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.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
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!
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.
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!
Thursday, February 14, 2013
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!
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!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
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.....
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.....
Sunday, February 10, 2013
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.
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.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
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
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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!!
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
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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!!
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
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!
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!
Sunday, February 3, 2013
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!
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!
Friday, February 1, 2013
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!!
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!!
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