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.