Young Man, You Need Hair

Yesterday afternoon I went for a stroll, passing by the nurse's station with my IV stand asking which of two major roadways outside the hospital would be better for a jog. In reply, the nurses suggested one over the other but said that I would likely be picked up by authorities - told them I had a pass for that. I didn't really make it out of the hospital, opting instead to walk each floor to see what was where - for no particular reason, I had yet to visit the second floor. As I passed one room an elderly man yelled out from his bed "Young man, you need hair!" Given that invitation I sat in this gentleman's room and learned that he was a Russian who had been a part of the 322 Rifle Division of the Red Army in World War II.

The 322 Rifle Division was involved with liberating the Auschwitz concentration camp on January 27, 1945. This gentleman was yet another humble reminder to me about people who had it bad. He described everything that they found as they liberated the camp and although I am somewhat familiar with World War II history because of my Dad's involvement as a bomber pilot - this amount of detail that I learned probably isn't recorded anywhere.

The part of his story that was so sad was that his son was a Russian prisoner-of-war held in one of Auschwitz's camps. Ten days before the liberation the Germans apparently began evacuating the prisoners to another camp by way of death marches and this gentleman's son was amongst that group and died on the march. In spite of the depressing facts, the talk was a good one. Made all the better when I learned from a nurse I passed as I left that this gentleman doesn't have any visitors.

I then returned to my floor via the stairwell, carrying my IV tree, just to mess with the staff on my floor.

My room is the talk on the floor because of the refrigerator that Kim's parents bought as a gift for me. I'm again in the "suite" with a great view and pretty good size. One of the first orders of business when I got here to the hospital was a phone call to the meal service asking them to refrain from even thinking about bringing me food - just can't eat it. Also brought my one-cup coffee maker, so I am set.

The regimen thus far is going well. This course A is better than the course B. I've passed the time doing work, working my way through e-mails, and playing a video game that my Mom bought me as a gift during her visit. My room seems to also be the popular room for the nurses to visit, probably because of the larger size and my speaker system with some tunes. It is funny being the resident police officer - everyone has a story to tell.

My poor Kim has caught the cold that Courtnie has had for a few days. Sadly no visit from them today. Courtnie advanced a belt in karate last night!!! She did really well and I am so proud of her, I wish I could have been there to see it. She really loves her teacher - Ms. Michelle, who is an AWESOME teacher. I'll have to post some pictures when I get them.

I found the following on the Internet and wanted to pass it along:

BUTTERFLY

A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could, and it could go no further.

So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.

The butterfly then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.

The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.

Neither happened! In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.

What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening were God's way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.

Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our lives. If God allowed us to go through our lives without any obstacles, it would cripple us.

We would not be as strong as what we could have been. We could never fly!

I asked for Strength.........
And God gave me Difficulties to make me strong.

I asked for Wisdom.........
And God gave me Problems to solve.

I asked for Prosperity.........
And God gave me Brain and Brawn to work.

I asked for Courage.........
And God gave me Danger to overcome.

I asked for Love.........
And God gave me Troubled people to help.

I asked for Favors.........
And God gave me Opportunities.

I received nothing I wanted ........
I received everything I needed!

Trust in God. Always !

At long last...

Okay, I am finally back and have plenty to write as it has been building up over this last stretch of time.

First and foremost, I'm feeling a lot better. The pneumonia is pretty much gone as of today - just a little residual crud in the chest. I'm sure that I may very well have more of that in my future, but hopefully it won't be as bad. The pneumonia combined with the bad blood counts really wasn't fun.

Has taken awhile to get to feeling good but I've finally made it. A lot has gone on since the last post. Kimmie and I met with a stem cell transplant specialist and learned a great deal about that process. Gave us a lot to think about as we contemplated the decision whether or not to do a stem cell transplant at this point. I have decided not to do the stem cell transplant.

In addition to going through the decision-making process on the stem cell transplant, my Mom visited from out of town and we had an awesome time. It was great to have the time together and also great to have all the great meals that she and Kimmie made! My Mom is an awesome cook. She and Kimmie also planted a whole mess of bulbs in the back yard with Courtnie's help. The whole visit was too short but was nothing but a good time. Kim's folks, unsurprisingly, allowed my Mom to stay at their house and I am very thankful to them for yet one more thing.

It is funny, for a good deal of the time that has lapsed since my last real posting I literally could not get on the computer to type. During that time I would usually be laying in bed feeling less than chipper but I frequently thought of this blog and what a blessing it is to me - to be able to write, to be on the receiving end of so many supportive wishes, and hopefully to occasionally write or share something that helps someone else.

I have to say that even if I could have typed during the down time I had - I don't know that I would have. This last period I had to do all I could do to remind myself how lucky I was - I'm surrounded my awesome family, I'm supported by awesome friends, I am in a better position than others who face MCL, my doctor is brilliant and proactive in making me as comfortable as I can be made to be... I could go on and on. I mention this because it can't be said too many times and I'll never be able to thank everyone enough. I also mention this because, as I said, I don't know that I would have written here because at the time I didn't have the words. That was a function of getting too focused on myself and forgetting how this cancer is affecting everyone I know. So I waited to write. There were over 1,100 'hits' on this blog from my last post till today, and I've received over 400 e-mails in that same period of time... for those that have been waiting for more and/or a reply - my apologies and you can now expect to see more on the blog and replies to e-mails.

That is especially true because tomorrow I am headed back to the hospital for Course A and should have some time on my hands. The chemotherapy is cumulative so I expect that this Course A will be possibly a smidgen harder than the first Course A, yet it will be infinitely easier than the Course B I last did. I'm typing this as I get my first drug - Rituxan - at Dr. Lee's office.

I just read this article and wanted to share it because so many of those that I know are leaders. But I believe the information is useful for anyone because I've always been of the opinion that no matter who you are, you are 'leading' someone - be it a child, friend who looks to you for advice, family member that has lost there way... etc. Anyhow, here's the article for anyone interested... http://discussionleader.hbsp.com/taylor/2008/05/memo_to_a_young_leader_what_ki.html

And this is a related quote that I think is good too... "People can only hear you when they are moving toward you, and they are not likely to when your words are pursuing them. Even the choicest words lose their power when they are used to overpower. Attitudes are the real figures of speech."
-- Edwin H. Friedman

I'm soon to be unhooked so I will conclude here and write more once I'm in the hospital. My thanks again to everyone for helping me through this.

Gale Warning

I used to race catamaran's with an uncle growing up. It was a lot of work but also a lot of fun. Typical of me, one time I decided to go out 'solo' with the obvious signs of a storm on the horizon and the water.

Storms aren't the end of the world for sailing. In fact, I'd go out intentionally as I had this time because with the right sail and experience, some awesome sailing could be had. Problem with storms is you don't necessarily know how severe they are going to be as you watch them approach. Bigger problem is sometimes, some people, get way off from shore when I, I mean they, see flags like this go up on shore...

Well, the one time in particular that I'm thinking of when I went out by myself to sail in the storm is memorable mostly because it is VERY difficult to drag an overturned catamaran, in a storm, for even a short distance. But there I was, swimming with a makeshift rope harness pulling my beloved catamaran which was too large to right for one-person - for nearly three hours... It was miserable. The water was cold, the waves were relentless, the storm's wind and rain conspired to drown me, and there were only two choices - swim or drown.

The time between my last post and this one has been that experience. The lack of word from me was literally because I could not even get on the laptop to get the update out. Good news is - here I am with an update.

I won't bore you with the blow-by-blow details of this last bout with adversities. In summary, my blood counts fell to all time lows - in particular my platelet count went dangerously low along with my white blood cells and that required a platelet transfusion; along with that it was found I had pneumonia in my right lung (which I think I've had to a degree since we started the chemotherapy but became a real problem when 'Course B' knocked me flat). Those two things put me in the hospital again for monitoring and antibiotics. To summarize my summary - I've had an unpleasant time between my last post and this one.

Things have improved dramatically however. I don't know, once again, where I would have been without Kimmie's help - she pulled me through again. It is so distressing for me to be so unable to help her - I want to at least cook meals or something... for those of us that are this sick, our caregivers are gifts from God. Thank you Kimmie.

I again appreciate the support I feel of all. I will have more posts soon. Definitely have dropped down to taking things day-by-day, if not hour-by-hour right now but even if I can't write I do read comments and e-mails and thank you for those. I wish everyone the best!

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.