Month: June 2016

Since my CT scan last Friday I’ve been waiting as anxiously as a student anticipates state testing or SAT results in revealing their future. Our schools don’t give letter grades anymore, they use terms more suited to a performance review like “meets expectations” or “exceeds expectations”. If Judy were to give my CT scan results a grade, it would be a solid B.

My oncologist is encouraged, maybe even a bit surprised.  The radiologist’s report of my scan is two dense pages of medical jargon but the most significant sentence to me was “No further evidence of metastatic disease within the chest, abdomen or pelvis.”    Basically, the primary tumor hasn’t grown any and the cancer hasn’t spread.  Doc told us when we started chemo that a result like this would be a win and this first scan is the most significant.  So, Mark 1, cancer 0 for this round. They did detect some spots in my spine which doc said were probably cancer before we started chemo but not visible on the first CT scan.  Now that the chemo has attacked the cancer, the bone is recovering which shows up on the scan.  He said it’s not a big deal, I have to go with his assessment.  The current plan is to continue with the same chemo regimen I’m currently on, same cocktail of drugs, once every two weeks and I got cycle 7 today.

I’ve said since day 0 that prayer and chemo will be what heals me.  A most excellent care giver, positive outlook, diet and maybe that magic water are helping too.  I could probably make a case that there are hundreds of people praying for me. While I doubt God treats prayers as a “Like” button, it boosts me to know people care about me and have been praying for the news we got today. Then again I know there are millions of cancer patients that were fervently prayed for whose story ended too soon. It’s all a mystery to me.

So today was a good day.  I got a paycheck today too but that’s another story.  On Father’s Day my brother-in-law Joe took me flying.  I’m flying even higher today.

Judy was able to take a deep breath and we both say,  Thank you God! and thanks to all of you too.

“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Last weekend I was camping with four friends I’ve known for 35+ years. We share decades of work life together at Tektronix, Credence, even going back to my college days.  This particular outing dates to the 70s, I was a latecomer, joining them late 80s.  Back in the day we invaded a remote, little used  forest service campground on the Metolius arm of central Oregon’s Lake Billy Chinook.  Recent years we’ve been ensconced at a generous friend’s rustic resort place on the lake. We’ve experienced our share of stupid, somehow that tapered off with age.

Having a “normal” weekend with friends of our longevity was special and they had gone to a lot of trouble to schedule this weekend around my chemo regimen.  We shared some frank talk about my cancer, but mostly just great conversation about cars, giant trucks and RV’s, our common work lives, hobbies, health care costs and our various aliments.  I told them I’d be writing about my weekend, they told me what happens at Round Butte stays at Round Butte.

Tomorrow morning I have a CT scan to determine the state of my cancer. We meet with my oncologist on Thursday where we expect to hear the results.  I’m feeling great and believe the prayer and chemo combination is working but I’m scared too.   I learned today that while I was off camping, a co-worker at Summit passed away after a six month battle with pancreatic cancer.   He worked in another group and I barely knew him but I had no idea he was fighting cancer.   Cancer sucks.

Today is my 62nd birthday, another trip around the Sun complete.  Three months to the day since my DX (cancer speak for diagnosis).  Will I live to see 63?  No one knows.

I’ve heard someone say the reason they wanted to be married was so there would be someone to share their life story.  Judy tells me Broadway phenomenon Hamilton ends with a similar sentiment.  Judy and I have been inseparable since we were 18, after that April 10, 1973 Gordon Lightfoot concert first date.  Fully 71% of our lives spent together.  We have stories aplenty. Given my situation,  there’s been lots of reminiscing. We built a house together, raised a family, took long road trips, enjoyed family vacations, pursued two careers where we were blessed to do work we enjoyed, navigated unemployment and volunteered too much.   No Pulitzer or Nobel (though I do have a patent) but I’ve had a great life so far.  All shared with my best friend (who can tell you the REAL stories). The only real time we’ve been apart is those accumulated 25 weeks worth of Cycle Oregon.

This week we finalized our wills, the “stuff” now has a plan.
Our real legacy is three awesome kids, their perfect spouses and two grand kids, the joy of our hearts.  The world is a better place because of our three children and we did that.  Whatever else I’ve done, good or bad, will be forgotten eventually, but my story will continue to be written through them.

So where am I?  Tuesday I have my final chemo treatment in this series of 6. Then a scan to see if we are having any effect.  Anecdotal evidence suggests the chemo must be working.  The issues I had before starting treatment have disappeared and any discomfort I have is caused by the chemo itself. Doc has told me he doesn’t expect chemo can cure me, just prolong me.  I’m so hoping he is wrong, I don’t want my story to end just yet.

My first birthday, outside the parsonage on Vashon island.