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PET Scan Results

2007-04-18T10:43:00.000-07:00

Tax day is over and done with now...thank God! Although Virginia's state tax is due on May 1, just in case you were wondering. And what's more, they don't even let you e-file...how lame is that? I suppose it is alright though considering I owe them money this time around.

April in the DC Metro area is turning into a big disappointment. The weather has been absolutely freezing. Waking up to snow on the ground the day before Easter is not my idea of a good time. I just want it to warm up, and soon, because I've got important things like softball to focus on!

This weekend is the 10-Mile George Washington Parkway Classic down in Alexandria. I was hoping to run in it but I woke up yesterday feeling very ill. I made it into work for a couple hours and then had to leave. I collapsed in bed and didn't make it out until about 9:30 this morning, only getting up to switch out movies in my DVD player and to take another shot of Nyquil. I'm feeling a bit better today but still definitely not 100%. I'm not sure what it is/was, but it affected my whole body. Started out as discomfort in my stomach but then progressed into what felt like the flu. Not fun. In any case, I'm definitely feeling better and I'm hoping to be back to quasi-normal status tomorrow.

Now for more interesting news. As some of my more loyal readers will remember, the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler here in DC last year was a big deal for me. Sort of a welcome-back-to-a-healthy-life event for me really. My goal was to finish the race last year in 1:30:00 and I beat that by more than five minutes with a final time of 1:24:37. This year, I decided that I would again run the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler, if for no other reason than to just help me get in shape for the warm weather that has been elusive so far. My goal this time around was to run it in 1:20:00--or 8 minutes a mile--which would be a new personal best for me, beating my time in 2002 by 19 seconds. After a slower start than I had hoped for because of the crowds at the starting line, I found myself forcing a faster pace than I was accustomed to just to make up some lost time. I could have hit 80 minutes with a very solid last mile, but I just didn't have it in me and ended up at 1:20:40--missing my goal by 40 seconds. Oh well...there is always next year and I will be out there!

The most recent update specifically having to do with the whole purpose of this blog--that is, my cancer--came yesterday. Last week I had my first PET scan since last August when the results came back hazy and meant that I needed to get what was left of my tonsils removed. As usual, I was a little apprehensive about it. (As a sidebar, I would strongly encourage you to read the front-page article of a recent issue of Newsweek. It was written by Jonathan Alter who was diagnosed with a serious form of cancer in 2004 while he was covering the Presidential campaign. He puts to words a lot of the uncertainty and emotion of a cancer diagnosis and course of treatment that is difficult to capture and is a very good read.) After going through the usual pre-scan steps--not exercising, not eating, not wearing metal to the scan--it was time and it went as well as any scan I had had up to that point. I'm still not okay with small spaces and so every time into that tube is a battle for me in itself. This time I actually fell asleep for a bit during the scan, which is something that I would have never dreamed possible, so maybe I am making little improvements.

Anyway, yesterday, while I was lying in bed sicker than I had been in quite some time, I got a voicemail from Georgetown University Hospital. It was Eva, Dr. Davidson's assistant, letting me know that the results came back and everything looked good. Needless to say, I was happy to hear that. I like to think that this is expected, but every time I hear the good news, I feel sort of lucky in a way. Like I've just dodged another bullet or something. That's really the only way I can describe it. But in a way I have dodged a bullet. I've always maintained that I've been lucky to have had the type of cancer that I did while many others are diagnosed with much more serious types of cancer on a daily basis. They are the ones fighting the real battle.

Two Years Later

2007-02-11T11:46:00.000-08:00

Today is February 11. Not a big deal for most people, but it will always have a measure of significance for me.

On this day two years ago, I received the phone call that changed my life. It was the call from my doctor with the results of the biopsy I had undergone three days earlier. I remember, quite vividly in fact, all self-awareness leaving my body. It was a numbing sensation where I wasn't quite sure where my body ended and the world around me began--when people describe shock, I imagine that this is exactly how they feel.

But this is not about two years ago. This is about today, the two-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. As many of you know, Lance Armstrong is the closest to a hero that I have. My cancer was nothing like his and yet I can hardly imagine a more difficult experience. The fact that he lived through his cancer and then went on to win 7 Tours...well, it's nothing short of miraculous. If you have read Lance's books, then you know that he celebrates the date of his diagnosis every year--kind of like a birthday. I have shamelessly adopted this tradition as my own as well, because in a way, it is like a birthday. Going through the experience of cancer without being changed is nearly impossible. When you finally find yourself on the other side, life looks differently--more colorful and vibrant. The routine that you thought you hated before you now love for its simplicity. So even though I was born on May 3, 1978, the date when I really started to live my life as it was intended was February 11, 2005.

Tonight I will share dinner with a few of my closest friends in D.C. to help commemorate this significant date in my life. Not only is it a celebration of a new perspective, it is also a reminder that life is not guaranteed. I often describe my hurdles of the last two years as things I would never want to repeat or have anyone else experience even once. But with most of the physically painful experiences behind me, I embrace them as a part of who I am--part of my story that I have lived. In a strange way, I'm grateful for the experiences because they have made me stronger and I hope a better person. The lessons through it all have been many, and I don't want them to be wasted. This is my way of not forgetting.

As always, thanks for reading.

Sabbatical

2006-10-08T15:05:00.000-07:00

In a blog about the experiences with and about cancer, no news is good news...at least that's what I tell myself so that I can justify not posting anything to my blog since (gulp) last April! A couple of people actually have asked me where I've gone and why I haven't been posting anything recently. Well, the truth is I really haven't had anything to post, which is good, except for marathon training, which isn't really exciting, trust me. If I wrote about marathon training, it would read something like this:

Monday: ran 4 miles - my knees hurt
Wednesday: ran 8 miles - my knees hurt
Thursday: ran 4 miles - my knees hurt
Saturday: ran 18 miles - my whole body hurts

So that is another reason why I haven't been keeping y'all as updated as I could have...it would have just been far too boring.

BUT, there have been some things happening that are worth telling you about so I'll get you caught up as best I can. After running the 10-miler in April, I decided that indeed yes, I would train for the Marine Corps Marathon on October 29 in DC. Well, I started my serious training in June and went throughout the summer. During that time, I moved from studio--filled with lots of memories of what has undoubtedly been the hardest year of my life--to a small house with three other guys about 2 miles away. That was at the beginning of July. Then, I was approached by a buddy about interest in working on another campaign--this time, the Governor's race in Oregon. After a lot of missed connections and waiting, I was finally given an offer and decided that I would do it despite the fact that it was so late in the election and it would be very difficult to get up to speed before Election Day.

So ever since the day after Labor Day, I've been working for the Saxton campaign in Portland. That meant no more marathon, sadly. I've still tried to run when I can, but there would have been no way that I could continue the training and then fly back for the race. I was pretty bummed but I guess I'll just have to do it next year.

The reality is that I overextended myself this past summer. After spending all of 2005 in either pain, surgery, radiation, chemotherapy, recovery, or some weird combination of all of those, I was eager to get on with life and I think I tried to make up for some lost time! So working a full-time job, playing on two softball teams, and training for a marathon really meant that I had no time left for me. Latching onto a campaign was the last thing that I thought I would want to do but nonetheless the opportunity came up so I took it. Hopefully it will yield some positive results and honestly we are looking pretty good with less than a month to go before Election Day.

Just before I moved out here to Oregon, I had my 9-month checkup since radiation and I was expecting another clean bill of health. One thing you should know about my checkups is that there are two types. There are the big checkups and small checkups that alternate every three months...really confusing, huh? Well, the first checkup was in February and was a big one, then three months later (May) was a small one. So my last checkup was in August and that was a big checkup--basically they do all the physical stuff but they also run a PET scan. Well, the most recent PET scan (remember, the PET is basically a presence of cancer test) indicated some kind of "activity" as they like to call it. THE BIG NEWS is that the levels of activity were no different in August than they were in February, but still enough that they want to err on the side of caution.

So after checking with my doctor to see if I was taking any unnecessary risks by doing the campaign (he assured me that I was not), I decided to do the campaign and get checked out at Oregon Health Sciences University (OHSU). At his request, I was seen by a doctor he knew and trusted. So that happened a couple weeks ago and he came to the same conclusion--that I should go in and just have this problem area removed. I've got another checkup later this month and then I'll probably have what will amount to a tonsil removed the week after Election Day. Fun stuff.

The weird thing about all of this is that very few people really understand my concerns. I'm not worried about the surgery (this will be my third), but about the tests that are run afterwards on whatever it is they remove. If it is negative, all is good. If not, then I could be looking at the possibility of another round of radiation, which is enough to make me want to vomit. I honestly don't know if I can go through with something like that again. But, that is getting way ahead of things so right now I'm just focusing on working on the campaign the best I can and hoping that everything works out alright, which it probably will.

I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't disappointed. Obviously I was hoping that I was over and done with all this, but the situation is still pretty good. The important thing to remember is that there wasn't any change in activity--based on the PET scans--between February and August. Nevertheless, considering my health history, this isn't something that I want to mess around with.

Hopefully I'll get a few more posts in before I go under the knife again. My next checkup is on October 24 (I think) and I'll most likely have my surgery scheduled at that time. I'll try to take a few minutes to post an update at that time.

Cheers!

10-Miler Report

2006-04-02T15:22:00.000-07:00

As promised, here is a report of how my attempt at the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler went today.

Strangely, I was pretty nervous going into this thing. I didn't sleep much last night because of that but also because I was afraid that I was going to wake up an hour late due to daylight savings time.

So my day began at about 4:30 a.m. and I couldn't really get back to sleep. I got out of bed an hour later and prepared for the race. There's a lot more preparation for a distance race than you would imagine, especially for someone who doesn't run a lot of them. By 6:30, I was on the Metro (DC subway) and headed toward the Smithsonian Metro stop that is right by my office which is where I was meeting the rest of my team. At 7:15 we headed over to the starting area and it was PACKED. I knew there were going to be a lot of people, but 15,000 people in a park is just ridiculous. After all the elite runners started, it was our turn at 8 a.m.

The course, as is pretty much any course in our nation's capital, is beautiful. It started out on Ohio Drive--a road that winds along the Potomac River. After less than a mile, however, it peels off to the right (east) and heads up Independence Avenue towards the Bureau of Printing and Engraving. It loops back around and down Independence Avenue, this time going west towards Virginia, and then heads over the Memorial Bridge which leads you directly into Arlington National Cemetery. After you make what is essentially a huge u-turn, you head back over the bridge and take a left at the Lincoln Memorial, or north onto Rock Creek Parkway past the Kennedy Center. The route then follows the parkway for about 3 miles before u-turning and leading you south on the parkway. After doubling back, the road splits, you go right, and find yourself back on Ohio Drive where the start line is now the finish line.

I mentioned earlier that I was hoping to run this race in 90 minutes--a 9-minute mile pace. The only 10-miler I've run before now was four years ago in Santa Barbara, where I lived for six years. For that run, it was pretty good and I ended up finishing in about 80 minutes. So you can see that four years later, after all the health crap that I've been through, 90 minutes was a legitimate goal.

My thought was to conserve energy as much as possible until the turnaround on the parkway at mile 6.5. I did alright but ended up keeping a pace at the beginning that I hadn't intended--it was about 8 minutes a mile, I found out later. By the time I got to the halfway point, my time was 46:47 (or something like that). I knew I had to speed it up a little bit if I had any hope of beating my 90-minute goal. So I did. After the turnaround at mile 6.5, there was a portion of the race that was slightly downhill, and while it seemed others were holding back, I took advantage of the gravity and lengthened my stride almost without effort. By the time I got to mile 7, my time had been trimmed and I was at 1:03:00 roughly. I kept the tempo up knowing that I needed only to sustain a 9-minute pace to reach my goal--thankfully, I was right back on pace. Then came the late surge from the pack and I turned it up yet again. This last portion had a few hills (not many) that were generally just gradual upward slopes. Again, the pack just kept pushing. If running with 10,000+ other people doesn't give you a herd mentality, I don't know what does. Trying desperately to keep pace with those around me, I kept charging toward the finish line which was now two miles away.

(On a side note, if you ever go to a race like this, do not stand at about mile 8.5 and yell, "Only 200 more yards! You can do it!" like some idiot did today. Luckily, I knew he was wrong but there were others around me who started sprinting to the finish prematurely.)

So at mile 9, I'm sucking wind and it feels like we are collectively running a 6-minute mile, which, of course, we are not. This stretch was horrible because there were a lot of gradual bends and you expected to see the finish line...just...around...the...bend...and time and time again it was not there. Any mile past 5 is pretty good because your body pretty much shuts down the pain sensors and you just go without feeling anything, for me anyway. Once you get to the last mile, however, you start to imagine what it will be like to take a nice long drink of Gatorade and that's all you can think about.

After running what felt like two miles since I passed mile 9, the finish line came into view--a long ways down the road. Even this stretch wasn't close to 200 yards! It was more like a quarter mile, at least. I literally wanted to vomit at this point and almost did, until I realized that the clock was somewhere around 1:27:30. For a second I was content with any time under 1:30:00 and I started to slow down. But then I realized that I wanted to get under 1:28:00 so I poured it on--as much as a person can after running 9.98 miles. I picked up my pace, lengthed my stride, and actually started to get a headache from a lack of oxygen. BUT, I crossed the line at 1:27:59. Sweetness.

About 30 seconds later I hear my name and I realize that one of the guys I had been training with came in just behind me. I had beaten him by 28 seconds which I really did not think possible. I was lucky that he hadn't seen me approaching the finish line, though, because if he had he would have really poured it on and given me a run for my money.

One thing that I failed to mention earlier is that with 10,662 runners starting from the same spot, it's impossible to begin simultaneously. Consequently, we found ourselves WAY back in the starting chute. When the gun went off, it took us about three minutes to get to the starting line. And due to modern technology, the clock for each individual runner (remember the tracking chip I mentioned in the previous post) begins when he or she crosses that line. So, instead of a time of 1:27:59, my time was trimmed to 1:24:37. A pace of 8:28 per mile.

For me, this is a big accomplishment. I had built this event up so much in my mind as a symbol of me being back to "normal." In essence, by doing well in this race, I was saying...no, shouting, "I'm back!" And it felt wonderful, satisfying, exhilirating, all of the above.

The design and resiliency of the human body and spirit that God infused in me is all that made this possible. It's nothing short of amazing that after two surgeries and seven weeks of both radiation and chemotherapy, the body is able to come back alive with hard work and (for those of you that know me) just maybe some old-fashioned stubbornness.

I am so utterly sore right now I'm wondering why I ever thought this was a good idea. Of course, I quickly remember that the accomplishment (for me) is so utterly unbelievable that I wanted to do it, I needed to do it. I needed this just to prove that I could. The crazy thing is that in spite of, maybe because of, all the pain that I'm feeling in my muscles right now, I'm considering training for the Marine Corps Marathon here in DC in October.

I'll keep you posted.

Cherry Blossom 10-Miler

2006-03-30T19:35:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it's been more than a month since I've updated this thing. If you still check in on this that often, you're a champ. If you are just stumbling across my blog for the first time, thanks for checking in.

It's hard to believe that I've been at my current job for more than a year now. Yesterday was my one-year anniversary. Of course, I've had a few other issues to take care of during that time so it has gone by a little faster (yet slower in an odd way) than I had ever imagined.

As many of you know, the biggest side effect from my radiation treatment has been the fatigue. January turned out to be a real turning point for me and since then I've been gaining more and more energy. Somewhere around January or February, I decided that I would run the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler here in Washington, D.C. I haven't run a 10-miler since April 2002, and here I am four years later trying it again on April 2, 2006. More importantly, I'm about nine months removed from my last surgery and six months removed from my radiation and chemo. Who'd of thunk it?

Something about me that you need to know is that I don't necessarily enjoy running. Every time I go out I wonder how my body, and more importantly my mind, will respond. The human body can withstand more than you think and this is just one way to push myself to do more than I want or think I can. Plus, there is something about the adrenaline you get from running a distance race with 10,000 other people. It's "easy" at the beginning and at the end, but it's the middle part that's so hard.

Anyway, the race is this Sunday morning at 8 a.m. EDT (don't forget to turn your clocks forward an hour). I've been training for the last couple months but have battled two flu viruses during that time so I'm not entirely confident of my performance. My hope is to finish it in 90 minutes but we'll see how it goes. I'm not sure yet but I may be able to provide a link that will allow you to follow my progress during the race if you are so inclined to follow it on Sunday morning. If not, then I'll just let you know how I did later that day.

Be back soon...

Fast Forward

2006-02-08T17:15:00.000-08:00

For those of you keeping score...today, February 8, is the one-year anniversary of my biopsy. To this day, I think the pain from that procedure surpassed anything I had ever experienced before or since. Of course, I didn't have pain medication at the time and everything since has involved a strict pain management program.

At this same time, on the other side of the country, in Oregon. My sister is in induced labor to have her second child.

My how things change in the course of a year.

When Words Fail

2006-01-25T18:09:00.000-08:00

It's funny. Some of the times that you feel like you should be on the top of your game as a writer are when you fall flat. It's not quite like writer's block, because writer's block is more like lack of inspiration--at least that has been my experience. It's not because I'm putting too much pressure on myself either. Usually when I do that, I'll come up with something, because I'm in survival mode. It's like the old college effect. You either write and pass the assignment or don't write and certainly fail. It's sink or swim.

Tonight is different.

Tonight is better.

Tonight I know, that no matter what I write, it won't adequately communicate the thoughts and feelings inside of me. Sometimes, but not often, words fail. Usually it requires a lack of a reference point such as when something is beautiful beyond description (like the birth of your child, so I've heard) or something is unspeakably evil (think 9/11).

So here I am trying to wrap my head around something to make it more understandable for those who are reading and I don't know where to start. Maybe it's impossible for you to understand unless you have heard the words, "You have cancer," and then spent the majority of the next year trying to avoid thinking about the what ifs while recovering from surgery, radiation, and chemo. Hard as it is, I have to try, because days like this don't come very often.

It's what I was expecting, I guess, my doctor's appointment, I mean. Last Friday, as I outlined in my previous post, I had my first PET scan since my treatment finished up. I was able to withstand the needle and the time alone in the tube, thank God. Today, however, the results of the scan would be made available to me during my check-up with my radiation oncologist. But after going to the doctor every day for nearly two months, the apprehension of "What's the doctor going to say?" wears off and you are left with routine. I forgot somehow that today was not routine.

I forgot, that is, until I heard my doctor say, "The PET scan looked great...better than we expected. It was everything we could have hoped for." Then I remembered that I hadn't heard anything close to resembling that in the past year-and-a-half. And this is where words fail me, because I just don't know what to write.

Like I said, I was expecting to hear good news. But despite the fact that I thought I was prepared to hear the good news and be on my way, I wasn't. I wasn't able to just sit and be told that the cancer, at this check-up anyway, was not there. I wasn't able to not care enough to be deeply affected by what my doctor said. I had too much invested. I had given too many drops of blood, sweat, and tears to not care. My memory flashed back to the mouth sores that were so raw I would spit up blood; the daily ritual of sweating in fear and apprehension as I climbed upon the radiation table; the tears of both the physical and emotional anguish that would surprise me in the middle of the night and the middle of day and sometimes, the middle of a conversation.

Sometimes words are meant to stand alone: "The PET scan looked great!"

Back at It

2006-01-19T19:13:00.000-08:00

If any of you have ever had cancer, then you probably have experienced a PET scan. I think that I have covered the science of the PET scan in a previous post, but it would have been a long time ago so it doesn't hurt to have a quick review. PET is short for Positron Emission Tomography--yeah, say that 10 times fast. Basically, it's a test for the presence or absence of cancer. That is it's sole purpose.

To understand the theory behind it, you must first know that cancerous cells and tumors consume energy at a faster rate than the rest of your body (normal tissue). This energy comes in the form of sugar. The fluid for a PET scan is a molecularly-modified concoction of sugar with a radioactive tracer chemically attached to it. In preparation for a PET scan, you get hooked up to an IV and they pump some fluids into your system. Then, they bring out a stainless steel cancer that looks as if it came from a cheesy, futuristic, science fiction film. This canister contains the sugar concoction necessary for the scan. They hook the canister up to your IV and slowly inject the fluid into your body.

In all honesty, I think that this is the worst part. Imagine for a moment that someone gives you a shot and that the shot they give you consists of nothing but ice water. Essentially, that's the feeling you have when they inject this fluid into you because it is kept cold. A refrigerated liquid is being pushed through your blood vessels and it gives you a very specific, very cold feeling until it warms up to your body temperature.

So after the radioactive tracer/sugar solution is fully injected into your body, then you sit around for about an hour while it makes its way through your body. Now here is where the knowledge of the sugar-consuming habits of cancerous cells come into play. The more active the cancerous cells and tumors are, then the more they consume the sugar that they need to survive. And the more sugar they use, the more radioactivity will be present in that particular spot. So, after the hour of waiting and your body metabolizing the sugar solution, they run you through a machine that seems to be half MRI, half CT scan--that is, not as big as an MRI but bigger than a CT. The machine scans your body and measures the amounts of radiation in particular spots. If everything congregates in one place, then you probably have a tumor. If it is evenly dispersed, then you probably don't--this test is accurate with tumors as small as 1 centimeter. Anything smaller than that won't show up, thus the reason it is necessary for cancer patients to have regular check-ups every 6 months at a minimum.

Another thing to be aware of is the nature of false positives. They occur more often than you probably think. The reason for this is that other cells and tissues that use sugars (energy) at a greater speed than normal cells and tissues also force the radioactive tracer to congregate around it. An example of what may cause a false positive is muscles that have been exercised recently--in preparation for this treatment, I cannot exercise for a period of 24 hours prior to the scan. Also, tissue that is healing itself will also show up as a false positive. The latter example is precisely the reason that I have not yet had a PET scan. After looking at my mouth at my most previous check-up, my radiation oncologist informed me that my mouth was still in poor enough shape that undergoing a PET scan would be a huge waste of time and money. So, here I am, roughly a month later, getting mentally prepared to go in for a PET scan. My first PET scan since my cancer treatment ended.

What do I mean by mental preparation? Well, funny you should ask. There are two primary things that I need to be ready for. The first is a confined space. Prior to my radiation treatment, I never had any issues with claustrophobia. Now, I think about it all the time, even when I get on a plane. The second is the fact that if my cancer were to come back, it would most likely be within the one-year span from when my treatment ended. As many of you know, I just finished up last September 21--well within the one-year window. Therefore, I need to be mentally prepared for the slight possibility that it could have returned. HOWEVER, and let me be very clear on this, I do not feel as if I have cancer anymore. You may think it is impossible for me to know, but if there is one thing that I have learned throughout this process, it is that I need to listen to my gut instincts, because they are usually right.

If you are a reader of my blog, don't expect for any results to be posted for a few days. My scan will probably not be reviewed until the following week at the earliest. If, however, I were to find out anything, then I'll certainly post it so that you know what is going on. Thanks for reading!

Reflections

2006-01-17T18:59:00.000-08:00

It is a new year and the season for resolutions. I hate resolutions. To be completely honest, I didn't even think of what kind of resolution to enter myself into this year until we were already a week into 2006. But in the spirit of new beginnings, the closest thing to a resolution would be my desire to hold on to the fact that I'm still alive.

2005 was not a kind year. Nor is it one that I would ever like to repeat. I'm bearing down on the one-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis and it hardly seems possible. So much has happened and it is impossible to remember it all. I knew that it would be this way, and that I would forget, and it is one of the reasons why I kept a journal as best I could. It is why I shared my thoughts with you on the Internet. Sure there were other reasons like communicating my most urgent needs with all of you. Or simply communicating to each of you because I could not do so any other way. I remember the days when I desperately wanted to be able to pick up the phone and call a friend or family member, but couldn't because despite the fact I was on heavy pain medication my mouth and throat felt as if it were a pincushion--a black hole of pain.

Cancer does funny things to a person. For starters, it treats everyone differently. Some people can deal with it and others can't. I was somewhere in between--curiously removed from the captivity of my ravaged body yet desiring to hold on as if the pain was an act of cleansing. It is a type of baptism--sanctification through pain. I'm not 100% sure but I think that history has had its share of monks who have engaged in painful practice of self-abuse. If not outright abuse, than rejection of the body and full embracing of the soul. They willingly entered into this pain as a public renouncement of their bodies and turning towards the eternal, the spiritual.

Cancer doesn't care who you are or what you've done. It knows no friend and plays no favorites. I look back at the previous year with fondness, however. It's okay if you think I'm crazy. I'm the type of guy that if I knew I would live through a plane crash, I would want to do it just to say that I know what it is like. My cancer taught me a lot about life, and myself. It is a metaphor for life. I've been reading Lance Armstrong's biography entitled It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life. I'm only halfway through and it has nearly brought me to tears on more than one occasion, but that's beside the point. At one point in his book, Lance compares the general fear of cancer to the loss of hope. Hope is slowly eroded through cynicism just like the body is slowly (or quickly) destroyed by rebel cells. In both cases, death comes slowly and painfully, yet sickeningly methodically--death of the heart in the first and death of the body in the second.

It's difficult not to be philosophical about pain after going through a hand-to-hand fight to the death with cancer. And make no mistake about it--it is a fight to the death. Think about it: either it goes, or you go. in any medical book you read there will not be a fun, heart-warming story of the cohabitation of cancer and healthy tissue. There is no third road.

This could easily become a book, because there are lots of things to say about it. However, I'm tired (as usual) and I want to go to sleep, so I'll keep my thoughts abbreviated. If nothing else, coming face-to-face raises your threshold for pain. Things you never thought you would be able to survive now become not just doable, but almost normal. Another day at the office. The human body can withstand so much more than what we inflict upon it. Another thing it did for me was provided courage with a shot of caffeine. Every day I survived the pain inflicted on me was another day that I could mark off the calendar and say to my cancer, "You haven't got me yet...let's do it again tomorrow." But the real reward comes in knowing that life is precious and never to be taken for granted. In a way, I feel as if I've paid my dues for whatever "normal" days I have ahead of me, if any. Fragility is part of this world and while our mortal bodies are curiously strong and able to withstand more than we think it can, they are also susceptible to attacks from within. When cancer has been allowed inside your defenses like a Trojan Horse, things can get pretty ugly in a short amount of time. Come to think of it, that's a pretty good metaphor on its own.

Inspiration, MIA

2005-12-11T11:44:00.000-08:00

I've been waiting for some inspiration to strike so that I could write something worth your time to read it. I'm still waiting but I figure that I should just push through the lack of inspiration as best I can.

So my apologies for two things: 1. The lack of new material for your reading enjoyment; and 2. The new material that is probably boring.

The past month has been busy with lots of ups and downs. Since my promotion at work, I've been putting in a lot more time there to learn the job and also make up for lost time. (I know I'll never actually make up the more-than-a-month that I missed due to my radiation/chemotherapy treatment, but it's the idea of it.) For those of you who don't know, I was recently promoted to Deputy White House Liaison at USDA. It was a pretty big jump for me and thus far I really like the job and anticipate that I'll enjoy it even more after I actually learn how to do the job well.

Over the past month, I've had three check-ups with my three different doctors. All three check-ups went relatively well. My mouth is still rather sore and apparently I've got quite a bit of scar tissue in there. I really have to be careful with what I eat--no spicy, vinegary, or salty foods...all are, or were, favorites. Some disappointing news is that the sensitivity issue in my mouth is potentially a permanent one. Probably not as bad as it is now, but I'll know for sure the extent of my limitations between 6 months and a year after my treatment finished up. Another bummer is the drymouth issues that continue to plague me. That issue is also one that will be more fully known in a year, but for now I'm still taking my salivary medication and keeping a bottle of water nearby at all times.

On a more positive note, my energy level is improving as is my ability to exercise. I'm back to being able to run 30 minutes at a time at a 10-minute-mile pace. It still takes a lot of focus to be able to do even that, but it is a rewarding feeling to even have the option of going to the gym again! The Cherry Blossom Ten Mile Run is scheduled for April 2 this year here in DC and my goal is to be able to run that in a decent time. Of course, in addition to rebuilding my energy level, I also need to gain weight, which has not been easy thus far. I think of the 26 pounds that I lost during the treatment, I've gained back 10. All I know is that I'm glad to be trying to gain weight instead of lose weight during this year's Christmas season!

30-Minute Mile

2005-11-05T15:16:00.000-08:00

Well that was depressing.

I just got back from my first run since about the second week of August when I was in my second week of cancer treatment. Ever since that time, my mouth sores or other variables haven't allow me to do much of anything that would expend energy. Let's see...it's November now...which means it has been almost three months since I last attempted to exercise on something more than the subway escalator.

And it showed.

I literally didn't get out of the parking lot of my apartment building when I knew I was going to be in trouble. For those of you who don't know where I live, I'm about a quarter of a mile away from the Iwo Jima Memorial in Arlington, Virginia. It's a beautiful place to live and the memorial is my favorite one in the DC metro area. By the time I made it just past the memorial, I had to actually stop...I had to stop after about a quarter mile, can you believe that? Now, I've never been a world class runner, but I've been able to hold my own in several 5K's and a 10-miler. Last weekend I watched the Marine Corps Marathon and was inspired to try to make that happen next year. But before I can start looking toward 26.2 miles, I've gotta be able to run one mile without feeling like I'm going to die of a heart attack.

My lungs felt like lead, as if they weren't able to expand to pull oxygen into my body. On top of that, they felt as if they were on fire, which is a normal feeling when you are out of shape. When you run and are really pushing yourself, you will have pain. Usually the ability to keep running is dependent upon your mental strength and ability to put the pain out of your mind--you would be surprised what the human body is capable of when it is really pushed. But tonight? No way...not a chance. I physically could not do it. The fact that I was getting dizzy is what tipped me off. I've never gotten dizzy while running until today.

This is so frustrating. I knew that this entire cancer experience was going to be hard work, but this is ridiculous. I certainly was not expecting to just bounce back to the 7-minute pace I was at before all of this started, but I did think I would be able to make it farther than a quarter mile. All of this leads me to the simple conclusion that the road to recovery is just a little longer yet. After everything that I have been through, this should come as no surprise to me. And once I get back to my desired level of cardiovascular ability, I'm going to have to work hard to maintain it because, trust me, it is not worth it to go back to this place where I get winded after climbing a set of stairs.

I've made it through harder stuff than this. I'll do this, too, and be stronger when I make it out the other side. But, this serves as a stark reminder of my humanity. I've never felt so mortal in my life!

Baby Steps

2005-10-29T10:16:00.000-07:00

A funny thing happened a couple of nights ago. It is something that in another, very recent time I would have taken for granted. Ever since my medical treatment began way back in February of this year, I've become something of a nocturnal being.

In this experience, my awareness has been heightened, my senses sharpened. In a strange way, one without description, another dimension has been added to my existence. I suppose it could most easily be compared to a near death experience, perhaps something gained by a soldier after a battle--not the kind of battle fought in modern times, but one of times past when you saw the enemy, looked him in the eye and knew that his objective was to destroy you.

Perhaps this way of survival is closer to the way that we as humans were intended to live life, but I don't know. Perhaps subconciously I am trying to spin this into something positive after being conditioned for so long to think of it in negative terms--to convince myself that I have some kind of advantage when it comes to absorbing the experiences of daily life. Perhaps it is utter foolishness for me to search for a deeper meaning out of such things when I should be taking them at face value, but I don't think so. Perhaps it is something that I will never be able to fully explain or even understand. My prayer is that someday, looking back at the life I have lived, I will see that my small part in this big narrative made sense and had a clear purpose.

Despite all my philosophizing, it remains clear that I notice things that I didn't notice before, and that is a clear improvement. So a few nights ago when I slept the whole night through without waking up once, I took note and thanked God for the first night where I have slept the whole way through in probably at least three months. These little achievements are how I mark my improvement in health. I've still got a ways to go, but things are getting better because normalcy is beginning to return, even if it only consists of sleeping uninterrupted through the night.

A Hard Goodbye

2005-10-20T16:36:00.000-07:00

The rain was a God-send. It was difficult enough to actually drive myself to the airport willingly. Here I was, in California, more importantly, in Pacific Daylight Time where 90% of my friends and family and reside and, once again, I was returning to the airport so that I could fly back east...and for what? There are things that I like about both coasts, but the West Coast has so many more that's it's not even worth trying to draw up distinctions. The two can't be compared.

Nevertheless, here I was with the top up on the convertible that I had rented for the week for the first time because of weather--probably the one thing that made it feasible for me to actually leave California behind me...again. After it was all said and done, I actually missed my flight and had to fly stand-by on the next one and didn't get "home" until 12:30 the next morning and since all forms of public transportation and friends were shut down for the night, I had to shell out a hefty $53 for a cab ride from Dulles airport. By the time I got home and in bed, it was about 1:45 a.m. and I couldn't sleep because it was only 10:45 the night before to me. Somehow I was able to wake up the next morning and get into the office in time for a 10 a.m. meeting. The next day was even more difficult to wake up for and I nearly didn't because I slept through my alarm clock.

Of course none of this was made better when I found in my inbox an email from my mother explaining the complications that my dad had had due to his major surgery the Friday prior. Luckily, he pulled out of it and the doctors were able to get him stabilized but it meant that he would have to stay in the hospital longer which means a longer recovery most likely. I've joked about it before, but I'm really looking forward to 2006. This calendar year has not been kind to me or my family and I'm ready to start over!

Today is Thursday and after getting more or less acclimated to east coast time again, I feel very good. I would say that this afternoon was the best that I have felt since before my radiation treatment began. (By the way, tomorrow will mark exactly one month since my last radiation treatment. It hardly seems possible!) Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually--I felt and feel incredibly balanced for the first time in as long as I can remember. It just feels very good to crack jokes and laugh again without being in pain. I didn't realize how much I had missed that. Obviously my hope is that this continues.

It's just funny how things that used to be important cease to be that way. It's a value system that not too long ago I probably would have characterized as upside-down.

A Homecoming of Sorts

2005-10-13T14:35:00.000-07:00

It is surprising that I have gone more than two weeks without updating my blog. I wish it was because I've been so busy getting back to my normal, pre-radiation life but largely that is not the case. It is partially true, however.

I can honestly say that the past couple weeks have been some of the most frustrating of any that I have experienced thus far. I know it sounds weird since the treatment is finished and I am well on my way to recovery, but that is precisely why it has been so difficult. I've been feeling like crap for so long that you think that I would be used to it by now...but I'm not. I want nothing more than for my mouth sores to be gone and my ability to taste to be back. That's all I want, and for the past two weeks I have woken up with the day-of-Christmas anticipation of an 8-year-old only to be disappointed to find that Santa had not visited me the night before. Every night I would pray that the mouth sores would be gone and that I would be able to eat and speak pain-free for the first time in six weeks, and every morning I would be so disappointed when the discovery was made that there had been no improvement overnight. It is this consistent disappointment that I have been dealing with ever since the treatment has been finished. I'm not being irradiated, so why can't I heal??? Even the conversations I would have with my doctor did not cheer me up. "You've been through a lot of trauma," he would say, "Things will get better but you've got to give it time." What I really wanted to respond with was not respectful to him and is not suitable for this blog, so like I did then during the appointment, I will bite my tongue and leave it to your imagination. All I know is that I had waited long enough I thought, and I wanted to move on. I wanted to be able to eat a hamburger, spaghetti, or even a piece of toast without reducing myself to tears. Not only that, I wanted to be able to pick up the phone and call a friend without having to worry about whether or not I would be understood on the other end of the line. These are the things you have to think about when your tongue is pink with rawness and your gumlines are white with dead cells.

I've been processing a lot of emotions lately. Disappointment as I have already indicated, but in addition to that, it's been a smorgasbord in the last few days. Last Saturday, I left Washington, DC for the sunny state of California--a place I called home for six years during college and beyond. A very good friend of mine is getting married in Santa Barbara and I was honored to be invited to stand in as a groomsman. From Saturday to Tuesday, I stayed in LA with an old roommate from college who is now married--he and his wife are two of the most hospitable people I know even though they refuse to believe it. Over the course of those days I also saw many more friends from my college days, many of them also married and either settled into a new career or almost finished with their graduate studies. I had the opportunity to go golfing, play frisbee, and just hang out...it was a wonderful experience.

On Tuesday, I hopped into my rental car and headed north to Santa Barbara--quite honestly, one of the most beautiful places on the face of the earth, without question. In addition to catching up with even more friends, I went up to my alma mater, Westmont College, to see how the old campus looked. Most of it was completely unchanged and I was happy to see that--it gave me a comforting feeling for some reason. To know that I could be so dramatically changed over the last couple of years and something could be virtually unchanged just felt good. The rest of Santa Barbara was also mostly unchanged, but I'm still dealing with the disappearance of my favorite breakfast burrito stand that I discovered this morning. I was heartbroken. Even though I wouldn't have been able to taste it, I could have imagined it. Most importantly, though, the Pacific Ocean is still there, beckoning to me, begging me to go swimming once again. I never did acquiesce because the October water from Alaska is just far too cold. I did go wading, however, and that was good enough.

The next few days are going to be even more fun since the wedding party will be arriving today...guys that I have not seen in months, if not years. Years after forming these relationships in Santa Barbara, it's interesting to go back to where it all started for yet another informal reunion. The memories have been coming at me almost too quickly for digestion, and the next few days will be even more intense.

Check Up #1

2005-09-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

I returned to the hospital today for the first time in a week. Going to the hospital on a weekly basis sounds like a lot, but after going on a daily basis for seven weeks, it just doesn't feel like all that much really.

Today's check-up was with with the medical oncologist. He was the one who said I should skip my final chemo treatment last week. He asked me how I was feeling and did his thing before saying that I was pretty much right on track and where I should be. That was encouraging.

My chief complaint was about the mouth sores. I wanted them gone last week! Apparently, however, the tissue that has been irradiated is incapable of producing new cells until 1-2 weeks after radiation. This would have been helpful information to have before they turned me loose. That way I wouldn't have woken up each day with the hope that maybe, just maybe my mouth sores were on the way out--only to be disappointed time and time again. The bright side of it is that I'm at the one-week mark and now the improvements really should come. This whole thing has been a lesson in patience beyond what I wanted to learn.

I also got the answer to a question that I didn't really want to ask because I was afraid what the answer might be. The question was: When can I expect to get my sense of taste back? And the answer that I got was something along the lines of, "Well, we fried things pretty good in there. You probably won't get your taste back for at least a month." And then he continued, "But your ability to taste should come back." Now, I knew all along that a permanent loss of taste was possible, I just never like to be reminded of it. So let's assume for now that most of my ability to taste (even if it is only one side of my tongue) will come back. But this month thing...ugh, it's killin' me!

For those of you out there who have never lost your sense of taste, don't. For your own good, don't. It's like watching a movie in black and white. Or watching Charlie Chaplin. Something's missing that you would have never missed if it had never been there from the beginning. But if you go 27 years with it and then it's gone...well, it just sucks...that's the bottom line.

One of the things that has been helping me get through all these treatments and that I have been looking forward to for a while now is an upcoming trip to California. Now, most of you know that I lived in Santa Barbara for six years, and you also know how much I love it there. (Sometimes, I still question why I ever left.) One of the things that makes Santa Barbara so great is its food--from fast food In-n-Out to the hole-in-the-wall El Sitio (best Mexican food outside of Mexico), the food there is absolutely remarkable. It should not be a surprise, then, that I was planning on gorging myself with all kinds of Double-Doubles from In-n-Out and chorizo tortas from El Sitio every day that I was there...not to mention the breakfast burritos and cinnamon rolls at the stand by the ocean! (My dry mouth is already watering.) Anyway, now I'm forced to come to grips with the fact that I will not be able to taste the very food that I have been looking forward to for so long now and it makes me very sad. I'm not kidding...this is very disappointing and has put a cloud over my day. My only hope is that somewhere in my mouth are a few healthy taste buds that successfully fought the radiation well enough to stay intact.

A New Season

2005-09-24T10:55:00.000-07:00

Here's a pretty cool observation--the first day of my post-radiation life was also the first day of Fall this year. So, not only was it a new season on the calendar, it was also a new season in my life. When I thought about that on Thursday, I just thought to myself, "You can't plan stuff like that." Once again, it's reassuring to know that someone bigger than me has a hand in all of this.

So other than that, there's really not a whole lot of new information to report. My tongue still hurts to about the same degree as when I wrote about it on Wednesday. I thought that maybe yesterday it was getting a little better but then this morning I felt like it took a step backwards and that was disappointing. I'm so eager to be able to drink and eat like a normal person again and sometimes it feels like my time will never come. Of course I know that it will, but after several weeks of having a restricted diet following my tongue surgery in February, and then again following my neck surgery in June, and of course during my treatment most recently, it begins to wear you down. And, let's not forget that this all comes on the heels of my limited ability to eat prior to having the first tumor removed--a period of several months.

So I keep praying for a miracle because I'm tired of the pain. Hopefully I'll have a better report in the days to come.

Victory

2005-09-21T12:20:00.000-07:00

This dreadful battle is finally complete. And by virtue of me simply being able to walk away from it, physically and mentally, I can declare victory despite the fact that I am banged up a little. I know the bigger fight is still in progress--I would be foolish to think otherwise--but this represents a huge step in the right direction. A huge step in gaining and keeping the upper hand in my fight against cancer.

I wish that I had some nuggets of wisdom to share with you, but I haven't yet had a chance to reflect on the entire experience. There was some mental preparation that was required at the beginning to make it through. Of course, there were also ongoing mental approaches, or postures, or whatever you want to call them, that I had to maintain throughout the treatment. Once I am able to begin letting go of those, or at least changing how they are manifest in my daily life, then I think I'll be better able to understand my experience.

All I know for now is that I couldn't have, and didn't, do this alone. I was reminded of this on my way out of the hospital this morning. I had in my hand the cursed mask that I had been forced to wear for the previous seven weeks during treatment. (I had asked the technicians if I could keep it and they had said yes. There are a lot of life lessons in that mask and it will serve as a good reminder to me later on in good times and when I think life is hard.) As I stopped at the front desk to validate my parking ticket, the lady behind the desk looked up at me and with a huge smile on her face that almost matched the size of the smile on my face said, "Last day of treatment, huh? Congratulations!" Through my battle-scarred mouth I could simply mumble, "Thanks."

And with that, I turned and walked out the door, trophy in hand.

One...day...left...

2005-09-20T10:42:00.000-07:00

Today, my penultimate day of therapy, is over. In less than 24 hours I will be done tearing down my body and focused wholly on healing and rebuilding it. Of course, it will be a long, slow process but at least, from what I can tell, I am either at the bottom or a few days removed from it.

The reason I can say this is because my last chemotherapy treatment was last Tuesday! How is this possible? Well, originally, my medical oncologist said that I would get three treatments of Cisplatin lasting a course of nine weeks--one dose per three weeks. After my first round of Cisplatin, my body reacted violently, in combination with the radiation, and I broke out with a lot of very painful mouth sores. When the medical oncologist examined my mouth, he didn't like what he saw and decided to go with another, similar drug that supposedly doesn't have as brutal of side effects as Cisplatin. I did three rounds of the new chemo, called Carboplatin. The doses were smaller and received on a weekly basis so that three weeks of Carboplatin would have been the same as one dose of Cisplatin.

Fastforward to this morning, after having three doses of Carboplatin, my mouth sores again came back just as bad as the first time. To make a long story short, the doctor again decided that my body had had enough and decided this morning to forego the final dose and discontinue the chemotherapy.

Of course, the first question that comes to mind is, "Won't this lessen the effectiveness of the attack on the cancer?" Well, the quick answer is yes, but when you consider that the chemotherapy was added to my treatment plan as almost an afterthought, then it isn't nearly as alarming. The other thing to consider is that it was originally meant to boost the effectiveness of the radiation, and since I only have one day of radiation left it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to continue the treatment. In the end, I'd just be putting my body, perhaps unnecessarily, through a whole lot more pain (I already am unable to eat and can barely drink anything, including water) for minimal benefit. And since the doctor thought it was a good idea to discontinue, I figured that I'd probably be okay.

So, tomorrow is it. After I hop off that table one last time following radiation I won't be going back (knock on wood). I'm hoping that this is just the beginning of many more good reports to come.

65 Hours and Counting

2005-09-18T14:24:00.000-07:00

Recently, I've been marking the progress of my treatment by football games. For example, when the NFL was still playing its preseason (which I don't care for), I knew that I still had a long way to go. During the first college football weekend, Oregon State (yes, the ferocious Beavers) were playing Portland State. Now this game was not televised, but I knew that the third game of the season, against ranked Louisville, was going to be aired on ESPN. So yesterday, when I woke up, I knew that I was getting close to the end of radiation because the Beavers were going to be playing the Cardinals. Now, for any of you who follow football, then you know that the end result was not pretty, but I didn't really care. I mean, it would have been nice to see the Beavers win, but it was just fun to see them play a nationally-televised game--for a small market team like the Beavs, that just doesn't happen too often. So anyway, I am now in the last weekend of football while receiving radiation and chemotherapy. It's been a L-O-N-G road, but I'm almost there.

Even when the treatment is over, however, I'll still have my share of waiting before things are back to normal. I'm hoping that the mouth sores--and therefore most of the pain--will be gone in the matter of a couple of weeks. My doctor has emphasized how some side effects will subside quickly and others will take up to 6 months or a year before they are completely gone. I can say right now, however, that if the mouth sores go away and my taste comes back, I'll be a very happy camper!

On one hand, it's hard to believe that I am as close to the end as I am. On the other, I feel like this should have been finished a long time ago. In either case, it's a good thing that I am as close to being finished as I am because I honestly don't know if I could take another full week of this. The side effects have been manageable up to this point and even my doctor says that now I am getting to the part of the treatment where they really can't do anything more for me in terms of pain management. Anyway, I've got less than 72 hours until the worst of this is over...then, I'm on the downward slope.

A Step Closer

2005-09-13T10:59:00.000-07:00

Today was another double whammy at the hospital with both radiation and chemotherapy scheduled. I had a pleasant surprise during radiation treatment that I think I briefly mentioned in my last entry. At the time I didn't know what kind of change would be made in the treatment, but now I do. Up until today, I have been receiving five zaps of radiation per treatment session. Beginning today, that number is reduced to three per session. The best news of it all is that it cuts the time that I am actually in the chamber by more than half!

Chemotherapy also went pretty well and my nurse did a great job of getting the IV set up. Last week it took 3 tries--this week, only once, and it was relatively painless. Unfortunately, she is not scheduled to work next Tuesday when I get my last treatment.

So a big hurdle was jumped today and now I have 6 radiation treatments remaining as well as one more round of chemotherapy...the countdown continues.

2005-09-11T11:37:00.000-07:00

Well, there's really not much new to report except that I am a week closer to being done.

My last day of radiation is Wednesday, September 21, which means that I have eight treatments left. When I was at the hospital for my treatment on Friday, they took another round of films (basically x-rays) to make sure that things are still going well. To be honest, I have no idea what they are looking for when they take these pictures--I know it is not for the presence of cancer because that is not visible. Anyway, they took another round of films because apparently my treatment will be altered slightly--it's nothing changed from the original plan, but this is the first time I've heard about it. I don't know if it will make the treatments shorter, longer, unchanged, different angle, or what--all I know is that it will be different for the last four days of the treatment. So that means that Monday through Thursday of this week should be same old, same old. And then the new setup on Friday through Wednesday.

My last day of chemotherapy is Tuesday, September 20--that is assuming that the doctors elect to not change or discontinue the chemotherapy which is still a possibility, albeit a remote one. Chemo is still only once a week for me and that day is obviously Tuesday. For some reason, they seem to have problems finding a good vein for my IV. Last week they stuck me four times trying to find a good vein that was comfortable for me. They always like to go after these two veins that I have near my wrists that are easy to identify--the only problem is that it really hurts to have a needle in these particular places. So every week I go through the same thing: they eye one of those two good veins, I tell them that it won't work and that they need to go higher, they start looking higher and can't find much, they ask how far down they can go, and before I know it I'm in a negotiation over where they get to stick me with a needle. It can be pretty frustrating because every morning before I can get my chemo, I need to have blood drawn down in the lab. The technicians in the lab are the best at sticking me, believe it or not, but for reasons that I can only imagine are bureaucratic, they cannot leave the needle in my arm from my blood work in the morning to the time that I get my chemo.

The side effects from the radiation and chemotherapy are steadily getting worse. This time, however, it seems to be getting worse on the outside. As crazy as it sounds, I feel lucky about that because the mouth pain is just too much after a while. My skin looks really sunburned now with one patch affected much more than the rest--so much so that it will bleed from time to time. Also, I continue to lose more facial hair which creates a weird pattern of growth if I don't shave for a few days. I'm pretty sure that I haven't caught everyone who has done a doubletake. The dry mouth is also getting worse and it wakes me up almost on the hour every night--I still drink a lot of water and use a special mouth wash and take my salivary gland prescription, but the effects are still pretty obvious. A somewhat new development is almost a total loss of taste which makes eating even harder. I made a fun discovery yesterday, however. I woke up from another one of my long naps with an urge to get some Chicken McNuggets. Luckily, there is a McDonald's not too far away and I went and got a 10-piece order and they went down great--it was an easy 500 calories! So I'm thinking that today I'll go and get a 20-piece order. It's even more important for me to get as much food down as possible considering that I've lost 16 lbs so far. Can you believe that??? 16 lbs...it's not like I had a lot of extra weight to begin with! I've never really liked being thin and now it just makes me hate it even more. The last noteworthy side effect is fatigue. The amount of time I've slept the last few weeks has got to set some kind of record. It really has been quite amazing. I'll usually get 12 hours of sleep a night--of course, the sleep is interrupted--and then I'll take a 2-3 hour nap, sometimes two of them, during the day. The rest of the time I eat and make sure that I'm taking my medicine. It really is like a full-time job.

So that's my update.

8 Days.

Fatigue

2005-09-02T14:21:00.000-07:00

I don't ever remember being so tired. Yesterday is when it really hit me--I could never really wake up and even after radiation I was still feeling like I should be sleeping. I left work early because I just couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I had been given some food from some folks at work and when I got home, I put it in my kitchen and fell asleep before I even got the food in my fridge! The crazy thing was that I slept for almost 3 hours and probably still could have slept another 3 hours! I put the food in the fridge when I finally woke up. Hit another wall at around 10 p.m. again and slept pretty much the whole way through the night--unbelievable!

Today was more of the same, but without as much sleeping. When I got home from radiation treatment, I had a few things to take care of but then again I was down for the count. After taking care of some work stuff and getting a few prescriptions refilled, then I was again catching a nap.

Some good news is that my mouth sores seem to be getting a little better. Enough so that I can eat much easier than I could before. Being able to eat should help with the fatigue that I am experiencing, however, I can't be sure, either. It certainly can't hurt the situation!

Round #2

2005-08-30T12:21:00.000-07:00

This morning I had my second dose of chemotherapy. It was a much shorter experience this time than it was the first because they gave me less. Instead of two hours of fluids, then roughly an hour of chemo, then another two hours of fluids for a total process of about six hours, this time it was about 2 hours from start to finish.

My reaction to the first round of chemo earlier this month was not good and I still have the mouth sores to prove it. I probably will have them for the remainder of my treatment as well. These mouth sores make it very difficult to stay nourished in a time when I need all the calories I can get. I've lost about 10 lbs. so far even though I've been working very hard at getting food in my system.

A couple of weeks ago when the mouth sores first showed up, my medical oncologist examined me and automatically started to think about changing my chemo or discontinuing it altogether. We chose the former and so that means a different drug in smaller doses, but administered more often. Instead of one large dose to last me three weeks, we are now doing one small dose per week. So today was the first day of this new treatment plan.

Thus far, I'm doing fine, but that's how it started out last time so I'm hesitant to get too excited too early. I'm very tired, and if that is the extent of what I feel then I will be very, very happy!

Radiation is still going ahead as normal. 16 days to go!

You Heard it Here First, Folks

2005-08-20T22:36:00.000-07:00

I discovered a little bit of a surprise today. I knew that it was coming and that's why it is only a little surprise. Now, please read carefully the following so that you don't go and do something drastic as a show of solidarity.

Today I started losing some hair. That's right, just fell right out.

But it wasn't from chemo, so don't worry about that.

This is a very important distinction to make. When you lose your hair as a result of chemo, you lose it all and it doesn't stop at the neck--body hair goes, too.

When you lose hair from radiation, which is why mine is falling out, then it only falls out in the area of the skin that has been irradiated. Make sense? So, in my case, I'm receiving radiation on my neck and some various other upper chest areas. Today I noticed that whatever stubble I had grown up to this point in the weekend started to fall out whenever I scratched my neck and even when I didn't. It's not completely fallen out but it's getting there. A bigger surprise was how high up the neck they are treating. I know exactly the size of the treatment area now because bare skin corresponds with it. So now it looks like I have a recent trim on the back of my neck, but only on the left side. Looking at it with a mirror today confirmed my suspicions--it just looks weird. I need to get to the barber soon to make sure that it at least sort of matches up on the other side.

Since tomorrow's Sunday, maybe I'll get around to doing that on Tuesday when the barber shops generally open back up after the weekend. If I can endure the scorn of public life for the next couple of days, I think I'll be okay.

Better Living through Chemistry

2005-08-19T15:43:00.000-07:00

An old colleague of mine once jokingly referred to her daily medication as "better living through chemistry."

Last Sunday night, my first side effects from the radiation appeared in a matter of hours. The one side effect that I was hoping to avoid the most--mouth sores.

They completely took me by surprise because I wasn't expecting the side effects to show up until the beginning of the third week. But here I was, 10 days into my treatment, with radiation blisters covering the inside of my mouth. The good news is that they are limited to the left side of my mouth. The bad news is two-fold: 1) they're everywhere and 2) they're huge.

The pain I'm experiencing now is beyond the level of pain I had even before my first surgery. I know that seems impossible, yet it is true just because instead of a singular patch to deal with, it is all over the left side of my mouth.

After my radiation treatment on Monday, I met with my doctors and they, of course, didn't like what they saw. I was immediately written several prescriptions and given some directions on how best to deal with the pain since there is no way to really eliminate it.

What started on Monday quickly became a daily routine. Usually I meet with my doctors for a check-up once a week with that day being Monday. Following the Monday appointment, the resident informed me that he wanted to see me again the next day, Tuesday, following my radiation treatment. On Tuesday, the pain was still overwhelming and so I made plans to be checked on again on Wednesday. Wednesday was better, but still pretty bad. However, they wanted to see how the pain medication was working over the course of a day or two before changing anything. So I got to skip the face-to-face appointment on Thursday but had it again today, Friday.

By the time it was all said and done, I had met with radiation oncologist 3 times, the radiation oncologist's resident 5 times, the medical oncologist 1 time and the nurse another 2-3 times. Once I left the hospital, I usually made my daily trek to the pharmacy down the street from my studio. The only day this week that I did not pick up a new prescription or get a refill was yesterday. Additionally, I had to make two more trips to a different, larger pharmacy that actually had the pain medication that I needed--now that's some strong stuff!

So that was this week. I'm currently doped up pretty heavily. Enough so that it is hard to focus with two eyes open. Let's just say I'm mastering the art of typing with one eye closed. Of course, when I'm not working hard to focus my eyes, I'm usually either beginning to nod off or waking up after already nodding off.

So that was my week in a nutshell. I certainly can't complain because at least we have the pain medicine we need in this country. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like for those who aren't automatically in the wealthiest 1% of the world's population. I just can't and I'm extremely grateful that I don't have to.

I Am Bubble Boy

2005-08-13T16:50:00.000-07:00

I'm four days removed from my first chemotherapy treatment. I'm told that I'm getting a light dose of chemo and it's enough to make me want to puke--literally and figuratively. I didn't know much about chemo before this and I still don't really know a whole lot. But what I do know is that there are a lot of people out there who get much larger doses than I do and it that is just beyond me. For example, I get chemo treatments once every three weeks with each treatment consisting of 2 hours of fluids, then 1 hour of chemo, followed by another two hours of fluids. That's it...I don't have to come in the next day or anything. I just need to make sure that I follow the directions of the doctor. Compare that with a guy I know who as a child went in 4 days a week for treatment and then got two weeks off. Honestly, I just cannot imagine. Of course, there are many different types of chemo out there and each one has its own risks and benefits, but chemo is chemo in my opinion.

The side effects are no joke. Before I even went into the hospital for my chemo, I filled all the anti-nausea prescriptions that they gave me. Ever since Tuesday night, my stomach has been feeling woozy and that is with the anti-nausea medications. I can't imagine what it would be like without the medicine! Aside from nausea, there is this constant feeling of acid reflux that just won't go away. In some ways, this is more uncomfortable than the nausea, believe it or not. The problem is that at night it makes it very hard to sleep and usually I'll get up 4-6 times throughout the night just because I can't sleep. So then I prop up the pillows and usually try my best to sleep upright so that things in my gastrointestinal tract get settled down. Needless to say, however, the changes in sleep habits makes me tired during the day. Not the kind of tiredness that would be characterized by fatigue, but just general sleepiness.

From what the doctors and nurses tell me, it's quite important for me to stay active just to make sure that my body stays functioning correctly. So with that in mind, I'm happy to report that including Tuesday, I've done some kind of exercise every day this week. Usually it's a three-mile run/walk or a one-hour ride on a stationary bike. Usually the hardest part is getting started and once I get going things really get back to normal for me, except that I don't push myself very hard.

The hardest part about all of the chemo is the adjustments in lifestyle. There are a lot of little things that we take for granted that I can't take for granted any longer. For example, because of my reduced ability to fight off infection due to my lower blood cell counts, I am unable to eat anything raw--including fruits and vegetables. The exception to this would be fruits with a heavy peel like a cantaloupe or banana. Basically, everything must be cooked to make sure that all the potential bacteria are killed off. Also, I need to be careful to not cut myself because my platelet count is also low and that makes it hard for blood to clot. I also carry hand sanitizer around with me everywhere I go so that after touching doorknobs and stuff, I can't clean up without having a faucet around. Yup, I'm turning into obsessive-compulsive disorder guy.

So things are progressing along as nicely as I could hope for, I suppose. I'm about 25% of the way through my radiation treatment now, which is surprising. And if I have three total chemo treatments, then I'm 33% done with that, too. It's a marathon, but I've embraced the idea of tunnel vision and I'm taking everything one day at a time because that is all that one can do.

Radiation Therapy - Days 1-3

2005-08-06T16:53:00.000-07:00

Wednesday was the first day of my radiation "therapy". (I think that the word therapy is applied loosely in this context, but I digress.) I showed up a little late because I had a few things at work that were pressing and every time I had been to the hospital before I ended up waiting for a significant amount of time. Turns out that the radiation department runs almost like clockwork so they were really moving fast to get me in and out of there.

When I walked back into the room, I saw my nemesis--the mask--right away. I cringed. After getting positioned on the table, they locked down the mask and started to get everything set up. Right away I knew that this was not going to work. The problem is that I don't like to be completely and forcibly immobilized with a mask pressing over my face. It squishes my nose down and makes it hard to breathe. Why not breathe through my mouth? Well, I've got what they call a bite block that is in my mouth to push my tongue down so that is in the same position every time I'm shot with radiation. So that makes it hard to breathe out of my mouth as well.

The mask is made of a mesh-like material that is rock hard. They fit it to your face during the radiation simulation that I had a couple weeks prior. The mask starts out flexible and is stretched over your face until it hardens. Then they take a bunch of measurements, write all over your face and neck, and then take a bunch of pictures. Then the doctor looks everything over, gives them additional instructions, signs off on it, and then they do some more tinkering. The whole process takes about 45 minutes and is about the most unpleasant experience you can imagine. The only problem is that when they first stretched the mask over me, they forgot to insert the bite block in my mouth, so the mask partially hardened in a size too small for me. (The bite block holds your mouth open slightly, thus pushing your chin down.) They quickly pulled the mask off and put the bite block in and then replaced the mask before it had completely hardened. This left, as I mentioned before, the mask too small so that when I have the bite block in, my chin is pulling the mask downward against my forehead and nose, making it harder to breathe.

Anyway, fast-forwarding back to the first official day of treatment...they slip this mask over me and immediately I begin to panic. Like most people, I begin to breathe a lot faster when I panic and this is exactly what happened. Of course I can't talk, since I've got this bite block in my mouth (imagine yourself in the dentist's office when he asks you a question and expects you to answer when you've got your mouth full of about 4 appliances and his fingers--that's kind of how it is). Since I can't talk, I just start squirming to get their attention--they hate it when you squirm because that means they've got to readjust things. Anyway, the technicians pulled the mask off and asked me what was wrong. At this point, they gave me an inch and I fully intended to take a mile. "I can't breathe with that thing on," I said. "It just pushes down on my nose and is really painful. Basically, I can't forget that I have this thing on and that is the one thing I need to be able to do to make this thing successful." So they ended up cutting part of the mask around the nose out which made things MUCH better. They also allowed me to listen to my iPod so that at least I could have some music to make me feel like I was on a sandy beach in the Caribbean even though I was the farthest place from it. (Funny note here...when you lie down on this table, they have silly seascape portraits posted to the ceiling. Apparently, these things are supposed to help keep the patient calm but they forgot that we've got the stupid mask on and can't see much of anything...brilliant...but it was a good effort.)

So the first day of treatment was about 30 minutes long because they had to double check the settings of everything and make sure they weren't shooting radiation into my hip instead of into my neck. All in all, I think I did pretty well--certainly better than during the simulation. The next two days went even better--the second day was a little tough at one point but the third was a breeze. One of the techs said, "You're getting used to it!" Almost in a congratulatory tone. I responded that I didn't think I would ever get used to it--and as I think about it now, I don't think I ever want to get used to it. Never in my life do I want to look back at this experience and think, "Hey, that was normal."

I was under the impression that my chemotherapy would also begin the same day but they decided to start it up next Tuesday. In preparation for that, they gave me three prescriptions for anti-nausea medicine. The most common side effect from chemotherapy is severe nausea and vomiting. However, some people never suffer through it. The bottom line is that they don't know how your body will react.

If you are now like I was last week, then you don't really know how chemotherapy works. Well, first they hook you up to an IV and pump you full of fluids, then give you the chemo, and then give you more fluids. It's a six-hour-long procedure--yuck. The good news is that all the fluids are supposed to help reduce the number of side effects.

All of this isn't as bad as I make it sound. I tried to explain it with a little humor but maybe it sounded a little cynical/sarcastic. Oh well. What you should know is that I feel good so far. The bad side effects are yet to come and I'll know a LOT more this time next week about how my body will respond to the drugs. I've been exercising regularly and trying to build up my energy level while gaining weight as well. I've been more or less successful but there is still work to be done. The trick is focusing on the big picture. It helps to remember that there are a lot of people leading perfectly normal lives out there who have been through this already. Look at Lance Armstrong, for example...get cancer, beat cancer, fully recover, and then win a few Tours. Not bad for a dude who had cancer throughout his body.

D-Day

2005-08-02T21:13:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the big day--actually, later this morning since it is so late. I had planned to be in bed a couple of hours ago but you know how that goes. Time just gets away sometimes no matter how much you try to plan ahead.

I don't think a person ever feels ready for this kind of thing. I'm not really scared, but I am apprehensive. Hundreds of thousands of people have gone through this before and come out alright. But sometimes numbers don't mean much. You can't wrap yourself up in a warm set of numbers like you can a blanket, unless you've won the lottery, that is!

Fun things that happen tomorrow...hmmm...let's see...

For starters, I get to start taking my Salagen. It's a drug that helps kick your salivary glands into overdrive. The hope is that this helps to preserve the salivary glands during radiation. Sometimes it helps a lot and sometimes not at all. I've already been told by my radiation oncologist that I'm almost guaranteed of losing 25% of my salivary glands. The most important function of saliva is protecting the teeth so my dental oncologist has already got me on a heavy dose of flouride to harden the enamel on my teeth as much as possible.

Tomorrow also marks the last day I'll be able to shave without an electric razor. After about three weeks, they say I won't even have to worry about shaving. I hate shaving, but honestly, I don't like the thought of not having the option!

Chemotherapy also starts tomorrow, and that is the wildcard. I don't know how I will react to it, but I've been told it should not be bad since it is a low dose. We'll see. It probably would have helped if I had been sleeping by now, but whatever.

I've been extremely fortunate so far when it comes to food. The folks at my work have taken very good care of me over the last several days. I have so much prepared food that just needs microwaving that my freezer can't take anymore! I've even got a few things in the fridge that I'll have to eat soon but it won't be a problem...trust me. This of course helps with the goal of gaining more weight. I forgot to weigh myself today but since I walk around feeling full all the time I'd say there must be some kind of improvement!

So that about does it. Hopefully I'll be well enough in the coming days to continue work which would mean no posts to the blog for at least a couple days. If I'm sick at home, then maybe I'll be able to put together a few nuggets of wisdom for you all.

Thanks for reading!

Down to Business

2005-07-28T20:14:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted. It's getting to be a regular thing and the radiation hasn't even started yet--I'm not worried about my energy level during radiation but it is something that I will be paying attention to. I think that it is because of everything that has been going on. Too much to handle really--still recovering from surgery while preparing to face radiation.

This past week has been really strange. Usually I sleep like a log at night, but since last weekend I've been getting little sleep that comes in fitful stages. It's really annoying because this is the time that I really need to rest up as much as I can. It even affects my ability to think clearly. Two days ago I stopped to pick up my prescription at the drug store and left my suit that I was carrying in the store (along with a shirt and belt). I didn't even realize that I had left it there until this morning, two days later! I went there right after work and luckily they had held on to it so no harm, no foul. I'm losing my mind!!!!!!!!

But I know I'm going to be okay through all of this. The reason I know this is because the right people have always come along at the right time during this illness. The most recent example is a group of women from my work who are taking turns preparing foods for me so that I won't have to cook for myself during treatment! Now, I'm a huge fan of home cookin', but I never thought I would have to go to these lengths to get it! But it's not just food...whether I've needed a ride or something from the store or whatever, someone has always been there. It's been tough for a very self-sustaining individual like me to learn to depend on other people. Tough, but a necessary lesson to learn.

So the hardest part about facing radiation is that you don't know how it will affect you specifically. You could ask 100 different people who went through radiation how it affected them and they would give you 100 different answers. All the nurses are very careful to emphasize that every person is different, which on the surface is like, duh. Everyone knows what it feels like when you have a really bad flu--runny nose, fever, stiff joints, etc. But this is completely different. You may be fatigued, you may not. You may develop painful mouth sores, you may not. You may develop dry mouth, you may not...and so on. Thankfully, there are ways to combat most of the unpleasant side effects of radiation/chemotherapy. With that said, not all of them work for everyone. So it will be key to find that balance when the time comes.

In the meantime, I'm trying to maintain the best focus I can on my overall well-being. The easiest thing for anyone to relate to is the physical aspect. Last Friday I was cleared by my ENT to resume normal activity. So I started running again. Then I was informed that I need to put on as much weight as I can before the treatment starts because I will probably lose weight during the treatment. Worst of all, that weight is very hard to put back on when you are recovered--or so they say. Hopefully if I do lose weight then my body will react differently and put it back on...heaven knows I don't need to lose any weight! That's the other funny thing about all of this, the nurses talk to me as if I can just add 10 lbs like it's nobody's business. "Here, eat this 160-oz steak and call me in the morning." Riiiiiiight.

So it's a Catch-22. I need to build up my energy level, but that generally happens through cardiovascular activities like running, biking, etc. which in turn burns off the weight (at least for me). But I need my energy level so that I can stay ahead of the fatigue for as long as possible and shorten the time of recovery in addition to helping keep my spirits up. So how do I solve this conundrum? Well, I'm working on that and I'll let you know when I figure it out. Right now, though, you should know that I'm forcing an enormous ice cream, peanut butter, chocolate syrup, banana, and protein powder shake down my throat almost to the point that I want to barf! Hey, don't call me a glutton, I'm working hard! No pain, no gain.

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get back to my workout.

The Next Phase

2005-07-24T19:14:00.000-07:00

Wow...I can't believe it's been two weeks since I last posted anything. Time flies when you're having fun...or is it when your Internet is down??? Can't remember...whatever. Yeah so, my Internet has been down for a while and I'm not going to use my work computer for posting to a blog because that's just asking for trouble.

So a lot has happened since I last updated you all. I've been to the hospital or some other medical or dental facility so many times I can't remember all of them. One in particular I do remember quite well, unfortunately. Unfortunate because it was the worst experience of this entire battle with cancer. I'm not kidding--I'd take the surgeries before this. I won't get into the details but suffice it to say that apparently I don't deal with being completely immobilized very well. The good news is that it is over. The bad news is that every day of my radiation therapy is going to be very similar to this experience. If this doesn't teach me to have total control over my mind, then nothing will.

Anyway, that was Wednesday and it was the simulation of what my radiation therapy would look like. They call it a simulation because they go through a little bit of a dry run of a session and map out where the treatment area will be. My treatment area will cover the left side of my neck up to my jawline and down into the chest region. The therapy will happen every Monday through Friday beginning August 3 and stretching through mid-September or about 6.5 weeks.

The side effects will not be pretty but mostly not permanent, thankfully. There is a pretty good chance, however, that I will lose about 25% of my salivary glands. Other things that will happen are a change in taste (not supposed to be permanent), sore throat, mouth sores, skin discoloration, and fatigue. I'm pretty sure there are some other things but I can't remember them at the moment.

Right now, I'm feeling pretty good about the future even as unpleasant as it may be. During my recovery from surgery on June 28th, I began watching the Tour de France (it started on July 2) and watched most, if not all, of every stage since then. I didn't really know much about cycling before I watched the Tour this year, but I've been following Lance's accomplishments ever since he started winning in 1999. His personal story is so unbelievably inspiring that he could have been a professional badminton player and I would have watched! So today was the last day of the Tour, and there was Lance--overall leader by 4 minutes and 40 seconds over Italian Ivan Basso--finishing his professional cycling career on top and in perfect form, winner of 7 Tours de France in a row. Just to have an idea of how big of a deal this is, consider the fact that before Lance there were only three riders who had won 5 Tours. Lance won 7. Consecutively.

It was bittersweet to see him take the podium for the last time today. He's been such an inspiration to me even before I was diagnosed with cancer earlier this year. I would have never dreamed that Lance Armstrong the cancer survivor would have inspired me so much more than Lance Armstrong the cyclist. Throughout my recovery, it's been reassuring to know that he's out there living life to the fullest and living a normal life. It'll be sad to have him gone from the public eye, at least in the context of a cyclist.

A Worthy Opponent

2005-07-08T21:12:00.000-07:00

It seems like I've been giving a lot of facts lately without any editorializing. One could argue that this is to the reader's benefit. The entire purpose of this website is to make things a little easier on me in my effort to keep all of those close to me--and even those who may know about me but whom I have never met--in the loop.

I know that I have old friends from college who read this occasionally and I am frequently reminded that my family reads with regularity. College friends who I currently am in touch with and also some complete strangers are faithful readers, too. Some political friends and others who don't really fit in any category at all have also wanted me to stay current with what has been happening in my life. Whoever you are, I thank you--really thank you--from the bottom of my heart for reading about the daily struggles and triumphs that I encounter. I acknowledge that I need to do a better job of keeping you all informed via my blog and I really wish that I could just skip the blog and make personal contact with each of you the norm. Unfortunately, that is quite impossible as I'm sure you all are well aware. So I'm forced to do the best that I can, which I know is sometimes not good enough by the standards of the world around us.

This experience that began for me back in the first week of February 2005 with a biopsy of my tongue has been nothing but up and down about as much as the stock market. On the best days, it is taxing. On the worst, it is overwhelming. In some of my first postings I wrote about these roller coaster rides and how hard they were. How some days, I could be perfectly fine and a few minutes later be searching for a private place to shed some tears in solitude. I did not write this for sympathy or pity, but just so that those who I have interactions with could experience, even only a little bit, what I was going through. I know that many of my friends and family use my blog as a place to go to find ways to pray for me.

A funny thing happens when you are fighting cancer, at least for me. I have started eating healthier foods and exercising more--I even take the stairs instead of the elevator when I'm not recovering from surgery. I avoid places where cigarette smoke is prevalent, not because I think I'm better than those places or even cigarette smoke, but because I know that little things like these that I can control help me define the terms of how I am fighting my cancer. My doctor in Washington state told me to embrace a healthy lifestyle and I'm doing everything I can to give myself the advantage. Heck, I even buy organic fruits and veggies now! I do these things because it's not about being trendy or cool. Neither is it about losing weight or increasing stamina, although those are some good benefits on the side. I do these things because it is a matter of SURVIVAL.

One of the most important lessons I have learned in this experience is self-discipline. This has brought the phrase "looking out for number one" to an entirely new level. I don't consider myself to be number one, but that is not the point. The only person that can control what you eat and how you treat your body is you. There may be some folks out there--cancer patients and survivors and their families are good examples--who know what I am talking about and know the changes in lifestyle that they had to embrace when they were diagnosed. It is not easy. In fact, it's hard...very hard. Because a lot of people don't expect you to change--they don't want you to change because that is acknowledging that this disease is serious and it is threatening. Many people don't like to hear that or think about that. It's a subject to be avoided. This makes it very difficult to make lifestyle changes. It is at this point that you must dig deep and have the discipline necessary to stick to the choices that you know are right for your body, mind, and spirit.

I am only 27 years old. I'm not the smartest or most experienced guy in the world. But I can say unequivocally that so far in my life, this is the hardest thing that I have ever done. And I'm no wise man, but I can also say with certainty that it will not get easier before I beat this thing. It will get harder, much harder. The very ability to recognize the seriousness of a situation that is not often sunny gives me an advantage. The British thought the American rebels were an inconvenience, and look what that got them. You have to respect the enemy or he will use your overconfidence to destroy you.

What I can promise each and every one of you who take the time to read my blog is that I am doing the best that I can in my fight against cancer. I'm lucky. I have some of the best doctors in the world taking care of me. I have some of the best technology in the world about a mile away. But it would be foolish to think that technological advances in the medical field will save my life. The truth of the matter is that this is a battle and I am the one fighting it. The things I do are part of an active plan to beat this disease. My lifestyle is not what it used to be out of necessity--out of an effort for survival. That does not make it better than anyone else's nor does it make me superior to anyone. It is just different.

I am different.

Over the last five months I have matured in ways that I never imagined--ways that I hoped I would never be forced to. My hope is that it is making me a better person, a more deliberate and disciplined person. A person who likes to have fun and appreciates life. It is also my hope that through my life I can be an inspiration to others. I hope that no matter what, I can say that I gave my best.

The battle continues...

Post Op News

2005-07-06T14:21:00.000-07:00

I got my stitches removed today--it's very nice to be foreign-object free again.

The doctor also had the results of the tests conducted on the lymph nodes they removed from my neck.

Overall, they removed 19 lymph nodes. Of those 19, one of them came back positive for cancer. The tumor itself was very small--only about 1 cm wide--but the ramifications are pretty big. The details still need to be worked out next week when I speak with my radiation oncologist, but it appears that I will be undergoing radiation treatment with a small dose of chemo mixed in to boost the effects of the radiation. Of course I would rather go to Hawaii, but since they didn't offer that as an option, I think I'm stuck with radiation. Oh well. The treatment will most likely start in 4-6 weeks or as soon as my neck is healed from the surgery that I had last week. As of right now, the doctors are not sure whether they will incorporate a shot of radiation to the tongue while they are irradiating my neck. The thought generally is, "Well, we are going to the trouble of doing all this, why not get the tongue at the same time?" It makes sense, but obviously I would prefer to avoid radiation to the tongue if it isn't necessary. The key is to guess how the cancer will act...if I were a cancer cell...where would I go??? You get the idea.

So that'll happen relatively soon and then hopefully I'll be done with this.

The important thing to remember in all of this is that these results are not unexpected. I was actually not surprised at all to hear that one of the nodes came back positive. It would have been a shortcut if nothing had been positive, which would have been nice, but wasn't to be this time.

Another important thing to remember is that we caught this thing early. It does nothing but boosts my chances of getting this thing taken care of once and for all by catching it early.

I suppose I will offer more editorials on the matter as time goes on, but right now, I don't really feel obliged to.

Post-Op

2005-07-05T10:36:00.000-07:00

It's been almost a week now since my surgery. I feel pretty good, but for anyone who has experienced surgery, you know that it takes a little while to feel like you are truly back to normal.

The surgery began about an hour later than the originally-scheduled start time of 4:30 p.m., for whatever reason, and I ended up not getting to my hospital room until about 10 p.m. I was almost completely out of it, but I could tell that the guy they had me sharing a room with was watching Friday Night Lights--one of my favorite sports movies, but under the circumstances, I just wanted a pair of earplugs and morphine. I ended up getting both but it certainly seemed to take a while.

The next day, Wednesday, I felt a little better but not much. It was then that I noticed that I had these two drains connected to my body. Supposedly they are better than having to deal with gauze and bandages, but they made me feel nauseous the entire time I had them in. Just imagine turning your head slightly one way or the other and feeling some foreign object below your skin poking your throat. Well, that's what I was dealing with and I couldn't wait to get them removed.

The doctors and nurses thought I was doing well enough so they released me a day early, much to my surprise. As it turned out, I think it probably would have been a good idea to keep me there another day, but so far, things have worked out. Two days after my release from the hospital, Friday, I went back to the hospital to get one of the drains removed. Supposedly, when the drainage is less than 25 cc per day then they can remove the drains, but they were hesitant to remove the second drain despite the fact that it was much less than the requisite 25 cc's. Finally, however, I did get it removed on Sunday morning and since then I have been feeling much better. It's amazing how much a foreign object under the skin can hamper movement and mobility.

Yesterday, July 4th, I felt good enough that I was able to go out and enjoy the fireworks here in DC. I was very fortunate to have been invited to the south lawn of the White House and was able to bring my mom there with me. It certainly was not an exclusive event and there were probably thousands of people there, but it was very cool to be able to watch the fireworks while sitting about 200 feet away from the White House. Unfortunately, I think I may have have overdone it a bit because today I'm certainly feeling a little beaten up.

One thing that has certainly helped to pass along the time is the Tour de France that began on July 2 and has been going every day beginning at 8:30 a.m. eastern time. I don't know much about cycling, but like many people, I am a fan of Lance Armstrong and have been following his career for several years. I'm continually blown away by what he has overcome to be where he is today. It may sound silly to a lot of people, but I can honestly say that I have so much more respect for him now than before (in terms of sporting accomplishments). The mental discipline this guy must have is absolutely mind-boggling! Anyway, I would recommend that you all keep track of how he is doing this year in his final Tour. You would be interested to know that he was awarded the yellow jersey today after his team won the time trial in fine fashion. Unfortunately, the guy who had it before him was an American who crashed with only 1.5 km left in the time trial--leaving him virtually disqualified from winning the Tour. It's not like he had much of a chance anyway, but still you hate to see somebody lose because of that.

So tune in tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. on the Outdoor Life Network.

Frustration

2005-06-30T07:59:00.000-07:00

I am home now, surprisingly. The doctors actually released me yesterday afternoon so I've been home now for almost 24 hours. Everything else has pretty much gone exactly opposite of what I have hoped. To put it mildly, I've been extremely frustrated with the way everything has been handled.

Thankfully, only one incision was made, although it is much larger than what I had anticipated--stretching from behind my left ear all the way down to the center of the front of my neck--probably a good six inches. This is better than if they had been forced to make another incision downward, making a sort of "Y" shape on my neck. They would have only had to do that if my lymph nodes were especially hard to get to, so at least I'm easily accessible.

I was not aware of this until two of them were installed, but apparently there is a new, preferred practice to the use of gauze and bandages for the purpose of keeping the wound clean and drained. It is called the Jackson-Pratt (JP) Drain and it is quite possibly one of the most annoying things ever. At least it isn't painful, but I feel like I'm in the Matrix or something because I've got two solid tubes stuck inside me that are supposed to drain away the fluids from inside my body. This drainage is driven by two bulbous, rubber reservoirs that just kind of dangle from my body. I know that sounds gross--and it is--but that is how it works. So I've got one going in on my upper neck and one going in down where the neck and chest meet.

Yesterday (Wednesday), the doctors said that I would be coming back in today (Thursday) to have one of the drains removed. Now, today, they are acting like they don't know what I'm talking about and it is really, really frustrating. I would be feeling much more forgiving about the whole matter if they hadn't messed up my prescriptions, too. Don't get me wrong, I think that they did a great job on the actual surgery, but the post-op care has left quite a bit to be desired. I didn't even get to see my doctor before being discharged. Now I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that standard practice would require the doctor to see the patient before he or she leaves the hospital.

So now I am just waiting...waiting...waiting for the hospital to call me back about getting one of these drains removed. Oh yeah, the other one...it's not scheduled to come out until Wednesday, July 6.

Waiting

2005-06-26T10:56:00.000-07:00

Well, not much new has happened over the past week. I completed all my pre-op stuff the week before and so this week has just been getting my things in order. I joke about feeling like I'm getting ready for vacation but in a way it is an apt description. Most people wouldn't know what it feels like to get things ready for being out-of-commission for a couple weeks, but everyone knows what it is like in the days leading up to a vacation. So at work I try to close up as many projects as possible and then find people who can carry the load while I'm out. It also means that since I'm going to be confined to my apartment for a while, I need to make sure that it is clean. Very boring, but I'm pretty sure that I'll appreciate it when the time comes. Of course, this has nothing to do with my mom coming out here to help me during my recovery.

So my surgery is scheduled for Tuesday afternoon at 4:30. I'm no expert, but isn't that kind of late in the day to start a 3-hour procedure? I mean, I don't even like to go to the barber when it's close to quitting time because I know he's gotta be thinking about what he is going to do when he gets home! But anyway, I can't really worry about that stuff, the guy performing the surgery is the chair of the Head and Neck department at the hospital, so he must know his stuff! I'll just worry about what I can control and trust the doctors to do what they've been trained to do. So with the surgery at 4:30, I'll need to show up by 2:30 to be admitted, fill out more forms (my favorite), get dressed in one of those trendy hospital gowns or whatever it is, get pricked with a few more needles, and then go under. I wish I could could just go under first.

It is no surprise that again my friends/family are coming through for me. As I already mentioned, my mom is coming out here and will get here Tuesday morning. Friends college as well as from previous jobs (including the House, Senate, and campaign) and friends from my current job have really been coming through for me in a way that I can never repay. One thing is for certain: experiences like this one really demand a review of priorities and drives home the things in life that are really important.

I'll try to post at least once more before the big day. Then after that you won't hear from me for a while, at least until I'm back home and hopefully "resting comfortably" as they say. If you don't hear from me before the surgery, I just want to say thanks to all of you out there who have been reading my blog, praying for me, sending me cards, or just sending good vibes my way. It all is much appreciated and I look forward to passing it on when the time comes.

Thank God It's Monday!!!

2005-06-19T20:26:00.000-07:00

Well this was certainly not a weekend that I would like to repeat. Just too much happening.

The weekend started out okay because I thought I would get an early start to it. The only problem was that I had to suffer through an MRI and my pre-op blood work to get there. Everything is fine when I leave the office and make my way over to the hospital. I find my way around the labyrinth that is Georgetown University Hospital and get to the MRI department. At that point I am handed a clipboard with some forms to fill out. Now, I'm no genius, but doesn't it seem a little bit weird that you have to fill out a variation of the SAME EXACT FORM every time you go to another part of the same hospital??? Wouldn't you think that they would have all that information on one central server somewhere? Or at least be able to share the information between each other so that we, the patients, don't have to suffer through the stupid things every time we show up? On the other hand, maybe they just know that they will be hopelessly behind schedule and this is just a ploy to keep you occupied for 15-20 minutes. I don't know...but if that is the reason, it's a lame one because I bring my own Sports Illustrated to while away the time.

Anyway, on this particular Friday, they were hopelessly behind schedule. My appointment was supposed to be at 12:15. By 12:45 I was wondering if they had forgotten about me (which they do unless you forget to fill out one of the forms, which I did) until the guy at the desk barked my name and informed me that my paperwork was "insufficient." As this is happening, I notice a guy being wheeled in ahead of me for his MRI and I am soon thereafter informed that things are considerably delayed. At this point, I tell them that I had another appointment at 1:15 for my pre-op and I really needed to get the ball rolling here at MRI so that I wouldn't be bumped from my other pre-op appointment. With that new knowledge in hand (again, why not a shared system so that they would already know that?), they suggest that I go over to my pre-op and have that done first. Well, after I wander around lost for almost 10 minutes, I ask someone where the GUMC Testing Center is and they look at me like I escaped the mental ward. By the time I asked the fourth person, I was feeling like I had escaped from a mental ward. I mean here I am at one of the best cancer hospitals in the world, and the paid professionals don't know what I'm talking about??? The only thing that is saving my sanity is that I have the appointment card in my hand and it clearly reads: GUMC Testing Center. By the time I actually get there, it's 1 p.m. and I'm fifteen minutes early for my appointment...until they hand me the biggest stack of forms yet! Slightly annoyed, I finished up the forms in record time and give them back to the secretary who delivers them to the admitting officer or nurse or whatever who date stamps the forms and then returns them to the secretary who takes them back to the nurses who will be going over all the pre-op stuff and sticking me with needles, etc. And I thought the bureaucracy in government was bad!

Just then I remember that I'm supposed to go back to the MRI department to let them know that they can see me at pre-op right now and so I'll come back later. At the MRI department, they tell me that they are ready for me now and it must be right now because or else a bigger delay later. So I go back to the GUMC Testing Center and tell them that my MRI that was scheduled for 12:15 is finally ready for me at 1:45. Luckily, the scan itself was very uneventful...just long. If you have never had to lie down, almost completely motionless, with an IV in your right arm and a "panic button" in your left hand and a clearance of about 3 inches from your face to the top of the tube you are in for 45 minutes...well, you're just letting the best in life pass you by! Suffice it to say, it is not one of the most favorable positions I have found myself.

So after the MRI, I'm headed back to pre-op where the nurses go over all my...you guessed it, paperwork and ask me questions about medical history...blah blah blah. Thankfully, the nurses realized that it had been a very frustrating afternoon for me and were very sympathetic to the fact that I had gone through all the aforementioned activities and was going to be going through a lot more...like, ummmm, surgery perhaps? So they helped me out and asked me how I was feeling and then stuck me with a needle and then gave me cranberry juice with saltine crackers. It actually was the best-tasting food I'd had in a long time because I was SO hungry. I had earlier figured I would get a late lunch after my last appointment ended before 3, but now it was about 4:30 and time for an early dinner! Anyway, the snacks tasted great and before I knew it I was done and headed back over the Potomac to go home for the weekend.

It wasn't long before I received from my mother that my dad had been admitted to the hospital for pressure in his chest. The next day it turned to severe pain and they started running tests and what not. Finally, today, the doctors performed an angiogram and found one of the vessels in his heart 100% blocked which they fixed with a stent--a relatively easy procedure. Luckily, no heart attack, or myocardial infarction for you medicine geeks out there.

So fortunately, the weekend ended on a good note...my dad got a good Father's Day gift from the Man upstairs and I got to see Batman Begins (good flick, by the way). There was a ton more stuff that happened during the weekend--both good and bad--with many having frustrating repercussions, but you'll have to wait for a more complete update on that because I'm so tired. I'm always tired these days.

Speed Bump

2005-06-15T18:41:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned yesterday, I had my second appointment with the ENT today (if you don't know what ENT stands for by now, that's just tough). This morning at 9:00 I strolled into the hospital hoping for good news. If you remember, I had mentioned that I was expecting the doctor to say that I needed surgery and that the surgery would indeed be scheduled during today's visit. For being so new to the Fraternal Order of Cancer Patients, I am really starting to pick this stuff up quickly. I was right on both counts. His prognosis is that I need surgery and he even picked a day for it. June 28. I wish it wasn't so close to the 4th of July, but what does one do when his own cells are revolting against him? I'll just have to make it my own Independence Day. Independence from cancer??? Now THAT sounds like a great idea. I'm just glad that I'm living with the technology of 2005 instead of 1776--although it would have been fun to have a hand in the American Revolution...but I digress. (By the way, if you haven't read David McCullough's new book 1776, you really should because it is excellent.)

So all is going as expected until the ENT doctor tells me that the surgery will put me out of commission for 1-2 weeks! What was all this "couple of days" talk earlier? I knew that had been too good to be true. It gets better. If any of the 40 lymph nodes that are removed show up to be cancerous, then I most likely get to undergo radiation therapy, too! Talk about a double-whammy.

Let's go through this quickly:

1. I have a sore on my tongue and am told it's a 10% chance of being SCCA (Squamous Cell Carcinoma for all you newbies to my site)

2. I expect surgery to end this madness, but no, I have perineural invasion (don't ask). I learn that the chance of me having perineural invasion was negligible, but for the sake of argument, let's say it's 1%, which is probably generous.

3. I expect to have radiation to eliminate this monstrosity.

4. I am told, no, we are not going to do radiation. We will do surgery instead.

5. Now I'm hearing that the possibility of surgery AND radiation. Can I have fries with that?

As I've said many times before, quite possibly the hardest part of all of this is NOT KNOWING. It's a good lesson, however, in just letting go and not being insistent upon controlling every aspect of your environment.

One of the things that at some point I will want to know, although I don't know now, is the odds of me developing cancer in my lymph nodes. I'm sure it was small. As it stands right now, I'm the 1-in-1,000 guy without the lymph node issue factored in. Maybe I should play the lottery.

However, I do need to emphasize that they are not certain that I have cancerous lymph nodes. The PET scan showed up as inconclusive to one doctor and a weak positive to another. Better safe than sorry so we are going in. Hopefully this will just be a speed bump in the road to recovery. There is still hope that I can avoid the radiation, it may just take some divine intervention.

I realize that this entry is sort of all over the map, but I make no apologies because I think it is a fair indicator of the rollercoaster ride this is.

Before closing, I must point out that the Oregon State Beavers are in the College World Series in Omaha, Nebraska for the first time in over 50 years. This is a big deal, folks. Their first game is against Tulane on Saturday at 2 p.m. Eastern. They are clearly facing an uphill battle, but they have already beaten the odds to get where they are. And somebody's gotta win, why not the Beavers?

Back Online

2005-06-14T19:46:00.000-07:00

I finally finished cleaning up my laptop and putting it back together last night. This comes after the orange juice incident almost two weeks ago that left me with a few very sticky keys that caused all kinds of problems whenever I tried to type. It was probably the most tedious thing I've done in a while. As a child, I occasionally put together some model cars and as anyone who has built model cars knows, the pieces are miniscule. Well, laptop key mechanisms are much smaller. But I persevered and the reward is worth it because my laptop is working better than ever. It is one of those rare occasions that my efforts to improve something mechanical actually succeeds.

Anyway, I'm not feeling especially motivated to write much tonight, but since I've been offline for so long I feel like I should get an update on here for my legions of screaming fans that have been asking, no, begging me for updates. Of course I'm being facetious, but it's fun to imagine.

Lest anyone forget, my second appointment with the Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor is scheduled for tomorrow morning. I can say with great confidence that I will learn nothing new from this trip to the doctor's office. Nothing new with respect to my condition, that is. The news I expect to hear is that indeed the films from my PET scan are inconclusive--something I suspected early and had confirmed by the radiation oncologist. Nevertheless, the ENT will look at them tomorrow and let me know what he thinks is the best course of action. My expectation is that this course of action will be "minimally-invasive" exploratory surgery to remove and test a couple of the lymph nodes in my neck. However, this won't happen tomorrow but I do sort of expect to find out when he is planning to perform the surgery--and in the words of my radiation oncologist, "probably sooner rather than later."

Alicia's Story, cont.

2005-06-08T08:46:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned yesterday, there is a young woman who works at the San Francisco Chronicle who is writing about her cancer experience as a 23-year-old. Without question, it is some of the best writing I have ever had the pleasure to read. I don't know if it is because I can identify so closely with many of her thoughts, fears, and experiences, or if empirically it is just good, solid writing. I'm beyond the point of being without bias on these things, but obviously, she is a good writer, otherwise the Chronicle would not have given her a 7-part series to share her story.

Today was the 4th chapter. Every time I read more of Alicia's story, I am completely blown away by the similarities--not in our medical cases, but in the emotional roller coaster. In a way, I feel like it validates what I have felt so many times but was afraid to express. And I suppose that this is a big reason why I look forward to every new installment of her story. So, if you take the time to read her story and don't find it as nearly as compelling as I obviously do, count your blessings because the chances are the fears and doubts and ups and downs expressed in her writing are foreign enough to you that they shouldn't make sense. I pray that it will remain that way for all of you.

But before I sign off for this session, I must include one segment from Chapter 4 of her story that was printed today. Here we find Alicia describing her emotions after sharing with a psychologist at her hospital in San Francisco the way that she really felt.

Thank God she understood. I was getting sick of people telling me that they knew I would be fine. No one knew anything. The doctors didn't know, I didn't know and these people praying for me didn't know. I was thankful for their prayers, but I wanted to be honest. To say "I'm scared I'm going to die" and not be yelled at for being negative.

I've been to this point. I've even said some of these exact same words to some well-meaning friends. It is a place that is hard to describe. It is a place where you really feel alone--more alone than any other place you have ever been.

Livestrong

2005-06-07T15:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my second appointment with my radiation oncologist. What I was expecting is exactly what came to pass. The scans were inconclusive.

I was partly relieved and partly annoyed. If that sounds strange, just trust me when I say that there is a point where you just want to know, whatever the results may be.

At this point, the job of my radiation oncologist is over. He is strongly opposed to radiation until it is determined that I do indeed have cancer in my lymph nodes. However, even if I do have cancer there, he is still of the philosophy to remove them through surgery instead of by radiation in order to avoid the nasty side effects of radiation. In this case, then, he will defer to my Ear, Nose, and Throat (ENT) doctor. What happens next is some more waiting. My next appointment with my ENT is a week from tomorrow. At that time, I expect him to say that he is still unsure and to be sure will require surgery. Most likely, they will open me up, take out a few samples of lymph nodes, test them while I'm in the operating room, and if positive, remove them...if negative, stitch me back up and call it a day.

In case any of you are wondering, the prospect of this procedure does not scare me in the least.

In other news, a friend of mine from work gave me a yellow Livestrong bracelet today. I was excited to get it because I've been looking for one for quite some time.

Also, I never told you how I did in the National Race for the Cure. There were so many people that we ended up having to walk for virtually the entire first mile. The crowd would move a little bit, then stop, then move a little bit more, then stop. Even by the end of the race we were still dodging people. My final time was right around 30 minutes, which is decent considering my first mile was 12 minutes. My last mile was 8 minutes, so I felt good about that. But it still leaves a lot of room for improvement!

Completely unrelated, I'm sure that many of you have heard about the WA governor's race. But if not, you should know that it is most likely over and Mr. Rossi is not going to appeal to the WA Supreme Court. The whole situation is a pity as the superior court judge erroneously thought he would be able to get away with punting the case to the state supreme court. Oh well.

Finally, there is a compelling series of stories being written by a young lady who works for a San Francisco newspaper. Her name is Alicia and she is a copy editor for the SF Chronicle. Today she wrote the third of seven chapters about her fight with cancer. She is only 23 years old and is dealing with a lot--a ton more than I have. Her writing is absolutely gifted as well. If you want to hear an excellent first-hand story of a fight with cancer, I would strongly recommend visiting her site at http://www.sfgate.com/alicia/ She adds a chapter per day and tomorrow will be chapter 4. I'm also adding it to my list of links.

Okay everyone, I'll write more later just as soon as I can get the orange juice out of my laptop.

Big Day

2005-06-06T08:15:00.000-07:00

For two reasons, today is a pretty big day and should answer some long yet completely unrelated unanswered questions.

The first, and with a decidedly more direct impact upon me, is my follow-up appointment with my radiation oncologist to discuss the results of last week's PET/CT scan. Hopefully, everything will be negative which will mean I probably cheated radiation treatment for up to as many as six more months. Another possibility is the exact opposite: the scans come back positive and they recommend radiation treatment starting as soon as they can make the arrangements. The third (and in my opinion the most likely outcome) is that the scan will be inconclusive or unclear and they will have to go in there physically and take several portions of my lymph nodes for testing. If negative, I'm all good. If not, then they'll have to go about removing the lymph nodes either by radiation or surgical removal.

The other issue is the Washington gubernatorial race that has been dragging on for about, ummm...forever. Today, Chelan County Superior Court Judge John Bridges will rule at 9 a.m. (PDT) on the GOP's challenge of the election results. I never know what to expect from the state of Washington, but I'm pretty optimistic that the results will go in favor of the Republicans. However, no matter the outcome, this thing is going to the Washington State Supreme Court for (hopefully) a final ruling. Given my devotion to the cause following the general election last November, I'm hoping that things go the right way for Mr. Rossi. The state really needs a new election.

Anyway, that's what I am looking forward to today. Hopefully I'll have good news to share with you all soon!

Just Call Me Radioactive Man

2005-06-03T11:58:00.000-07:00

Wow...what a week! There was a lot going on both at work and medically.

I would have provided everyone an update earlier but an unfortunate event happened the other morning--I spilled orange juice on the keyboard of my laptop. From what I've heard, IBM makes a pretty resilient laptop, but I'm not taking any chances. I'm letting it dry out as much as possible before I try using it again. It's been more than a day now but I probably will give it another 24 hours before I try it again.

So anyway, without a computer at home, I was kind of in a fix to get information to all of you. And I certainly didn't want to stay at the office any longer than what was absolutely necessary. So because of that, there are a few things that you all need to be updated on. The first are my two trips to the hospital this week. On Wednesday, I had an appointment with an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist. The appointment went well but there was something in one of my lymph nodes that gave reason for him to be suspicious. I've got another appointment scheduled with him in two weeks to go over the PET scan results from yesterday's appointment.

Speaking of yesterday's appointment, it went as well as I would expect. However, it still isn't fun. They hooked me up to an IV--the fourth time I'd been stuck with a needle this week--and injected me with a radioactive tracer. I then sat there as it worked it's way through my system. The funny thing in this process is that nobody really comes within a few feet of you while you've got this stuff in your body because they don't want to be exposed to radiation. How is that supposed to make me feel as it's making its way through my arteries??? I suppose the argument could be made that they do this every day and they don't want to be repeatedly exposed to low doses, but still...I've got it running through my veins.

So after they inject me with this stuff and the IV bag is empty, I wait for another half an hour to make sure that it is fully into my system. Then I climb on the PET scan machine (similar to a CT scan or MRI if you've ever had one of those) and remain as motionless as humanly possible for 25 minutes on a very uncomfortable board. It was definitely a mind-over-matter type thing.

That was yesterday. My radiation oncologist was looking at the results today and then tomorrow I have another appointment with him on Monday to go over the results. The hope is that it sheds some light on what kind of treatment I need next.

In the meantime, I hope my computer dries out soon. Also, tomorrow I'm running in the National Race for the Cure. It's a 5K that starts at 8 a.m. It should be a fun time and it will be the first race for me since a 10-miler that I ran in April of 2002. I'm trying hard to get back into running on a regular basis, but it is really hard! I suppose that is why they recommend not falling out of shape in the first place.

So that's the scoop. I feel like I'm forgetting something and I probably am, but oh well...I'll figure it out later.

Appointment Report

2005-05-28T10:10:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, I had my first doctor's appointment at Georgetown this past Wednesday. Unfortunately, it didn't really solve anything, but it certainly wasn't bad by any stretch of the imagination. Apparently, my doctor thinks I may not need radiation. If this hits you as a surprise, know that you are in good company, because the news pretty much knocked me out of my chair! As you can imagine, this leaves me just a tad apprehensive because I would rather go after this thing aggressively--better safe than sorry.

What makes this possibility more palatable is the fact that they've got this scan (I don't know how new it is) called a PET scan that, when paired up with a regular CT scan, generally gives a really good report on whether or not there is any cancer. I know very few details about this procedure except that I do know it involves injecting me with a small amount of radioactive material that is attached to proteins and they basically search out and attach themselves to any abnormal cells that may be present in the body. So after this stuff has been given a chance to work its way through my body (about an hour) then the scan picks up the location of the abnormal cells. Since the PET scan oftentimes gives a false positive report, they like to match up the image with a regular CT scan and that gives a pretty accurate report. Even if it turns out to be negative, my doctor is proposing that I get this PET/CT scan combo done every six months to stay ahead of anything that might be there.

So that's the scoop. They essentially want to start over from the beginning so that means looking at the films from pre-surgery (in February) as well as the pathological slides from the surgery. Also, they also want me to see the Ear, Nose, and Throat (ENT) doctor at the hospital which I will be doing next Wednesday. Then the scans on Thursday. Following that, all my medical info will be presented by my doctor at their weekly cancer board meeting to basically decide what kind of treatment I should get. In case you are wondering what a cancer board is, it is the meeting of several doctors from a variety of specialties at Georgetown who work with cancer patients--for example, my radiation oncologist, an ENT, and others that I don't even know about yet.

In other fun news, my work softball team that I am manager/coach for won again on Thursday night to boost our record to 3-0. We beat the Dept. of State, 8-3. Our defense was quite good and for those of you who aren't familiar with softball, it's really tough to hold opponents to 3 runs! Anyway, next week we play against the Office of Government Ethics. I'll keep y'all posted.

Statesmanship is Alive

2005-05-23T20:21:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure how many of you have been paying attention to what's been going on in the Senate for the past few years, but since I had the honor and privilege of working there for a while I like to pay attention to what is going on there. That, and the fact that they are my elected representatives has something to do with it, too. Anyway, there's been a lot of things going on in the U.S. Senate about judges with lots of charges being leveled on both sides.

It all centers on a few judges that haven't been yet confirmed in the Senate. Actually, the problem is that they haven't even been brought up for a vote. Basically, the Republicans have been unable to invoke cloture--limiting debate--and force a vote. The only way to invoke cloture is by garnering 60 votes. Now I'm not a lawyer or even a constitutional expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I do know that it was not intended that this 60-vote threshold was intended for judicial nominees. It goes along with the "advise and consent" stuff that you hear a lot about in this business that applies only to treaties and confirmations of judges, cabinet-level advisors, etc. Basically, the rule was being systematically abused recently for the first time in the Senate's 200+ years of history. Both sides were calling the moves by the other "unprecedented" and in a way they were both right. But this is not about finding fault. Instead, this entry is about the art of compromise...actually, just an expression of appreciation to 14 Senators that were able to make a deal that would not grind the Senate's work to a halt while further polarizing the political climate in our country today.

I must say that I gained a newfound respect for Senator Byrd today. I've thought the guy was crazy for as long as I can remember, even if he did understand the Constitution better than probably anyone else on the face of the planet. He, along with Senators Warner, McCain, Pryor, Nelson and 9 others, basically averted any unnecessary alterations (nothing too threatening, just political in nature) to the Constitution and brought back the ability to work together. Basically, it pushed the Senate closer to being what it truly is supposed to be as the world's greatest deliberative body.

Closer...for a brief moment. Between the time that I heard that a deal had been struck that prevented what Republicans called the "Constitutional" option and what Democrats called the "nuclear" option to eliminate filibusters on judicial nominees--anyway, between that time and the time that I got home from the office, it was back to partisan politics as usual. Senator Boxer from California was speaking and already it sounded like my CSPAN-2 was back to political speeches right there on the floor of the Senate.

Many of you out there who I have spoken with about my experiences in the Senate already know that I am not a fan of TV cameras in the Senate Chamber. I am all for open government but I think in the Senate, TV's are a mistake. The Senate was especially designed to transcend political party and be able to make reasoned decisions without the worry of political fallout--that's why Senators serve 6-year terms instead of 2-year terms like they do in the House. It acts as a sort of insulation against the current political climate and allows them to make the right decisions even if they are not the most politically popular. So why am I opposed to TV's in the Senate Chamber? Because they have reduced the Senate speeches (many of them) to mere soundbites. I hate soundbites. In this world of sensory overload, all we have time for it seems are soundbites. Basically, they are tiny bits of information presented as if it is the entire argument. Anyway, that's how I feel about that.

So Senator Boxer was back on the floor of the Senate trying to get as many last-minute attacks on Janice Rogers Brown (who will now be confirmed soon thanks to the deal) in before the end of her 25 minutes allowed and all she did was produce soundbites. No substantive argument, just trying to get the last word in on the argument--it actually reminded me of...well...me, when I was about 10 years old.

Oh well, it was a good day for the Senate. And regardless of how soon they go back to their partisan wrangling it was nice for a reprieve even if only for a couple hours.

Okay, sorry for the long entry, and this was actually more for me than for you. I know that it doesn't read very well, but it felt good to write it anyway. Sorry if it was confusing.

On that note, I'm signing off for the night.

Oh yeah, we won our softball game tonight in fine fashion: 12-11. It was a nail-biter.

Two days to my doctor's appointment.

Go Yoda

2005-05-22T16:49:00.000-07:00

My church meets in a movie theater. So it was quite convenient to go to church this morning and then stay for the third installment of Star Wars. I didn't even have to switch movie theaters! Talk about convenience.

Anyway, the movie was really good. Not just in a computer graphics sort of way, but the storyline was generally very well done. The script was a little stiff, but what do you expect from Star Wars? I mean, it wouldn't be Star Wars without some half-baked love story with cheesy lines sprinkled in.

I don't really consider myself a huge Star Wars fan, but this definitely held my attention. And if you want to compare it to Episodes I and II...well, it's just a completely different category. For those of you who have seen the first two episodes, you'll be relieved to know that there is only ONE scene that includes the infamous Jar Jar Binks (or however you spell it -- you know who I am talking about). Now I think that Spielberg ought to go back and redo Episodes I and II and remove Jar Jar completely. Not only would he make a bundle, but the public would come out as the real winners because we wouldn't have to see that wretched creation ever again. Of course, I really have no desire to see either of the first two episodes again unless the script is helped. And I mean helped in a BIG way. You would think that after the bazillion dollars he spent to make the movie, he could find some discretionary funds somewhere to pay some decent writers. However, this IS Star Wars and needs the stilted script to make it...well, Star Wars. While he's at it, he should also redo Episodes 4 - 6 with the graphics that we are now accustomed to.

In the end, as one of my professors in college said, it is just a big Cowboys and Indians story set in outer space. Quite true really. When one thinks about it, there are really not that many plots out there, just a lot of variations on similar plots. But I digress. Go see the movie if you are remotely interested because you won't be disappointed. It'll make you want to watch the rest of the installments, too, because if you are like me, then you can't remember what happened in the other ones. But even if you are not well-versed in Star Wars, you know about Darth Vader and that Luke Skywalker is his offspring and this pretty much ties everything together...finally!

But enough about Star Wars...I can't wait for the new Dukes of Hazzard movie that comes out in August. All those crazy people that were in line weeks ahead of time to see Star Wars??? Yeah, that'll be me for the Dukes of Hazzard. I mean, that show helped define my childhood! Any guy now in his 20's who jumped through an open car window as a kid will tell you the same thing. I've seen a couple of trailers for it and all I can say is "YEEE-HAAAAW!!!" It'll be good to see the ol' General Lee looking as it always did but in a present-day setting with the run-of-the-mill Crown Victoria cop cars chasing it all over Southern California...er, I mean...Hazzard County.

Okay, that's all I've got for now. Oh yeah, my first doctor's appointment is in 3 days. Woohoo.

My Nose is Raw

2005-05-18T19:58:00.000-07:00

I don't know what the deal is this year, but my allergies are driving me nuts! I haven't been able to stop sneezing for the past two days--I feel like I'm back in my dorky high-school days--sheesh!

For whatever reason, the pollen season out here just won't go away. Very odd considering that in previous years I've not had much of a problem with them.

I used to say that the best months in DC were April - June and September - October. Now I'm going to say that it is just September and October because these allergies are getting really old really fast.

Anyway, despite the allergies, I've managed to get a head start (sort of) on my reports that are due on a weekly basis. Without question, this is the busiest part of the week for me so y'all are lucky (or unlucky) that I have found time to blog tonight!

Until next time...

"Golden Age" of Cancer Research

2005-05-17T12:34:00.000-07:00

I think it is reassuring to know that so many cancer researchers are optimistic:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20050517/hl_afp/ushealthcancerresearch_050517121025

Long Term Effects

2005-05-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

Here's an interesting article that I found on CNN.com today:

http://www.cnn.com/2005/HEALTH/conditions/05/17/cancer.children.ap/index.html

It makes me glad that I have cancer now and not in the 70's or 80's!

National Race for the Cure

2005-05-16T18:43:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to stay as active as I can before my radiation begins (probably next month--in June). One of the things that has been my responsibility at my job at the USDA is coordinating our team that will be running in the National Race for the Cure. Naturally, I'm going to run the 3.1-mile race not just because it's good for me to get exercise (especially now) but also because it is for a really good cause. Anyway, I'm raising a small amount of money toward this event. My personal goal is only $50 just because I know that I'm not going to spend much time raising money for this when I've got all this other stuff going on. Additionally, I have no idea how much I'd be able to raise even if I did try and I can always change my goal--those are a couple of reasons why I'm starting low. If I need to revise it upward, then I can. So with all that said, I would be ecstatic if you decided to contribute even a little bit--the good news is that your contribution would be tax-deductible.

In addition to listing some information below about the event, here is the link to my race home page where I raise money: http://race.nationalraceforthecure.org/site/TR?px=1081065&pg=personal&fr_id=1000

This is from their website (www.nationalraceforthecure.org):

What: The Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation National Race for the Cure® is a 5K run/walk hosting more than 52,000 participants in 2004. The Race will return to the streets of the Nation's Capital on Saturday, June 4, 2005.

Background:The Komen National Race for the Cure® has grown from 7,000 participants in 1990 to over 52,000 participants in 2004. The Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation was established in 1982 by Nancy Brinker to honor the memory of her sister, Susan G. Komen, who died of breast cancer at the age of 36.
Today, it is an international organization with more than 75,000 volunteers and 100 Komen Race for the Cure® events across the country and internationally. Since its inception, the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation has funded more than 1,000 research projects. The Foundation remains the nation’s largest private provider of funds for breast cancer research and community outreach programs.

Thanks for reading!

I Love Modern Medicine

2005-05-16T07:09:00.000-07:00

This is a pretty cool breakthrough even if it isn't for my type of cancer...

http://apnews.myway.com/article/20050516/D8A47UQG0.html

MIA

2005-05-15T12:28:00.000-07:00

It's been mentioned to me a few times that I need to do a better job of keeping this blog updated. That's good to hear because it's nice to know that people are out there reading it! Sometimes I fall into the pattern of thinking that nobody's watching for updates and then I feel silly for posting stuff to cyberspace for my own gratification.

Anyway, it's been a busy couple of weeks, not that this is an acceptable excuse, but it is true. Since my last posting--I believe it was about insurance (boring) but I didn't check before I started writing this one--I have had a number of out-of-town guests, I've gone to two Washington Nationals games, I've gotten sick with the worst flu I can remember, I had my 27th birthday, and our work softball team (of which I am the manager) had our first softball game. I'm sure I'm missing quite a few things worthy of note but this just give you an idea of what I've been up to the last couple of weeks. Oh yeah, one HUGE thing that I did was schedule my first doctor's appointment with the radiation oncologist at Georgetown University Hospital for May 25. That's a big development...kind of the whole reason for this blog, in fact.

So I'm providing a brief update now while I'm waiting on my laundry this Sunday afternoon. I promise to be better about keeping y'all in the loop.

I have insurance!!!

2005-04-23T08:19:00.000-07:00

Yes, it is true.

I signed the papers yesterday at work to become a member of the Blue Cross Blue Shield - Standard plan. As you can imagine, it is a HUGE load off my mind considering that I've been avoiding it for as long as possible.

I was so excited yesterday that I celebrated by going bowling (yeah, I'm a real party animal) with a bunch of friends last night. I did alright until the last game. It was humbling even while it was fun especially since I haven't bowled in probably 4 years!

Anyway, I'm very excited about being able to focus on the next step. I've still got some paperwork left over from my new job--things like life insurance, retirement plan, flexible spending accounts and ethics forms--all easy stuff compared to the health insurance. Most importantly, this now makes it possible for me to at least make an appointment with my new doctor and figure out what my treatment plan will look like.

This is What I Do in My Spare Time

2005-04-20T15:56:00.000-07:00

Health insurance plans. If I never see another one again it will be too soon! As I stated yesterday, the number of plans that I started with was 27. I am pleased to announce that I am down to 11 -- less than half.

Even more important, however, is the fact that I spoke with the most informative person at Georgetown University Hospital. After explaining my unique situation to her, Cheryl helped me out by giving me an idea of how much 6 weeks of radiation will cost a person. Not only that, she also went through all the plans that I had left and helped me eliminate two more HMO's and two more PPO's -- leaving me with 8 PPO's and 3 HMO's.

Let me just say that you really gotta be a nerd to get excited about this stuff -- trust me, I'm telling you from the first-person.

So, in case you were wondering what a 6-week session of radiation therapy will cost, it is roughly $70,000 for Intensity Modulated Radiation Therapy (IMRT). Keep in mind that this is the most advanced cancer treatment available anywhere. It is the best of the best. Anyway, if I were to walk through the door tomorrow without insurance and get this treatment, it would cost $70,000. However, most insurance plans negotiate a 40-50% reduction in price. So now with insurance, the price of the procedure drops to around $35,000 to $40,000. Most of this covers the cost of running the equipment and using hospital resources.

Now is where the insurance company really comes in. Most HMO's offer a plan where you pay a specific dollar amount (usually around $30) per visit. So for 5 days a week for 6 weeks that would be $900. The bad part is that many times not every part of the procedure is covered by the HMO. The part that is even worse than that is that if something isn't covered by the HMO, the patient is solely responsible for it meaning that even though you escape a $70,000 procedure for around $1,000, you may still end up paying a lot more in smaller procedures not covered by the plan. All that without the freedom to choose where you want to go and get treatment. This isn't a big deal for me now, but what happens if I need a different specialist and hospital in September?

I know that was confusing, but I hope you are staying with me.

Now switching over to the PPO side of things. PPO's generally make the patient pay a percentage of total bills instead of a specific dollar amount, generally around 10-20%. As you can imagine, the roof is a little bit higher than for HMO's. Recalling the $35K - $40K amounts, it is not out of the question for the out-of-pocket costs to be in the neighborhood of $4,000 to $5,000 out of a possible $70,000. The really good news about a PPO is the added flexibility. I can choose the doctor and the facility and the most I will pay out of pocket is about 30% of the negotiated rate even if they aren't in the PPO network. If they are, it stays at 10-15%. More importantly, every part of the procedure will be no more than 30% instead of paying all costs in the HMO plan. The other thing to keep in mind is that there is a $4,000 catastrophic limit usually when it comes to PPO's. I'll probably reach that and anything over that is covered without any copays necessary.

Whew...sorry about all that. I'm still trying to learn it as well and writing it out helps me understand it just a little bit better.

Finally, it looks like I've got my doctor picked out, too. I've heard several good things about him and he is supposedly known to be the head and neck guru at Georgetown University Hospital. More on this later!

quick update

2005-04-19T19:05:00.000-07:00

Hi Everyone!

It's been far too long since I've updated this blog and I hope you are not feeling neglected. I really have been keeping myself busy with insurance stuff as well as trying to settle into a routine and put as many finishing touches on my place as I can. It's still pretty bare in my apartment, but things are coming along nicely. I need some wallhangings and a love seat and I'll be good to go. I tried to post pictures of my apartment (before and after) the other day, but apparently I'm not smart enough to figure it out just yet. But keep checking back because I will get them up eventually!

The really good news is that I got my DVD player in the mail yesterday -- thanks Mom! I haven't exactly had the time to use it yet, but hopefully that will change by the weekend when I should (operative word: should) have my insurance picked out and the forms signed in blood. I started out with--get this--27 different plans!!! I've got the numbers narrowed down to 15: five HMO's and 10 PPO's.

By the way, does anyone know how much a 6-week daily radiation therapy session costs? I'm being serious actually. I don't know and I'm trying to find out. That will play into my decision quite a bit probably.

In closing, did any of you see the new MyPyramid nutritional program rolled out by USDA today??? It got a little overshadowed in the media by the election of the new Pope Benedict XVI so you may have missed it. Since I work at USDA, I've poked around on a little bit and it is quite user-friendly. (I had no part in its development, FYI.) I would encourage you to check it out at www.mypyramid.gov.

Hasta manana!

Rest In Peace

2005-04-11T16:46:00.000-07:00

I don't even know how to begin this entry.

Many of you know that part of my young career has included just over a year of working in the United States Senate. It was a wonderful experience and the people I had the pleasure of working with embodied every aspect of civil servanthood on a daily basis. Without pause, I can say that you will not find a harder-working group of dedicated individuals who love their country and their fellow citizens.

As a mere twentysomething, I know already that it is one of those times that will forever be cemented in my life story as a high point and a unique experience.

Today, while speaking with a very dear friend who still works in the Senate (I have since moved on), I was informed that a mutual friend and former colleague who was one of those people--giving his all on a daily basis--was diagnosed with kidney cancer around Christmastime 2004. When the cancer was discovered, it was in the final stage (Stage 4) and had already begun the horrible process of metastasis (transfer of a disease to one part of the body to another). Of course it originated in the kidneys, but soon after infected his lungs, and then his brain. I was shocked and saddened to learn of his April 2 passing just today.

In addition to the smorgasbord of emotions that are never too far off when learning of something like this, I just couldn't help but think of how unfair this physical life can be sometimes. My heart aches for his family and goes out to them in the pain they are going through. I pray that God will give them the strength to carry on in such unimaginable hardship. The profound difference he made in the lives of those around him will be missed.

Surprise in the Mail

2005-04-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

So the official first care package received here in Arlington, VA came all the way from Florida and included some really great brownies! Kudos to "Betty Crocker" in Casselberry, you know who you are! (They actually arrived several days ago in great condition!)

In other news, my dad was just in town on Thursday evening/Friday morning on his way to work in Delaware for the weekend. He stopped by and was the first left-coast visitor I've had since getting here. We went down to Ikea and picked up a couple of chairs and a TV stand. With that, my living space is almost completely furnished (with the exception of the items I mentioned yesterday).

In still other news, my cable got hooked up today. Comcast had a really good deal for new subscribers that'll last me 6 months. Very excited about this and I'm actually watching my adopted Washington Nationals lose to the Florida Marlins--it's 0-2 in the 8th inning in case you were wondering.

Progress

2005-04-09T09:34:00.000-07:00

It is 12:34 on a Saturday morning and I'm still in bed. But before you think I'm lazy, consider that I have been spending every evening of the past week moving things into my house after a day of work at USDA. So it is not exactly like sleeping in is undeserved! Plus, I'm waking up in a real bed and not an air mattress. So now, my apartment, instead of being a barren wasteland, now includes a baker's rack (because my kitchen wasn't big enough and I needed for storage space), a dining table with 2 chairs, a television with a stand, a full-size bed, and a night-stand. So all that is left for me to get is a loveseat, some shelving for my closet, and a room divider.

Once I receive some boxes that were shipped from my parents' house earlier in the week then I'll be able to upload some photos to the site and you'll be able to see some cool before and after pics.

Polar Bear Club

2005-04-06T11:06:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up to an apartment lacking hot water.

This is the most awake I've been since I moved here.

I didn't warm up until around 11 a.m.

Needless to say, I think the honeymoon is over.

Moving In Sans Furniture

2005-03-30T20:03:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure that I have mentioned this at some point, but its importance bears mentioning again that this is my first apartment that is my own. Ever since I started college--with the exception of one year that I was an RA, a really fun year, by the way (shout-out to the Page B Girls here! Especially the ones that have been reading my blog.)--anyway, ever since I started college, I've shared a room or at least an apartment with someone. So even though my studio is quite small, and it isn't much to look at, and I've only got an air mattress for furniture so far...despite all that, I love it! It's very close to the Metro and that allows me to have easy access to any number of points in the city and in Virginia. This benefit cannot be underestimated. The best part about it, however, is that I can do whatever I want without worrying about waking up, harrassing, or otherwise annoying a roommate. And if there is a mess that I gotta work around, I know who is responsible and I can't blame anybody but me!

So after signing the lease on Saturday, I spent Sunday afternoon after church working to move all 4 of my bags into my studio. I was exhausted mainly because of how many things had been going on around me so I didn't do much after that on Sunday. On Monday, however, I got up early and did a ton of "move-in" shopping. You know the kind I'm talking about where you must buy EVERYTHING essential to daily living (like toilet paper--is that too much information?). Anyway, I pretty much knocked it out in one day (with some help) which I was quite proud of since it involved 4 stores. The Dollar Tree, Target, Costco, and Harris Teeter are all essential places to visit when you are moving into a new apartment. Needless to say, I had to spend a lot of money for all my dishes, silverware, pots, pans, and other miscellaneous kitchen items. I've had to spend even MORE time, however, trying to fit it all into my extremely small kitchen. And I've had to spend even more time than that cleaning up all the kitchen items (not the groceries) before using them. It was, however, a very gratifying experience to have my first homemade meal sitting in my sparsely furnished apartment even if the "meal" consisted of some leftovers I had acquired a few days earlier being put in the microwave. I did make a salad though, so that's gotta count for something! (For the record, that is probably the only time that a 26-year-old male will be proud of himself for making a salad for dinner--I tell ya, cancer makes you do funny things sometimes!)

Anyway, that is a brief overview of what has been happening lately. I still need to update you all on my adventures with the dry cleaners, my rusty silverware, and most importantly, my new job that I started yesterday. I think I've mentioned it already, but I'm working for the U.S. Department of Agriculture. So I've got a lot to tell you all about the new job!

And eventually, I promise we'll get to fun items like what kind of medical insurance I have and even more exciting than that is what the doctors will say when I go to visit them for the first time!

Thanks for reading!

Exhaustion

2005-03-27T21:09:00.000-08:00

This was gonna be a great entry but I'm so tired that I just don't have much energy to put into this...I'm getting warmed up for my radiation treatment. Haha!

So yesterday I signed the lease and today I moved in. It took me all of 30 minutes--by myself--to hoist my 3.5 bags to my room.

Another thing that I have learned in this experience: Never move on a holiday if you a) have nothing to sleep on and b) nothing in your fridge.

I took some pics of my place and when I some of the rest of my stuff shipped out then I will be able to post some of them to my blog.

Stay Tuned!

The Search...IS OVER!!!

2005-03-26T20:42:00.001-08:00

Yes, the title of this entry leaves nothing to the imagination. For those of you who have been reading along as I have gone through the ups and downs of trying to find a place in world-record time, it has been a long, arduous journey (of only 4 days but who's counting).

My last entry began with me surmising that I was close to finding a place. I'm not kidding you, ten minutes after I posted it, my phone rang and it was the landlord of the unfurnished studio that I looked at my first day here offering it to me. This is the same one that the married couple applied for so it actually came as quite a surprise. Shortly after the phone call, I did the necessary things to close the deal (i.e., gather the funds) and headed over to my new abode to sign the paperwork and collect the keys. Since the studio was empty and they were hoping to fill it quickly, I'll be moving in tomorrow (Easter Sunday). I can't help but think that my flexibility helped me out a LOT in nailing down this place!

Needless to say, I'm very happy and excited, but most of all relieved and thankful that the search is over. This is the very first place I have had by myself (I've always--since college--had a roommate) and I must say that it feels GREAT! The best part about it is that I have a home before my job starts on Tuesday morning. And another bonus is that I can now focus on my insurance options and figure out exactly what insurance plan is right for me.

For now, however, I'm gonna get some sleep. As I was hanging out with one of my buddies while watching the Illinois-Arizona NCAA basketball game (I was rooting for Arizona--go PAC-10!), it suddenly dawned on me just how relaxed I felt as a result of knowing that I had place to call home. It doesn't really matter that it is totally unfurnished. It's stability and that is exactly what I need at this point!

On that note, if any of you local folks (DC Metro area) have items that you need stored for the next six months, just let me know because I think I'll be able to help you out. For starters, I'll need:

bed or at least a mattress (no smaller than a full-size)
table and chairs
television
DVD player (priorities, people!)
microwave
sofa or loveseat
coffee table or something else to support the TV

I'm sure I'll be keeping myself busy over the next few days stocking up on little odds and ends while I have access to my buddy's car. After that, well...I'll probably still call him up and borrow it!

As for now, I'm going to enjoy my Easter gift!

The Search - Day Three

2005-03-26T12:11:00.000-08:00

OK...so I think I'm getting close. A decision is supposed to be made today on the unfurnished studio I applied for. However, I found out that I'm going up against a married couple so my chances took a significant plunge I think. They have said that they would like a one-year lease and I told them I'm hoping for a six-month lease. I'm pretty sure that the other applicants are looking for a one-year lease so that doesn't help me either. I did, however, tell them that if the length of lease is the determining factor I would like to know in order to be flexible if I have to be. I'm hoping they will honor that request since I was the first one with an application in, but I'm not counting on it...they are landlords after all (and hopefully they aren't reading this!).

But something else became available last night. Now, I'm no expert in the habits of young professionals in the DC Metro area, but something tells me that there are not a whole lot of people looking for apartments on Friday nights. So, when I found this listing, I sent them an email right away telling them a little of my situation along with a completed application. Then this morning I received a call from them saying that I sound like the perfect candidate for the apartment and that they would like to rent to me--all this without me even looking at the place? The best part of it all is that the studio is available "immediately." This sounded great because apparently the studio has great views of the city and monuments, etc. I missed the call and got this info from a voicemail they left me so when I called them back, again they sounded very optimistic about me moving in soon. However (there is always a "however" or "but"), the "immediately" they were referring to means the beginning of May, not the beginning of April--UGH!

At this point, it looks like I'm gonna be living from couch to couch for the next month until this place opens up. However, I haven't even decided I'm going to take it if offered to me because, as I mentioned earlier, I haven't seen it yet. I have an appointment scheduled today for 6 p.m.

For any of you fellow "Finding Nemo" fans out there, I find me telling myself to "just keep swimming."

The Search - Day Two

2005-03-25T15:20:00.000-08:00

OK, so nothing earth-shattering today, unfortunately. I checked out two places last night--one furnished and the other unfurnished, but I think I may have told you all about that already. I really liked the furnished one and it seemed to fit what I would need pretty well. So after checking it out I called the woman back and left her a voicemail telling her that I was very interested in getting everything finalized soon. She had told me that it could be available as early as Sunday which would have been perfect.

Today, however, I called her again and again it went to voicemail. I checked craigslist again to see if the ad was still there and it appears that it has been pulled--bummer. However, I still filled out an application and emailed it to her hoping that it was just a glitch in the matrix. I'm not expecting anything to come of it so I'm focusing as much as I can on other openings, of which there are not many considering it is Easter weekend--ahhh timing.

The good news is that I submitted today an application to the owners of the other, unfurnished studio that I looked at two days ago and spoke to them on the phone about it as well. Apparently, I am first in line for it so I'm keeping my fingers crossed at the moment. They want to make a decision this weekend so I could be all set pretty soon! Even though it would be unfurnished, it would be nice to have a place to start calling "home", at least for the next six months. If I get it, I'll start collecting donations from all y'all.

Today I also swung by my new office at the USDA to pick up a memo basically saying that I will be making enough money to pay the rent. I missed my new boss by a few minutes (haven't met him yet) but had the pleasure of chatting with the security guards for a bit. I told them that I would see them again on Tuesday morning.

The Search - Day One

2005-03-24T13:28:00.000-08:00

I'm hoping that "The Search" is a short series of blog entries not lasting more than about 4 days.

Today I slept in until about noon and even then I wouldn't have woken up if my sister had not called me. I think it was mainly because I had trouble sleeping last night despite the fact that I had been up for 40 of the previous 48 hours. A new place tends to do that to a person I think! Oh well, I don't feel too badly about spending half my day in bed--I think I've earned it.

So last night I checked out an unfurnished studio that I thought was furnished. After the initial disappointment, everything checked out. I just need to get the application submitted and I'll be in business. I know of at least two other people who are interested in the same studio, however, so I know that there are a number of people on the hunt.

(Well, one additional bummer is that the gym that has been advertised as being available on the premises is actually fire-damaged and won't be available until June.)

More good news is that I will be checking out two more places tonight--one furnished and one unfurnished. The landlord for the furnished one is okay with a 6-month lease and the unfurnished one is actually cheaper than the unfurnished one that I looked at last night even though it is in the same building. Hopefully I'll have good updates for you on these two options soon!

Yesterday I spoke briefly with my new boss at the USDA. My first day on the job will be next Tuesday and I'll be reporting at 9:30. The first day will mostly involve paperwork and getting my photo ID taken care of...that kind of thing. I'm really excited about starting up, however, because it will help distract me from other things that are going on.

So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.

In Case You Were Wondering...

2005-03-23T06:41:00.000-08:00

Interesting...I tried to post this update and all that showed up on my blog was the subject line or title or whatever you want to call it. Hmmm...

Anyway, in case you were wondering, Excedrin PM works wonders for any of you who, like me, are unable to sleep very well during travel even if it is in the middle of the night.

My plane touched down at 7:17 this morning and by 10 a.m. I have already gotten my bags, found my friend's car in the parking garage at Reagan National, eaten breakfast, and am now updating you all while enjoying a bit of coffee at the Starbucks where I used to work.

Now the search begins in earnest. I'm already scouring the classifieds and looking at some options. Just a trip to the bank and I'm on my way!

En Route

2005-03-22T22:50:00.000-08:00

So McCarran Airport in Las Vegas is pretty cool. Free wireless internet rocks.

The first flight from Portland to Vegas was good but there was a bit of turbulence. Good landing, though--two thumbs up. During the flight I watched most of Collateral but ran out of time...I'll finish it up on the next leg.

Oh gross...this guy that reeks of smoke just sat down beside me. I'm tempted to tell him about the evils of smoking.

So tomorrow I'm planning to leave the airport, buy a newspaper, check craigslist...and pound the pavement looking for a place to live. My guess is that I'll be exhausted by noon. However, I did get a great seat on the long flight to DC--in the row behind the exit row. No seat in front of me means that I'll be able to stretch out!

I'll keep y'all updated on what happens...

Big Day

2005-03-22T12:38:00.000-08:00

It's a big day today--moving day. I'm heading back to DC this evening on the red-eye. Can't say that I'm all that excited about it because I know that radioactive elements are waiting for me on the other side. The good news is that a good friend of mine who is letting me borrow his car while he and his wife are in San Francisco is leaving from Reagan Nat'l Airport about 30 minutes after my flight lands. So that means I'll just be able to pick up the car from the parking garage without having to coordinate anything!

Of course, I still have to pack two of my bags because I didn't start until last night. I've got the carry-on taken care of though. I hate packing. In fact, I think I'd rather drink paint.

Anyway, that's the scoop for today.

The Missing Links

2005-03-20T00:11:00.000-08:00

The links that have been MIA from my blog since its birth have just been added. You can find them on the right margin of this page. American Cancer Society can now be reached from my blog as well as my friend Tom's blog called Tomopia. I actually mentioned it a few days ago. I left the Google News one just because. I'll be adding more in the near future.

Once again, man proves smarter than machine!

Tax Time

2005-03-19T23:39:00.000-08:00

I would strongly discourage any of you from getting cancer. Additionally, I would discourage you in even stronger terms from getting cancer around April 15, especially when you are moving across the country within a week.

Last night and today I dug in and tried to get my taxes done. It took hours and that was just for a part-year income tax form for the Commonwealth of Virginia. I had my Federal and Oregon return prepared for me but they didn't have the capacity to do anything from Virginia in the office that I took it to without sending it off to another office and charging me even more. The guy promised me I could handle it but I learned that I did not miss a calling in life to be an accountant, that is quite certain! The good news is that Virginia owes me some money--not much but enough to make it worth it.

Anyway, it's a huge relief to have it done and in the mail. Even if I did end up in the red for the year overall, it was a great feeling--kind of like that last-day-of-school feeling where you know as soon as you walk out the door that you are at the one point in time farthest away from having to do it again. Very rewarding.

Now I get to turn my attention to questions about health insurance. I'm thankful that I have insurance, but when it rains, it pours! I've got a choice between four plans at my new job and I've got to decide which one best fits my needs. There are three HMO's and one PPO and from what I can tell the HMO's are all pretty similar. The problem is that not one of them (PPO plan included) is less than 65 pages long. I actually spoke to a health insurance expert about my dilemma and she basically said that I have a pretty good understanding of how health insurance works (amazing what a medical situation will teach you in a short amount of time) and that I need to go through each of them line by line to figure out which one works the best for me.

The party never ends!

Vegas, baby!!!

2005-03-18T21:38:00.000-08:00

For about 2 hours anyway. It'll happen next Tuesday (March 22nd) when I'm flying across the country from Portland Int'l Airport to Reagan National Airport. I've got a layover there--maybe I'll be able to pay for my medical/living expenses with all the money I'll win. I hear that in Vegas they just can't give away the money fast enough.

Anyway, that's the big news for today. I've got a one-way ticket leaving next Tuesday evening around 7:30 and arriving in DC at 7:15 a.m. the next day. Gotta love those red eyes. I don't think I've had one of those since 2001. I'm just hoping for a window seat so that I can sleep!

Originally, I had planned to take the train across the country. Most people think I'm crazy for wishing I could do that, but I enjoy taking the train. There's something about the rhythmic clicks as the train passes from one section of rail to the next that puts one's mind and soul at ease. I'm kind of a romantic that way. Let me assure you that there is nothing quite like embracing a good book while traveling by train--especially when life has treated you like a tumbleweed in a tornado for a few months or so.

This was the plan that I had as soon as I recovered from surgery. However, when I found out that I would have to undergo radiation therapy even after my surgery, it kind of put everything on hold until I decided where to seek my treatment. Then once that decision was made everything picked up in speed by about ten-fold. Now I can't get the things that I need to get done in preparation to move across the country fast enough. It's like the complete opposite of "hurry up and wait" if that makes any sense. You've all experienced it in college--you just put everything off until the night before and then pull an all-nighter. Sounds like a great idea until you are in the middle of it!

Anyway, that's why I couldn't take the train. I just couldn't afford to sit there in a semiconscious state listening to rhythmic clicks for three days when I needed to get my butt out to DC and looking for an apartment. Once an apartment is indeed found, then I'll be able to relax a little bit.

Roller Coaster

2005-03-16T14:47:00.000-08:00

Chances are, you know someone who has battled cancer at some point in his or her life. If this is the case, then you are probably familiar with the intense emotions that accompany this battle--up one day and down the next. Actually, it usually happens by the hour and even in a matter of minutes you can go from flying high to bracing for impact.

I had one such episode yesterday. We have a dear family friend who stopped by our home last night to say hello. He heard what I was going through and wanted to see me. You should know that this friend is currently battling cancer as well and he is much older than I. Now, it has been years since I've seen him last and when I saw him last night I was absolutely amazed because of how much he had appeared to have aged. As he was talking, he was moving his mouth as if he was trying to hold his teeth in and also licking his lips quite a bit like he didn't have any saliva--totally freaked me out. As he is speaking to me, he tells me how the radiation really did the job on his teeth and jawbone. So much so that his teeth are now cracking and falling out. Needless to say, it scared the crap out of me and I was more depressed after seeing him than I had been at any point thus far.

About 10 minutes later, my mom saw that I was rather "distressed" and asked me if I had gotten bad news. I responded by saying that it didn't help to see what I was going to look like in 8 years (the length of time since our family friend had received his radiation). To which she replies that there have been a lot of medical developments in the last 8 years. Quite true, but not much comfort--the problem in this business is that nothing is known for sure. For example, doctors will seldom guarantee anything because it is impossible to know how your body will respond to something. Instead, they put things in terms of percentages. So far, I've been in the upper-90's percentile for either not having cancer or getting it all taken care of with surgery--all that to say, the percentages haven't done crap for me yet. So at this point, I'm feeling pretty bad about things and I'm scared out of my mind!

Not more than 5 minutes later, my Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor calls me back (I had left him a message earlier in the day). I share with him my decision to seek the radiation treatment at the Lombardi Cancer Center in Washington, DC as well as some of my current concerns. (If any of you out there have ever had a doctor that you know really cares about how you are doing, then you understand how much of a positive impact he or she can have on your emotional well-being.) I share with him my recent interaction with the family friend and he emphasizes that the radiation will be aimed at my tongue and throat--not at my teeth. As it turns out, teeth are naturally resistant to radiation and he believes that in my case, I won't have to get any teeth removed in preparation for radiation. This is nothing short of HUGE news. However, this is a decision that will be made by my radiation oncologist, not my ear, nose, and throat doctor so I can't get too carried away yet. All it does for me now is helps me get a little more sleep at night.

Following that call, I was back at one of the higher points of the day. It really helped that my doctor took as much time as I needed to chat and get all my questions answered--and this is while he's talking to me on his personal cell phone and driving his kids home. I'm a big fan of this guy.

Which brings me to my conclusion that as bad as things are or seem to be, there is always someone who comes along at the right moment to help give you the strength to carry on instead of feeling totally overwhelmed and helpless. It could be a friend, family member, God, a combination of the three, or something else that I haven't experienced.

I'm reminded of the concept of "baby steps" in What About Bob? in that sometimes you just gotta focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes, however, that just isn't possible without the help of faith, family, and friends.

The Dreaded Apartment Search

2005-03-15T23:54:00.000-08:00

So I realize that I've been online with this blog for less than 48 hours and I'm already asking for a handout. Well, not really a handout, but maybe some hot tips on housing in Rosslyn, Virginia.

Hey, it could work. I mean, yesterday I got two comments from well-wishers in the first hour my blog was live! (Thank you very much, by the way. I'm not up on the blogosphere etiquette yet. Should I post a thank-you to their blogs? I just don't know.) So I figured that it could be totally possible with a little divine help that someone who knows of a place in Rosslyn, VA that is available will read my blog and send me a shout-out.

I know this sounds so specific that I'll never find it, but you never hit the bull's-eye unless you aim for the bull's-eye (unless you've got some crazy kind of good luck that usually skips a generation). Bear in mind that cancer fatigue is serious business. Anyway, here's what I'm looking for:

1. Location: Rosslyn, VA -- location is very important to me because of my forthcoming radiation treatment at the Lombardi Cancer Center at Georgetown University Hospital. This will allow me to easily commute via public transportation to/from work and my daily radiation treatments without putting drivers at risk with a fatigued me behind the wheel! (I will not have a car, by the way, so rest easy tonight.)

2. Size: One Bedroom -- this is also rather important as I may need to have a caregiver at some point--crazy thought--and I'd like to have just a bit of privacy if that is the case. This way I can sleep whenever I want without the caregiver, probably Mom, feeling bad about keeping me awake by leaving the light on to read. Of course if there is something larger for the right price, I probably would take a good look at it as well.

3. Furnished -- since I'm expecting to only have a need for a place during my radiation therapy preparation, treatment, and recovery (encompassing about 3+ months), I'm looking for a place that I don't have to furnish and then pack up and move later when I could conceivably be still relatively incapacitated by the radiation.

4. Term-of-Contract -- ideally, I'd find something for 6 months, April 1 - Sept. 30, 2005 (give or take a week or two with the end date being far more flexible than the beginning date).

5. Utilities -- it would be preferable that all utilities be included in the amount of rent. I realize that this sounds picky, but when the American Cancer Society is suggesting that I keep items that I use often on low shelves to save energy...well, let me just say that I'm trying to minimize the number of things I need to think about.

So that is the criteria that I'm working with at this point. They would all come together in perfect synergy in a perfect world, and even though I'm acutely aware of reality that does not mean that I cannot hope!

OK...I'm goin' to bed now.

Tequilas Burrito

2005-03-15T20:15:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to a local Mexican restaurant here in the booming metropolis of Albany, Oregon. It was actually quite a tasty endeavor. I consider myself a bit of a Mexican food snob since I lived in Santa Barbara, California for 6 years and became quite accustomed to the best Mexican food outside of Mexico. And don't be fooled, it's not found in "nice" restaurants. The best Mexican food is found in the hole-in-the-wall establishment on Milpas Street--it's called El Sitio and if you are ever there you must order the torta chorizo--quite possibly the best food ever created. But I digress.

So last night I went to this place called Tequilas with my mom, brother-in-law, sister, and 18-month-old niece who is not quite ready for Mexican food appreciation I don't think.

The big news is that this is the first time in probably 6 months that I have really enjoyed a Mexican meal. I had tried about a month before at a small establishment in Shelton, Washington with one of my best friends. It was literally one of the most painful experiences of my life trying to force down this puny carne asada taco. It wasn't because the food was bad but because my tongue was hurting so much. It wasn't much later that I had the tumor on my tongue removed and that is why last night was so special--it was my first post-op Mexican food experience. And let me tell you, after being unable to enjoy your favorite foods for as long as I had and then having a simple pleasure like the Tequilas Burrito placed in front of you--let me just say it doesn't get much better!

For the next few weeks/months (until my radiation therapy starts to really kick my butt), I'm on a mission to enjoy all my favorite foods as much as I can. Because after radiation, there is no guarantee that I'll be able to taste anymore. I don't know what to compare it to--maybe going deaf after hearing Beethoven or going blind after seeing the sun set over the Pacific. In any case, it scares me to think that I may not be able to taste food in about 2 months. So last night I was devastated when they told me that they were out of deep-fried ice cream--of course, if my doctors are reading this, they are probably stoked!

I guess what I'm trying to say is that if there is a way for you to do something and have it feel like it is the last time you'll ever do it--it just adds something. Something that is impossible to describe.

Technology Woes

2005-03-14T14:42:00.000-08:00

I've only had this blog for an hour and I'm already confused. All I want to do is add some links to my homepage.

I'm going to try to enlist my good friend Tom Roberts to help me out. He's a computer geek by trade. Come to think of it, he's got a blog of his own and it can be found at tomopia.com.

You should support the friends who support me and check it out.

Welcome to my blog

2005-03-14T13:58:00.000-08:00

Not sure how this will work out for me. I've never done a blog before.

Here's the deal: I can't keep up with email anymore. It's not because I'm too cool for email, I'm just getting mass quantities because of my recent health issues. You all are the best friends and family in the world!

Believe it or not, this was my mom's idea. Either I'm way behind when it comes to technology or she is on the cutting edge. I'm pretty sure it's not the first...sorry Mom.

***Just in case you were wondering how it feels to Ryan J. Krabill when he is writing his blog...it feels really weird. I'm second-guessing everything I'm writing like it is going to be graded or something. Anyway, go easy on me, I guess.***

The idea here is that I will be able to give you all updates on my daily radiation schedule as it is happening. I can also give you the latest scoops on what I'll have to do in preparation for my radiation--so far it doesn't sound like fun. Before it's all over, I might lose some teeth, salivary glands, and some of my ability to taste. There are other side effects, too, but I'll save those for another time. The best part of this blog is that you'll be able to get the updates when you want to get them, not when I shove them into your inbox.

So that's the word for now. I'm sure I'll have all kinds of enigmas to share with you as well as pointed observations over the course of the radiation treatment. Shoot, maybe I'll even be able to educate a few of you on things like Squamous Cell Carcinoma and Perineural Invasion.

Mostly though, I'll just be fishing for pity. :)