Holy Reindeer Grail

This last summer my family and I started going to what I would call a 'second-tier' amusement park. When I was younger I remember going to a traveling carnival that passed through the forested area of Pennsylvania that my Mom's side of the family is from. That carnival was so unique to me - the site was placed at a meadow in the heavy forest, which I remember contributing all the more to the mystery because the night was even blacker for it and the lights even brighter. Me being the kid I was, I spent equal amounts of time taking in the usual carny amusement rides, food, games, animal acts and rides, and sideshow curiosities as I did sneaking under the flaps of tents, under floors of stages, and trying to find other mischief to get into.

The amusement park we now go to isn't a carnival by any means. It is closer to a carnival, however, in price and rides than the local Six Flags. And it is richer in history and, for us, richer in memories. Courtnie just loves it! It is such a different venue than, say, Six Flags. We run into people there who have stories that are very cool - like the story told by the carousel operator of the woman who has ridden that ride every year since it was installed - 1908.

I mention the carnival and our amusement park visits of last fall because on one of our recent times Courtnie convinced Kimberly and I that she "really, really" wanted to ride The Spider. We paid money to do this mind you. We excitedly waited in line and then strapped ourselves in.

You know those times when you sit there and think to yourself - Did I actually agree to and sign up for this? Am I paying money for this or is someone paying me? And, basically, what was I thinking? Well, at that moment, that ride on that day was one of those times - picture Courtnie and I, her very unhappy to be there, me helpless to do anything for her... there seemed to be no redeemable value to the whole thing. CJ cried and I did my best to comfort her. Then, finally, it was over.

The last few days have so far been that ride for me. This second round of chemotherapy has left me in pretty bad shape but I feel sure that what I'm experiencing truly could have been worse and is for others. As usual, the hospital stay wasn't bad except for the inability to get any real sleep. Each day became increasingly harder, however. Dr. Lee, on discharging me Friday morning, said that my Methotrexate levels were remaining high and he would be prescribing me an additional amount of the rescue agent - Leucovorin. On Friday I also received my Neulasta shot, this time in the arm tricep, in order to start the boost of my white blood cells to aid in recovery and immunity.

The "ride" really began after we got home and pretty much was bad enough to keep me from writing this until today, Sunday. I'm drawing strength from the fact that Courtnie, almost immediately after getting off of The Spider ride, turned to me and Kimmie and said "I want to do it again, but not today." Although you will not hear me say I want to do it again, I know that this ride needs to be repeated - and I'm thankful for a reprieve before I have to do course B again. For those who care about the components of this post-hospital ride: I definitely felt nauseous to the point that this time I took the pills for it, general flu-like symptoms but this time I didn't have a pre-existing cold to complicate things which was good, and lower back pain that I almost decided was significant enough to return to the hospital for. The Methotrexate can induce hepatitis and I didn't want to mess around too long with that. I debated only because I knew that I was taking the rescue agent and thought I'd give things an opportunity to subside.

Which brings me to a ceramic cup that I count among my favorites. On that cup are displayed several reindeer and the cup is clearly supposed to be a holiday cup, even though I use it year round. That cup, last night, became the 'Holy Reindeer Grail.' Later tellings of the actual Holy Grail story hold that object as a symbol of God's grace. Last night my Reindeer Grail was good enough and no less appreciated. My magic cup was full to the brim with green tea and within moments of consuming it the pain in what I think was my kidneys subsided and was gone.

During this time of struggle over Friday and Saturday I had the experience of reflection and quasi-dreaming that seems to go hand-in-hand for me with some trials and tribulations - particularly those involving lack of sleep or pharmaceuticals. Nothing like the fun of reading Stephen King's Pet Cemetery while on whatever they gave me to fix a bout with mono in high school, but that'd be hard to top! It is so interesting to me how there are boundless examples of traditions in which practices designed to fatigue or stress out a person are the mechanism used to create growth - be it mental, physical or spiritual. I think back to some of the unique experiences of my own life - a high-stress military exercise in ROTC training with 72 hours of sleep deprivation, a four-day 'vision quest' with the Jicarilla Apache Nation, the 27 miles in the open water from the Catalina Islands to the mainland, biking the length of Baja California. It is in those times when you really get clarity. And chemotherapy definitely fits the bill as well.

I don't think my reflection this time around is that interesting - really just too far out there in most regards. I suppose if I was the type who understood psychoanalysis or wanted to put a lot of stock in what is behind those self-reflective thoughts - it would have potential. But I'm not. What did strike me this time was the mental picture that came to me of watching the shards of something that was once whole, falling toward me from the sky above. I understood that those pieces were of something I held to be important. As I thought of it I decided that that thing was my life. And I am not thinking of that in the narrow terms of my ability to breathe and move but more of that more important concept of your life being not just you but everything about you - your relationships, your past and future, your successes and failures, all of that stuff that woven together is - no matter if you were cared for by only yourself or the entire world - an integral part of the flow of time.

And, of course, because both my brain cells lined up at that particular moment I asked myself what this meant even though I'm not one to delve into the "deep" meaning of things. And I decided this. First of all, a lot of broken things heal to something stronger than the "original." Second, I didn't survive 38 years without screwing up and, importantly, neglecting to fix mistakes. This chemotherapy has opened up an interesting opportunity to have myself broken, to hold on to those things which are good and make them stronger, and to see ultimately some of the things that need to be fixed. That said, I'm thankful even if the price of this passage is a little steep and the ride uncomfortable.

All Systems Still Go

Just a quick note to say that all continues to go well. I should be released from hospital Friday morning.

Some funny (to me) things I found...

Once again, back into the breach

I sat at Dr. Lee's office on Monday to start this week of chemotherapy. But before I get into my "up to now" as I type this on Tuesday and begin this week's hospital stay, let me go back to where I left off - which was Friday. As instructed by Dr. Lee, I took it easy in preparation for my bumped up chemo schedule.

On Saturday I officially became, according to Courtnie, the 'Bald Eagle.' Yep, lost my hair. Of course, that's like half a bald tennis ball losing it's fuzz so now my head is pretty much just shinier as opposed to less hairy. Now I'm even more aerodynamic and it made me long for the days when I used to do a lot of open-water swimming off the coast of California for some reason. And of course that made me think not only of the follie of swimming in the world reknown "Red Triangle," so named for the number of shark attacks in that particular swimming hole, but of Okayama Restaurant in San Jose, California because any excuse I can have to think about Japanese food and sushi... I digress.

My time in San Jose was where I had the awesome experience, however, of learning about Japanese culture and its people. And where I acquired my love of sushi and Japanese food. Initially, after Santa Clara University, I worked for Sumitomo Bank in commercial lending and learned a great deal about Japanese tradition - much of which is rooted in business customs. Mr. Oka, my mentor and trainer, was instrumental in teaching me about the customs surrounding Japanese dining - it was an amazing learning experience! For me, it was definitely one of those moments when I had to stretch my willingness to try totally new things - nobody would believe it now, but it was a leap to try sushi, for example. Some of that was made easier by Japanese whisky - spelt whisky because it follows the Scotch convention and does not tend toward the Bourbon whiskey.

That time was followed by a decade, more or less, of working for the Japanese-American law firm of Fujinaga & Oshika in the heart of San Jose's Japantown. Again, my experience is something I would not have traded for anything.

On Sunday, Kimberly, CJ and I went for another hike - which was awesome as usual. This hike was a little longer than last week, probably almost 3.5 miles and a little more challenging terrain. Unfortunately, I forgot the camera as I frequently do, so no pictures. This was not the rock climbing sort of hike like the one we had last weekend so CJ was mainly challenged by walking the distance and the climb. Which translated to Daddy carrying her on his shoulders for the last little bit. Was fun carrying CJ but she almost choked me out several times - she is convinced I will drop her for some reason... maybe we need to rethink her karate lessons... ha!

This is CJ and I on last week's hike. We all agreed that last week's hike was the better of the two.

That brings us to Monday, sitting there at Dr. Lee's office getting my Rituxin. Have to paint the picture first of what my Monday of "Chemo Week" is like. First, we arrive at Cancer Care Center of Thornton, of which Dr. Lee and Dr. Rovira's practice is a component. My apologies for doing this every time I mention some of the great doctors I have had the fortune to recruit to my team - but Dr. William Lee is awesome and if anyone is in need of his services I recommend him without reservation.

My beloved Kimmie as we go in to Dr. Lee's on Monday, standing in front of those offices.

Preparing to access my port... basically disinfecting me here.

Here the port location is being frozen to minimize the pain of the hookup...

And here I am 'hooked up' with port in place and waiting for connection to the chemo...

And here are some of the key member's of my team at Dr. Lee's office... Cashew and my nurses Mary Beth and Jodie...

In the the picture with Cashew in it, you can kinda get a sense of the area I sit in for Monday's treatment at Dr. Lee's office. This particular Monday was a pretty full house, not typical, with maybe a dozen people sitting in the same general area that I was sitting in to receive their chemotherapy. This particular time I overheard someone who I could not actually see talking to people with them there at the office and then on their cell phone.

As one can imagine, people diagnosed with cancer have so many different reactions and as the people watcher and eavesdropper that I am it is fascinating to see and hear. I read an article in Psychology Today (http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/pto-19990501-000019.html) in which Mount Zion Cancer Center at the University of California at San Francisco, devised 10 steps, helping patients face cancer. I thought to myself how different everyone is in their way of coping with cancer. The person I heard was focused in an entirely different way than I am, for example.

And I don't know what type of cancer or prognosis they have so I won't really say anything beyond that it is interesting to hear and observe others who are on the same ship I am contemplating whether they are on the Queen Mary or the Titanic. Truly, I want to say we that are diagnosed with cancer are most definitely on the Titanic. Difference is, we've been given the news that the ship is going down somewhere up ahead - some will go down with her, some will find themselves snagged out of the freezing waters and saved from certain death, and some will find themselves in lifeboats and rescued, and some will find themselves on the wrong side of the ocean surface still aboard the ship.

There truly is no telling who will be in which category. But knowing is a good part of the battle... the prognosis for some is really good - they not only know but they additionally have berths right next to a lifeboat (good chance they are going to be rescued); for some the prognosis isn't as good - their berth is deep in the ship so they need to work hard and make their fortune by maybe camping out near the lifeboat; for some the prognosis really isn't good - they are fully aware of the iceberg but somehow they find themselves locked in a room down near the ship's boilers (but these people have the will to survive and they are working on their escape, and some will survive); the last group is the one so interesting, but sad, to watch - they are the one's that have decided to lock themselves in their own berth with no intention of leaving because they either have convinced themselves that there is no danger or that there is no hope of rescue (some of these people are pried out at the last minute in spite of themselves).

Fortunately for me, and I'm always thankful passing each hurdle, Monday's chemo went smoothly. The biggest complication being the Benadryl they put in me to counteract an allergic reaction that is possible with Rituxin. Benadryl makes me pretty sleepy. But I'll take sleepy over an allergic reaction anytime.

Fact of the matter is, Monday's session would have been worth whatever side-effect may have occurred because Kimmie brought me Japanese food from another local favorite - Tokyo Teriyaki. Wasn't sushi, but was teriyaki chicken and veggies and tasted great! For those who are missing it... Japanese food and sushi will always be mentioned on this here blog thingy.

In fact, we will just get it out of the way... Tuesday my beautiful Kimmie brought me sushi for lunch... see...

And backing up, here I am getting hooked up around 11 AM by the awesome Reagon - my and Kimmie's favorite chemo nurse to date at St. Anthony's. And me with my bald head after the IV placement just prior to that hookup to the chemo.

That IV placement, some may recall, was rough last time I was in the hospital. That last time was due to being dehydrated from surgery, etc. This time around there were no problems - still isn't the most pleasant thing in the world but it went well and was quick. The nurse that did it was Gordon and he is normally an emergency room nurse so he has done a couple IV's. The attachment for my port was left in from yesterday so I didn't have to get re-"accessed" as they call it. Being accessed and deaccessed are the terms for putting in and removing the needle/barb that goes into the port. Needless to say, I appreciated that.

Checking into the hospital is always funny... they want you there about 7AM (after last time I figured out that 8AM is better because early doesn't gain a person anything but more waiting time). Then you are escorted up to the chemo ward and basically sit in your room until sometime after 10AM because they can't get the chemo drugs made any sooner than that. So we, Kimmie and I, spend that time sanitizing the room (hospitals are, oddly enough, some pretty germ-ridden environments), and I set myself up for my own little party with a speaker system, the laptop, snacks, pictures, etc.

Last time around I had a HUGE room. This time around I was thankful to find that I'd been assigned to a "regular" room which is significantly smaller. For those that have ever had to spend time with a rolling IV stand, you know what I mean when I say that it is nice to be a few steps from the sink, bathroom and stuff in the room.

As I finish up this entry, it is almost 9PM. Things have gone well. One of the remotest side-effects for this drug is a coma - safe to say, I'm still awake and aware of things. I'm not, in fact, feeling any side-effects today. Have been drinking water like you would not believe, which really helps. Have also been out walking - unfortunately, this time my IV stand is not as good as the one I had last time around and as a result I'm not walking other floors of the hospital much. But I've made my loops on the floor I'm on and have visited another patient of Dr. Lee's who is undergoing the exact same regimen for a different variety of cancer as I have. Was nice to see that he is also doing well, and a further testament to the measures that Dr. Lee put in place to manage our side-effects. I discovered a cardiac reahab gym on the first floor... my mission tomorrow is to use my remaining charm to convince someone to let me use the equipment in there. I'm doubtful about my chances of success, but I can be a real pest so maybe I'll succeed.

As mentioned before, I always anticipate and prepare for the worst, hopefully I will continue to be blessed and have the fortune of not experiencing "the worst." Sounds weird, but I'm thankful that I discovered this at a younger age because I have no doubt that it is making a difference in my body's ability to cope with the havoc that is occurring inside me.

In closing today, I've always been struck by the lack of desire to report good news by the Press. It is amazing, for example, how journalists out and out REFUSE to report the amazing and heartwarming events and positive stories that are occurring because of the efforts of our soldiers abroad. I just don't get that. Regardless of a person's position on the war, etc. - why would we not demand as a society that the reporting is balanced. Seems like news is primarily focused on vilifying everything and inciting discontent in the public at large.

That speaks of the attitudes of those institutions and those who participate in perpetuating or emphasizing negativity. Lincoln once said, "I've come to realize that people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be." That leads me to recall two times that Charles Swindol said something about attitude and I'll close with those two quotes:

The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes.

I believe the single most significant decision I can make on a day-to-day basis is my choice of attitude. It is more important than my past, my education, my bankroll, my successes or failures, fame or pain, what other people think of me or say about me, my circumstances, or my position. Attitude keeps me going or cripples my progress. It alone fuels my fire or assaults my hope. When my attitudes are right, there is no barrier too high, no valley too deep, no dream too extreme, no challenge too great for me.

Thanks to those who have written, called and visited. And thank you to those that are just out there living life to the fullest - I'm thankful for, inspired, and boosted by you every single day.

There is news on a fundraising effort for me and I'll be putting information in the sidebar about that based on the unanimous recommendations that I do that. I won't beat around the bush, this is an expensive undertaking and I will go so far as to ask for help from anyone who wants to. Truly I believe that most anyone faced with some similar circumstance is consumed with the anxiety of leaving a legacy of debt for their family - regardless of the ultimate outcome of the event that causes that debt, it is there.

Friends of Hutch is the entity that I am working on developing that in the future will be in place to provide assistance to Fire Fighters, Police Officers, and Emergency Medical Service Personnel, throughout the United States, who have been diagnosed with cancer. This time around that assistance is sought for me and I can't wait for the time that I am well and can be involved in and the catalyst behind those efforts. For now, with regard to the sidebar information on this fundraising effort, the thanks and credit goes to Bill for thinking of it and organizing it. And already there are a long list of people to thank for supporting that effort in many ways - THANK YOU ALL. And thank you to all of those who took the time to tell me why I should not shy away from recognizing and mentioning those efforts being made on my behalf.

Schedule Change

The balance of this week has gone really well. On Thursday I was finally able to get back to work, which was really great. I've said this a hundred times to people I know - if you aren't doing what you absolutely love doing, start working your way towards that thing you want to do. It is worth every effort once you arrive at the work you love to do.

Today I met with Dr. Lee for my end-of-week review. My blood work improved throughout this week and I'm feeling pretty normal. This was all great news to me, as it was to Dr. Lee. The upside of this great news is that my second round of chemotherapy is now going to begin this Monday, a week earlier than previously planned.

As Dr. Lee asked me about whether that was okay or not, it struck me as funny. What other possible item could I have going on that could be of some greater priority than to follow his recommendation? I was tempted to say - "Well, let me check my calendar..." but I dare not mess with the man that is doing such a good job keeping me feeling halfway decent through this ordeal.

I've told myself that this hospital visit is going to be different than the last - which is by no means to say that the last wasn't good. Going into this hospital stay already promises to be better - other than the remnants of some chest congestion working its way out, I'm not sick or just coming down with a cold this time; and unlike last time I won't be fully dehydrated because of a surgery on the first day; and unlike last time, my muscles don't feel like they've been beat with a sledgehammer.

This cycle is the 'Course B' of the R-HyperCVAD regimen. That means I will be given the following drugs:

Rituxan - depletes B cells; same drug I had at the beginning of Course A.
Methotrexate - is an antimetabolite and antifolate drug.
Leucovorin - used as a 'rescue' agent to prevent excessive cellular damage by methotrexate.
Sodium Bicarbonate - used to produce a mild metabolic alkalosis, desirable when administering large quantities of methotrexate.
Cytarabine - belongs to a group of drugs known as antimetabolites. It resembles a normal cell nutrient needed by cancer cells to grow. The cancer cells take up cytarabine, which then interferes with their growth.

This next week's plan will be the same as the last time - Monday I will do the Rituxan at Dr. Lee's office and then go home to sleep. Early Tuesday morning I will check in at St. Anthony's North hospital and I will be sprung again on Friday.

This Course B is reportedly a bit more challenging than Course A. I'll be soon letting you know. As always, I appreciate everyone's support and love checking this blog and e-mail for messages!

I had said that I hope to make this hospital stay different than the last. I have several things in mind:

1.) I plan to get out and walk around a lot more... always tough when you are tethered to an IV pump but hopefully I will get out more this time.

2.) I didn't get out and visit other patients on the floor last time like I want to. This time I plan to do that.

3.) I am going to campaign to have sushi and Japanese food smuggled in for at least every lunch and dinner. As I mentioned before, this just has some sort of miracle effect on me.

4.) No television this time - I'll probably watch a few of my favorite movies on the laptop - Hannibal, Chronicles of Riddick, Blade, The Silence of the Lambs.

This weekend I may not post anything else. I hope to have as much fun as possible - maybe another hike. Updates will definitely be regular starting Monday however.

Revised "About Me"

My "About Me" used to start with the words "I have mantle cell lymphoma"... and at the time I thought it was a good introduction. But it was sitting in the subconscious for a time and apparently the censors and editors were hard at work because I found the following in my mental inbox as the revision.

About me. As I mentioned, I had begun this introduction before with an introduction of another warrior facing MCL. And those words rang true. I felt that it was exactly true, exactly right. As has happened throughout my life, I was to stand corrected – this time by my own ‘self.’ As I mentioned, in the back of my mind, on that smallest burner of the stove, what I had decided to say “about me” was simmering away and becoming something that I could really serve up and say was an accurate reflection of who I am.

I love the Shelby Supercars Ultimate Aero. It claims the distinction of ‘World’s Fastest Production Car’ and I think the Cobalt Blue color option would best fit with my skin tone. But the fact that it is the ‘World’s Fastest Production Car’ doesn’t tell you what it is. And that is the problem I ran into with my previous introduction because ‘mantle cell lymphoma’ does not give any more credit where credit is due than the title claimed by that car. In the car’s case, it doesn’t tell you how it came to be the title holder. In my case, it undoes who I am and makes my title ‘guy with mantle cell lymphoma.’

I said credit where credit is due. And where is credit due? I believe that having a cancer causes a person to think in ways that many don’t bother to. And I would have, before knowing I had this cancer, erroneously said that it isn’t really necessary to think in those ways. That is, why think about what has brought you to where you are and shaped you into who you are? Why care about what you did today? What value is it to consider the worth of those things and people and ideas that surround you?

But certain events change you. I thought I had a good grasp on that before – I’ve been in the helpless position of watching a friend die of injuries which I might only have been able to help if I’d been a surgeon, I’ve been involved with children that were victims of abuse that I would not believe possible for another human to inflict or of a child to be able to sustain, I’ve been part of the decision-making process that provided the order for others to carry out acts resulting in the deaths of other human beings, I’ve been a stranger telling someone that their loved one would not be coming home. I’ve also been the one standing in the right place to rescue a drowning person at the beach, and to help a veterinarian with a complicated horse birth, and to have been told by someone I hardly knew that something I didn’t even realize I’d said completely changed who they became. I’m not saying anything that is unique to me – nobody lives in a vacuum and nobody lacks similar experiences. But I can say that I didn’t ever really think about much more than what do I need to get done around the house, what do I need to get done at work this week, and what am I going to do with my family on my next days off. Stuff like that. I never reflected much on life which, most importantly, meant that I never truly appreciated the people, places, ideas and things that filled it.

Which really ends up being the answer to the ‘Who am I’ of this introduction. Who I am is defined by those people, places, ideas and things that have thus far filled my life – same as everyone else. I’m not the guy with MCL – I’m the guy in that song “Who Am I” by the Casting Crows that continues to struggle with religious ideas but found out that I could still be a believer and draw from that faith in spite of myself, I’m the guy whose pre-kindergarten friend Garvey taught him that there is no value to evaluating a person on any basis other than how they are as a person, I’m the guy whose parents taught him how to live on little and then with more, I’m the guy who was afforded extraordinarily unique opportunities in education, in service to my Country, and in careers. I’m the guy who found his one true love, married her and in the process gained a family whose end of generosity and kindness seems to have no limit. These are but a few significant examples of those defining things.

So, yes, one of the latest defining moments has been a diagnosis of MCL. But to describe myself in some sort of biography just doesn’t seem interesting to me, I’d bore you before we got to my fourth birthday. Like that Shelby Supercars Ultimate Aero that captures my imagination – who I am isn’t even about “me,” it’s about all the experiences, memories and people of my life. Those are the engineers who created the parts that together make me.

Strength and Virtue

I've received many very kind comments lately. I haven't had the opportunity to respond individually and I wanted to just say thank you. Several of the comments speak of courage, strength, hope, and faith and it occurred to me that I read something at the end of last year that I added to the 'guideposts' of my life that I wanted to share.

Before quoting that piece, however, let me say that in addition to missing my work - I've missed the people I work with. This is relevant to those comments on courage, strength, hope, faith... because those people who I am fortunate enough to work with and around are my regular examples of this. After some unavoidable delays, tomorrow looks to be my day for going back to
work in a restricted capacity. It will be great to be there even if I can't get out in a patrol car.

Quick update on me. Over the last few days I've been steadily bouncing back from the "low" I was at on Friday. Monday and Tuesday my blood tests showed positive increases over the previous test and I have felt correspondingly better. On Sunday we went for an awesome hike in the Boulder foothills on what was a gorgeous day. Courtnie was beside herself because she lives to hike trails and, more importantly, climb rock formations. It always does my heart good to hear strangers say something to the effect of she is an amazing climber - particularly as she climbs right past them to a peak that is 100 feet off the ground. How awesome it is to watch children who have no sense that something should concern them. And how thankful I am that there are professional climbers because Courtnie will be shortly climbing beyond my limited abilities. Unfortunately our hike was not without injuries - Kimmie falling on a slick piece of trail and donating some skin from her hand and Courtnie discovering a cactus hidden in some grass. In spite of that, we had a few hours of that untradeable sort of time that my recovery caused us to have to delay and it was awesome!

The thing I said I wanted to share comes from the Appendix of the book On Combat: The Psychology and Physiology of Deadly Conflict in War and in Peace, by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman. That Appendix A is entitled "Erasmus' Twenty-Two Principles on How to Be Strong While Remaining Virtuous in a Dangerous World," from the Enchridion Militis Christiani: A Guide for the Righteous Protector, by Erasmus, 1503, extracted by Sergeant Chris Pascoe, Michigan State Police.

First Rule
INCREASE YOUR FAITH.
Even if the entire world appears mad.

Second Rule
ACT UPON YOUR FAITH.
Even if you must undergo the loss of everything.

Third Rule
ANALYZE YOUR FEARS.
You will find that things are not as bad as they appear.

Fourth Rule
MAKE VIRTUE THE ONLY GOAL OF YOUR LIFE.
Dedicate all your enthusiasm, all your effort, your leisure as well as your business.

Fifth Rule
TURN AWAY FROM MATERIAL THINGS.
If you are greatly concerned with money you will be weak of spirit.

Sixth Rule
TRAIN YOUR MIND TO DISTINGUISH GOOD AND EVIL.
Let your rule of government be determined by the common good.

Seventh Rule
NEVER LET ANY SETBACK STOP YOU IN YOUR QUEST.
We are not perfect - this only means we should try harder.

Eighth Rule
IF YOU HAVE FREQUENT TEMPTATIONS, DO NOT WORRY.
Begin to worry when you do not have temptation, because that is a sure sign that you cannot distinguish good from evil.

Ninth Rule
ALWAYS BE PREPARED FOR AN ATTACK.
Careful generals set guards even in times of peace.

Tenth Rule
SPIT, AS IT WERE, IN THE FACE OF DANGER.
Keep a stirring quotation with you for encouragement.

Eleventh Rule
THERE ARE TWO DANGERS: ONE IS GIVING UP, THE OTHER IS PRIDE.
After you have performed some worthy task, give all the credit to someone else.

Twelfth Rule
TURN YOUR WEAKNESS INTO VIRTUE.
If you are inclined to be selfish, make a deliberate effort to be giving.

Thirteenth Rule
TREAT EACH BATTLE AS THOUGH IT WERE YOUR LAST.
And you will finish, in the end, victorious!

Fourteenth Rule
DON'T ASSUME THAT DOING GOOD ALLOWS YOU TO KEEP A FEW VICES.
The enemy you ignore the most is the one who conquers you.

Fifteenth Rule
WEIGH YOUR ALTERNATIVES CAREFULLY.
The wrong way will often seem easier than the right way.

Sixteenth Rule
NEVER ADMIT DEFEAT EVEN IF YOU HAVE BEEN WOUNDED.
The good soldier's painful wounds spur him to gather his strength.

Seventeenth Rule
ALWAYS HAVE A PLAN OF ACTION.
So when the time comes for battle, you will know what to do.

Eighteenth Rule
CALM YOUR PASSIONS BY SEEING HOW LITTLE THERE IS TO GAIN.
We often worry and scheme about trifling matters of no real importance.

Nineteenth Rule
SPEAK WITH YOURSELF THIS WAY:
If I do what I am considering, would I want my family to know about it?

Twentieth Rule
VIRTUE HAS ITS OWN REWARD.
Once a person has it, they would not exchange it for anything.

Twenty-first Rule
LIFE CAN BE SAD, DIFFICULT, AND QUICK: MAKE IT COUNT FOR SOMETHING!
Since we do not know when death will come, act honorably everyday.

Twenty-second Rule
REPENT YOUR WRONGS.
Those who do not admit their faults have the most to fear.

-------

Footnote: I've removed the survey I had on the blog because I had nothing but responses that encouraged me to include information on any fundraising events intended to help me and my family. When I have information I will include the contact information for those who want to help. Related to this, I know there are many fellow MCLers now following this blog and I hope I do our common challenge a service. If you are aware of resources or have had success with any means of minimizing the impact our diagnosis has on us - please share. Yes, I want this selfishly for myself but I would also guess that more than just my own self could benefit by having those ideas gathered in 'comments' here or in some other place. And although financial burden is on my mind, I think any collection of information would be helpful to all. If it doesn't exist already in someone else's blog or website, I could make a sidebar on this blog listing 'Resources for MCLers' as it were which would be helpful to all. Just a thought from the peanut gallery.

Awesome Surprise! No, I still have MCL

I cannot believe that I didn't mention this. After my appointment on Friday my awesome Kimberly gave me the greatest comfort thing I could ask for in these days - sushi! We went to this great sushi stand at Flatirons Mall and got a couple of orders of California Roll with extra wasabe and no ginger and I was in heaven on earth! Thank you Super Wife! Dr. Lee said I can only eat the cooked sushi during my appointment - which is fine by me because California Roll is my most commonly ordered variety. I was so happy with this surprise - I could eat that every single day and never get sick of it. And I couldn't believe how much better just eating that made me feel - psychological I'm sure but it has lasted into the next day and, again, I can't thank Kimmie enough or Mom and Dad Bone enough for allowing us to go while they had little CJ for a bit longer.

Following the Rules

The last few days I've continued with my daily blood tests. I've actually been regaining energy and the ability to stay up and interact with people. I am very encouraged by this in part because I miss work and look forward to contributing there, albeit not doing my regular duties. My blood counts have however been diminishing as the week has gone by. Dr. Lee's comment on that was - "So you decided to follow the rules," meaning that this drop in white blood cell count and neutrophils, a specific type of white blood cells, is anticipated. As of Friday I was officially suffering from nuetropenia.

This isn't a big deal - means that I am at an additional increased risk over the next few days of getting sick due to a super low immunity system. Dr. Lee is more concerned with the germs that we all have inside ourselves making me sick and that is why I'm taking a slew of drugs that are anti-bacterial, anti-fungal and anti-viral. Dr. Lee's advice being to spread the word and make sure that all those around me wash hands super-frequently so that doorknobs, dishes, et cetera that we all share are not contaminated with germs. Dr. Lee additionally confirmed that I'm recovering from bronchitis.

Beyond the blood work and meeting with Dr. Lee I got another dose of chemo and steroids at today's appointment. The chemo was Vincristine which I also had a dose of in my first hospital stay. The side-effects of this one are manageable for me so I don't anticipate significant problems. The steroids are supposed to probably have me a little wound up over the next couple of days and then subside.

Importantly, the results of the bone marrow biopsy and aspiration are somewhat inconclusive even after some very extensive tests, including and beyond a FISH test. However, the specialist that did those tests is sure there is mantel cell lymphoma involvement in the bone marrow, so I am officially now a Stage 4. I will therefore be meeting in the weeks ahead with a stem cell transplant specialist to discuss the advantages of doing a stem cell (bone marrow) transplant. Discussion will be around the benefits of doing it and when it might be best to do it, among other things. At this point, the transplant route is just under consideration - it will be a choice to be made once we have information and various opinions. The change to Stage 4 from Stage 3 does not change anything significantly in my case - same chemotherapy plan is used, same belief in the ultimate possible outcome is maintained by me and my oncologist.

Everyone has a different take on the necessity or benefits of the transplant in addition to the chemotherapy. Problem right now seems to be in the fact that there is not validated, conclusive evidence one way or the other that a transplant is significantly or additionally beneficial. Nor is there agreement on whether that option is best implemented when the cancer is put into remission the first time or on a relapse, if one occurs. Unfortunately, much of the progress and treatments currently used in the fight against MCL are "new" and don't have a long enough track record to say - "this is the way!" Fortunately, however, the progress that has been made in very recent years is amazing and promising. I meant to and will be adding to the blog an information resource that pulls together my understanding of the current state of affairs with MCL.

I apologize for not doing that yet - been a little busy. I'm obviously heavily vested and interested in knowing the current, particularly validated, information. That said, what I intend to put together and maintain will be something current and accurate as I see it. I think even that information will be slightly less optimistic than the "right now" reality because I am going to ignore what is not available to every single person with MCL - i.e. although I may mention trials and new drugs, those aren't a reality until they have enough validity and results to be in the mainstream of MCL treatment options. Even so, I'm sorry I haven't done it sooner because I know that those that have done your own searches have likely found a huge spectrum in particular with regard to what a MCL diagnosis means, summed up frequently in the words "median survival."

I'm sorry also because I'm aware of many who locked on to things like "2 to 3 year survival" and many others who locked on to other information that this can currently be "cured." Neither of those statements is true as of this posting - the "median survival" of MCL is currently thought to be 6 years - I'll go into that in my information section because "median survival" is probably not what many think it is, thankfully. Median survival is particularly, in my case as things stand today, not something to get too wrapped up in with regard to me.

With regard to cure - they are working hard on it. It is a cancer that is so rare, so historically bad, and so specific that it has captured the attention of some great funding sources that are allowing incredible people to work on this unique cancer. That is the source of the amazing things that are happening in MCL research and statements that this cancer is curable. Obviously, I have a selfish reason for believing that it can be cured right now; but I think it would be wrong for me to lead anyone who knows me to believe there is a cure today - isn't so, not for everyone with MCL. Cure in the scientific world is a difficult term anyways - if a treatment is found to put some high percentage of people into what is called complete remission for over 5 years, some call that a cure. And that is understandable, where do you as a scientist draw that line? Is it a cure only if all those who did that treatment live long enough to die of some other cause - old age, accident, whatever?

Fortunately, my oncologist means I'm CURED because he and I will know each other when we are senior citizens. So, it will take some time to complete it but I will post and update that information section as I put it together until it is complete. Then I will maintain it so that it is current. As is common with many cancer survivors - I will be involved in a, or form my own, means to support the efforts toward the cure of cancer. I already know that part of that support that I hope to contribute is to "clean up" the information that is out there and minimize the unfortunate experience had by those diagnosed now with MCL, and their families and friends, of looking up "mantle cell lymphoma" and having even three-year-old information come up. This is not unlike believing that there is some similarity between a cutting edge computer made in 2004 and one made in 2008 - MCL research is fast-paced, being current is truly important.

I'll say that this disease seems to have a large degree of variance from individual to individual. In this blog I'm speaking to and updating my personal circle of friends and family first and, as such, this blog is tailored to my experience and feelings about "our" future - i.e. that of myself and those that are connected to me. So, for me with MCL, things are optimistic. This is for a number of reasons, not limited to but including:

• I'm younger than those 'typically' diagnosed with MCL (Men over 60 is more common)
• My involvement is 'low volume' even though it is a Stage 4
• I am doing the more aggressive chemotherapy, partly due to my good health and age
• My organs show no involvement, it is limited to nodes in pelvis and throat (and bone marrow)
• I have, starting with God and ending with maybe Cashew, the sometimes resident Golden Retriever at Dr. Lee's office, an INCREDIBLE support group

That is not without regard to and sadness over those that have been, as an example, younger than me that have not survived the disease and, for that matter, didn't have long from diagnosis to death. There is a reason that my calling in life, the work that I cannot imagine not doing, is as a law enforcement officer. Part of that reason, in my opinion of the profession, is that I am a realist and, in a fashion, a pessimist.

I could not, for example, approach this without leaning toward the pragmatist's consideration of things as they are or appear to be, avoiding ideals and abstractions. As you can see in this blog - I'm a facts magnet. Same as in my profession - a piece of evidence, a statement, or something missing that had to have been at a place leads from one thing to another, from a crime or symptom back to the cause and then forward to the solution or cure.

Similarly, my life experience and now my profession created a pessimistic component in me that I use to grow and nurture my optimistic personality. Professionally, it is absolutely necessary to always expect the worse to happen - all the time. It is what keeps us alive - every person, every car, every situation from where and how a law enforcement officer sits at a restaurant to how they drive down the road is constantly evaluated internally with the expectation that the absolute worst, most remote thing will happen.

Personally, my life has been filled with its own unique blend of challenges and my mechanism developed when I was very young to expect and anticipate the worst outcome and learn how I was going to accept and adapt to and overcome that. Luckily, I've been very fortunate and frequently my belief that I was going to suffer untold pain or hardship or whatever negative end was left as only the outcome I imagined.

So that is how I've lived life positively - because usually what I imagined is so much worse than what happens that the actual thing is not a big deal. Not that I would wish bone marrow biopsy and aspiration on anyone, or intensive chemotherapy or anything. I've just been "blessed" with having experienced significant sorts of pain growing up so my pain continuum is broad enough to usually say that my current discomfort is less than something I've had. My rare, because I'm a closed up type, intimate talks recently reinforced my belief that God prepared me for this current battle by allowing me to be lucky enough to literally flirt with unintentionally killing myself numerous times as I've tried to grow up.

I have to publicly apologize to some of the people, in particular my Mom, for the things I put them through. Although embarrassing, Mom may post to this blog on this posting and share with you the things I put her through. It'd probably be good therapy for my dear Mom.

Those of you that know me think I'm not normal now, you have no idea until you hear of blizzards and frozen creeks, interacting with baby moose, adventures with knives, sledding over cliffs, shooting rifles, and stitches and broken bones. And that stuff only brings us up to my being about eight years old. I still don't think I can say the things that I did to myself, "fixed" myself, or the close calls in which I surely should have killed myself that Mom doesn't know about. In almost all cases because, as I mentioned before, I have failed historically to ever get excited about doctors or hospitals.

When I was younger that was because they had shots and I absolutely hated and feared shots - I never really felt one but I thought they were the absolute worst thing that could happen or be allowed to happen to a child. Mom may have something to say about that too - I wonder if she got billed for the extra personnel that came in to restrain her little boy in the aftermath of his collision with the boulder? I bet they gave her a break when that same turd, years later, literally ran way on the opposite side of our city as the car stopped rolling at the oral surgeon's office to have my pre-molars removed. God help me - my daughter is all that and worse! Of course, my phone is about to start ringing as soon as Mom reads this.

My main point being though is that God truly prepared me to fight this fight. Those things did not make me anything better than anyone else - they just allow me to believe that I can do this and they allow me to overcome my anxiety a little more. Without those things, however, I would have been a different person and logic says I'd be coping differently. With those things, I also have had an incredibly rich life with some funny (now) stories that remind me of those of Edward Bloom in Tim Burton's film "Big Fish" - they are simply hard to believe, even for me. I am so thankful for those experiences now.

I do have a question for those of you reading this blog - which is already self-serving in nature because it is probably most helpful to me. That question appears as a survey question on the blog so please answer it there if you wish so that I can make a decision. Basically it comes to this, like most any person who is challenged with this kind of burden - this is an unexpected and significant expense. There are several people that are doing work to organize fund-raising events to support me. First I have to say, again, I am so thankful and know a whole new humble because of the support. But the question to help me make a decision is this - is it appropriate to share here on this blog information on those efforts? I will truly base my decision on the winning percentage of that survey I'm posting on the blog because of one thing - that act goes against my nature and I struggle with whether that is selfish thinking because the "financial" part of this has and will translate directly to a burden on my family that I might possibly help alleviate by sharing about events that are put together.

Happy Birthday Kimmie!

We had a really nice evening at the home of Bill and Noni - Kim's folks. We celebrated Kim's birthday with the menu she chose - steak, artichokes and spinach dip. Reminded me of old times in California when we got together with her parents and had such a great time.

Besides the fact that my steak had to have been pushing several pounds, I was amazed at how good it tasted! Had not had steak in a long time.

It was also awesome to have Kim's sister drop by for presents and cake - she is dearly missed and we often remember the days when we were a threesome.

Snow

Things turn out. There are those reading this, new friends of mine mostly and some old friends too, that have had the pleasure of that 'first' go-around with chemotherapy and/or who have had to go through some other experience which tested them in some similar way. That line by Margaret Hamilton playing Elmira Gulch/Wicked Witch of the West - "Ohhhhh... What a world! What a world!" as she is melting away came to mind for some reason. Let me not steer you wrong - today was better and not just because I decided it would be (although that did play into it). That experience that some have had is fantastic - and I don't mean 'great;' rather, I mean the other definition of the word which is: so extreme as to challenge belief.

It still took me longer to crawl out of bed than I'd hoped this morning. And it was my kind of day - rainy, spring snowy mix at the time - something which I would normally wake up to out of a dead-sleep in the middle of the night as part of my abnormal internal wiring. As I waited and listened to my family beginning their day without me I almost felt as though I were in the La Brea Tar Pits - stuck, waiting for that instinctual and animal part of me to trigger the alarm that says - "GET MOVING!" That was tempered by the rational and human part that was saying - all systems are not currently go, if you move that feeling in your stomach may be more than you think and ditto for the pain. Ultimately, the former won out and I got out of bed.

Fortunately, I live in the company of angels and their "Good Morning" warmed me to the core. And, to further put a point on it, God changed that rainy, snowy mix that was falling to the most beautiful, fluffy snow at that moment. Things turn out. Now, now I have that - the memory that for whatever hardship I thought I'd had, that those involved and connected to me went through with me - things turn out... it passes.

Far as what I had to do today for treatment - just had to endure a finger-prick in order to give a blood sample to test my blood counts. My white blood counts are very high - indicating that I'm probably fighting a bug of some kind. Not surprising with CJ having an earache on the tail-end of the cold we shared as I went into chemotherapy #1. I'm feeling fine, I can't tell that I might have a cold - have maybe a stuffy nose, maybe a sore throat, et cetera - hard to distinguish ailments which are related to the chemo versus maybe having a bug. Anyhow, this first of my daily blood tests this week did not raise a significant concern with the doctor's office and they allowed me to leave today. Or did they tell me to stop loitering?

We followed my appointment with a probably overdue one for CJ. My poor dear has infections in both ears but now has new meds that should get her feeling better. While Kimmie and CJ were in with the pediatrician, I waited outside (pediatrician's office probably not a smart place to hang out for me) and enjoyed the fresh air. That word enjoyed needs to be emphasized. I stood out there, some snow pellets intermittently falling, trading off the effort it took to stand there for the opportunity it was to stand there. This time, I was thankful for the extended wait that is typical at the pediatricians.

I've added a YouTube video of a commencement address by Apple Computer's Steve Jobs. The text of that speech is here - http://news-service.stanford.edu/news/2005/june15/jobs-061505.html but I encourage those interested to watch the video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1R-jKKp3NA. It is important throughout, but I want to say that a sentence stood out as something I felt important for everyone to think about - "It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months." Important because I personally didn't fully live this way before and, backing up the clock to a time before my diagnosis with MCL, I didn't realize how true it is that everyone alive presumes too much if you 'thought you'd have the next 10 years.'

Weekend

Hard to get motivated. That would sum up the feeling I've had this weekend - these chemicals really take the wind out of your sails. I cannot say enough how great it is to be home and how great Kimmie and CJ are to be around. The most difficult thing all weekend has been not being able to do much besides sit or lay down and watch helplessly as Kimmie is having to do so much.

Far as me and side-effects, I'm mostly just wiped out. On Saturday I went back to the hospital to get a scheduled Neulasta (http://www.neulasta.com/) shot in the stomach. This is used to boost white blood cell count in order to ward off infections.

Kim is so amazing. I really don't know how she does what she does - on Friday she worked an opening shift, came home and took care of me and CJ all day, then Saturday night CJ woke up throughout the night and she took care of her, and now (on Sunday) she has been up all day playing with CJ and cleaning... I am so unhappy to not be able to help because of lack of energy and fear of picking up an infection.

Have been working my way through the cards and e-mails and phone messages - I, again, cannot adequately thank everyone for the support and well-wishes. More than once since coming home from the hospital I've opened a card, read or listened to a message, that has helped more than the sender will probably ever understand because at that particular moment it was the boost that got me from one minute to the next.

Chemotherapy, Cycle 1, Day 5

Exciting day today. First of all, they let me sleep from the end of my early morning chemo - so from about 3:30 AM to almost 7:30 AM, except for the minor interruption of blood draws at 6:00 AM - which unfortunately or fortunately are so routine I almost slept through it.

But that block of sleep was the best I had during my stay. The morning was pretty uneventful, they added a number of new toxins to me as well as some good supportive drugs. Bill and Noni came by to visit and take some of my accumulated baggage home. Towards noon the chemo nurse gave me two new chemotherapy drugs which were contained in huge syringes and put in to me via my Port. It is crazy the stuff they put into you - the nurse warning on one that it burns right through skin in seconds if exposed to outside environment (hope I don't have any air leaks - ha!). More thoughts on the crazy stuff inside me in a bit.

After these last two doses (for today), and disconnection from all the tubes and my IV stand, I was at the mercy of the hospital's discharge nurse to get out of there. My release was anticipated to be around 1:00 PM. Well, several hours after that anticipated time I was given my discharge papers with a reminder that I needed to return tomorrow for a shot in the arm whose intent is to re-start and boost my white blood cell production / immune system.

Kimmie, meanwhile, had been busy all day cleaning and shopping in preparation of my return and was now there for me as usual to drive me home. Home! That moment, walking out of the hospital and breathing outdoor air for the first time in 4 days was surreal. A beautiful day - would have been even if it hadn't been sunny! So hard not to be able to kiss Kimmie, but just to be able to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and ride in the car side-by-side with her was heavenly.

About the crazy stuff they put in you for chemotherapy. It is strange, strange stuff - it is so toxic that one of the primary side effects is the risk of dying from the substance itself, the list of side effects for the main chemo I had all week is three pages long. And you can feel it inside of you. I'm not going to explain it accurately - it isn't like you are on fire or in pain because of it - it is just there. The purpose, in a simplistic way, of chemotherapy is to erase the cancer right down to the molecular level.

For me, as it does that, it is erasing me. Thankfully, the soul and brain are untouched by the physical part of that - allowing the metamorphosis to health from disease to be tolerable in that I know that I will re-emerge as me. But it all gives me a renewed appreciation for the stories I admire of people who have found a way to take themselves out of a truly unpleasant place because of the power of one's spirit. The prisoner's of war that endured their torture and captivity through mental games of golf or writing a novel in their head being but one example. It is so important to see the bigger picture and expand what you think of where you are in life.

This process of being "re-booted" is felt. I'm sure half of it is the knowledge of what the chemicals are doing. But you can actually feel it - inside I'm getting destroyed for the ultimate purpose of being healed. Small price to pay for staying alive longer but gives me a good understanding of what I'd always "heard" about when people talk of chemotherapy and how difficult it is.

Once again, I thank everyone for your support. This war cannot be fought to a victory alone by anyone who has cancer and that became immediately evident the minute I got my diagnosis.

Chemotherapy, Cycle 1, Day 4

I'm happy to report that this was another uneventful day as far as any side-effects or problems.

Definitely happy that my stays at the hospital are confined to a week at a time. Hard part is being away from my beautiful Kimmie and Courtnie. There are so many things I took for granted before this - simple things like going to the bathroom, taking showers... life is so cool.

I have to agree with an interview I watched of Lance Armstrong, the world class bicyclist who is a cancer survivor and founder of Livestrong, The Lance Armstrong Foundation - http://www.livestrong.org. In that interview Lance said that he would not now dream of not having had cancer because of the person it changed him into. I am sure that I am not even the latest person who is faced with having cancer that feels exactly as Mr. Armstrong said - changed.

I added a profile section to this blog. There is something I'm about to change for those that already read it - the profile was nearly a cut and paste from another person who is facing MCL and that person talks of a terminal disease. I'm changing that to 'potentially terminal.' Life itself is a terminal disease if you think about it. But specifically, the treatment of MCL is making huge strides - a "cure" does not exist yet but it appears that some people are potentially being cured under the newer treatments, or at least being put into complete remissions that allow people to live out a full life to die of "normal" causes. The statistics aren't there because the newer treatments don't have a long enough history to say that they are the cure. In fact, they aren't - the treatment I'm doing R-HyperCVAD has proven very successful, but not for everyone. So, as I said, I'm making the change to "potentially terminal" to reflect my belief and hope, bolstered by the confidence of Dr. Lee and information that is out there, that this current treatment will result in a complete remission which, eventually, would be termed a cure.

Today was again highlighted by visits from family, co-workers that really came out of their way to see me, and a retired co-worker that is always a true pleasure to see.

Without naming him - I want to give a special thanks to a co-worker that visited me early today that is making extraordinary efforts on my behalf and offering a level of support that is over the top.

I get sprung from the hospital tomorrow afternoon. Am so looking forward to a shower at home and a full nights sleep! More importantly - I will be with my family again, they are dearly missed.

For those that are local, once I am home I would appreciate calls before visits to my house only because I won't be home all weekend. Going to be spending as much time swinging CJ as I can and spending time with Kimberly.

Chemotherapy, Cycle 1, Day 3

Great day!

Same routines today for my chemotherapy so won't bore anyone with that. I am feeling just as good as before as far as side-effects. Can't say enough for the preventative drugs they use!

My day was highlighted by visits from family, several co-workers, my office's pastor, and a good friend of the family's. Add to that a tidal wave of calls and e-mails.

I've said it before and will continue to say it - I am so thankful and humbled by the outpouring of support.

The other nice thing about today was that I was able to get probably 6 hours of total sleep - a LOT better than yesterday's 2 hours.

Almost Forgot

This was sent to me by Grandma Bone, who is part Cherokee and I wanted to share it.

Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth's rite of passage?

His father takes him into the forest,
blindfolds him and leaves him alone.

He is required to sit on a stump the whole
night and not remove the blindfold until the
rays of the morning sun
shine through it.

He cannot cry out for help to anyone.
Once he survives
the night, he is a MAN.

He cannot tell the other boys of this
experience
because each lad must come
into manhood on his own.
The boy is naturally
terrified. He can hear
all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely
be
all around him. May! be even some human
might do him harm. The wind blew the
grass
and earth, and shook his stump, but he sat
stoically, never
removing the blindfold.
It would be the only way he
could become a man!

Finally, after a horrific night, the sun
appeared and he
removed his blindfold.

It was then that he discovered his
father sitting
on the stump next to him.
He had been at watch the entire night,
protecting his son from harm.

We, too, are never alone.
Even when we
don't know it,
our Heavenly Father is watching over us,
sitting on the
stump beside us.

When trouble comes, all we have
to do is reach out to
Him.

Moral of the Story:
Just because you can't see God,
doesn't mean He is not there
'For we walk by faith, not by sight.'
~
2 Corinthians 5:7 ~

Chemotherapy, Cycle 1, Day 2

Well, as I mentioned in the last post - I rolled out of bed early (by some people's standards) - in the morning with both of my muscles refusing to work very well and with some extreme soreness. Grandma Bone, one of the many incredible people in our lives, came over to sit house until Courtnie woke up and Kimmie and I went to check in at the hospital.

All went smoothly but it is still hurry up and wait - thank goodness I was taught that lesson so long ago thanks to the U.S. Army and Department of Defense. The oncology "floor" is actually the surgery and oncology floor with a mix of patients here for those type of things. Checking in this morning were two other chemotherapy patients - one a 21 year old with a much more difficult road ahead of him. The majority of the floor seems to have people who are going to, of have undergone, some serious surgeries. There is one other cancer patient that has been battling their cancer for a year (the majority spent here in the hospital) this current stay has been 4 weeks now - a very nice couple with kids that stay every now and then overnight at the hospital, and they play a mean poker game.

Once we were settled in the room they went about the business of making a pin cushion out of me trying to find a good place to have an IV line. That was real fun (sarcasm). Finally they called the Surgery Nurse who coincidentally was the one who put my IV in yesterday for the port surgery and she stopped the lets hurt Gary game and got an IV going. Thankfully that IV line stays until it is removed on my discharge. They then proceeded to load me up with several "pre-meds" - one called Mesna, which helps protect my bladder from the chemo drugs (you pee out 5 to 20% of the chemo drugs at full strength; another IV bag had sodium chloride which serves mainly to hydrate me and keeps the IV lines opened up; and another IV bag had a drug to fight nausea. That all goes to the IV in my arm.

While they did the above, the dressing on my port was removed and we all got to see it for the first time. Dr. Lee, who came by to check on me looked at it and said it looked good, the gaggle of nurses made it "surgical clean" and then place an IV line in the port and secured that to my now less hairy chest. Then they made sure that it had good blood flow and then they pushed through some saline to make sure that everything was plumbed correctly. Then, because I had been home since the X-ray they took of it yesterday after the surgery, they brought the radiology technician in to X-ray me again to ensure that everything was where it should be. It is.

At 11:30 AM I began my first dose of Cytoxan. This takes 3 hours to put in so I just hang out, walk around with the pump that puts the drug in, check e-mail, etc. It was uneventful as Dr. Lee said it would likely be.

As I write this I am going to get some shut eye before they wake me up for round 2 for today, I'll get hit with chemo every 12 hours until Friday. That wake up call comes at 11:00 PM and will have me up to around 3 AM. Then I will try to sleep again into the morning.

That's about it for today. The food has been fine - shared French Toast, eggs, bacon, cream of wheat, coffee, juice with Kimmie in the morning; had Caesar Salad, and pepperoni pizza for lunch - saving the chocolate cake for Kimmie's much anticipated visit with Courtnie in the evening; and had salmon, rice, red potatoes, cheesecake for dinner.

The most awesome part of this day was my evening visit with Kim and CJ - they brought me all kinds of snacks and really hooked me up for my stay. I have the best wife and daughter ever!

Here's me and Daddy's little girl, I'm eating dinner and CJ is testing my snacks to make sure they are acceptable for Daddy. In the foreground is the aforementioned chocolate cake for Kimmie - oh wait... it's gone. (Photographer must have ate it!)