Save Sparkplug

Saw my oncologist today, prior to chemo round three.  Tracy and Keith are here from Virginia and they were with so I had my own entourage.  Doc asked lots of questions about how I was doing, then it was my turn.  I asked how aggressive my type of esophageal cancer is and what is the likelihood I’ll beat this.  He said the statistics would say most patients live 12 months after diagnosis.  It is not expected the chemo will cure my cancer, just keep it in check.  We’ll do another CT scan after my sixth round and if the tumor hasn’t grown or metastasized that would be success.  I hadn’t really realized that the CT scan I had prior to chemo provided the full “before” data, I’d thought it was just my lower abdomen.  So I’ve told some off you that the engineer in me wished we had before data for comparison and we will.  Either way, apparently I’ll start a second series of chemo as soon as the first is done if I can tolerate it.

The stark reality hit Judy pretty hard.  She Tracy and Keith are out on the deck drinking up my liquor.  Sharing today’s news with Katie and Peder wasn’t easy for me either.  Call it denial or faith but I believe I’ll beat this with prayer and chemo.  I feel better now than I have since October, rode my bike 25 miles last Sunday.  Statistics are meaningless to me, I’m a case of one and people DO beat this.  Why not me?  I asked if my riding Cycle Oregon was an insane idea.  Doc said not necessarily, my body will tell me what’s possible.  He told us we should do the things we want to do together, enjoy life as best we can and if need be, tweak the chemo schedule to accommodate some things.  We’re thinking that it’s time to make that Route 66 bucket list trip.

So, emotionally this was a shitty week.  Besides today’s news, on Monday we met with a lawyer to draft an irresponsibly long overdue will.   Friends, get your affairs in order for your family on your terms, not when facing something like this.  Then I find that after seven years as volunteer webmaster for Lutheran Men in Mission that they hired a developer to reformat my work to make it look more “modern” and essentially tossed me aside without any conversation or so much as a thank you.  Not nice.  Screwed over just like St. Matthew did to me after 8 years as webmaster for them.  Guess I’m done building sites for Lutheran organizations.

Our dear friends Susan and Gary had tee shirts made for us reading “Mark’s Pit Crew — savesparkplug.us” and delivered them with a basket of healthy goodies.  Thank you friends, I love them and you.

Time for some stupid movie therapy.  First up, Animal House, which we just finished.  “Bluto: Over? Did you say ‘over?’ Nothing is over until we decide it is!  Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?  Hell, no!”

That’s me, a bit confused but I won’t give up.

Here I am with Peder and Tom back in 2011 riding the original Deathmobile in Cottage Grove Oregon where the homecoming parade scene was filmed.  Love this movie!

As a kid growing up during the Cold War, I was enamored with the TV show The Man From U.N.C.L.E.   My grade school chums and I followed the weekly exploits of Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin intently, even to the point of having a club named O.L.E. (“Organization for the Liberation of Eastmont”, our lily white, upscale subdivision).  Curiously, David McCallum who played Kuryakin FIFTY !!! years ago, is now medical examiner Ducky on Judy’s favorite show, NCIS.  But I digress …

On the show, the U.N.C.L.E. nemesis was called T.H.R.U.S.H, which is currently my nemesis too.  Thrush is a fungal infection of the mouth and throat, fairly common in kids and old guys with immune systems compromised by chemo.  I’ve got a really good case of it.  It makes for painful swallowing so it’s difficult to eat.  My tongue is coated with white goo and feels like it’s been belt sanded.  I have a couple of meds that are helping, Nystatin to battle the fungus and “Mary’s Magic Mouthwash”, a Lidocaine rinse that numbs the mouth and throat.  Ugly details here.

This morning I found a bunch of brown hair in the tub strainer; we all know where this is headed.  Probably won’t be long and I’ll be rocking that stereotypical, shaved head, evil genius style like one of those T.H.R.U.S.H. guys.  At least I know who will cut off my hair when it’s time.

Overall, I’m feeling well.  Still going to work, out and about as I wish and living my life.  Given the plethora of possible side effects, mine are fairly manageable.  I expected they might accumulate over time, and they have, but consider it all a minor inconvenience in my battle to kill this cancer.

Wake up Grandpa!  Our awesome son-in-law Scott pulled an all nighter, making a spur of the moment road trip to drive Katie and grandkids Simon and Cecily the 643 miles from San Leandro last night arriving 5:30 Am.

I’m reminded of two road trips of our own to Montana to say goodbye to my grandpa Myrvold and uncle Bud whose cancer battles did not end the way I wanted.  I’m praying Katie and family weren’t feeling that sense of finality on this trip. Had only my second good cry since this battle started thinking about this.  Kenny Chesney sings “Everybody wants to go to heaven, nobody wants to go now”.  That’s my story now too.

Katie went to my infusion pump disconnect appointment and we had time for a great conversation.  Made a detour to drive her past the former Bess Kaiser Hospital where she was born, now Adidas US headquarters.   Was fun to pull thru the same driveway in my ’12 Camaro as where we brought her home in the ’76 Camaro almost 34 years ago.

We watched the Lego movie today so I have that theme song ear worm stuck in my head, but an altogether good description of our day.

Everything IS awesome.

Began round two of chemo yesterday, so far feeling fine other than electric fingers this morning making it “interesting” to type.  My spring schedule will be three days of chemo (Thursday in clinic for four hours, then two days at home with pump) every other week.  My job is to chill out, a challenge for a guy whose wife says “doesn’t idle well” especially with Oregon 80+, blue sky days in April.  Started reading The Cold Dish, the first book in the Longmire series at the clinic.  About half way in, I’m already hooked.  Then an afternoon visit to my happy place for a post session cheeseburger and home for some binge watching of Top Gear on Netflix.

This afternoon calls for some Buffet tunes and likely a nap on the deck.  I assert cancer comes with a license to chill.

One month has elapsed since I was told I have esophageal cancer. Frankly, I’d never heard of it, so was quite surprised to learn April is Esophageal Cancer Awareness month.  See http://www.ecaware.org/ to learn more.

As you can imagine, it’s been a roller coaster of emotions and experiences these weeks.  We’ve gotten beyond the initial “Oh God, is he going to die in a few weeks?” to accepting the challenge of dealing with one day at a time.  Most overwhelming is the love and support from every quarter.  Many decades removed from worrying about what others think of me,  I really didn’t realize so many people care about me.

Judy’s twin Janet, acting as the family emissary from up north, presented me a beautiful quilt yesterday.  I know how much labor and love goes into a quilt.  With contributions from all four sister-in-laws and mother-in-law Mavis, they made mine in record time.  It’s a happy yellow and has made for a couple of great naps already.

Right now my thoughts and prayers are occupied with Gary Knipling, our son-in-law Keith’s dad who lives in Virginia.  Gary suffered a serious stroke this past week.  It’s still early, and he seems to be doing well but it will be a challenge to fully recover.

Another reminder of the tenuous hold we have on life and health.  Gary has been an utltra-marathoner since before it was a thing, an amazingly athletic guy.  I’ve been healthy and fairly active too.   One day we were fine, the next,  life is turned upside down.

Live every day and take nothing for granted my friends.

Mark and Gary, building Keith’s shed back in the summer of 2009

Cue up Wille, I’m back in the saddle again …
My first off chemo week, I’m feeling really good, the day is glorious, and my bike was begging me to ride to work today.  No great accomplishment, it’s only a six mile round trip, but it felt great to do something “normal”. The only chemo side effect I’ve experienced so far is a form of peripheral neuropathy where my fingers tingle when I touch something cold.  Even with warm gloves, it felt like a mild electrical shock when gripping the bars.  I’m going to call it digit buzz.

My weight is in a realm not seen since we were first married and thus my riding kit fits quite comfortably.  However, any dream of being a professional cyclist is now dashed; I’m sure my life enhancing pharmacological cocktail wouldn’t pass the drug screening.  I pray my cancer fight will be as successful as Lance Armstrong’s, but I promise not to become an a**hole no matter what.

 

No matter what happens to me, I claim the promise of life after death though Jesus Christ, my Lord.  Some of you reading this share that faith, some question it and some deny it.  Fact is, none of us can prove our position.  Doubtful you came here today to read a sermon, but I’m not ashamed of the gospel.

Some day I’ll attempt to explain the basis of my faith. But today, we celebrate the completion of my 1st round of chemo with minimal side effects, seeing friends at church, some Oregon spring sunshine and enjoying time with our dear Peder and Lucy.

Happy Easter!

This morning we finally take the battle to the insurgent cells attacking my body.  Chemo, round 1, starting @ 10 AM.  CANCER, we’re coming for you.

Last night Floyd took me to the Trailblazers vs Mavericks game and I can’t express how much I enjoyed the diversion.  Just like old times, Blazers Win!  Floyd and I have shared some memorable Blazer games, way back to when we shared in a season ticket consortium.  Reminiscing last night, we recalled a quadruple overtime game with the Suns.  Looked it up this morning, that was 1997.  We have a long history together, as alums of Spokane Community College and working together at Tektronix, Credence and now, Summit.  Something like 36 years of contiguous friendship. During some of those development crunch years at Credence, I probably spent more hours of my life with Floyd than with my wife and family. Grateful for his friendship and yours, I really am a lucky man.

The L99 small-block in my Camaro (aka: Grandpa’s black Chevy) employs sophisticated multi-port  fuel injection to deliver 400 HP when I want it and 23 MPG when I can restrain myself.  My trusty, rusty, old ’89 Astro is equipped with earlier technology throttle body injection, essentially a computer controlled carburetor. Both get the job done.  A few hours ago I had my “PowerPort” (yes, that’s the actual product name) installed, so I’m single port injected now too.  Given a choice, I always seem to return to a machine analogy 😉

We are grateful for the physical and moral support of friends Marsha and Ed, with us at the hospital and the hundreds of you praying, texting and reading along.  Marsha was our chauffeur out to Kaiser Sunnyside for my first real surgery.  Prior, all the cutting and repairs done on me in 61 years were for some self inflicted trauma.

The surgeon said the actual install procedure went perfectly and took just 21 minutes.  The bigger bandage in my portrait is the port, the smaller one is where the catheter was inserted into my jugular.  The port is about the size of a quarter; it lives under the skin when healed and gives us a place to plug in the chemo needle for infusions without traumatizing my veins with an IV or similar. Given travel time, surgical prep and recovery, it was a six hour day.  Just woke from a magnificent nap and so far, no pain, not even discomfort.

I’m almost ready to engage this dragon, cancer; my power port gets started up Thursday with first chemo.  There’s no coincidence it’s shaped like a little heart.   I love you all.