, as before, this is not a blog about getting your tech on. In a roundabout way, however, it will touch on connectivity. More on that later.

No, I’m talking about business as usual to the nth degree. So would I be shopping for a router before cancer? Of course. Would I be spending all day at the office working on our non-profit budget on a Sunday (today) before cancer? You betcha. At dinner with friends, would I be powering down a couple glasses of sangria (spiked with tequila) followed by a Rombauer chaser, before cancer?  Absolutely. Would I typically be getting only 6 1/2 hours of sleep before cancer? Unfortunately yes. Should I still be doing all of these things at that level with cancer? Uh, no.

My wifey would categorically agree with the statement that I am pushing myself too far with this business as usual stuff. And I would be hard pressed to disagree. And disagreeing with your wife, in any situation, is not a recommended course of action. However, figuring out how to dial back my daily activities to a lower level than BC is easier said than done. Gotta have a router. Gotta balance that budget. Gotta have my Rombauer. The sleep thing? That I could work on. Maybe it would take some really bad news to press me into (in)action. Let’s not test that theory though, shall we?

On the connectivity front, last you heard from me I was on my way upstairs to connect with a bunch of lung cancer peeps at the Lungevity Hope Summit in DC. Having only met 2 or 3 other lung cancers survivors in person, it was a total trip to be in a roomfull (150) of them comparing notes, sharing stories and treatments and just reinforcing the fact that we are not alone. Lots of survivors there, many of them stage IV unfortunately, but the longevity ranged from the newbies (6 months since diagnosis) to 25+ years. Gives you lots of hope, which amazingly was the title of the conference. Duh.

In addition to the camaraderie, which was awesome by the way, we were also treated to several sessions put on by docs talking about the latest and greatest treatments and options on the horizon. Just keep pushin’ it out. That’s the plan.

One of the more fun things was to finally meet (in person) some of my fellow lung cancer bloggers who, with the exception of Dann, I have only met on-line. Here is a picture of a bunch of us. And can you tell we were having fun? And the dinner that Saturday was to die for. Oops, poor choice of words. 🙂 Hey, dark humor has helped keep me going these 2+ years. (Photos courtesy of Randy Elles Photography LUNGevity Foundation).

Since my flight was covered by a grant from Lungevity (thank you very much), I stayed on in DC for a couple extra days to visit a few museums. Visited the Spy Museum, the Newseum, and the Museum of American History. But since I am the one in charge of our budget at work, I could not justify staying at the Marriott still. Instead I found a 101 year old hotel just a few blocks from the White House. Very interesting accommodations. Although I needed neither a closet nor the A/C for the one night I was there, it was enlightening to see how they managed those features in such “classic” accommodations. The pictures speak a thousand words.

Back in the home country of San Diego, it truly is business as usual. Nothing new on the scan front until Friday the 12th when I get my next double dose. Scanxiety should kick in about the 9th or 10th. Keep those positive vibes coming so I can surf ahead of that wave and take advantage of some new options down the road.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

April 19, 2015 (Sun) – Wow, All I Can Say is Wow

You had to be there.

Today was one of the most inspirational days I have ever been a part of. A group of about 65 individuals, consisting of family members, friends, friends of friends, colleagues, fellow Rotarians, fellow Camp Ronald McDonald for Good Times counselors, and even a couple of high school buds (from 45 years ago – yikes) made up Team Craig – Get Fuzzy at the Breath of Hope Lung Cancer Walk. As you know, I’ve been shilling for this program for the past 6 weeks or so and it culminated in this morning’s event.

Our team was by far the biggest fundraising group, raising more than $11,000. The 2nd place team was less than half of that. But as my wife properly reminded me, it really was not about competition. It was about raising funds for Moores Cancer Center. You know, that place that has helped keep me alive for the past two years. And while I do not know what the final result was in terms of overall funds raised, I do know that our team provided a big chunk of that. Did I mention we came in first? Oops, sorry Kim. Those dang competitive juices again. But it was all for a very good cause. They even asked me to say a few words (gulp) as the top team. Click on the photo for the full effect.

But the inspirational part came from all of the supporters we had. While we were fortunate to have a few very generous donors making large gifts, we had more than a hundred others that contributed to our team, and thus to the Moores Cancer Center’s, success. But even though the goal was to raise funds, it wasn’t about the money. On a larger scale, it was about raising awareness for lung cancer research and treatments. Lung cancer still gets the short shrift in terms of research funding because of the stigma associated with the disease. The perception is that lung cancer patients are smokers and have done this to themselves. Heck, I probably had that opinion before I became an active, if unwilling, participant. So getting the word out to clarify that misconception is a constant battle.

On a more personal note, and thus the title of this blog, I was just floored at the support given me from all walks of my life. There was so many positive vibes flowing that, even though the event was about lung cancer, I forgot I had it for 3 hours or so. I am still in awe 12 hours later as I finger poke this blog. It’s kinda difficult to put it into words, and as a follower of my blog, you know that is unusual for me. Suffice it to say I was, and am, very humbled by the outpouring of love and support I witnessed first hand. For those that participated in one fashion or another, I cannot thank all of you enough. Just wow.

On the medical front, nothing has happened since I returned from Hawaii except for the reading on the bathroom scale. Reading as in 5 pounds heavier. Once again, my onc-doc will be very proud of me and happy at that result. Unless of course he hears how I gained it (Mai Tais, Rombauer, steak dinners etc.). I know when to keep my trap shut.

Since I have my next set of scans a week from tomorrow on the 27th, I will await the results of those tests to determine my next course of action. I am trying to get a second opinion from the brain oncologist at Moores to confirm (or not) the reading of my next brain MRI. Unfortunately because he is outside my health plan, it most likely will come out of my pocket for the 1-hour consultation, to the tune of $550. I guess we’ve been spoiled since we have such awesome health insurance and have had to pay next-to-nothing. I will be requesting a waiver for our insurance to cover this appointment but I’ve been forewarned not to expect it to happen. But I think I need confirmation that re-zapping that apparent fuzzy in my noggin is the proper course of action since it will be riskier than the first go-round.

We will also be doing the regular kitty-cat scan of my lungs to see how those troublesome fuzzies are behaving. Hopefully they are taking a little break with little to no progression from the last tests. Gotta stay in the trial long enough for the next new thing to come around. After hearing about some upcoming clinical trials at today’s walk, there may be something else for me in a few months. Maybe. We shall see.

Next Saturday, thanks to the generosity of one of the members on the Moores Cancer Center board of directors, my wife and I will be attending the big Spark Gala fund raiser. Here we will get to meet all of the major players in cancer research at this world renowned institution. Plus I’m sure we will drop a few more bucks in support of this wonderful establishment. Can’t wait.

On May 1st I will also have the pleasure and opportunity to jet off to DC to attend the 3-day Lungevity National Hope Summit. Hard not to notice the similarity in their group photo (if you click on the link) when compared to the team shot we took today. This is another “can’t wait” opportunity as I will finally get to meet a bunch of other survivors/bloggers who I’ve only met electronically.

Stay tuned for another update after my next set of scans.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

March 29, 2015 (Sun) – A Chameleon by any Other Color

When I was a kid, way too many years ago, my friends (and brother) and I spent many a day hunting lizards up in the hills above our homes. Our favorite spots were called “the car” and “Kim’s Canyon,” named respectively for an old car someone had dumped in the hills and for the canyon behind Kim’s (one of our friends) house. We loved snagging one of the rare alligator lizards we encountered because they were relatively slow and easy to catch. But you had to watch out for their bite as they had a nasty one. Just ask my thumb. Lately I’ve been reminiscing a bit remembering my childhood and some of the things we used to do. This was one experience I recall fondly.

Bluebelly! There’s one!

OK, maybe only my brother will get that one but that was our call-out when one of us discovered a stash of lizards that included a common blue-bellied one. Great times.

But chameleons? Nah, never on our radar. In fact I have no idea if they are even common in Southern California. But it’s a moot point since this blog is not about lizards, believe it or not. Or even lizards with cancer. It’s about dealing with lung cancer on a day-to-day basis.

So where do chameleons come in? I’m concerned that as I travel down this road and encounter tougher times that my attitude may match my surroundings. This may not be a new revelation blog-wise but it is constantly hovering over my shoulder whispering to me. For the past two years I have felt that I have had a relatively easy time with my journey. Emphasis on relatively. Thus you have rarely seen downer blogs like my Chi-Town meltdown or my more recent skirt-laced post.

So what happens if/when the rubber meets the road and I am having a much tougher time physically? On the days that I don’t feel well, I can’t say my attitude is stellar, although unless you are a close friend or family, you would not see it because I rarely write a blog when I’m feeling crappy. Will I be able to rise to the occasion and still maintain my positive approach to this journey? I’m still learning a lot about myself and I may not know the true answer to that question until I’m in the middle of it.

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Medical update:

Based on the high-def scans my radio-doc showed me last Monday, it does appear my little brain fart, er, fuzzy, is indeed expanding his horizons. Although still only in the 7-9mm range, getting bigger, no matter how slight, is not a good thing, unless of course I’m referring to, well, never-mind. The picture is an old one but essentially shows the same fuzzy on his return engagement. The doc definitely feels we should zap the sucker (again) now as there is really no reason to wait while it gobbles up additional brain-cell landscape. However, this image was shown to me two days before we left for Hawaii (where we are currently as I peck this out). So nothing will happen until I get back. In the meantime, I have some soul searching to do. Gotta figure out the timing so it doesn’t interfere with any out of town trips. Or fun for that matter. There are priorities ya know.

My lung-onc specialist at Moores will be contacting the drug trial company to hopefully get permission for me to receive the radiation treatment without it kicking me out of the trial. By the way, I guess I left you all hanging from the last blog: I am still in the trial. Apparently not enough progression yet, plus it is still the best course of action right now as there is not a better treatment option at the moment.

However, assuming I get the permission to have the radiation, and stay in the trial, it means I have to go off the AZD9291 (A-Team) drug for the duration of the radiation treatments. That would be about 3 weeks since my doc would be prescribing 15 straight (weekday) days whereupon I reprise my role as Hannibal Lecter. Stopping the drug for that length of time is very concerning. Very concerning?  Who am I kidding? It scares the crap out of me as I am already seeing some new fuzzies in/around my lung. Taking away their poison pill, in my mind, could result in a “party on, Garth!” scenario. Not the kind of party I would be looking for.

Speaking of Moores Cancer Center, I was in the waiting room a week ago awaiting my appointment with my lung-onc specialist. To while away the time I was trying to get a 50 point word against my wife in a rousing game of Words with Friends on my smart phone. Like too many people these days, I was oblivious to my surroundings while attached to my electronic device. Finally I noticed a presence standing next to me and I could hear (through my limited hearing) a very soft, polite voice ask me “are you Craig Blower?” After responding affirmatively to this lady, she explained that she was there with her husband who was suffering from lung cancer after being diagnosed only a month or two after me. She recognized my face from some of my various blogs where I posted a picture of my mug. She was referred to my postings by a common friend, Michele Hall, a world renowned underwater film producer I know from the IMAX biz. Unfortunately this woman’s husband was at the stage he was now receiving palliative care. But she told me she has been following my blog and got some good out of it. It helped start my day off on a positive note.

But you know what? Right now nothing above this line has any hold on me. Why? Because I am in Oahu having the time of my life. Just look at the view (left) from our back porch. I read a whole book in the first two days. And better yet, I did not feel an ounce of guilt in taking the time to do so. Two days ago I played a round of golf at a course we affectionately called Jurassic Park, as you can see why. Between the four of us we lost 31 balls. Zoom into the par 3 picture on the right and you will understand. And yesterday my bro and I went on a 3-mile walk chasing a couple local geo-caches. Saw nary a blue-belly however. Felt a tad guilty walking down the Hawaiian shoreline staring at my smart phone for the geo-location of the stash. But hey, we were outside getting exercise, still in touch with our natural surroundings, and having a blast. Neighbor Richard, are you reading this?

Today we did the touristy thing: Pearl Harbor, the Arizona Memorial, a drive around Honolulu and Waikiki. Here’s a picture of me getting ready to blast away at my fuzzies. Then more golf tomorrow, yadda yadda. And of course some Rombauer thrown in for good measure. Doesn’t get much better than this.

Speaking of trips, I can’t wait to head off to my first Lungevity Hope Summit in DC at the beginning of May. Lots of fellow lung cancer bloggers and other survivors there. It will be the first time, other than with my buddy Dann, that I meet other similar journey-takers in person. Very cool.

And, of course, I could not let you leave without another shilling of the upcoming Breathe of Hope Lung Cancer Walk on Sunday the 19th. I am still looking for additional walkers/doners to fill/support our team. Click here to join us or to help our (Moores Cancer Center) cause. Be sure to select “Team – Craig” in the “additional information” section. Hope you can make it!

Aloha.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

March 20, 2015 (Fri) – Forty Shades of Gray

Didn’t want the Internet police to nix my blog title for copyright reasons. Plus I can’t say that this situation rises quite to the level of fifty. No soft-porn scenes being described below. No black and white checkerboard to describe my current state of affairs. And no, I’m not having one. Affair that is.

This morning I had my double-your-pleasure CT and MRI scans back-to-back. The fact that it took the nurse four sticks to get an IV in place should have given me a clue as to the eventual outcome.

This afternoon I had my follow-up regular onc-doc appointment and he already had the scan results. Not one for wasting time, particularly since he was already running more than an hour behind, his first words were something along the lines of “some additional growth is evidenced.”  I have a variety of locations in and around my lungs that show various levels of nastiness but most of them have remained stable. But apparently the ones that popped (not pooped) up recently have been eating some Wheaties or something and have “progressed” somewhat. How big somewhat is remains to be seen. I’ll have to do some line by line comparisons with the last scan write up.

As for the brain MRI, there may possibly, perhaps, maybe, perchance, could, be slight growth in the fuzzy in my brain. But it appears to be within the realm of measurement error so it’s not something that has me overly concerned at this point. I know my overeager radio-doc will want to zap it anyway and has already set up a meeting on Monday to discuss frying the bugger. I will not go down that path, however, unless fuzzy gains some significant weight.

So things are definitely in somewhat of a gray area. I’m not sure if the progression is enough to get me kicked out of the AZD9291 (A-Team) drug trial. I should find out more when I chat up my lung-onc-doc on Monday. And if it is enough to cut me from the team, I’ll find out if I have any options other than chemo.

Later this afternoon, after my onc appointment, I had my monthly Zometa infusion. It took them 3 tries to get it right. I feel like a dartboard. Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase “stick it to me.” Tricky valves is what I understand to be the challenge.

Eh, small stuff. Heck, I’m still sticking myself once a day with my Lovely-nox injections so what’s a few more?

Well, whatever the next phase is in my treatment, if there is a change, it will have to wait until we return from our Hawaiian vacation. Yup, once again off to hula-hula town. Can’t wait.

Several of you have been very generous in joining and/or donating to Team Craig – Get Fuzzy. The Breathe of Hope Walk is on April 19th, only a month away. I would love to have an avalanche of walkers in support of Moores Cancer Center and myself. Please consider joining us. Or if that is not possible, a contribution to support lung cancer research and treatment would be very much appreciated. Click here to either join the walk or make a donation. Be sure to select Team Craig under “additional information.” Thank you for your consideration.

Business as usual. Day at a time. Aloha.

March 3, 2015 (Tues) – To the Dark Side and Back

No, Darth Vader is not my father. But I will be the first to admit that I dipped my toes into the dark side pool this past week. Normally The Force has worked to keep me away from the temptation of sliding into the choke grip of dismay. Yes, last week was a tough one mentally. Tougher for the families that lost loved ones. Unfortunately that is the world I share right now. Life isn’t fair.

But as Randy Quaid said in Independence Day, Hello, boys! I’m BAAAAAACK! 

Sorry, I know many of you are “girls,” but the quote is the quote. In any case, as a result of my Force, and that would be all of you, I’ve slid very quickly back into the yellow scale of my chart. From personal e-mails (thank you Carol), to blog comments (many of you), to a bottle of Rombauer (thank you Pam), to a phone call from Portland (thanks Dann), to a comfort hug (thanks Mike), my foray into the blue zone was short lived. And once again, my rock, aka Kim, kept me sane. So yes, back to business as usual telling lame jokes and offering up dreadful puns. Hmm, you might have preferred that I stayed a bit right.

Nah. I know better.

So, a short blog. But I did want to let you know that I’ve seen the dark side and never want to return. Something tells me my peeps won’t let that happen. Thank you peeps.

Just a quick reminder if you are able to walk and/or support Team Craig – Get Fuzzy in the Breath of Hope Walk, click here to make that happen. There has been some confusion if you just wanted to make a donation. I’ve updated the links to take you directly to the registration page where you make that happen, and/or register to walk. Clicking on “Donate Now” from the original link I provided does not allow you to specify a team to support. You have to be on the registration page. On the 4th row down you can make your donation. Then the section below that allows you to select the team. If any of you have made a donation via the “donate now” link, please let me know and I can get them credited to our team. A couple of you indicated you’ve made donations but they are not showing up so perhaps that is what happened.

Several of you have already signed up and made additional donations. And some very good friends and my brother made large lead donations for the team. Did I tell you I have awesome friends and family?

Business as usual. Day at a time.

March 1, 2015 (Sun) – What Color is my Dress?

By now, everyone has seen the dress picture that has gone viral. Almost as hot as the ice bucket challenge but without the staying power. It’s obviously white and gold. “Yeah, right,” some of you black-and-bluers are saying. But the true color is not all that important.

You’ll notice that I titled this blog using the possessive determiner “my.” Possessive determiner? I had to grammar-Google that for the benefit of, well, you know who you are. My close friends from work or Camp Ronald McDonald will suspect I’m actually talking about some of my excursions into the less-than-macho skirt world. Yes, the evidence is clear. But these all have really good explanations. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

But once again, I am really delving into more of a metaphor instead of any estrogen leanings. As it relates to my journey, I can’t say that a full box of Crayolas would come into play. Instead, a better descriptor would be a range from white to black, with fifty shades of gray in
between. Boy, I bet those soft-porn Googlers will be surprised when my blog pops up as they search that movie/book title.

So white would be BC (before cancer) and black would be, well, I really would find my name in the obits. I’ve been up and down that scale but staying mostly in the first, leftmost half. As my scans come back clean, I drift left. But news of progression, or blood clots, or other challenges, slides it back to Rush Limbaugh territory. And since I’m a Democrat, I prefer keeping it in blue state territory. At the moment, I’d say I’m an independent around midpoint with some recent scans, as you know, coming back with some new fuzzies apparently. I’ll know more when I have my next set on March 20th.

The white-black scale is more of a how-I’m-doing-physically one. But there is another scale of equal importance (in my opinion). That would be the yellow-blue scale describing my current frame of mind. Heading off to Hawaii after clean scans would put me in Pollyanna yellow territory. News of other cancer blogger deaths slides me right into funkdom. And that is where I am at today. Just this past week, we lost two cancer bloggers with a third probably soon to follow. One of them only 9 months after diagnosis. After having my head pulled out of the sand with my last scan results, this was a 2×4 broadside that has funked me out. Still trying to stay ahead of the wave, and so far managing. But news that it has swallowed up a couple blogger brethren and is currently holding one down brings the whole mortality issue right in front of my face where I can no longer ignore it. Scary stuff. It’s pushing me right on that funk meter but you all have done a great job at not letting me venture too far in that direction. Keep it up.

Once again, I will be reprising my role as a marathoner at the upcoming Breath of Hope Walk on Sunday, April 19th. OK, maybe a 5K slow walker. This walk is to support Moores Cancer Center where I am currently receiving my treatment as part of the AZD9291 (A-Team) drug trial. Last year we had by far the largest team in number of walkers. This year my goal is 100 of you out there wearing red Team Craig – Get Fuzzy shirts. I know we can do it. Will you join me? We also had the 2nd highest donation level. Not bad for a first-year team, eh? I hope all of you that were able to join me last year will consider digging out your red shirts to help support Moores and me. I will be getting more red shirts so not finding, or having tossed, yours is no excuse. For the newbies, please consider an early morning Sunday stroll. But even if you can’t be there in person, I’d like our team to come out on top in the fundraising category as well. Click here to join the walk or make a donation. Follow the prompts. You can make a donation on that same page without registering to walk. Be sure you are showing Team Craig – Get Fuzzy in your selection. Thanks for everyone’s support.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

February 13, 2015 (Fri) – Lucky Friday the 13th

We all have our superstitions, right? Mine are more on the order of OCD gotta-do’s. Being sure all of the bathroom cabinets are closed when I leave. When I read the paper (yes, we are still papyrus reading dinosaurs), I always read it front to back, never out of sequence. Making sure my checkbook (yes, I still have one of those too) is balanced to the penny. OK, I actually gave up on that several years ago but I used to spend an hour looking for the 26¢ I was off. But today we are not here to discuss my bookkeeping quirks.

So when did Friday the 13th turn lucky? After all, it was 17 years ago today that I had my spinal fusion surgery, and it just so happened to be on Friday the 13th as well. Totally lost my voice for ten weeks after they nicked one of my vocal cords. Lucky? I’m thinking not.

But as you know, today is my two-year anniversary from the date I was given my initial lung cancer diagnosis. As you also know, I try and avoid statistics, but I do know the odds were against me even being here to type this blog two years later. So, the fact that I’m still around to 2-digit finger poke is lucky indeed. But luck mixed with a whole bunch of other stuff.

So today I give thanks where thanks are due:

Medical Staff (onc, lung-onc, radio-doc, GP etc.)
Yes, I’ve had an occasional issue here and there with a misdiagnosis or forgotten drug interaction. But over all I have had excellent treatment. Over at Moores Cancer Center, all the staff in the infusion center know me and my oddball sense of humor. We all joke about the likelihood of getting stabbed more than once to draw blood. OK, I’m sorta joking. And my urine specimen is my special “gift” that I provide to whoever drew the short straw and had to deal with me. All of the staff who have assisted in my numerous CT scans, MRI’s, xrays, bloodletting excursions, radiation treatments, EKG’s, echocardiograms, Zometa infusions, and yes, even my lung-suck thoracentesisessessesses (thoracentesi?), have been very pleasant, and in many cases, downright friendly. Well, maybe that first knuckle-noogie echo-tech is not on this list. But how many docs do you know will high-five you on a good scan result?

Even though I won’t give it its own paragraph, I also want to thank my wife’s insurance company. We are very fortunate to have a wonderful plan through my wife’s job as a teacher. After two years, I’d venture to guess that my medical bills would have approached the $1/2 mil threshold. All in all, I doubt seriously if I’ve been out of pocket $1000. Definitely feel lucky in that regard.

Bio-Technology
Even if I was diagnosed only 5 years earlier, I’d be singing a different tune. If I was even alive to sing. Even if you wanted me to sing. Which you don’t. Biotech advances, especially genomics research, have grown exponentially and are bringing new drugs and treatment options to bear quickly. Two years ago I had never heard of EGFR or T790, but those two acronyms or abbreviations, along with the designer drugs associated with each, Tarceva and AZD9291, have played an extremely important role in my survivorship to this day. Nobody knows what tomorrow will bring but I raise a toast to the pharma companies out there working on the next new thing. After last week’s news, I encourage you to work even a little faster…

Fellow Bloggers, Tweeters and Support Sites
I met some of you through your own blog or through websites that deal specifically with the type of cancer I have. Unless you’ve been there, doing that, it’s hard to relate exactly to what is going on in my life and my not-always-there mind. Having other survivors to chat with that are going through what I have, or have already gone through a particular treatment, is a blessing. Nobody likes surprises and I’ve been able to avoid most of them with your help. Of course there is still a lot of unpredictability in my life, but at least I know, for the most part, what my options are because there is a village out there lending advice and support.

Friends
That would be you. You have no idea how much your support, good wishes, prayers, bottles of Rombauer, Facebook and blog comments and get well cards have meant to me.  I have only been able to maintain a semblance of sanity and keep a semi-positive outlook because of you all and my family. I may not respond to each comment on my blog, but trust me on this, I read every single one. And I’ve even shed a tear over a few that really hit home to me at the time.

Family
Of course my family is my rock. They have had to ride this roller coaster right along beside me, and try and not scream during the scary twists and turns through tunnels etc. None of us bought a ticket for this journey but there they are, in lock-step with me every day, ensuring that I keep placing that next step right in line with the last one. Business as usual? It would absolutely not be possible without them.

So Friday the 13th is lucky? Damn straight, even with last week’s less-than-stellar scan results. I am still here, I feel great, you all say I look great, I have an incredible support network to tap into, and I still have a few bottles of Rombauer left. Lucky indeed.

OK, don’t forget, if you are available this evening (Friday the 13th) at 7pm PST, join us on the Cancerversary page and drop in comments, pictures holding wine glasses, anything you want. I’ll be on the site from about 7-8pm or so responding to comments, pictures, or even any questions you might have. Never could figure out how to do a really techie virtual celebration so we will have to use this somewhat lame-o method. But hey, the bottom line is I get to celebrate. And here Kim and I are getting ready. I’m modeling the “Life is Good” sweatshirt she bought me. You can click on the picture for a better look. Check out the wine glasses as well.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

February 9, 2015 (Mon) – Life’s a Beach

It’s certainly not difficult to find beaches here in San Diego. From my house, sand is only 20 minutes away. The operative word here is sand. In many cases, life described as a “beach” is a good thing. It certainly is when describing our annual visits to Hawaii. Not so much when your T-shot lands in the granular stuff on the golf course. 3 times in a row. Like this past weekend.

But I am alluding to a more metaphorical use of beach. Or sand.

Since last July when I began the A-team (AZD9291) treatments, I saw huge benefits right out of the chute. Other than the brief detour with blood clots, I have felt very healthy and recently have rejoined my softball team in an active role. Yes, I had a questionable brain MRI pop up, but since then it has remained stable and I had/have no reason to believe that will change. So my wife and I have been in, what she calls, La-La-Land. Definitely business as usual, virtually as normal as can be. This is where the beach, or sand, comes into play.

Today I had my head very abruptly yanked from where I had firmly placed it into the sand. Although my recent brain MRI came back unchanged, and stable (now for the past 5 months), the CT scan did not play so nicey-nicey. To quote: “Enlarging bilateral pulmonary nodules, measuring up to 12 mm in diameter, suspicious for malignancy.” Glad I did not get these results before this past birthday weekend where my wife and I enjoyed two days of golf with my brother and his wife. This news would definitely have had a dampening effect on the weekend. My daughter put it in perspective, however. She mentioned the old joke: “What do you call a doctor that got ‘C’s’ in biology? …Doctor.” So she says I ended up with a B- since I had an A on the MRI and a D on the CT scan. Heck, it’s a pass/fail course anyway so all I have to do is pass, right?

My lung-onc was not overly concerned, yet, and for now these results pose no risk of getting me kicked out of the trial. For now. So the next scan in 6 weeks will be very interesting, and majorly scanxiety inducing. And this next set of scans would be about 5 days before we leave for Hawaii. Hmmm.

Per my lung-onc, when I asked her if there were any magic designer drugs following on the heals of AZD9291, she said no. There might be a new EGFR specific drug trial in 3-4 months, but she didn’t have a lot of info and indicated it could be fairly dangerous. So it is another wait and see game, a game I’m not overly enthused about playing.

OK, that was the update. But this week it’s all about celebration. Friday, as you know, will be my two-year anniversary from my initial diagnosis. Alluded to above, my wife and I started the celebration early with a 2-day trip to a local golf course resort with my brother and his wife. And for my birthday, my brother bought a magnum of Rombauer chardonnay directly from the winery and convinced the owner of the winery (Mr. Rombauer doncha know) to sign it and ship it down for the celebration. How cool was that?

If you care to tag along on Friday, at 7pm PST, for the virtual party, I will be monitoring this celebration site.

Feel free join us if you can, post pictures in celebration or just make comments. I will be monitoring that site and responding accordingly. I’ll be sending out one more short blog on Friday morning as a reminder. If not, anything you want to add before then would be great.

See you then.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

February 3, 2015 (Tues) – You’ll Never Believe What Happens Next…

How many of you are absolutely sick of this lead-in teaser, or some similar variation, that has totally infiltrated Facebook? And how many of you often click anyway? How can you not, right? Some of them are just too good to pass up, whether it is some cutesy dog video or an impossible science experiment. Plus I often look to see who has posted it to determine if I respect their judgement in posting.

But what does this have to do with this, my 100th blog posting, you ask? Well, this phrase could have been said to me on the day of my diagnosis almost two years ago. No, I had no idea what I, and my family and friends, were in for. So if I could go back in time and prep myself for this journey, kinda like one of the Terminator movies, here is what I would tell me. Minus the “I’ll be Baack” Arnold impressions.

1. Be ready for the roller coaster ride of your life. Magic Mountain (a Six Flags amusement park) has nothing on this journey. OK, the Superman Escape from Krypton ride might come close.
2. Plan on becoming a pincushion extraordinaire. Getting poked, re-poked, and poked again will become second nature. And third, and fourth. Good thing your body replenishes your blood. Otherwise I would have turned into a prune long ago.
3. Don’t assume your docs know everything. Whether it is your onc-doc, lung-onc-doc, pulmon-doc, or a radio-doc, they cannot stay on top of everything. Be your own advocate and grow some big ones. Do not hesitate to call your doc out if you disagree with a treatment plan. You gotta stand up. Nobody knows you better than you. In more than one instance I was prescribed treatments that would have conflicted with other treatments I was undergoing. If I hadn’t said something, well, let’s not go there.
4. Insist on having them test for mutations in your tumor(s). I had no idea what that meant. When my pulmon-doc called to give me the bad news about my diagnosis, I failed to understand how important the news was that I was EGFR positive. And later on my T790 positive test.
5. Stay ahead of the curve. This means immediately bringing Google to its knees with your research. Find some good lung cancer survivor groups in a place like Inspire.com and chat away. You will learn a ton in a short period of time. Just avoid statistics. I know that will be impossible at first but they are always several years out of date and are essentially meaningless. With the exponential growth in genomic testing and specialized treatments, nobody can predict where you will be in one, two or even ten years from now.
6. Go public immediately. Or as soon as you have recovered from the initial beat down. The more people know what is going on with you, the sooner the positive thoughts and prayers can help you with your mental outlook. And I’m a firm believer in a positive frame of mind helping the physical healing process. Getting the word out quickly will also help prevent those awkward moments where you run into someone at the store and they ask how you are doing. Do they know you have cancer or are they just being polite? Yes, you will get some off-the-wall treatment recommendations from some well meaning friends, but you will also get articles and links to publications about upcoming treatment options you did not know about. Just be bold.
7. Start a blog. It’s a great way to get out what is going on with you and keeping family and friends informed. They are anxious to know what’s happening but feel like they’d be bugging you by calling. And you’ll never know when someone else gets some side benefits of your personal experience in their own journey.
8. Be sure your caregivers get some attention. I have not been very good at that aspect. They are often having just as tough of a time as you, maybe even more so since they do not feel they can let down their guard. If you go into a momentary hole, it’s easily forgiven. If they do, they feel like they are letting you down.
9. Be ready for side effects up the wazoo. Or maybe out the wazoo. Oops, TMI. Sorry. Yes, it’s mostly all small stuff in the ultimate scheme of things, at least in my case to date, but stay in touch with others that have gone through that treatment to get an idea of what you are in for.
10. Be wary of leg pain/swelling. I was never told, or at least I did not remember, that lung cancer patients have a much higher risk of developing deep vein thrombosis (DVT’s) in their legs. These blood clots can then break off and travel north into your lung and cause some very serious issues. Had I been aware (or remembered) this was a possibility, I might have gotten in sooner when I began experiencing leg pain and might have avoided the pulmonary embolisms (PE’s) I suffered as a result. Be always listening to your body.
11. Don’t cut back on normal activities if you can avoid it. I found the more I maintained my regular day-to-day activities, the more I was able to handle what got thrown at me.
12. Get ready for a new normal. And a normal that gets redefined continuously throughout your journey. It is what it is. Do not look back or try and zip directly to “go” and collect $200. Day at a time as you all know.

OK, that’s a quick dozen of things I wish I had known earlier on. Some of which I jumped on right away such as going public and starting a blog. But other stuff I learned as I went. And that’s a bit tougher road to travel.

As you know, I am approaching my two-year anniversary of my diagnosis. I will be celebrating on lucky Friday the 13th. In honor of that momentous occasion, I am throwing a virtual party and would like all of you to join me. And your friends. And your friends’ friends. Really all it means that you are “attending” my party by electronic proxy. Some of you have already signed up via my earlier Facebook post. So click here to join the fun. Click on “going” and then invite all of your friends. All it means is that you are supporting me at my two-year mark. Nothing to do other than that. You don’t have to be anywhere at a set time or anything. I’d love to see this number get up to 500 but it will take a lot of inviting/sharing to make that happen.

But I am going to offer an additional option for those of you that are looking for perhaps an even deeper involvement. I will be on that web page at 7pm (PST) on Friday the 13th monitoring and responding to any comments. I think it would also be very cool to post pictures of you toasting to the celebration. I will start it off with my own picture that morning. Whatdaya think? Here is a picture of a glass (one of two) that some good friends gave me. They made a special trip to the Rombauer winery to pick these up. How cool is that?

I just started my own Twitter account. I could use some lessons from those of you that have been tweeting a while. But if you want quicker updates on where I stand, you can follow me @Getfuzzies. 

Last but not least, I go in this Thursday morning for my six-week double-your-trouble twin scans (brain MRI and CT scan). If you follow me on Twitter, I may have the results out by Friday, even tho I am taking the day off. My wife and I are joining my brother and his wife at Rancho Bernardo Inn. So probably the most I would be able to get out would be less than 140 characters anyway. Probably similar to what my golf score will be. Hopefully I’ll be getting a nice birthday present.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

January 19, 2015 (Mon) – A Musical Guide to My Lung Cancer Journey

Considering this is my 99th blog post since beginning this crazy journey, I was tempted to use a different song to lead off with. However, I don’t think any well-known artists ever hit the top 20 with 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. How many of us used this song to pass the time while driving long distances before there were books on tape or even 8-track tapes? Or just to drive someone crazy? Guilty.

But as always, I digress before even getting started.

You haven’t heard from me in several weeks. Lots of excu, er, valid reasons for that. But the bottom line is, I had writer’s block. You already knew of the latest scan results with a new set not due until the second week in February. And no new side effects of my A-team drug, and I know how much you look forward to hearing about those. So no news = good news. But not necessarily = creative blog material. So I began thinking about how certain song titles could directly match up with various aspects of my journey. So here’s your ticket to ride…

Almost two years ago, life as we knew it changed forever. I was like a candle in the wind. But with a little help from my friends (and family), I realized that you’ll never walk alone. While my situation is always on my mind, I’ve got a lot of living to do. Of course, if I could put time in a bottle, I’d love to go back and for once in my life, change the course of my journey. But do you want to know a secret? I’m walking away a winner after everything I’ve learned in the past 23 months. But I’m definitely not walking away. Had to make the song title fit, ya know.

Yesterday I was oblivious to the possibility of ending up with lung cancer. Today I’m a believer. And much more knowledgeable. More than I want sometimes. It has occasionally been a hard day’s night. I wanted someone, anyone, to tell me why I was “selected” for this challenge. I was a nowhere man. But after being a day tripper for a short period of time, and fretting for eight days a week, I came to accept my new “normal” and let it be. Wow, that was almost an exclusively Beatles paragraph.

But almost two years later, I’m surviving, thriving and stayin’ alive. In my life, I’ve never seen such support. You raise me up, stand by me and come rain or come shine, you are always there. And that makes me happy. You’ve never let me consider quittin’ time. That’s just the way you are. And by “you,” I mean all of you: family, friends, blog commenters and just those that read my blog but stay in the background. When I’m 64, a little more than two years from now, I know we’ll be having a celebration with my fourth survivor year approaching.

As of right now, all I can say is how sweet it is. What a wonderful life. But that’s the way you make me feel. Lots of challenges coming up but all you need is love to break past them. And I’ve got gobs of that from you all. Plus I haven’t got time for the pain. We’re gonna beat it. We just have to walk this way.

Don’t stop believing.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

December 26, 2014 (Fri) – What, Me Worry?

Well, yeah. The past week or so has been a tough lead-up to my tests this morning. I have to admit I was more than a little concerned about what the findings might be. A lot of this stems from how crummy I’ve been feeling from my stupid cold/sinus infection. The symptoms mimicked those I had at the very start of my  journey two years ago. So my head was playing games with me. The other concern was about that amorphous non-specific area of my cerebellum that has been apparent the past two scans. So yeah, definitely some major scanxiety this time around.

I had no hopes that the results would be so quickly obtained. But this afternoon I went in for my monthly onc-doc appointment, and reminded the doc that I had the tests this morning. He said “well, let’s see if the results are posted yet” as he logged onto his computer. The next thing I saw were his arms raised a-la-Rocky as he read the CT results. Yes, there is still some “stuff” in and around my lungs but there was no progression from the last scan 6 weeks ago. Or from the one 6 weeks before that. Once again, words like stable, unchanged, and unremarkable jumped off the screen. OK, that was extremely good news, but what about the MRI which has previously displayed that undefined something?

His arms remained in the air as he read that report next. The little 5-6mm brain fuzzy/dead fuzzy is still there but not having grown in the past 3 months. More phrases like “there is no abnormal…” and “stable” might have well been in 20 point font as they again jumped off the monitor. However, I did note the phase that contained “mucosal thickening” and wondered about that mucus thing again. Hmmm.

But overall wonderful news and I am good to go for another 6 weeks. This A-team stuff (AZD9291) is my current hero. Keep staying ahead of the wave – that is the plan.

To break the tension last weekend while we were reading the morning paper, my wife says “well, I have some good news for you.” Little mopy me says, “what?”

“You’re not in today’s obituaries.”

OK, that helped put things back into perspective. Gotta love her. And I do.

Starting the year off right. I thank all of you once again for your positive comments, thoughts and prayers. May be celebrating with some Rombauer tomorrow night. OK, OK. No maybe about it.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

December 22, 2014 (Mon) – I’m Just a Wuss

OK, I admit it. In many ways I do fit the definition to the left. OK, I know some of you will be saying, “but Craig, you’re being too hard on yourself.”

Not necessarily. Hear me out.

So we’ll start off with a simple example. My wife and I no longer give each other Christmas presents. We determined long ago that we already have everything we want or need. No, I realize that is not so unusual. And typically we will have some major household expense, whether it be a $75K kitchen remodel or a dozen bottles of Rombauer (yeah right) that we then consider as our gifts to one another. OK, so far so good. But here is where it gets a bit wussy. I do not buy any Christmas presents anymore. My wife covers all the bases, including my boss and our kids. Now you have to admit, that’s a bit selfish, if not quite reaching the wuss level. But here’s the kicker: the only thing I buy is my wife’s stocking stuffers. And since I put forward such a D- effort, she has had to resort to buying some of her own stocking stuff and giving it to me to add to her stocking. Now I feel downright wussy.

But this is a cancer blog – not a blog of Christmas fail.

So how can someone, who’s had to deal with some of the medical issues I have this past year, be considered a wuss? Well, this past week I came down with a nasty sinus infection and terrible sore throat. It is actually the first time I have been “sick” in many years. I’m not used to it. And it knocked me flat. But at least I knew that is all it was.

Yet, it really made me wonder about how I might react to medical challenges down the road. I’ve been complimented on my positive attitude and ability to persevere. Hah. This past week I had none of the above working for me. Yeah, I felt like crap but the true sign of strength is to be able to remain positive under trying circumstances. I couldn’t muster up a whole lot of plus symbols to orbit my psyche this past week. And this was just a friggin’ bad cold. So thus a wuss. We will see how things go if/when the rubber hits the road. Let’s hope I don’t need to test that theory for a long time.

Off on another tangent: I was just reading the label of one of my Lovely-nox syringes after jabbing myself for probably the 250th time in 4 months. Funny it took me this long to notice. I was taken aback when I read that Lovenox is “derived from porcine intestinal mucosa.” So I’ve been injecting myself with pig mucous? Uh….how do I get that out of my brain now?

Not sure if this fits in the wuss category, a crazy category, or just-gotta-be-kidding-me category. But for the 7th or 8th year straight, I borrowed an elf (although it looks a bit more like a jester to me) costume courtesy of the local Old Globe Theater (thank you Maureen) and wore it to my Rotary holiday party. It would be one thing if our club had 20 people in it. But it has 500 members comprised of the movers and shakers in town including ex-mayors, city council members and heads of many companies in town. Not sure how I fit in, especially with an outfit like this. But they haven’t kicked me out yet and I think they have even come to expect me making a fool (literally) of myself every year. Plus the seniors they invite every year get a kick out of it. Heck, at this stage nothing can embarrass me.

Finally, a medical update. This Friday, the day after Christmas, I go in for my every-six-week brain MRI and upper body CT scan. Should have the results sometime early next week. Stay tuned and keep your fingers crossed.

That’s it from the home front. Overall, other than this obnoxious cold, I still feel great. And I plan on keeping it that way.

And I could not avoid dropping in a great shot of our family. This is from my daughter’s wedding back in May.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Business as usual. Day at a time.

December 6, 2014 (Sat) – Gettin’ a Little Scary

No, I am not chronologically challenged. Challenged in many other ways, as several of you might attest, but not as it relates to dates. I’m actually one of those guys who remembers my wife’s birthday and our anniversary. Right honey? Right?!

So no, I am not confused as to what holiday is coming up. I know it is not Halloween although the picture to the left might give you pause. Actually that is me and my two older brothers, getting ready to roam the neighborhood in circa 1977. I’m the artificially tall one in the back right.

But why am I referring to a time-frame from 6 weeks ago? Well, it truly is getting scary.

Scary good.

Uh, what the hell does that mean Craig?

Physically I am feeling great. About as good as I have felt since this whole journey began 21 months ago. And that is a little scary because I know that at any moment the other shoe could drop and I’d  be singing a whole different tune. OK, I am challenged in singing so you won’t hear that from me. But I have been extraordinarily lucky. Initially Tarceva took care of business and knocked the fuzzies on their butts. Hmm, I know from my last post they had wings, but butts? Interesting visual. Then a short break before I was once again fortunate enough to qualify for a drug trial right in my backyard. As much as I avoid statistics, a back-of-the-envelope number crunching says I had about a 7.5% chance of being in the situation I am in once I was diagnosed. That means a 92.5% chance I would not be where I am. Fortunate indeed.

If you’ve read my blog all along, this theme will seem highly similar to my “guilty as charged” post back in February. And it is. But when you are on a momentary high, you sometimes gotta shout out, even if it seems a bit redundant. I seriously hesitated writing this post since, as before, I am very cognizant of the fact that there are many blog buddies, and most likely some of you, that are going through some tough times. I certainly don’t want to seem like I am insensitive to the challenges everyone else might be facing. And I could be in those shoes in 6 months. Who knows? But you are going to be privy to my highs and lows if you stick with me and right now I am certainly on the upward swing.

Oops, gotta break for a Lovey shot……………………………….OK, back.

Uh Craig, did you forget about that little fuzzy that popped up in the noggin as shown in the last two scans? Nah. I suppose it should have me worried but for some reason I think it will prove out to be nothing. My next double-your-pleasure scan on the 26th will perhaps shed some light on that issue. My radio-doc is assuming it will be something that needs to get zapped and wants me to come in shortly after the scan to get CT-mapped so that the zapper knows exactly where to aim its blaster. Yet, if nothing has progressed (I hate the use of that word), there is no way I am donning that cage mask to zap something that may not need zapping. Stay tuned.

Another reason I might be a bit on the upswing is that this past week I have finally returned to daily workouts at the gym. OK, I lied. I only went 4 days. And “returned” is a huge stretch since I never really was consistent in my sweaty endeavors and it has been 2 years since I really worked out with any regularity. But near the end of this past week I was really feeling healthy. I know healthy has a new definition but I’ll take my new version and run with it. Now I will need all of you to lay on the peer pressure to keep me going. So easy to skip a day. Then another. And before you know it, it’s beer and pita chips while sitting on my recliner. Ooh, that is sounding pretty damn good.

I also got the green light to resume my weekly drinking, er, softball games after the first of the year. I haven’t thrown a ball or even jogged in several months so this shall be interesting. Just have to avoid getting nailed in the noggin or colliding with anything larger than a can of beer.

In other good news, my buddy Dann from Portland, who has been traipsing to San Diego every couple of weeks as a participant in the same trial I’m in, just got the results of his first scan after he started quaffing AZD9291. Quote: “Massive Shrinkage!” Now, if you were a porn star, that phrase would not engender positive thoughts and you could be out of a job. But in our business, those two words are music to our ears. Congrats to Dann. We went out for a pre-celebratory dinner the night before he got his results, and we were so sure of the outcome, we popped a bottle of, you guessed it, Rombauer. Glad to find out the celebration was not wasted. 🙂

Had a Chinese dinner recently and, since I am aiming to please my onc-doc by maintaining my weight, powered down two fortune cookies. Couldn’t complain with the outcomes.

And we broke in our newly re-tiled living room floor with 18 people for Thanksgiving. Even my son was able to get away from his cheffing duties at his restaurant to make it just in time. Had to carve the turkey myself for the first time in many years. Just like riding a bike. Yeah, a bike with bent a bent rim and two flat tires. But it still tasted OK.

Next set of scans on the day after Christmas. I think I’ll be getting a late Christmas present.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

November 23, 2014 (Sun) – The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Actually I’m more of a Star Trek nerd than I am an aficionado of old westerns. Although I never missed an episode of Gunsmoke when I was a kid. But only the Dennis Weaver as Chester version. Just call me a purist. However, I’m not as much of a Trekkie as my wife thought when, years ago, she bought me a Star Trek Murder Mystery party kit where all of the attendees were supposed to dress up in in full Shatner-like regalia. Uh, I wasn’t ready to come out of the beam-me-up-Scotty closet to that degree. My wife thought for sure this would be the ultimate gift and was sorely disappointed when I rejected it.

So why I am using an old spaghetti western movie title for my blog? And how the heck did the word spaghetti get mixed in with a macho western with Clint Eastwood? You might as well have a rigatoni SciFi flick. But all these questions and more will be answered in due time below.

The Good: I’m not sure anyone that talks to an empty chair should be the icon of this section. But Clint played the part in the movie so I need to remain true to the craft.

Friday I got back the results of my CT and MRI scans I had this past Wednesday. In short, neither scan showed any change from the prior ones done 6 weeks ago. I especially like terms used like unremarkable, normal, no evidence, unchanged and stable. All of these phrases were used in the written synopsis I got. In my world that means no progression, which is 2nd in favorable results only to “additional shrinkage” which unfortunately was not a term used. But I’ll take it. That keeps me in the trial.

The Bad: Note the italicized phrase above where the results indicated no change from the prior ones done 6 weeks ago. Therein lies the rub. Remember there was some disagreement on whether my last brain MRI showed anything or not. Well, the latest higher def version did verify that there is something there. Exactly in the same place it was a year and a half ago when I had radiation zapping to nail the sucker. In fact the write-up calls it worrisome. Worrisome for who?! Certainly not the guy writing up the report. My radio-doc is certain that it is a fuzzy bugger coming back since it did not appear on the scans until recently. Fuzzy bugger? Sorry, hope you weren’t eating. But he gave me two options: reprise my role as a zapee and don the silence of the lambs mask again and blast the bad guy. Or wait until my next scheduled scan at the end of December (New Year’s Eve to be exact) and see where it stands then since it did not appear to grow since the last scan.

Ah, but there is a catch. Since this would be radiating the exact same spot as before, there is the risk of permanently damaging already battered tissue in that area. Supposedly, if memory serves (which it hasn’t lately), that part of my brain controls various motor skills. Which one(s) though I’m not entirely suretsdgvklrewjk. Oops.

So I chose door #2. While thinking that this little fuzzy might be spreading its wings for the next 6 weeks is a little disconcerting, since it hasn’t apparently grown for the past 6 weeks, the chance of it becoming ginormous in that short period of time is not really a concern. Wait a minute. Fuzzies have wings? Hmm. But there still is the slim chance that this little bit of nastiness could be an artifact from the first radiation that is now dying off and showing up. My wife, concerned about waiting while some alien was growing in me, asked me to call back the radio-doc and ask him what he would recommend if it was his brother who had to make a choice. He concurred with my decision. In any case, I may be getting a 2nd opinion from USCD.

The Ugly? That would be me. Not sure if the A-Team (my trial drug AZD9291) causes any hair issues or whether my follicle challenges are left over from Tarceva. But I have to essentially glue down my hair in the morning in order for it to have any semblance of control the rest of the day. That usually lasts to about noon and then it goes all Don King/Lyle Lovett on me. I know some of you are going “yeah, at least you have your hair.” Point taken. But I will be having the last laugh on Wednesday when it hits the chopping block. Take that gray boys. The picture to the right is obviously not real since it has the wrong hair color…

As for the trial, I am now in the next phase of my treatment where I only have to go in every 6 weeks. At my next checkup at the end of December I will also have all of my scans, and, wait for it, another knuckle-noogie echocardiogram. Can’t wait. Not.

No, these are not all Rombauer corks. Don’t I wish. Actually this is just a collection since I had my scan results last week. OK, more likely since my diagnosis 20 months ago. Alcohol is a disinfectant, right? Kills germs? But we (OK, my wife) just invested in a new toy that should help us populate this giant glass vial even quicker than we already are. Holds 21 bottles. Notice the blue caps on the end of the three bottles near the top? Yup. Rombauer. You know, I should send my blog off to Rombauer Vineyards. Maybe they’d send me a case for all of the free advertising I’ve given them in the past year and a half. Hmmm.

If you’ve been following along, you know that I appreciate fun humor when it comes to my situation. So recently I received this unique writing implement from someone at work. With my 2x daily Love-shots and regular blood tests, this device is way too familiar. Haven’t brought myself to drain any of its liquid yet. Seems a little perverse. But I’ll get there.

I know I’m supposed to be trying to reduce my overall stress level. Yet, if anything, it is going up. Lots going on at work right now and I still maintain my weekly volunteer trips to Rady Children’s Hospital and a south-bay elementary school for my first grade science experiments as part of my Rotary involvement. Those second two items actually work to reduce the stress tho. And I’m on the board of two non-profits. In fact, I haven’t really had any time to catch up on my own pile of paperwork at home. So dialing it back is not much of an option at the moment although I do see some light sneaking over the horizon. And perhaps I artificially ensure I am kept very busy so that it takes my mind off possible fuzzies and self-convinces me that is truly is business as usual. Only Freud knows. Nobody said I was a brain trust.

 

 

 

Live long and prosper. Yup, that’s the game-plan.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

November 6, 2014 (Thurs) – Hey Baby, What’s Your Sign?

If that is not the worst pickup line ever uttered, I’m not sure what is. OK, maybe “I forgot my phone number, can I have yours?” might come close. But tonight’s post is not about how to pick up girls in a bar. However, if you want to know how to pick up someone at the beach, just ask my wife. She did a damn good job of it 36 years ago. And you won’t hear me complaining since I was the pickup-ee.

In an earlier post, I compared my journey to various amusement park offerings. Roller coaster ride? You betcha. Wheel of Chance? Oh yeah. But in thinking about it some more, there are also lots of connections between everyday traffic signs and the directions my travels have taken me in the past 20 months. Each of the signs below will refer back to one or more of my earlier blogs, so feel free to click on the sign graphic to refresh, or if you are a recent reader, fresh, your memory. Thusly:

Exactly. Little did I know when my fam-doc called me back in the afternoon on that fateful day that this would epitomize my journey. His diagnosis bombshell caught everyone by surprise and it has been nothing if not a wild ride ever since. And you know me, I always wear my seat-belt. Good thing too; otherwise I might have been thrown off this roller coaster with results I don’t want to think about. I must admit, it does feel like it’s been at least a half million miles.

Initially I had to yield to the truth that my life would be permanently altered by this surprise diagnosis. I also had to yield to the radiation zapping to my lungs and brain. And later my hip. Lots of yieldin’ going on. Kinda like the Charger’s defense…

No lookin’ back. Fergitaboutit. Only one way to go and that is forward. Longing for the days BC (before cancer) does not help me cope as I wind my way around this crazy journey. Sure, I’d love to have never heard of Tarceva or AZD9291. But I know more about those two life saving/extending drugs than most. And I’m very glad to have made their acquaintance. Very glad indeed. El gusto es mio.

Initially, with the success of Tarceva, it was full steam ahead. Max out on the speed limit. For 9 months it was a pretty straight line, zig-zagging only to deal with side effects that cropped up. Zits, big-D, dry skin, ants crawling in my scalp, and all of the other little presents that Tarceva donated, were but potholes on the freeway. Enough to make my head go up and down like a bobble-head doll in the car’s rear window, but not enough to flatten any tires.

But a little less than a year ago, I ran out of road. And I did not see the “freeway ends in 1/2 mile” sign like you would normally get. My initially diagnosed “arthritic” hip turned out to be a resurgence of fuzzies in that locale, along with, careful now, my sacrum. As you know, not to be confused with scrotum. Fuzzies in a scrotum brings to mind a whole different image. OK, now I know I have you chuckling.

So yes, I had to slow down my speed and make a detour and pull over into a rest stop. While there, I gave up the last remaining vestiges of my modesty with the hip radiation. But my treatment ended on New Year’s Eve so I was starting 2014 off fresh, yet knowing that Tarceva was a tire that was slowly losing air.

Don’t these drive you crazy? Moving along at a nice little clip and whoop, you bottom out on one of those speed bumps they forgot to mark. I was rolling along, maybe not at 70mph like before, but more cautiously, while looking over my shoulder for potential obstacles and looking ahead for any additional detours. Well, looky here, a Tarceva dead end was approaching. Getting the phone call that multiple mets (no, not the New York sad variety) had reared up was pretty hard  to swallow. Kinda like that whack-a-mole game I described earlier. Only this time multiple heads popped up at the same time making it difficult to nail them.

For a long time the course to take was not very clear. Not clear at all. Maybe this clinical trail up in L.A. Maybe the one in Irvine. Maybe none at all, instead diving right into some chemo cocktail. All the while the road grime was eating into my undercarriage. OK, maybe that was not the best, or most appropriate, analogy. But it was very difficult knowing Tarceva was no longer my hero and I was doing nothing else to stem the fuzzy tide.

In the meantime, my wife was a rock. Maybe not on the inside but she never really let on. So this was one highway sign that provided some comfort. I needed all the soft shoulders I could get. While she provided the real one, all of you provided a virtual electronic one with your constant words of encouragement. Thank you.

So, as you know, things have worked out and I am back on track with the A-team (AZD9291) doing its thing. And a good thing it is I might add. So the speedometer has crept back up. But I am also watching for potholes, detour signs, debris in the road, etc. To aid in that endeavor, I will be having my next set of combo (brain MRI and below the neck CT) scans on the 19th. Hopefully they will see a nicely paved road with no fuzzy rocks strewn about. It will be good to get clarity after that last MRI that maybe, perhaps, possibly, per chance, showed something. Or maybe it didn’t. We shall see.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

October 20, 2014 (Mon) – Lovely Blog Award Nomination

I was recently nominated for a “Lovely Blog Award” by a fellow blogger, somekernelsoftruth. Thank you!

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it as I had never heard of this award. Initially it looked like one of those chain blogs where you feel obligated to forward on to 15 friends and so on. Kinda the Amway methodology. Apologies to any of you selling Amway. It’s sorta like the ice bucket challenge yet with no obligation or pressure to donate dollars to anything or risk pneumonia.

But the more I looked into it, the more I realized that it was more of just a method of acknowledging fellow bloggers who you read and respect and to share those links so others who read your blog can expand their horizons. I feel little risk of losing my readership as I know you will still like my blog best, right? Uh, I said right. This is where you jump in and say RIGHT!

OK, now I heard you.

There are a few simple rules to follow to accept this nomination:

• Thank the person who nominated you for the award.
• Add the One Lovely Blog logo to your post.
• Share 7 facts/or things about yourself.
• Nominate 15 bloggers you admire and inform nominees by commenting on their blog.

OK, #1 and 2 are done. That was the easy part. As for 7 facts, preferably things you may not know, that is a bit more difficult. Since I have been a very open book for the past 20 months, I’m not sure there is anything you don’t already know, but here goes:

1. I actually did try my hand at Amway about 20 years ago. I was totally fed up with my job at the time and considered anything that would get me out of that place. However, I stunk and just could not get into the program and bailed pretty quickly. Most do. But I consider everything a memory, good or bad.
2. I drove a Coca Cola delivery truck right after graduating with my BA in Economics from UCSB. Didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life so I decided to just take it easy for a while and just make some money. My mom was not a happy camper though. 😦
3. Those of you that have read my entire blog will recognize this but I moved to Utah about a year after graduating college and lived with three girls in a 4-bedroom apartment. BTW, and perhaps hard to believe, but girls are more lewd and crude than guys. Oh yeah…
4. My family was on Family Feud back in 1979 and we actually did very well winning over $13K (big bucks back then) and playing for 4 days. You can catch a sample of one of the episodes here.
5. I carried a picture of my wife around in my pocket a year before we ever met. How can that be you ask? My wife and I are both skiers. At least I used to be. 😦 But skiing back in 1977 up at Alta, Utah, I, of course, carried a trail map around in my pocket. Well, my wife had lived at that ski resort the year before and had posed for one of the pictures that was used in the ski guide. Imagine someone coming up to me and pointing out her picture in the trail map and saying “you are going to marry that girl.” Would have been very freaky. Cue Twilight Zone music.
6. I have 3 brothers and a sister. Back when I was in 8th or 9th grade, there was a time when all 5 of us had something broken or torn in our bodies at the same time. Sometimes hard to believe our parents survived it all. In fact the HS school newspaper did a little story on our multiple-casted family. Not that we were all klutzes or anything, just active. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
7. Every Christmas, at our holiday Rotary luncheon, I dress up like an elf and help entertain about 400 people, most of which are the movers and shakers in San Diego. Don’t ask me how I have the blanks to do that. I really don’t know. But it has now become tradition and people would be disappointed if I didn’t show up that way.

As for the 15 bloggers I am nominating, that is tough as well since before starting to blog myself, I rarely read blogs. And now most of the ones I read are from, or about, cancer survivors. But each is very inspirational in their own way. So I nominate the following bloggers. Please do not feel obligated to accept the nomination as again, I’m not doing this to put pressure on anyone. But I’m a rule follower by nature so here goes.

1. http://dannscancerchronicles.blogspot.com/ (you’ll recognize Dann from my recent blogs)
2. http://makemomentum.com/blog/  (a fellow Rotarian who hits home with every post)
3. http://lil-lytnin.blogspot.com/
4. http://celpeggy.wordpress.com/
5. http://likeadogblog.wordpress.com/
6. http://livinglydying.com/
7. http://thrivingwithlungcancer.com/
8. http://ruthrainwater.wordpress.com/
9. http://embenkickscancer.wordpress.com/
10. http://grayconnections.wordpress.com/
11. http://lisa.ericgoldman.org/
12. http://aquariusvscancer.com/
13. http://outlivinglungcancer.com/
14. http://sometimesthefall.blogspot.com/
15. http://lunaoblog.blogspot.com/

I have no idea which of these blogs may have already been nominated for this award. Check them out. They won’t bite. But you may just get some nuggets, or perhaps even somekernelsoftruth out of them. 🙂

Day at a time. Business as usual.

 

October 17, 2014 (Fri) – Business as Usual…Not

How dare I ruin the sign-off I use for every post by changing it? Remember from my last post: sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t…stay tuned.

But first, since my Marketing Director convinced me I am no marketeer (actually it didn’t take any convincing), I will shoot my wad (not sure I want to know where that expression came from) by getting to the good stuff right up front. To quote my lung-onc after reviewing my CT scans of my lungs from the tubular zapping I had a week ago: “the tumors are barely visible.” And she has good eyes. If I was reviewing the images with my eyesight, I would have declared myself cured. Good thing I’m not a doc either. I talked with my wife via phone from here in Raleigh and in response to the good news she said: “I guess I’m going to have you around for a little longer, eh?” Someone else I might have suspected a note of disappointment because my life insurance policy was not going to be collected on any time soon. But this statement, coming from my wife instead, was her way of expressing her relief and gratefulness for the results. I love being able to have a little off-beat humor banter between us.

And the reason I have not updated my posts earlier was that there was some difference in opinion as to what my brain MRI showed. The lab report writeup says “an interval development of an ill-defined nodular enhancement,” whatever the hell that means. A second opinion from a neuro-onc-doc at UCSD says they can see no difference between this MRI and the last one I had at UCSD which was normal. I’ll take that opinion over the other, thank-you-very-much. But I have another more finely sliced (higher resolution) MRI scheduled when I return to town late next week. By the way, why does the term “sliced” not engender positive thoughts with Halloween coming up? Hmmm.

Remember my recent post about my visit to Epic Sciences where I spoke in front of their whole company? Not too long afterwards one of the employees there sent me a note that I will cut and paste here:

Thank you so much for coming to speak at Epic. I enjoyed your presentation and it was very informative and I didn’t know at the time how important it would be to my own life just merely days later. Your attitude spirit was inspirational and I was very touched by your story. In a strange turn of events, my non smoking healthy mom was just diagnosed with stage 3b adenocarcinoma lung cancer. It gave me a lot of strength knowing your story and how you have experienced things and helped me know what to expect when waiting for all the tests for the last two weeks. We just saw an oncologist for the first time today at City of hope in LA and I am looking forward to my mom starting treatment soon! Please keep in touch! Thank you again for sharing your story!

Now that is why I blog. OK, not the only reason but it sure feels good when I realize that some of you are getting some positive benefit out of my rantings.

So, why would business not be usual? For my Facebook friends, you know why. A week ago I got a call from my wife while I was at Home Depot (my favorite hangout) telling me to get my rear home. The reason? A major flood in our house that left 3 inches of water in our bathroom and into my office and master bedroom. The plastic connection on the end of the hose connecting the water supply valve to the toilet just snapped with nobody in the room. Luckily my wife was outside so this only went on for 20-30 minutes before she discovered it. Imagine if we had been out of town? I don’t want to imagine that.

But of course the water seeped under the drywall into the living room where we have (I should say had) a 3/4″ solid wood floor. No longer. It totally warped out and has since been torn up and hauled off. We now have a very nice concrete living room floor. Of course our carpet was only 6 weeks old. Of course. Why couldn’t that have happened 8 weeks ago? We could have gotten our new carpet paid for. My wife jumped on the phone and called ServPro to come out and suck up the mess and leave behind a dozen very loud fans that ran 24/7 for two days straight. Had to sleep in the den the first night and our guest room the 2nd (once my wife bought a bed to be delivered the same day).

I’d say, “eh, small stuff,” but I’d be lying this time. This is pretty big stuff. But my wife is handling everything including dealing with the insurance issues, carpet and wood floor replacement etc. Gotta hand it to her, she jumped right in and just took care of business. Today she had the guy who remodeled out kitchen come over to give her a quote on the flooring. I suspect she was also working on a quote to completely remodel our master bath and office area, taking advantage while her hubby is out of town. Gotta work those frequent flyer miles back up, eh? Who knows what I’ll be coming back to.

While at our friend’s home outside of Boston, in addition to the multiple bottles of Rombauer we were treated to, I was also given the gift that I model here. Very cool.

So my buddy Dann, as you know, was admitted to the trial here in San Diego. He and his wife flew down last Monday and we had dinner together. Originally my wife was going to cook but since our house was a bit discombobulated, we went to the restaurant where my son is the chef. But before we left for dinner, we knocked off a bottle of Rombauer that Dann had brought in celebration. We brought our own BA-BA to the restaurant so we ended up polishing off two bottles in total. Now that’s a celebration. On Tuesday he popped his first A-team pill, duplicating the selfie holding the first pill I posted back in July when it was my turn. So happy he got in.

So it has been 20 months since my first diagnosis. Yes, I have had to deal with constant needle pokes, radiation, multiple MRI’s, CT and PET Scans, twice a day injections of Lovenox into my rapidly black and bluing stomach, a fat leg and foot, daily pill popping, and worst of all, Lyle Lovett hair. But I will take all of that, and then some, because it means I’m still around to take all of that. And then some. I think I might throw a huge party in February when I hit my two-year mark. Anyone care to join me?

Business as (not) usual. Day at a time.