Well-earned descent - final post

From diagnosis to my recovery today, 4 1/2 months have transpired. In that time, we've gone through chemotherapy, radiation, many tests, a 10hr surgery and now we're winding down with a positive recovery period. This blog was titled "time to climb" in reference to rising above all this, overcoming these difficult, but not monumental challenges - it also shared meaning with some of my favorite hobbies - flying and mtn biking. "Time to climb" is a decision, one that can be selected each time life throws another obstacle in front of you.

At the end of every climb, comes the well-earned descent, whether losing altitude for a landing at our destination or cresting the mountain to find the sweetest singletrack trail to take us home, every climb is rewarded. As I look back on this recent climb, it was not without difficulty at times, but never did I find myself in a position that I didn't have the right gear to continue the climb. As a mtn biker, I've always been a fan of the short, technical climbs versus the long, arduous ones that continue on for miles. So I learned a great deal of patience on this climb, especially in the hospital. Good results are worth the wait. As with many of my epic rides, there was so much to take away from this journey. The outpouring of love, the shear number of people supporting me, concern from so many places I would never have expected - all of these added to my journey, to my climb, making the experience more rewarding. Know that your support - the prayers, emails, positive thoughts, therapy rides, texts, phone calls, cards, gifts - no matter how small to you, served as a significant motivating factor to me, when I needed it most. I knew I had many people to succeed for, too many to fail in front of - hence my focus through this.

I've heard the phrase "God works in mysterious ways", but I'm not a believer. There is no mystery to this - He never gave me more than I could handle and tested my faith through all of this. I hope He is proud of how I responded, never once questioning his motives or his plan. I accepted it and set out to do all that I could do to affect a positive outcome. There is indescribable peace that you feel when you consent to follow His plan, a peace that adjusts your outlook to the challenges ahead. It was this peace that made my journey through chemo, radiation and surgery appear easy to many of you. I placed my trust in Him and my stress and anxiety were almost nonexistent. 

As this is my final blog, I wanted to give you an update on my condition. My cancer responded very well to the entire treatment plan. The chemo/radiation done before surgery successfully reduced the tumor and eradicated any cancer cells in the region targeted. The surgery removed 2/3 of my esophagus and 1/3 of my stomach to insure they removed any affected areas around the tumor. These were then successfully reconnected and the final results will be determined this Thursday, at which time I may part with my feeding tube - try not eating or drinking for THREE weeks! Hey, but I'm down to a svelte 180lbs!! C'mon - there had to be some benefit to cancer treatment :) Once the feeding tube is removed, I'll return to life as it was pre-cancer. So we're excited to be at this point. I will be tested every 6 months for the first 2 years and once a year after that to insure there is no change to my cancer-free status. No fears here - God's got it!

When I look back on this journey, specifically the day of the diagnosis on Christmas Eve, I never expected what I got. Through chemo & radiation, I never missed a day of work, rode my bike 3x per week and continued on with Ski Patrol. It seemed to last forever, but never had the impact on my body that I expected. Surgery was much longer than initially thought, but to think that within 24 hours after surgery I'd be up walking - well that wasn't expected either. Now to think that in less than 6 months I'd go from diagnosis to living a cancer-free life again....well, let's just call it short of a miracle. I'm so very fortunate for this outcome, but that is the one thing I expected - to be cancer-free again. I had too much going for me for any other result - God, great medical team, family and friends.

WE did it. Thank you with much love!

Just what the Doctor ordered

After spending 8 days in a hospital room, no matter the level of attention and concern from the staff, I had grown tired of looking out at the hills above Duarte only wishing for some time outside. So yesterday, with the temps hanging at a comfortable 85, it was the perfect remedy for my cabin fever. Even with limited mobility, due to being attached to my J Tube for feeding 20 hours of each day, nothing beats being outside.

We had friends stop by yesterday to check in on me and share the afternoon. I was taking a break from the tube feeding when they came by, so I think they were surprised to see me moving around so well a week after such a major surgery. I still have quite a ways to go in my recovery, but it felt good to be outside hanging out with friends. Much has been accomplished in the week after surgery and I'm ready for steady progress until things are back to work, back on the bike, back to contributing at home and back to doing all those things that give me such reward in life.

My pathological report came back Friday night after my last post. The prognosis is very good based on the results and my body responded well to their treatment plan. We'll have a testing schedule set over the next 5 years to manage and monitor any changes. No more chemo or radiation required!! At this point, despite a smaller stomach (2/3 size now) and shorter esophagus (1/3 size now), I'm ready to get back to normal life over the next 2, 3, 6 months. My eating and drinking habits will change, but that's actually a small price to pay to have life back.

More friends headed over today, more time to be outside today - another day in my recovery that will be better than the last!! Yup, just what the Doctor ordered......

Mixed Feelings

Just walked into the house - a full 8 days after leaving for my surgery. Had this date clearly noted on the calendar - said "Surgery done, hospital recovery complete". It had a small footnote..."cancer free". That's how big this day was supposed to be for me, like cresting a long hill climb to the view of a sweet singletrack decent. In mountain bike parlance, a tough effort followed by an epic downhill ride! That's what I had in mind for today, a celebration of sorts that all the hard effort was behind me, and now I just had to be patient while my body got back to shape. It wasn't the fact that the pathological results are still due, so I can't honestly conclude "cancer free" yet, but I couldn't muster the excitement of the day.

You see, I received a message this morning from my very good friend that his wife was diagnosed with an inoperable cancerous tumor adjacent to her brain - 40, great lady, strong physical shape, loving family, just relocated to be near more family - DAMN! This wasn't part of their plan or on the radar. Cancer doesn't discriminate - it wants everyone. I've got to get beyond the initial punch in the gut, like I'm sure they have experienced this week, and then become a true friend and offer them the same love, care and prayers they offered in my support. But I know firsthand that their resolve will be much stronger than mine and I will be there with them through it. I never set out to speak 'firsthand' about cancer, but if I can help just one person know with a strong support group, good research on your own, a great medical team and through God's mercy, there is hope for ANYTHING. God thinks on a much larger plane that we do, so we can't think so limited when there is always hope.

On a positive note, the theme that I was prepared to center my day around, my 7-day stay in the hospital following my 10-hour surgery was very productive. Despite my 12 tubes/wires, I was up and walking the day after surgery. The medical staff was so supportive and caring, and each day we made progress together until all of the tubes, except my feeding tube, were gone. On day 1, I was in ICU doing almost nothing on my own, relying solely on my doctors and nurses to function. Sleeping was an impossibility with the twice/thrice-hourly interruptions around the clock. As the days went by, the tubes got less, and I was doing much more on my own, including walking the shine off the floor tiles. By the end, I was back to independence and ready to get out of the hospital to continue my recovery, which happened a few hours ago. 

Thanks to those who respected my wishes of waiting until I arrived home before visiting. My voice is still rough, but having this singular focus allowed me to really maximize my time in the hospital with the medical staff. I learned a lot about me and about my cancer, in this limited- distraction environment. My road to recovery is far from over, but I like where I'm at. I've now got to help a friend get through this. Thanks for all you've done for me!!

 

"Recovery Wall"

The big day is finally here! Less than 24 hours from reaching my goal of having this tumor removed from my body!! Can't wait. These past 3 weeks since the original surgery was postponed have seemed to last forever, and while I've finally bonded with my feeding tube, it's time to put that darn accessory to use.

The emails, phone calls and silent prayers for me this week have been overwhelming - THANK YOU! I have drawn much comfort and strength from your concern and understand that even though I'm the only one getting cut up here, there are many who will be right there with me. I've said it before, it's a very moving and powerful feeling. I'll succeed simply because I'm afraid to disappoint so many!

I listened to a pre-surgery mental imagery CD that my healthcare provider sent me yesterday. It prepares the mind in a peaceful state, similar to yoga, to allay any anxiety or trepidation one might have before going under the knife. I can honestly say, without any added bravado, that I have no fear or anxiety going into this. I have an amazing prayer network, the best medical staff, including the surgeon who's done this specific procedure more times than any other surgeon in US, and I've placed my faith in God to determine the best outcome. I've done my best to prepare myself for this day, and now turn myself over to their skilled hands.

Many of you have expressed interest in coming to the hospital during the ~5 days I'll be there. Without sounding unappreciative, I'd ask that you wait until I return home and come there to visit. I will likely lose my voice for several days following surgery and having visitors will only stress the situation. I hope you understand. For those intent on sending flowers, please note that the hospital has a 'no flowers' policy due to the compromised immune systems of so many of their patients. Please feel free to send a 'money bouquet' - know as a donation - directly to the City of Hope in lieu of flowers. That would be an incredible gesture - please let me know so I can send thanks! Your money will be put to very good use researching this awful disease (& is tax deductible unlike flowers)
 https://secure3.convio.net/coh/site/Donation2?df_id=1800&1800.donation=form1&JServSessionIdr004=ta4qjendu3.app304b

Lastly, I'll encourage you all to post something on my 'Recovery Wall'. This is your chance to participate in my speedy recovery. It could say "stop by for a quick walk", "count me in on your first bike ride", "I'll call with some encouragement to get you going again". However you can help in my recovery process, I want it posted on my 'Recovery Wall'. I will post all of these on my 'Recovery Wall' at home and cross them off as they are completed. Feel free to get creative. Come climb that wall with me!

Thank you all for taking this journey alongside me. There clearly is power in numbers. Look for an update late Friday or early Saturday from Rose, since the 10-hr surgery should be completed by 5-6pm on Friday evening. I thank God for great family & friends! See you soon!!!

Rolling Support Group

What a day we had Sunday! It was my last day to ride before my surgery and the long recovery that will follow, so we set out to make the most of it. Had my "rolling support group", who has been pushing me out on the trails since my chemo/radiation treatment, come over to do a "church ride". We rode from the house to church, attended a very moving service, and then set out for a Sunday ride, Pastor included! He had to be thrilled as the crew found different ways to incorporate his Sunday message throughout our ride! 

One of our friends in the congregation, who is a big road rider and an Ironman, decided to accept our offer to hit the trails on a mountain bike. So we had good sized group on the ride and thoroughly enjoyed the 80 degree day in the shade of Marshall Canyon. This is my home track, just outside my door, but for some reason, the trail had a much different look yesterday. It was much more peaceful and the trees were really beautiful. We kept a good pace, but perhaps that allowed me to see more of this trail than my normal ride. Maybe it was the company I was with. Or the earlier message that spoke of Peace. At that moment, I really didn't care why, I just wanted to appreciate something that I won't see again for a many weeks.


A few scrapes and bloody knees later (no, not me - I've been especially careful not to fall with my tube!), we finished a great ride and returned to the house to enjoy a few beers and Murph's famous trail tacos (I know, they're only famous in my mind!). That's really why I ride - for the post-ride camaraderie. I toasted to a great "last ride", which got everyone's attention - meaning the last one before surgery, of course! I've ridden my mountain bike with a separated shoulder while one arm was still in a sling - if that didn't stop me, surely cancer won't put the brakes on my desire to ride.

But the casual conversation on the patio turned into a bike clinic when two of my buddies tore apart Pastor's 20-year old bike to overhaul it. Three hours later, it looked like a new bike - and certainly functioned a lot better. He was thrilled that the creaks were gone and his bike was all cleaned up. But the bike was still 20 years old, so with a brief moment of discussion, that should have taken place 3 hours earlier, we jumped online, pooled our resources and bought him a brand new bike. Could have saved all that repair and cleaning with a few keystrokes earlier!! Now I'm afraid this guy is going to be too fast for me when I get back on the bike following my recovery! But I can't think of someone who will appreciate a "new ride" more than he will. That's what friends do for each other.

What a great day, what a great way to segue into my prep week for surgery. God, friends and family - that's really all we need. I was lucky to have a day filled with them!

 

Good things come to those who wait!

I certainly hope the subject line is true. My treatment went from fast forward to a slow rewind over these past 30 days, but the finish line is finally near!! With all I have going on in my life outside of my treatment, these days should be flying by....but they're not. I'm not fixated on my cancer, but very focused on the plan in front of me. I have to laugh when my work colleagues, where I've picked up significant new responsibilities in the past week, remind me to center my attention on my health. I am laser-focused. While our ski season is over, my new responsibilities with Ski Patrol require continued work to prepare for the next season, not to mention some teaching duties in our off-season first aid class. So with all of this book-ended around my treatment, why do the days seem to be mired in quicksand??

"Good things come to those who wait" is a proverb derived from a bible quote that seems to have fallen out of favor with the "instant gratification" crowd (must confess to be a card- carrying member, unfortunately). This was the slogan for ad campaigns from Guinness and Heinz ketchup, and those are worth the wait for sure. But I have a hard time comparing the wait on those products to the wait I'm dealing with regarding my surgery. It's not anxiety, as some have suggested, it's the challenge of slowing the mind and body of a classic type-A personality to accept that time is not a personal choice. Patience truly is a virtue, and I would say a skill I'm still working on perfecting.

Yesterday I met with my anesthesiology team at City of Hope for my last consultation before surgery next Friday, April 26th (for those of you keeping score). I was informed that this particular type of surgery is TEN hours long. I had in my notes 4.5 - 5 from an early consultation, so I wasn't prepared to hear this. In true type-A style, I contacted my surgeon from the consultation room to get his explanation, assuming something had changed, there were complications I wasn't being told or he needs to leave mid-surgery for a golf tournament up the street. Answers...needed answers quick. Apparently, this is SOP for this procedure, so he told me to chill - afterall, I'd just be laying there asleep and he would be the one doing the extra 5 hours of work!! Of all the nerve!

Headed out for a good long bike ride this morning, feeding tube and all, and will remind myself that it will be a while before I'm back on these trails again. So I'll take it all in today and remind myself how lucky I am to be in this position - just one week away from being healthy again (not counting the endless recovery period, or course!!). I'll post again before surgery with all the up-to-the-minute details to keep this all straight. Thanks again for all of your continued positive thoughts and prayers - they have really made the difference in my treatment. The doctors are good....but you have been great!!

Pain in my Side

It's been 3 weeks now since I was prepped for surgery, which included this obnoxious feeding tube in my side. It made sense at the time, since the surgery was a week away. But when it was delayed for 3 1/2 weeks to heal an ulcer in my esophagus, caused by the radiation, it meant carrying this tube around for over a month before surgery. It has become a real annoyance and a pain in my side. When I walk, I feel it...when I ride, I feel it....when I cough, I feel it.

But I believe this tube represents more than just irritating pain. Life after surgery will leave me with small adjustments to my daily routine, so this tube is serving to prepare me for those small annoyances that are in store. Putting this all in perspective has helped me deal with my little tube for now, but I'm sure I'll have a new appreciation for it when it feeds me for 2 weeks after surgery! 

This weekend, I took 'the tube' up to Big Bear to teach an emergency care course to our future ski patrollers. I thought about using it to demo an 'impaled object', but opted not to embarrass the students, or more likely, me! Might as well get some entertainment value out of it, right?! After class, I joined a few patrollers on a mountain bike ride. If the pace got too fast, I'd have 'the tube' as my excuse! This thing can really be beneficial!!

Yes, all things in life truly are a matter of perspective. Find the 'flip' side of your problem and you'll discover a new outlook. I never bought the saying "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade" - but at least have an Arnold Palmer!

Change

Obama ran on "Change" as his platform in 2008, and the majority embraced it. The direction this country was going at the time was so misguided, the one thing many fear the most - change - was the the one thing they were willing to accept. I won't turn this into a political platform, as our current politicians haven't done anything to warrant my time, but it's interesting how people voted for change back in that election.

For the past 3 months, all I've known is change. Nothing resembles normal, ordinary, "same old, same old". Daily trips to City of Hope weren't in the plan before that. Managing my health was done by hopping on my bike, into my kayak or onto my skis, with only an annual visit to the doctor. Now, I'm subjected to being pricked, prodded, tested - all daily occurrences that are required as part of my treatment plan. But necessary in this battle, so a welcome change to my old normal.

During this time, I lost my sweet Mother after a long & rewarding life, I assumed the leadership position within our ski patrol, and now I bid farewell to my dear friend and colleague of 12 years, as he moves on to another opportunity and my responsibilities expand to manage the entire sales function at our company. If only cancer kept a calendar, it would understand that this is a really challenging time for me. Change is all around me and I could use a "timeout" from cancer right now! But I know that God never gives us more than we can handle, so clearly I've got this. Keep the timeout, I'll be good.

While change brings the unknown and usually a high level of anxiety with it, we really should embrace it. It also brings new, exciting experiences that add to our life memories, while molding our character and who we are. I have been very fortunate to this point and look forward to this next chapter. Bring on the change....I'm not max'ed out yet!

Hurry up to Wait

If you asked Rose, that saying pretty much sums up my personality. I'm always in a hurry, but get nowhere. From the moment we heard my diagnosis on Christmas Eve, I've been pushing every test, every procedure, every consultation to get through this treatment as quick as possible, not giving cancer any chance to spread. I've effectively navigated chemotherapy and radiation, which were moved forward more than 3 weeks. My surgery was initially scheduled for mid-April, but moved to April 1st - still not sure why anyone would operate on April Fool's Day or Friday the 13th?? Seems now I've avoided both of those dates, but will have to wait until April 26th - a good thing. That's a solid month with a feeding tube protruding from my side. I know - deal with it!!

I find myself in a position where there is nothing to do but wait. In this conquest against cancer, there hasn't been a time to relax and breathe. We've been going nonstop since Christmas Eve with research, consultations, decisions and what seems to be daily trips to City of Hope for treatment. So this waiting around stuff is new territory, a place where I find myself slightly out of my element. Time to let off the gas pedal and cruise for a while, but I must admit, I like the warrior-going-to-battle-everyday versus the strike-a-yoga-pose-and-breathe-deeply. My idea of breathing deeply is gasping for air after a steep climb on my mountain bike. It's unnatural to breathe on cue as opposed to breathing because your lungs are on fire. I get it, deal with it! I'm trying, but that line about old dog, new tricks must certainly apply here. So give me a minute.

Yesterday I took a 7 mile hike with Rose to reflect on these next 3 weeks and how best to handle this time. I resigned myself to use this time to condition my body for surgery and make a formal effort to reach out to all those I know who are battling along side me right now - those I mentioned in my last post. We are all going through the same process right now, albeit with differing cancers, but we're facing similar issues. I'll use this time to let them know that the support goes far beyond those you know. Example - a childhood friend's father approached me at my Mom's service last weekend and told me that he was following my blog - I hadn't seen or spoke to him in over 20 years!! He and his wife are praying for me all the time - WHO KNEW?? Powerful. Brings me to tears thinking about how deep and wide this support really goes. 20 years, man! WOW! I need a kleenex now - it's so touching. So that's what I'm going to do - I'm going to make each one of them reach for their kleenex box - show them some more love from a place they didn't expect it. 

A great quote from yesterday's sermon - "If you're worrying, you're not trusting God. If you're trusting God, you're not worrying". I think this sums up why this battle has been relatively easy for me. I've placed my total trust in God that he has a plan for me through this. I accept it, no questions. Makes it so much easy to move on. See Rose, I am getting somewhere.....

 

Locked Out

I'm baaaaack! Sorry for the long delay, but I've been locked out of my own blog for over a week, and with recent surgery, I'm feeling locked outta life. So much to report, so much to share.

Past few weeks have been challenging to say the least. On March 18th, my dear Mother, at 88 years old, finally left us for her lofty spot in heaven. She was ready to go and at peace, with her sons and her best friend by her side at the very end. Her life was full of love and great memories, and those recollections have replaced grieving. She was a remarkable woman who would light up a room, and her memorial service did just that. A woman of strong faith and commitment to God, she was surrounded by over 40 of her dear Carmelite Sisters and had 9 Priests celebrate her Mass. My youngest brother, 3 years from being an ordained priest himself, committed her at graveside. An amazing celebration of the life of this special woman. Despite never telling her about my cancer, I know she is showering prayers on me now. I only hope she can appreciate my reasons for keeping this from her. Will miss her dearly as she was such a part of my daily life for so long.

 The services for my Mom were barely over and I was back at City of Hope for the first part of a 2-part surgery - I've heard of movies with 2 parts, but never surgery?? On March 24th, a week before my major surgery, my surgeon performed another endoscopy to review the surgical area and confirm his plans. He also performed a laparoscopy, a review of the abdomen that confirmed that area was cancer-free. Lastly, he inserted a feeding tube that would be used during surgery and for the 2-3 weeks during recovery. The process took a few hours and was a little painful for a few days following the surgery. Not a fan of having this tube sticking out of my stomach, as I feel I'm rendered useless until the next surgery. But that was only going to be a week, so suck it up, right?!

Wrong. After several consultations (and a lot of apprehension) with my surgeon (trying to get things done MY way...go figure), we arrived at a compromise in the procedure. Unfortunately, we would need to treat an ulser in the esophagus that resulted from the radiation. This would take about 3 weeks to heal before surgery could be done, but would deliver the best results of the options we had discussed. Wait for THREE WEEKS with a tube sticking out of my stomach?! Really??? 

So for all of you who had targeted April 1st for your barrage of prayers for me, it's still OK to do! But April 26th is the revised date of surgery, so I'll ask you to repeat those efforts on that day as well! The reason for the delay makes sense, but must admit it took a full day for me to really get my arms around it. For those of you who spoke to me on that day I got the news, I apologize. Somebody had to pay for the delay, and I suspect you might have gotten the worst of me. Sorry!

So where to go now? Back on the bike of course! I'm headed to the bike shop this morning, as they MUST sell an accessory to tie that darn feeding tube down. Better still, they might sell an apparatus to connect to it so that I can fuel my body while I ride. I'm certain I can lift up my shirt and use it to determine wind direction and speed. So yes, like my battle with cancer, I will make the best of the situation and continue on with my normal life. The first cyclist to stare at my "speed tube" will be driven into the curb and made to apologize for his insensitivity (jk).

I'm glad I was able to get back to the blog, as I know so many have been looking for an update. I'll be posting a couple of times per week leading up to the surgery and will pay Rose to "guest-blog" for me after surgery on 4/26 to provide an update to all. The one thing that I find so amazing are the number of people who are interested in following this. There is so much love and support, this cancer simply doesn't stand a chance. I continue to ask God to provide his love and blessings for my many friends and acquaintances that are fighting bigger battles than me....Randy, Andrea, Cheryl, Angelica, Bruce, Andrew's mom, Ralph, Mary Jo's son....since I'll be waiting for 3 weeks for my surgery, feel free to prayer for these friends who need your help now! You're all so amazing - thank you for being a part of my journey! 

God bless and Happy Easter!!

 

 

High on News

As promised, I'm firin' up the blog today with the news I received from the Doctors today. The wait since the end of chemo/radiation has been filled with good days and not so good days. Some skiing and mtn biking, but hardly finished a meal and had some tough times. Those days are now turning to memories and things are looking much more positive. I had friends in town to take me riding and spent the weekend skiing. These weren't my best efforts, but it felt soooo good to be out there getting back to shape. I'm 15 pounds lighter than I was in January, so I got the benefit out of cancer that I was hoping for!!

I know, you're interested in the results I got today. Let's start by giving each of you a standing ovation. Your endless prayers and positive thoughts, through the good Lord, delivered the best news we could have hoped for! My Oncologist, who to this point has been stoic & tight-lipped, couldn't wait to show me the PET images from this morning compared to pre-therapy images. The uptake of nuclear glucose in the tumor was only 10% of what it was in January! Meaning they have effectively reduced the tumor to a small mass! They were very pleased with the results and commented that this was everything they could have expected from the treatment plan. My surgeon will see the results tomorrow and we'll soon have the plans for surgery and with God's help, the end to this challenge.

I'm currently set for surgery on April 1st - go ahead and start with the April Fool's jokes! I've been working them all day long! I'm really looking forward to finishing this process and getting back to good health. My body has recovered nicely and I'm prepared to handle the surgery.

There are simply too many people to thank for the amazing outpouring of love, prayers and involvement through my treatment. So please accept my sincere appreciation - I know you know who you are. But my hero through all of this has been my partner of 24 years - Rose. She has been supportive, determined, sympathetic, spiritually-grounded and my encouragement through this battle. She has kept me focused since the day of my diagnosis and these results are as much hers as mine. 

I thank God for listening to your prayers and walking down this road with me. There is still work to be done, but this was a positive step in our battle.

Special Day

This date has been circled on my calendar for almost 2 months. It felt like 15 weeks of treatment, but the calendar confirms that it was only 5 weeks. 5 or 15, my radiation & chemotherapy is now complete!! I was ready to celebrate, ready to do a small victory dance, but the last few days of radiation has really beat me up. So, I'm happy to be home trying to eat something, instead of out celebrating this long 5 weeks of treatment.

The first 4 weeks went very well and life was close to normal. Not so this last week, even though I was able to ride and ski earlier in the final treatment week. My body handled the chemotherapy very well, but the last week of radiation was really rough. Since Sunday, it has been difficult and painful to eat and talk. Swelling and burning from the radiation is supposed to continue through the weekend, even though the treatment has ended, so I'm not out of the woods yet. I was able to eat 3 small meals today, 1st time in 4 days, so I'm hopeful that each day is better than the next and my body continues its recover each day. I've lost 11 pounds in the process, and suspect it will total 15 by the time they weigh me next week, so their is some benefit!

Overall, Doctors were pleased with my body's response during the treatment. We'll know the results on March 13th, when I return for a PET scan & Endoscopy that will remeasure the tumor and direct the surgical plans. Surgery is expected around the end of March. I'll return to the blog on March 13th to provide an update.

Thanks to each of you who read this blog and were so complimentary. Thanks to all those who kept me positive through those 5 weeks and continue to offer up prayers. I am so blessed that God responded to your prayers and accepted the burden of this process - he made it quite easy on me.

Part of the journey has ended, with much more still ahead of me.

 

Running on Empty

A vivid memory of my childhood was the numerous times my Mom ran out of gas in the family car. She drove completely oblivious to the gas gauge and if my Dad didn't fill the car up, we ended up on the roadside calling AAA. During my flight training, I was amazed at how many crash investigations revealed empty fuel tanks - the pilot opting to stretch his fuel reserve to make his destination. In each case, the empty tank precipitated the destination, but unlike my Mom in the family car, these pilots couldn't simply pull to the side of the road and wait for a gas can.

On Saturday, I ran the tank dry - not in the airplane or my car - but rather on the mountain. I felt good enough to get back up to Bear Mountain for the day and help our Patroller Candidates with their training. The weather was set to be warm and sunny and the snow conditions were amazing. I was able to lend a hand to several Patrollers who were running their first incident response. In fact, we never made it to our first chairlift, as we responded to an injured guest right outside the lift line. That didn't take long to be pressed into action! After another injured guest response in the morning, I joined one of our Patrollers for lunch. Just as we finished, her son joined us, only to reveal a broken wrist from snowboarding! I wasn't far from the injuries all morning, so I decided to use the afternoon to work with our Candidates who were still testing out with toboggans.

The terrain where we worked with them is challenging, and I really felt it at the end of the day. We made several runs with toboggans - I even took a ride while one of our Candidates drove the toboggan, so it was a bigger day than I had planned for. I left my house at 5am and now it was after 4pm and my body was shutting down. I had committed to a small group of close friends to come by my cabin for dinner after patrolling, so the day was extended well beyond what it was willing to give. I was useless by the time they arrived, so they did all the cooking & cleaning - what a great group! I felt like a zombie as all I could manage was to sit their and talk. The tank was empty and I finally fell asleep just before 10pm.

I paid for that big day on Sunday. After church service, Rose & I brought lunch over to dine outside with my Mom and brother. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep. Which is what I did the balance of the day. I ran out of gas trying to do more than I should have - after all, I just finished chemo 3 days before and have 90% of my radiation behind me. This is supposed to be the time I'm on my back. Well, that's where I was on Sunday. Better today and hope to continue to improve through my treatment conclusion on Wed!







 

Day of Love

Ah, Valentine's Day! A day to express your love! That should be EVERYDAY, not the one day set on the calendar by floral, card and candy companies! We didn't make plans to go out for dinner tonight, as I had no idea how my body would be holding up this late in my treatment plan. Well, Rose stole a last-minute reservation at The Derby in Arcadia (4.5 stars in my book!) for dinner, I've got my lunch ride scheduled today and I was even able to get a haircut! Who cares? ME. I thought the chemo would take care of the hair thing - nope!! Hope your Valentine's Day is a good one, too!

So my chemotherapy is done! Never had a single side effect from the treatment and I thank the good Lord for taking care of me through this. The infusion staff in 1D at City of Hope was so good to me, and despite the 3-4 hours hooked up to these nasty drugs, we always shared an afternoon of laughter. I think the other patients in the infusion center thought I was getting a different med - perhaps some joy juice! Hope we brightened their day and didn't annoy them as they struggle through their chemo. I proudly wore my Stand Up to Cancer shirt that I bought on National Cancer Day on Feb 4. Very stylish! 

My cancer log to date: 18 hours of chemo & 10 hours in the microwave, whoops, I mean radiation. Do you know what a turkey (I'm sure you'll agree that's a good analogy!) looks like after 10 hours in a microwave?? Total time of radiation has been almost 4 hours, so I'm sure my esophagus is fried, but from all outward appearances, not much has changed except a small rash on my chest and back. Not worthy of a complaint. I now have less than an hour of radiation left and I get a 4-6 week vacation until surgery :)

On this love day, let me send some love out to those who have helped me maintain a very aggressive schedule through all of this - my rock, Rose, who won't allow me to sleep through therapy and keeps me on track, my co-workers who push me everyday to stay engaged but have picked up the slack so I'm only working 8 hrs instead of 10, my medical staff who's expertise and quick response is making this feel easy (it's not), my great network of friends who show up to ride, ski and dine with me - I love you all! 

I keep getting comments how inspirational this blog is. Go to the last paragraph and you'll find the true root of this inspiration. When the Doctor asks me if I feel depressed at all, I have to respond with a long laugh - he clearly doesn't know who's behind me - what a ridiculous question! Happy Valentine's Day!

White Elephant

Best news I've gotten in a week! No, nothing to do with my treatment - the forecast shows a high of 65 today! After 5 days of rain and very cold temps, it's the return of the "lunch ride"!! I am so tired of being inside, and so stoked for my solo ride on the trail at lunch! Yeehaaaaa! I haven't felt so great over that time and I'm sure this has something to do with it. Sitting around for extended periods is bad medicine, so the forecast of climbing temps, maybe hitting 80 by the weekend, is such welcome news! I'm desperately avoiding anything that can make me sick while my white blood cell count is low, but giving up the therapy of my bike ride really hurts.

Despite the cold temps this weekend, I fired up the grill for a small family BBQ on Sunday. Rose's family came by, along with my Mom, for an early dinner. I was pleasantly surprised when they were joined by two of my brothers, who weren't expected at all, one of them coming in from Northern CA. It was great to see everyone, and their concern for my health has been a source of strength through this. We had a great afternoon together. There was, however, a huge white elephant in the room. 

You see, I haven't shared the news of my diagnosis with my Mom. From where you sit, I'm sure that sounds selfish and disrespectful, but it's not that easy. I've been very open about my condition with everyone, so telling my Mom would not have required much thought. Unfortunately, her health has been a roller coaster for the past year, and she'll hit 88 this month, so this added stress could trigger a slide in her condition. I've even consulted her doctor to make sure I was doing the right thing for her. But the answer is not easy.

So dinner on Sunday had to remain clear of any cancer discussion until my Mom left the room. When she did, we'd have a full dialogue of my progress, updated prognosis and remaining treatment plans. When she'd walk back in, the subject would revert back to the topic being discussed when she left. It felt deceitful and so wrong, but I still feel that it is in her best interest. I'm sure I'll struggle with that until I have to tell her prior to surgery, since I won't be visiting her for a good 2 weeks, and she'll be on to that. If anyone has dealt successfully with this, I'd love to hear it. We've opted to wait until chemo/radiation was over, and that's a little over a week away. So this will happen sooner vs later.

OK, there is more good news besides the weather. Tomorrow's round of chemotherapy is my last - give me a fist pump! - and after tomorrow's radiation, I will have less than an hour of radiation left - chest bump, this time! Thank you for indulging me with this blog and holding me up through all of this. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and it ain't no train.....

Parallel Journeys

I'm blessed and so very fortunate that my treatment has gone this well through nearly 4 weeks of the scheduled 5. I thank God that my body has handled this aggressive therapy so well. But I'm human, and must admit that these 5 weeks have seemed to last forever. I painfully (mental, not physical) count each day as it's posted on my daily schedule.

Back in 1999, for our 10th anniversary, we took the longest vacation we've ever taken. A 3-week journey to Africa for an 18-day safari. With most vacations, it seems they are over just after they begin. This adventure was different, as time stood still, pace of life reset to a slow roll and those 3 weeks felt like 3 months. As with my cancer treatment, your mind and body make adjustments to accommodate your current situation, and in these two cases, I'm certain the clock had slowed. We absolutely loved Africa, but it felt as though we would never leave.

In both of these journeys, we did a significant amount of research in preparation before making specific decisions. We were determined in each case to get a unique perspective along the journey - with cancer, it's been our positive approach and complete submission to God to get through it. In Africa, we soaked in the local culture by walking the streets of Nairobi (very dangerous), visited a Masai tribe in the Ngorongoro Valley and rented an airplane to get an aerial view of the wildlife of the Serengeti, the Great Migration of wildebeest and to circle the legendary Mt. Kilimanjaro. I'll never forget landing with zebra on the runway and taxiing up to be greeted by a welcoming committee of guards w/ M-16s. I can assure you that's in my logbook only once! Most visitors leave the continent without these experiences, but these made our adventure in Africa much more enriching.

Once the safari began, we were joined by 15 others and our tour guides. Like going through cancer with all of you supporting me, there is comfort in doing this together as a group. But did the group size appear as a "buffet" to the lions, leopards and cheetahs that we would see each day? Hmmm, don't be the slowest! There is nothing more majestic than seeing these creatures in their natural environment, but having them 10' from your open air vehicle reminds you of the danger that exists at all times. At night, we would sleep among them, protected by electrical wire and armed sentries - peaceful, but still dangerous. Like going through life feeling safe and secure until cancer appears.

How does one compare cancer treatment to a epic once-in-a-lifetime vacation? You don't. This is no pleasure cruise, and many struggle mightily to get through it, but I've found parallels between the two that have made me stronger and wiser as I continue forward. It might be a simple mind game that I continue to play, but it reminds me to draw on past experiences to remain upbeat and positive as I meet cancer head on.

 

Who's Counting?

On my driveway basketball court, growing up in So. CA, I had more game-winning buckets than Michael Jordan. My brothers and I would frequently play the old "game-winner countdown" - 10..9..8..7.. and I'd drain the game-winner w/ nothing but net as the final buzzer sounded. It wasn't just that final second that mattered, though, but the 9 seconds of drama leading up to this final shot that made it so sweet. Nobody ever counted down from 1 second and threw it up, it HAD to start at 10. The boys might challenge my stats, but my memory is all you'll have here!

I find myself in that familiar position again, some 35 years later (but I still got game!), where the scoreboard displays "10 to go" - not seconds in a game, but sessions in my treatment plan. Can finally count them all on two hands, so the countdown is on. I'm going to focus on the experience and not look ahead to final shot (or zap in this case!), but I will be ready to nail it! I've tried to take my positive attitude into the treatment environment at City of Hope, for both staffers and patients alike, trying to give them a temporary lift when they need it most. None of my fellow cancer patients have the energy that I do, but I hope the positive interaction and jokes that I share with the staff is contagious (hopefully I'm not annoying them), and makes their days at City of Hope a little easier to endure. "There is little success, where there is little laughter" A. Carnegie

On Wednesdays, I have full days at City of Hope - getting nuked in radiation (10 min in the microwave) and then sitting for almost 4 hours in chemotherapy getting my chemical cocktail infusion. You can see to the right, it simply means moving my office & continuing with business as usual. Sending email, working on budgets and communicating with customers. Even through all the disruptions from my treatment, we managed to have a record month in Jan! My colleagues have been so impressive in their support, both in covering for me and working around this crazy schedule I'm keeping. I thank them sincerely for demonstrating what I already knew - they are a phenomenal team of professionals who care as much about each other as they do for the business. I've been blessed to work with a great group of friends...it makes a significant difference in our approach to business.

OK, about that countdown - today is 10 - count them with me for added drama! 10 more radiation sessions and only 1 more chemotherapy session. On Feb 20, I'll hoist up the game-winner and watch as it sails through the net. I still feel really good, with just some discomfort in my chest from the radiation - like a sunburn from the inside out. White blood count is down, so after this weekend, I'll likely stay home and stop joining friends for dinners, bike rides and trips to the mountain. Don't want to risk infection as this treatment plan winds down with great success. So don't take it personal when I can't go.

10..9..8..7..it's gonna be a sweet shot at the buzzer!!

Bad Deal

I was a fan of the World Series of Poker for several years. Loved the way different players would play their hands - each with a unique strategy that was constantly changing, or they risked being "read" by their opponents. Then came the costumes - glasses, hoodies, drawn-down hats - to hide any outward clues that their competitors may pick up on. I was never a poker player, but I figured that by watching TV, I could pull this off. So at one of my team meetings in Palm Springs, I decided to have poker night. I was ready to bluff my way through these novices - great plan, poor execution, as I went "all in" and got cleaned out in the second hand! You all know I don't bluff - simple black & white - so poker doesn't serve me well.

A cancer diagnosis is like that poker game. Everyone plays their cards different from the next - some aggressively, some in fear of losing, others with an eye on how far they last in the game. There isn't one style that determines the winner or loser, it's simply a matter of preference how you choose to play the game. No right way, no wrong way. Those spectators watching the poker tournament, like the family & friends of cancer patients, have their opinions of how the game should be played. I could pay for my treatment in cash if I had a nickel for every time someone told me to "slow down", "be careful", "take it easy". Perhaps that's would be your style in dealing with cancer, which I respect, but I don't share your vision for cancer treatment. I'm maintaining as normal a life as I can, hoping to eradicate cancer from my body by not signaling that anything is different. So far, that plan seems to be working for me. Abraham Lincoln had an appropriate quote "In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years." Live today!

I've dealt with my diagnosis asking for no "sorrys" and no tears. These are normal responses when friends find out about my situation, but your support is what we really need. And you're always ready to offer it, so start there in lieu of "sorry". I had a chance to test this on Sat when a fellow patroller told me his doctor suspected leukemia. He is waiting anxiously for the final results. Instead of "sorry", I put my arm around him and shared my experience thus far. I voiced my support in any way needed, like many of you have done for me. I know how that made me feel, I hope it worked the same for him. But it's his hand to play, so I respect the way he deals with it. I'll still be here to support him.

 

My daily devotional had an interesting bible passage today from Psalm 69, "I am exhausted from crying for help; my throat is parched". Unfortunately, my throat is parched from radiation (so far the only side effect), not from crying out. My prayers have been for others, many who like me have been afflicted with cancer, and other life-altering needs. God knows my needs, as most of you have let him know and have asked on my behalf. If I got a bad deal, at least I know I have an ace in the hole!  

Adapt to Change

It was so good to be back on skis and see the crew at Bear Mountain yesterday. In my mind, I had written off the second half of the season when my treatment started. I held out hope that I might return to patrol in March, between the end of treatment and my pending surgery, but that was optimistic at best. So here I was, standing at the top of the mountain, in the warm sunshine, with skis on my feet....in February during my treatment. Man, did it feel good! 

 We have some of the best snow groomers in the business who can transform snow overnight to make it seem fresh every morning. In the 55 degree sunshine, however, the snow breaks down during the day, turning soft and sticky. So you adapt, and head to the steeper terrain where these conditions aren't as pronounced. The steeps were really fun yesterday, but I was cooked by 2:30!

I was able to spend some time offering instruction to our Patroller Candidates, who are near the end of their toboggan training. They were on the toughest run trying to get their loaded sleds to the bottom. They weren't experiencing change - this was a whole new experience for them. Imagine a difficult run most of them never ski/ride, and then add a 250lb toboggan behind them for good measure! But they adapted by processing the instruction and putting it into practice.

Like the snow conditions or the progress of these candidates, adapting to change is part of everyday life. How we deal with it spells our level of happiness. Days on the mountain are long, usually 10 hours, but I was done after 8. My bike rides have been shortened by 30 min. Work is down to 8 hours from 10 and I'm sleeping a full 8 hours. I remain positive and adapt each day to the "new normal" as I progress through therapy. Change seems so insignificant in the overall scheme of things. 

Oh, I'll be back, but with a changed heart, no doubt!
 

 

It's About Family

"Tough times don't last, but tough people do". Another great Robert Schuller quote that has given me hope for many years. My Dad made me tough, 3 brothers made me tougher (bruised & bloody come to mind as well), Rose has toughened me up over the past 24 years and I remain tough to care for my Mom, who remains tough at a spry 88 years old! My immediate family has remained tough with me through this, and that's what family does for each other.

Last night, we had dinner with one of our extended family who was down from Big Bear to rip off a quick 20 miles with me on our road bikes. Neither of us had ridden road bikes for a long time, but we went out late in the day, did a few laps around Puddingstone Lake and got chased back to the house by darkness. Rose joined us for dinner at a very appropriate spot - where he had his 1st date and later proposed to his wife of 23 years - pretty sweet! We have so much in common with them - she and Rose graduated ULV, both big walkers/runners, both caring, beautiful women w/ fiery personalities - he and I are pilots, airplane-owners, cyclists - we both lived in La Verne with roots in Big Bear Lake, and always rallied best around a bottle of wine! Later in life, we shared cancer, but lost her 3 months ago after an amazing battle. But he came down the hill last night from a 3hr r/t drive to ride & dine with us - that's what family does for each other! Love you, man!

It's often said that you find out what people are made of in times of crisis. My Ski Patrol family demonstrates that frequently on our mountain, but I am seeing another side of these amazing people through all this. The notes of support have taken this relationship to a whole new level - the love & caring is so therapeutic. They're here 2x a week to pedal with me to keep me fit and off the couch. One connected me to his Dad, a renowned Oncologist, who confirmed my treatment plan and gave me comfort. And one of our newer patroller candidates made me a blanket, which I used last night when I had to sleep on the couch for a little better breathing position. It's a clearer to me now, that's what family does for each other. I look forward to skiing with them tomorrow!!

And my Church family has been awesome. Their prayers have certainly lifted me up through this. Many of them are reading my blog, unbeknownst to me, and that was my introduction to them last Sunday. God works in ways that are hard to understand sometimes - we call that faith! But their comments were so supportive - thanks! My pastor is coming over for lunch today, but to ride, not to eat, as he's done each week since my diagnosis. He says it's to stay in shape, I know better, and I thank you! We have a new Mom in her 20's who has been battling cancer & has been such an inspiration to me...and I've only met her once. Her story is so courageous and her attitude is so strong - fight on, girl! We're all praying for your full recovery, because that's what Family does.

One more round of radiation today and then a 2-day break. Doctor's are pleased with the results to date and have given me the green light to keep riding and skiing as my energy level will allow - so far, so good there. A little trouble breathing as a result of the inflammation in my esophagus from the radiation, but that's to be expected. I'll just hook a bungee cord on pastor's bike today to keep up! Remember.....family!!
 

Nothing But The Facts

Many of you have been calling, emailing, texting, looking for the details beyond my analogies, or as I like to refer to them, "cancer parables". So I'll save the super cool story I had for you today and drop it into tomorrow's blog.

At the halfway point in my treatment plan - 60% done w/ chemotherapy & 40% done w/ radiation therapy (for some reason spa therapy wasn't part of the package??) - I am still feeling great! The body does seem to fade a little earlier in the evening, but I'm still up every morning no later than 5:30. I'm writing this now at 3am, as the body told me to get up and go do something. I have plenty of energy during the day, have been working full days and even manage to fit a bike ride in on all days except chemotherapy days, which simply don't allow the time. Yesterday after chemo, I came home, finished up work, went grocery shopping, grilled dinner for Rose and walked the dogs. Energy was there despite 6 hours at City of Hope - at least 4 of those spent working while getting therapy :)

My blood markers remain positive, above their projections, but slightly lower than the normal range for important markers like white blood cell count, ANC - absolute neutrophil count and BUN - blood urea nitrogen. I'm still within normal range with my Creatinine level. While these markers are trending south, that is the expectation with the treatment plan, especially with this combination of chemotherapy drugs. With only 2 more infusions remaining on the schedule, my medical team feels positive about the results to date.

After replacing Benadryl with Claritin to manage any allergic reaction during the infusion of chemo, yesterday's session was smooth, albeit still 3 hours long. I've had no side effects at all - no hair loss (read that as "additional" - see my priority here!), no nausea, no loss of appetite, no muscle soreness and insignificant fatigue. Radiation, other than one bad episode that I believe was "technician-induced", has gone smoothly. A light burning sensation every now and then, but not even worth mentioning. 

So there you have them - all the details. Robotic surgery (Dr. R2D2 is the attending physician) will follow chemo/radiation and should take place right around the end of March. In the meantime, I have a job to do, trails to ride and with any luck, a few runs down the mountain this Saturday. Cancer has yet to bring a tear to my eye, but I must admit to having a few while reading the support offered by many of you. My positive attitude is being driven by each of you - can't thank you enough!

The Call

I've been a big basketball fan all my life, back to the days when my Dad put the hoop up on the garage roof, to give his 4 boys something to do outside (so he and Mom could have peace inside - we're talking FOUR boys!) I played basketball in high school before donning stripes and a whistle to referee the game for 19 years. I spent all but 2 seasons at the college level, where the game was fluid and the players skills made the game much easier to officiate. In most games, you don't notice the officials at all, as you watch Kobe, Lebron, Durant and others display their talent and the ball moves quickly from end to end.

Until that one whistle, that one call, that brings the game to an abrupt halt. The flow of the game is interrupted for the players, and even the fans, and can have a dramatic impact on the outcome. It doesn't happen in every game, it doesn't always change the results, but as a fan, you know when that moment happens. As the referee who just blew air into that whistle, you feel it as the whistle goes off. It's all part of the game, a lonely part no doubt, but a piece of the game in total.

The whistle stopped play on Dec. 24th, when my Doctor made his call - you have cancer. I didn't argue the call (those who played ball w/ me won't believe that & will look for the replay on ESPN!), didn't ask for a timeout and didn't let the call change my game. I knew the game had a great flow for 51 years, and I wasn't going to let one call negatively affect that. There is still a lot of time left on that game clock, and I plan to play hard through the second half. While it was a big call, it's not bigger than the game itself.

You see, from an referee's point of view, it's not "the call", it's how the players and fans choose to respond to it. It's one call in a long game, and if you've been playing well up to that point, there is no reason you can't regain that performance, or perhaps rise to the occasion and take your game to the next level in response. In this game, I have the ball, not the whistle, and I'm still ready to play. I know there are many "fans" who have also gotten past "the call" and are now cheering me. I was having a great game up until "the call", so I'm committed to continue that performance and use it to make me stronger.

Today is halftime - the mid-point of my treatment plan. It's amazing how well I still feel and that makes it so much easier to keep a positive outlook on all of this. I feel so blessed that my body has responded so well to the treatment. Had dinner with a very good friend last night and look forward to a ride and dinner with another good friend on Thursday evening. With any luck, and better weather, I'll make it up the mountain to ski on Sat. How many people going through chemo/radiation get that opportunity? Blessed for sure.

Set Back

I suffered my first set back since starting treatment on Friday night. I couldn't understand what happened to me. At lunch time, a group of us went out for a good mtn bike ride in the drizzling rain. No issues - felt great, had fun, good ride! At 5pm, I went for my radiation treatment at City of Hope. I felt great going in, not so well coming out.

Friday night, I was having minor difficulty breathing. As I breathed, I had a burnt taste in my mouth. I went to bed intent on skiing on Saturday at Bear Mtn, but after listening to the rain come down since 3am, I decided to take a real "rain" check. Turns out to be a good decision, since it rained throughout the day in Big Bear and my breathing worsened. I had labored breathing all day and couldn't get rid of the burnt taste. Wierd. 

Sunday brought much of an improvement and I was able to get out despite the cold weather and threat of more rain. This morning, I shared the situation with my radiation Oncologist. All I can surmise, though no one will confirm, is that my lungs were singed by the radiation on Friday evening. The good news is that today's radiation treatment did not have the same effect, so things have returned to my new normal.

I'll be back on the bike tomorrow and take a little more time on the blog. I do require 8 hours of sleep now versus 6 1/2, but still making it to my desk by 5:30 each morning. Since this journey began just over a month ago, I've constantly reminded myself of a quote from the insightful Robert Schuller, who said "a setback is set up for a great comeback". Very appropriate here.

Have Faith!

All signs continue positive through my treatment with 1/3 of it behind me now. The support has continued to lift me through this, however, I've just started to hear the questions of whether I'm simply putting up a good front or actually feel this good? Really? Even my brothers had to call, suspicious of my blog updates, to hear for themselves. Sorry boys, I hope our conversation renewed your faith! This picture (if proof is required) is from yesterday's "lunch ride" in light drizzle in the hills above Glendora. Five of my good friends braved the elements with me on an ambitious pedal through the mud and full creek crossings up Lower Monroe trail. Ask them how I did!!

 










I was hoping to get up and ski Bear Mountain today, but the weather forecast of scattered rain showers discouraged me from making the trek - can't afford to get sick and suffer a setback in my treatment plan. So we'll see how things progress through next weekend. 

One of my dear ski patrol friends connected me with his father, a board-certified Oncologist from AZ, who spent time reviewing my treatment plan and options that I had not considered reviewing with my medical team. What a tremendous opportunity to confirm my care with such an experienced specialist. His strong faith and reassurances were exactly what I needed. Thanks, Dr. G - your son is an amazing man as well, and I thank him for connecting us!

I have faith that God will provide and that everything will work out according to His plan. I have faith in my AMAZING support group - my "ultrastrong" Rose (I think she eats nails!) who keeps me so positive, my medical team who has reacted so quickly to my needs (incl my advisers Dr. G and GP), my Peloton who keeps me riding each week, my family and friends who say exactly what I need to hear each and every day. More than words, let's have faith in one another - I'll always give it to you straight, do the same for me!

Live by faith, not by sight...

 

Face of Cancer

When I think of cancer, I picture bald heads, emaciated facial features and overly dejected appearance. Face it, cancer racks the body as does the treatment that is supposed to fight the cancer. The disease and medicine wage a brutal war and your body is the battlefield. 

We just lost a very dear friend to cancer after an amazing battle where she continued to defy all odds. Her will was clearly stronger than the cancer for a much longer time than her doctors had predicted. Her positive attitude and strength through this fight was an inspiration to me, and while I never expected to draw on her experience, I find myself looking deep to find the warrior in me. I think she'd be proud, as I've done well so far. 

In her memory, I want to be the "face of cancer" that others can draw strength from. This is NOT a death sentence, its a disease. Millions of people are in remission. Millions more are fighting successfully with the major medical advances on almost every form of cancer. You are certain to know or meet many people like me who have been given that dreaded news, "you have cancer". Don't say "sorry", prop them up. Let them know that cancer isn't just bald and drawn-in, it can also look normal. It can have a winner. Set their mind the right direction, give them the right spirit - just don't say "sorry". We don't feel that way, why should you??

Here is my "face of cancer" - today I get to do a lunch ride with several of my dear friends from Ski Patrol and my Pastor - it's supposed to rain, but he will take care of that! Tomorrow, I'm going back to ski the mountain that I left 3 weeks ago to start treatment. Thought my season was over then, but doctors gave me a hall pass as I'm responding so well to treatment - they were shaking their heads when I told them I was headed back to ski patrol duty. THAT my friends, is the side of cancer you need to see - a disease, not a death sentence. Life is good, God is better! Let's ride!

 

Don't Let 'em Know You're Coming

The common response I get from so many well-wishers is "if anyone can beat this thing...", "go kick cancer's a_ _", "cancer has no idea who it's messin' with". It probably goes without saying, but I'm a very competitive guy. I'm the guy who rides solo on the trail and trash talks himself into riding faster, climbing harder or dropping a new personal-best time for a particular ride. I sometimes laugh at myself when I pick the wrong line or just have a poor ride, goading myself into repeating the same ride the following day just to prove I'm better - prove to who? Me, looking for approval from myself. Who does that?? OK, I do know a few of you!

But with cancer, I've taken a different trail. I'm not repeating those statements above or setting out to beat cancer. I respect what cancer has done to so many and can do to me, so I'm not calling it out, not going to trash talk it into submission, don't want it to know who it's messin' with...I simply want to do everything possible to remove it from my body. End of story. As uncompetitive as that is for me. Why, you ask? I've heard too many people boldly put their heads up and scream out their battle cry against cancer, only to lose a battle based mainly on bravado - If I say I'm going to beat it, I'll beat it. They let cancer know they're coming, so their focus is on battle, not the fight. I'm following my treatment plan to the letter, staying within my diet, researching additional things that can deliver the best result and most important, I'm living as normal a life as possible.

As I started to pen this this morning, I'm reminded of one of my favorite business stories. Our small beverage company had just purchased a very popular brand that had eroded over 3 years while owned by a very large global consumer products co. We now had clout with our retailers and were ready to beat our chests and return this brand to the market leader it once was. Our CEO was too smart to allow that to happen and shared a video with us - two moose in the doorway of a post office (in his analogy - beverage giants Coke & Pepsi) with a man (us) trying to gain access. The man looks for ways to get around them and eventually bull-rushes toward the door between the moose. They proceed to stomp him senseless for his act of stupidity - raising his head and declaring his battle against more-than-formidable competitors (video states no animals were hurt in the making of this video - but no mention about the rag doll!). Our CEO employed a very effective strategy - don't raise the attention of your adversary, put your head down and go about your business. I've embraced his strategy as part of my plan.

My life is about as normal as it can be. Chemotherapy is now 40% complete and Radiation is almost 25% done, and I have ZERO side effects!! I continue to ride, ski, workout and the best news to my amazing colleagues at PNC - I'm at work every day at 5:30am (taking a few minutes out to write this blog - sorry, consider it a union break!) All of the critical indicators - blood count, platelet count and other measures - are ALL within NORMAL range! Praise the Lord and pray I continue down that road!!

Not Lost w/o a Map

Growing up in a one-income family, our vacation adventures were centered around "road trips" within a 6-8 hour drive from home. My parents would select the destination and my Dad would roll down to the local AAA office to get his detailed trip planner, intent on never missing any worthy point of interest. We made frequent stops and added unique memories along our route - historical landmarks, natural wonders, unique sights - we saw them all. After each stop, we would turn back to the map to see what was coming next - we always knew where we were going and what was coming next.

Fast-forward June 2002, to a small airport 35 miles east of downtown Los Angeles, where I spent the morning packing my airplane for a very different type of adventure. A very dear friend and colleague of mine had decided to set off on an unusual type of trip with me, one requiring only visual recognition to our destination - Ketchikan, Alaska via a stop in Victoria, Canada. Both being very anal about flight planning and navigation, we decided this time to follow God's natural wonder, the entire western coastline, to our destination. We left with only a plan to stop overnight at an old USAF blimp hangar converted to a hotel. Other than that, it was look out the window and follow the beach - Hearst Castle, Pebble Beach, Golden Gate Bridge, Coos Bay, Columbia River, Seattle, San Juan Islands, Vancouver Island and finally the rugged coast of Alaska and our final destination of Ketchikan. All without a flight plan, trusting our piloting skills and dead-reckoning (that never sounded right in pilot-speak??). It was an incredible journey, the best flight I've ever taken.

These two memories flashed back to me when I read my daily devotional the other day (written in first person by God), which said "I know exactly what this day will contain, whereas you have only vague ideas about it. You would like to see a map, showing all the twists and turns of your journey. You'd feel more prepared if you could somehow visualize what is on the road ahead. However, there is a better way to prepare for whatever you will encounter today - spend quality time with me. I will not show you what is on the road ahead, but I will thoroughly equip you for the journey."

I had absolute trust in my Dad on those trips and unwavering confidence in my copilot enroute to Alaska, so I now turn to God to guide me through this trip with a faith that that is deeper than I'll allow you to see. I truly can do all things through him that strengthens me. Cancer is showing me how to be more open about my relationship with God and how to tell my dear friends that I love them. In some sense, these are more challenging to me than dealing with cancer. But I'll get there....on all fronts. Thanks for joining me on the ride!

Scarred for Life

I enter week #2 feeling fantastic - not a single side effect yet, no fatigue and most importantly, no worries (cancer-related, anyway). One of the daily devotionals I'm reading ended with this quote in today's entry "I have a plan for you, and it is a good one". God is good, so why worry?

In 2nd grade, I collided with a car on my bicycle and was sent over the bars with a broken arm and clean laceration through my right cheek. The 23 stitches inside and 24 outside left a souvenir on my face that I've carried around for over 40 years. Early on, I was constantly reminded of it and self-conscious, but that faded over the years and I don't even notice it in the mirror now. But that scar remains as a reminder of my past.

Recently, I was "branded" with more permanent markings by my radiation oncology team. They offer free "tats" to all customers - small black dots on your chest and sides - to align your body for precise delivery of radiation. These signs will serve as reminders of my radiation treatment for the rest of my life, but as with the scar on my cheek, their prominence will fade with time. And rather than being self-conscious about them, I will wear them proudly, having successfully completed my radiation treatment (a little blue ribbon or small trophy would have sufficed!).

We all have permanent scars, both physical and emotional, that we carry through life. We can reflect on them each time we look in the mirror, or we can choose to place them in the background and reduce their importance of who we are. Life is precious, live it that way!

Extra Lift

As a pilot, extra lift is a welcome aspect on almost all flights, helping to quickly reach cruise altitude or to clear climbing terrain. When mtn biking or skiing, access to the mountain via chairlift helps cover more terrain and in my opinion, makes the experience more enjoyable.

I left our local mountain 2 weeks ago to focus on my treatment. Hanging up my skis and gear in mid-January just felt wrong, but as I've written, I'm committed to attack the cancer that chose to attack me. It would be another 10 months before I'd be back on snow - tough to accept, but so small in the overall scheme. Those 10 months turned into just over 10 days, as I got my "extra lift" today at Mt. Baldy!

After 2 sessions of radiation and 1 loooong session of chemotherapy, my energy levels are actually HIGHER than pre-treatment. Placebo-effect, maybe, but who cares? I was able to get back on skis and participate in a field avalanche course today (and tomorrow)! Wasn't in the cards two weeks ago, but 4 weeks ago, neither was cancer. So life right now is a daily evaluation, under the watchful eye of my Chief Medical Observer - CMO Rose. I felt great on the slopes of Mt Baldy and had the energy to dig snow pits, track beacons and of course take several runs. 

The other source of "extra lift" that I have received in abundance has been the prayer support that I have received from so many of you, including the supportive congregation at our new church in La Verne. Our Pastor has been so involved with Rose and I and continues to lift us both up in prayer. It doesn't hurt to have a brother, who will be a priest soon, pulling for you either. God's hand has been in all of this - from discovery to diagnosis to prognosis. I can say with with complete honesty that I have NO fear of cancer or the outcome I face, despite how that might sound. It is all part of His plan, though I pledge to do my part. I don't talk often about my religious beliefs - never have. That's my relationship with God and it's personal to me. But it became apparent that I was thanking family, friends, doctors, medicine - without giving thanks to God. He will provide the "extra lift" needed to get me through this.

 

Beginner's Luck

Day one of my treatment plan is in the books. Only 24 more radiation treatments and 4 chemotherapy sessions - yes, I AM counting! But that wasn't so bad. The chemotherapy was supposed to be harder in the beginning, while radiation was supposed to be easy early on. But wait:

Hair - check, just like before, half of my head is still covered
Nausea - nope, in fact I snacked on a sandwich while being infused
Fatigue - kidding? I worked through the 4 hours of chemo, went to an Avalanche class until 10:15pm and now I'm writing this blog at 3am. I could actually use a little fatigue!

So far so good! Wasn't thrilled with the 5.5 hours I was at City of Hope, but they say virgins take longer. Should be down to 2.5 hours by next Wed. And at least the longest part, chemotherapy, is only 1 day per week. The radiation is only a short 20 minutes - they should actually consider putting in a drive-through! Radiation is pretty cool - the sound it emits reminds me of an idling Harley. I'm thinking about wearing a helmet and chaps for my next session to get more from the experience!

So where am I after day one? Well, I've got a couple of close friends coming by early this morning to catch a quick bike ride before work and this weekend I'll be finishing my Avalanche class at Mt. Baldy. It's early, no doubt, but I'm cautiously resuming an active schedule until my body calls a timeout. My chief medical officer, Rose, is keeping tabs on just about everything I do, so I've got a short leash as long as I can prove I'm up to it.

Let's see if I can catch a few hours of shuteye before hitting the early morning trails.

 

'twas the night before....

Q: How do you prepare for the start of 5 weeks of radiation and chemotherapy?

A: Grab a great friend and go rip the local trails on your bike! 

With treatment starting at 9am tomorrow morning, it was either cram a ride into the early morning (too cold lately) and be rushed, or don the night lights and get the ride in tonight. My great friend, who underwent serious back surgery less than 10 months ago, came up to my local trail to take the ride with me. We got to a long steep section that I usually hit on the way back down the mountain, and this guy starts CLIMBING it! Haven't ridden up that trail in about 5 years, but it was "time to climb" and he knew it. I was smiling to the top, knowing full well that this trail, like cancer treatment, is just part of the ride. Sometimes you need to be uncomfortable to have true appreciation of life.

We both got back to the trailhead with big smiles - I was happy to be out on the trail knowing what I have to do in 12 hours, while he was reflecting on how well his riding has progressed since his surgery. This guy is a true inspiration to me - less than 4 months after his invasive back surgery, we were mtn biking, kayaking and even skied a few days this season before my ski season ended two weeks ago. He has amazing resolve to return to normal life - that must be where I get it!

My brother's family up in Reno sent me a care package today - you know, the standard cookies, cards, and an X Box! OK, not so standard - pretty amazing actually! I keep asking friends to come by and kick me off the couch if I wilt under the treatment, so they decided an electronic intervention was in order. Now I have my TRX and X Box to stay in shape - one more X and I might not be able to post on this site! I've got great fans up in Reno that I won't let down through this!

Big day tomorrow - work from 5-8a, City of Hope from 9-1 for radiation and chemo and then back to work before my Avalanche Class from 6-10p. What will kick my butt more, that schedule or the cancer treatment? Wish me well - I have too many following my progress to have anything less than a stellar day! Thanks to all of you for your prayers, messages and calls - you are amazing friends and your strength will carry me through.