Epiphany: Its all about perspective

Okay, we're going a little multi-media this time, but I've had something of a personal epiphany.This is a little wordy, a little philosophical, and probably isn't a concise and solid as I normally like to write. Still, I felt the following was worth saying here.

First of all, a long time ago, my father used to show his friends a clip of the movie "The Wind and the Lion", where a US Marine company storms a foreign embassy. Knowing my father, said friends would all look at my dad after seeing the clip and say "you make sense now!".

For a long time, I had something of the same clip. Something that everyone just agreed was so perfectly "me" that they felt like it explained me to a T. If you've known me for a while, you'll probably get the comparison. If you're one of the people who just met me in the past year or so, you might not get the full effect, but still, the relevance of this should still ring true with you. And if you don't know me, it's still just an awesome battle scene.

.

Well, As most of you probably already know, I just recently was declared cured of a serious bout of lymphoma that more or less commanded all my attention for close to a year.

Since getting back into the swing of things, I've noticed a lot of differences in myself. Sometimes small things, sometimes not. I catch myself saying things, giving advice, and after the words are out of my mouth I am like "when in the hell did I become so f&%#ing articulate?" I mean, it's one thing to be well spoken, but I'm giving advice that people are now listening to. I say things that sound like they should have come from my mentors, but yet, when I think about them, they are my words. That, for me... well, it takes some getting used to.

But it's more than just that. I wasn't sure if I had changed, or if the world was changing how it saw me, but I was being noticed differently (and positively) at work, and I at least felt like I was suddenly more comfortable with some informal leadership positions I was being offered.

It wasn't until recently that I put it all together. What had changed wasn't me (per say) or the world. But rather the perspectives, both my own and everyone else.

Here, let me offer a metaphor. In those cheesy B marshal arts flicks from the 80s, the hero always went off on some personal trial where he more or less tortured himself, and the audience got to see exactly how tough he was through it all. This, of course, was supposed to give some deeper meaning to the final fight scene. But in the end, it was usually a chance for the directors to show how creative they could get on a shoestring budget. Even Star Trek did something like this (in short) for their resident Klingon.

I think, in a very interesting way, my dealing with cancer was like those trials and rituals. My character was tested and measured in how I dealt with my sickness and my treatments. My strength and determination was proven with how I fared under the hardest of it. And my integrity was tested and proven with how I followed through with the promises I made. 

More importantly, and like those B-movies, I was out of the loop for at least 6 months. I couldn't go to SCA, I couldn't go to church, my son's cub scout meetings, or even out with my family sometimes. In a very real sense, I had only my wife and my son to lean on, and even then, there was only so much they could do for me. 

And through it all, just like the movies, everyone who was interested cold watch me go though this, compliments of Facebook, this blog, and even one showing on youtube. 

The world. or at least those of it that were interested in it, had a front row seat to my trials.

Now, a year later, I am back in the SCA, I am back at church, I am back helping my son with school and scouts. Now I am back in my old life, but with something that I didn't have before. 

Perspective... on what I  can do... and what I have done.

My father's friends used to watch that clip from "the Wind and the Lion" and say "you so make sense now". Then My friends would watch the clip from "Zulu" and say "Wow, I totally understand you!".

I watched this clip with Worf  the other day, and suddenly said "My God, I understand myself again!"

Starting off the New Year!

Greetings 2013, and happy New Year to all of you.

As much as I would like to ring in the new year with some poetic narrative talking bout my life, I'm sort of tapped out right now. All of my creative energy has been focused into my writing as of late.

Speaking of which, lets start the bullet points off right and talk about my writing for a moment.

Writing: Two years ago I entered NaNoWriMo (2011) with only the faintest idea of what I was going to write; a rough-sketch story growing out of an off-the-cuff comment my wife made about writing something Ninja vs Samurai. Well, by the end of the month I had beat Nano, and was fast on my way to finished my book. When it was done, about mid January if I recall correctly, I handed it out to beta readers, and got back strong positive reviews. So, for 2012, I decided to write a sequel was appropriate, and I spent a good portion of the year putting together the outline for the next Nano. Sadly, however, November was a mess for writing, first with Izumicon at the beginning of the month, and then with my parents coming to visit, and finally with myself being hospitalized for four days with a critical infection. Needless to say, Nano didn't happen.

However, as life does, I did get some insight into things that let me reshape the book. There have definitely been lots of fits and starts, and even thought I have written over 100 pages, I have thrown all but a hand full of them out because they weren't the story I wanted to write, and my characters deserve to have their story told. But the good news is that as of the afternoon of 1/1/13, I'm 38 pages in (and still hammering away), and the story very much captures the characteristics that made the first one work so well.

Health: Yes, funny I should mention that. My health is... well, not as healthy as I would like. You see, between being overweight and a cancer survivor, I now have about 5 specialists (Doctors and otherwise) who are happy to harp on me about not only getting in better shape, but remind me that I need to stay in therapy as much as possible or else I might wide up back in the hospital. The major issues are (In no particular order):

My weight- By every chart every published in the US, I am “morbidly obese” and hectically have one foot in the grave. This besides the fact that my bloodwork is, and has always been excellent, my blood pressure is good, my overall activity level is higher than most office workers, and my blood sugar is normal. Bottom line, while I will never make the cover of a magazine, and I do have weight I would like to loose, I'm still fending off some linger comments about needing to “immediately loose weight or else my life will fall apart”... I'll tell you, it gets a little old after... oh... 10 years.

My Cancer- Yeah, well, you see beating cancer isn't the instant victory lap you might think. It came once, and at least in my case, they don't have any idea what caused it, so there is no ruling it a repeat visit. Honestly, I've more or less come to terms with the fact that I'm going to spend the rest of my life as a lab rat, and that's okay. But none the less, when a new doc asks for medical history, the conversation invariably goes “well, I had cancer...” and then I have to say “no no no, I don't smoke, I don't drink, none of my relatives have died of cancer... calm down and listen to me.” Truly through, I'm not complaining. The process is more or less part of my life now, and I'm okay with that.

The lymph nodes- yeah, short and sweet these are the human body's waste-water management system, and when you get a backup there, things don't go well. The cancer diagnosis was Lymphoma, and the scar tissue it left behind really borked (couldn't resist) things in my leg. That's what put me in the hospital over Thanksgiving, and right now, the only thing forestalling a repeat performance is regular physical therapy and a lot of really uncomfortable accessories to my wardrobe. I'll be wearing compression shorts and a compression stalking for the rest of my life, more or less, and yeah... I'm not too thrilled with it.

Anyway, moving on.

Work: Let me tell you, Dell has been good to me. When I was doing the Chemo thing, they bent over backwards to get me a schedule that would let me do chemo and not eat all of my time off. When I needed time, they gave it to me, and when I needed a break, they were there for me. Still, certain things at work are done by the numbers, literally, and one of those is what schedule you get. When I was on my 4x10/Sun-Wed routine, my numbers tanked. It not that I was a bad employee, but I just wasn't as good as everyone else in a highly competitive network. So, when I went into fall of this year, I literally had last pick of what schedule I wanted, and got a really ugly slot because of it. Its not anyone's fault, its literally numbers, there is no human judgment, there are measurements and triggers and this and that.. its a 1s and 0s system, void of compassion, but also void of corruption. So, yeah, I got stuck in an armpit assignment for the winter.

The good news, however, is that as of this past week, my being back on a M-F shift has given me the foothold I need to come back, and come back swinging. I went for 120^th to 17^th in the nation-wide network, number 3 in my team, and 9 at the OKC site. This act alone has silenced a few skeptics who saw my early strong performance as beginner's luck. Even some strong advocates of mine are currently making some informal apologies to me after misjudging some week numbers as possible being shortcoming on my part rather than the product of a really screwy schedule this summer.

I'm not mad at anyone, this summer was rough all round, and I knew going into it that my numbers were going to be the first causality of the process. But, I'm here to talk about it now, so I can't complain too much, right? The good news is that we're all looking forward, seeing what we have going for us, and moving on. I don't have anyone looking over my shoulder waiting for my next screw-up.

Home: Well, what can I say... I have messy floors, empty shelves, unwashed laundry and a very fool life. I'm still married after 12 years (and that is following a two year engagement and a year of dating), and we're the proud parents of a 7 year old who is scary-smart, and getting more so every day. I wish I could say more about them, but right now my lie is so hectic, and my schedule so screwy that I quite literally don't get to see them as much as I want. Sigh...

SCA: this part is really easy, it isn't happening. With my current schedule, I'm not able to make meetings at all, so 90% of SCA if just on hold this quarter. 

Yeah, that part just plane sucks. 

Life: yeah, my life is interesting. Just as soon as my break is over (read: tomorrow), I'm back in the therapists office at 8am. That lasts about an hour, and then I come home, call that about 9:15. I have enough time to get lunch packed for work, maybe make a hot beverage as well for my thermos, pack my bags, and then I'm off and running again. I need to be out the door by 10:30 at the latest in order to make it to the office with a safe buffer of time. I like to roll out earlier, so call it ten. Anyway... there is is, I get there, clock in and start work at noon, and then work for 9 hours (including a lunch break), and then turn around and drive home. Yeah, I don't see anywhere near as much of my son as I would like.

The bag: A while ago I wrote aboutpurchasing a backpack and more or less making it into a little bit of a everything bag for me so I had all my critical when and if I would need them. As it turned out, that paid off. When I was admitted to the hospital, I had my phone charger, clean whites, my toiletries kit and even drink packets. I wouldn't call it a game changer, but it was nice to be one step ahead of the situation. This one gets filed under the Win column.

  

Reading:

I actually have a few irons in the fire here.

Robotech: by wife got me the first three books for my birthday two years ago, and I'm still working through them. Good reads, just I need to be in the mood to sit down.

Vortex: I downloaded an old Larry Bond war novel for my Kindle, and am enjoying it immensely. Bod writes WWIII scenarios, and does so really well, talking about the politics and the technology of whatever version of the next war he is hypothesizing. Cauldron, which I read in high school, was WWIII with France and German trying to take over Europe, and the US and Poland aligning to be the first major roadblock to their otherwise unchecked conquest. Really good read, and Vortex, which is South Africa starting a global conflict, is so far matching pace really well.

Death has a Name: this is an independent title by a friend of mine. I promised him I would read it, but its been slow going. I'm not an overt fan of the supernatural genera, so I'm always reluctant to sit down and invest time in it, but its' still clearly on my to-do list.

Destroyermen: I really need to get back to this one! The Series has a fun premise, a 1920 vintage destroyer is pulled from the opening months of WW2 and shot into an alternate world where humans didn't evolve, and technology is more or less per-victorian. There are some cliche moments, but overall, the first book was well worth the read, and I have the second book in the series sitting on my desk as I write this.

Listening:

Thanks to Podiobooks.com, I have been able to download and listen to a number of really good titles in free (and legal) format.

Emperors edge: this is a really cool fantasy/steam punk action/mystery series. Kind of mash-up, but really fun, and keeps your attention. Highly recommended, all around.

The Cowery Catchers: Another fantasy series, I started this a few months ago and really enjoy the writing. The author says in the opening of each episode that if you have to ask if you will be offended, you probably will be, and by the third book, she's right. The story takes some turns and says some stuff that's hard on the ears, but I still felt the story was compelling enough to muscle through it and see what happened. Will start book 4 later on, I am catch up on a few other things right now.  

TV: oh, do I have some shows to watch now (thanks to Christmas!)

The Equalizer, season 1. If you don't know what this is, I feel sorry for you. If you do, then I don't really need to tell you how awesome a show it is, right?

Sole Eater. This is an interesting Amine about a high-school aged girl who is a student at a school run by the grim reaper where they teach kids how to find and hill daemons and witches. The whole show has some grim humor and really dark moments, but its also classic amine in that it's over the top and funny in a lot of places too. I'm not all the way through it, but I'm liking where I'm at.

Bamboo blade: Another amine, this is about a girls kendo team in Japan. Nothing really original, but the story is mostly character driver, about a bunch of totally different girls who only really have kendo in common, yet manage to bond. Fun show, we still have a few episodes to go, but I really like it.

Rideback: I'm only seen the first few episodes, but this one definitely looks like it will be fun. Another entry into the Mecha genera of Anime, this is about a former ballet dancer who uses her natural skill and balance to pilot a robotic 2-wheeled robot that can generally transition between a dirt-bike configuration and a humanoid biped. The action sells the show for me, really paying good tribute to both modern technology, and the idea that the pilot still makes the machine work.

Falling Skies season 1. Okay, I've already seen this, but I haven't shown my wife, so that's still on the to-do list. Bottom line, is this is the first to do a good treatment of the alien invasion idea (IMHO). The world is more or less overthrown in no-time, and all that's left are resistant fighters slugging it out in an unconventional warfare scenario. It would almost be a dry sell if it weren't for the fact that the hero is a college history professor turned resistance deputy leader. Between the action scenes, which are actually well done, and the social/political/what are we fighting sore, the show is really well done, and an excellent balance of all the things that make a good war story for me. Also, this show joins a growing list of productions that have taken intellectual actors and make them them intellectual characters who are also bad-asses. In this case, Noah Wyle playing Tom Mason.

Okay, I guess that's as much as I want to ramble on about. Happy new years, and I'll keep you all informed as the year goes on.  

Thankful

I'm thankful.

And I'm thankful for a lot of things.

You might not think so at first glance, but there is more to this story than the first page. 

This year, I spent Wednesday night, Thanksgiving, the following Friday, Saturday, and most of Sunday in the hospital. A good portion of that (including Thanksgiving day itself) I was ravaged with fevers that were besting 102.5 all too regularly. The spikes were accompanied by body aches, mind-warping headaches, shivers, and nausea.

Aside from a few visits, I was without access to my family for most of the stay. Part of the issue a matter of scheduling, partly a matter of there were times where I just wasn't fit to have guests.

I was supposed to cook the Turkey this year, and had prepped a ten pound bird in an apple cider, lemon juice, and cinnamon marinade. That obviously wasn't happening.

I spent three of the four days completely unsure if I would even make it out of the hospital in time for work on Monday, (sick time aside, I take pride in my work, and letting cases go untouched is a hassle for others when someone isn't there).

There were times where the pain and the body aches were so bad that I just wanted to curl up and cry.

And there were times where I was so frustrated with all of the unanswered questions, and I was seething mad, and without anyone or anything to point my anger at.

But I am still thankful.

I'm thankful for every nurse and nurses aid who tended to me day in and day out.

I'm thankful for the doctors who answered pages and phone calls, day and night, as my situation developed.

I'm thankful for the Technician who was called at 1 in the morning, Thanksgiving day, to scan my leg and try and size up the mess I was in.

I'm grateful that even though I wasn't there, my family and my visiting parents were able to have Thanksgiving together with my in-laws, and that my son was able to spend outrageous amounts of time being spoiled rotten by my father.

I'm thankful that my mother was able to cook the turkey per my instructions  including making a cider/turkey drippings gravy that was a smash hit. 

Despite how little I did see them, my family was there for me, supporting me when I needed it, even from afar. 

I'm grateful because I survived cancer, and even though the scar tissue of that even will change my life forever, so too has the exposure to some of the most remarkable people I have ever met.

I could be mad, and there are a few things that I am rightfully upset about.

But in the end, I choose to be thankful, but I have been given more than has been taken from me by far.  

My new Bag

So, I decided to so a little building the other day. One of the things I really enjoy about my time as a firefighter and a security officer was the ability to “kit out”, to put all sorts of cool stuff on my person. By the time I was done with my nearly thee year stint as a security guard, I had a really nice mid-range kit for a belt, first air kit, gloves, baton, sidearm, cell phone… like I said… really nice, and it looked sharp too.

Well, this time, I took a lot of that philosophy and applied it to my new life as a commuting computer tech for Dell computers. Granted, in terms of risk, there isn't a   lot of overlap in what I faced as a security guard or a firefighter and what I face now. Still, preparedness is not something one just casts aside.

First of all, I wanted to show you a video. This guy has a ton of stuff on YouTube, and I've probably seen a lot of it, but not most. This video, entitled “bug out bag” is a really good starting point for me in this conversation. Now, let me be clear, I am not building a bug out bag, and I don’t want to. But the logic and the mechanics he puts into this are applicable to other, more “every day” situations.

Again, I'm not trying to copy this, or suggest that anyone else should. But the philosophy of "What do I need for what?" and "What might I need?" is very sound.

A good personal case in point; just the other day I was stuck in Oklahoma city with a flat Tire. Aside from being half an hour late to dinner with friends because of having to put on the spare, I was stuck down there overnight because the tire place didn't have my size tires, and I know far, far better than to put 120 miles (60 home and 60 back to work) on a donut  Since I wouldn't be going home, I had to swing by Wal-Mart and get essentials, just getting underwear, a T-shirt, deodorant and socks was close to $20 by itself.

Now, add to this the fact that I was also wanting to start walking again during my lunch breaks at work. Originally, I took a small bag with a change of clothes, towel and some toiletries. Then, when lunch rolled around, I would grab the bag, walk to the locker room change, take my walk, come back, shower, and then get back to my desk. Add to that the fact that the locker room is about 7 minutes from my desk, and you have a pretty tight hour there. What I wanted to do was have something that I could just grab at my desk, walk, and then come back to the locker rooms and shower.

This is really important for me now, because one of the byproducts of my recent fight with (and victory over) cancer was that I put on some substantial weight, and need to up my activity level so I can get back down to a healthier weight.

The Outdoor products Sports bag.

The back:. 

So, let start with the bag itself; I got an Outdoor Products bag from Wal-Mart. $20.00s, and it even came with a water bottle. The construction looks solid, and I liked the fit. I don’t envision this lasting me years, but it is lasts 24 months I think it will have paid for itself.

The cup (with extra straw)

Now, on to the water bottle, its’ actually pretty cool. Aluminum and plastic, I think it’s about 30oz size. And it even came with an extra straw. All together not bad. I drink out of it at work all the time, and so long as I don't want to put anything hot in it, I should be fine. 

Cell phone/MP3 player holder. 

On, and that little black cell phone case; it didn't come with the bag. I salvaged it off my old laptop bag, its durable as hell, and secures right on the strap like it belongs there. This is actually cool because I like to listen to audiobooks (or Podiobooks) sometimes. 

Drinks pocket

The open mesh pockets on the side hold the water bottle, and whatever else I want. On one side I keep my drink packets and the extra straw. I’m debating expanding my selection a little, maybe even stocking some food there… any suggestions?

"Cool stuff" pocket

The other side is my “cool stuff” pocket. The thumb drives are just useful, and the cord you see there is good for charging my Kindle and my cell phone, from a wall outlet or a computer. So I’m really happy with it. The USB cord there is for my (somewhat old) MP3 player. I used to wear my Leatherman on my belt, and still do at times, but with me in an office chair now, this is actually more comfortable.

Again, I’m thinking of adding to that pocket. They make little “survival” kits all the time, and I’m thinking of looking into those and either getting one or copying it. Nothing too major, but matches, a sewing kit… useful stuff  if I'm ever stuck away from home a few days.

Now, before we get into the back pocket, let me just say I collected most of this stuff while I was dealing with cancer. Chemo screws with your body enough (at least in my case) that you need to be able to take care of even minor cuts quickly, Trust me, they don’t heal on their own some times.

Back pocket

These are the extras left over from my little personal “micro-trauma” kit. The Ziploc is for modularity and to keep them dry.

All told, it’s actually some really useful stuff, but all basic. The syringes on the left are not hypodermic. They are topic, doses of Phenergan gel, a potent anti-nausea drug that save my hide more than a few times when I was on chemo.

The actual “first aid kit” was a Wal-Mart number, but I added a few things. Most notably are the scissors, those are surgical tools I got a hold of; sharp as a razor and tough as steel.  The rest is self-explanatory. I don’t go into the kit that much, but it’s nice to have it on hand, good piece of mind.

Topical Antibiotic

Yeah… this I keep separate and available. I've had too many infected cuts in my life to forget how much an cut hurts when you let it sit all night and build up an infected mass. Never again, I tell you!







I liked the main compartment here because it wasn't segmented out; just one big space for stuff, and lots of stuff at that.

Main pocket... Lots of space.

“What’s with the Ziplocs?” you ask. Well, they are actually serving two purposes. First, they are protecting my backup clothes. If I’m out in the rain, or if something spills on the bag or whatever, I’m not up a creek. Also, cloth likes to compress, but it also likes to expand again. Those bags keep the volume under control in a really good way.

Case in point. Those two bags pack down really small, but what you’re looking at here is a decent “around the house” outfit If I’m at some one else’s home. I wouldn't want to do a job interview in that, but at least I have a fresh outfit that protects  my modesty.

Toiletries. Simple stuff, really, but enough to mean the difference between “just making it” and being presentable at work the next morning. Now that I am growing my hair out again, I’ll probably need a small bottle of shampoo in the next month or two, and a shaving kit as well.

Oh! One last pocket.  Right now, that is actually kept clear of stuff. But again, if I’m at work and in my office chair, I can drop my keys in there, or some loose change. Also, when I’m showering I tend to empty my pockets into it as a middle point between old pants and new ones. Its not huge, but it will hold everything in all of my pockets, so I am not complaining.

As for the remaining volume, that’s what I call "working space". Right now I can fit another clean set of whites, a fresh shirt and a large towel in there without maxing it out. This is perfect for a change after my walks. If I were going somewhere else, I image I could fit a lot in there lunch, my camera, some books… whatever. Like I said, its not a small space.

And as for comfort, I’m really not complain. I wear it for my walks, and walk about 1.3 miles each day and it isn't unpleasant to wear, even loaded down. I guess mine weighs in at about 15 pounds with everything in it.  I didn't get everything at once... but I think everything in there (less the clothes) probably adds up to $100, give or take. But that list was cobbled together over a few years too. 

As for the whole thing, it’s still a work in progress, and will change as my life changes. I’m thinking about finding someone with a vacuum sealer and putting the chance in clothes into  one of those bags. Iit could probably cut the volume down by a third if I did that. Like I said, I’m also thinking about a small ‘survival kit” for one of the pockets, just for piece of mind. And I definitely want to take that drink pouch and maybe make it into a little micro eatery/snack bar.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Feedback?

Thoughts....

I just wanted to sit down and… I guess vent a little. The dust of the proverbial storm of the last five months of my life hasn't even fully settled yet, but still, there are some things that I think are worth talking about.

The diagnosis:

I can’t tell you how many people have told me that my internist should have caught the lump in my leg when it was smaller. Usually these are people who don’t know me that well, and who really don’t know my doctor at all. The bottom line is that we did catch it, and we caught it in time. It took both of us, me to notice the lump, and him to diagnose it. In the end, finding it sooner would have helped, but not really changed anything.

The people:

Yeah, half of this bloody mess is more about everyone else than me. I’m not saying that resentfully, just as an observation. And on that thought, here are some observations for you.

1.       Less than half an hour after my first FB post stating that I had cancer, my FB adds and (one of) my e-mail address were flooded with advertisements for “miracle” cancer treatments, “real” cures, “alternative” therapies, and coupons for clinics in Mexico, Latin America and Europe. The torrent didn’t end until I put Ad Blocker back on my browser. The scary thing is that it took less than half an hour for close to 100 quacks to try and get their word in. I can’t help but think of what that type of influx of information would do to someone who hadn’t already had a long talk with his doctor.

2.       In less than a week, my other in-boxes were flooded with direct e-mails from actual people I know. To be fair, they were all well-intentioned, and all honestly worried about my well being. But none the less, I was provided with close to 50 websites talking about everything from Laetrile, to cancer-fighting foods, to links to local acupuncturists.

a.       Some of the information was provided with a “this worked for me, just take a look” attitude. This is wonderful, I am glad to learn from personal experiences, and had this done on any longer, I might well have looked up some of the herbalists or acupuncturists I have heard about to help me deal with the chemo.

b.      Some, however, came with explicit messages of “whatever you do, don’t trust your doctor”… and lots of links followed on short order. When a scientifically minded man is fighting for his life is not the time to question his core principles. Those people are no longer connected to my Facebook, my Google +, or my instant messages.

                                                               i.      In short, and in very much a modern sense, I don’t talk to them anymore.

3.       And then… we have the ones that you don’t want to be next to in a crisis. I had one mother of a friend whom I told “I was diagnosed with cancer, and I start treatments net week”. However, what she heard was “I have inoperable cancer”, and proceeded to flood her (adult) child with “helpful” information to pass along to me. Took about a week to decide how to handle that little mess.

4.       And then… we have everyone else.

a.       The supervisor who looked at me and said: “you do what you have to, I’ll take care of the scheduling”

b.      The coworker who laughed and said “and you’ll kick it’s ass like every other challenge you've gotten”.

c.       The child (and daughter of a good friend) who looked at me when I told her and said “what’s cancer?”

d.      I pinged one co-worker with the following conversation

Me: I have some news for you, since it will became obvious in the next few weeks.

Him: What, you’re pregnant? Ha ha…

Me: Actually… I was diagnosed with cancer last week. I’ll be starting chemo soon.

[looooong pause]

Him: Now I feel like a total douche for saying that.

Me: he he… why do you thing I phrased it the way I did? ;-)

[another looooong pause]

Him: Well played.

e.      I can’t tell you how many people I have had to explain chemotherapy, cancer, and even some basic anatomy to. It’s not that I mind, but when I realize how few people don’t understand the basics of biology (“mitosis” was a completely alien term to a lot of people), I really had to wonder.

f.        I had one random woman at church walk up to me in the beginning and say “you’ll be fine, you know that?” I asked how she was so sure, and she pointed to herself and said “Stage four, four times, and I’m still here.”

g.       I’ve had eight people that I can name tell me that I have been “an inspiration”, “heroic”, “stoic”, and/or “aw inspiring” through this whole process. I’m still not sure how to take all that. I know it’s all said with good intents, but for me, the times they were talking about are some of the roughest in my life.

5.       As I have learned in the past, “modern medicine” is  a mixed bag, with no single  profession or skill-set completely good or bad.

a.       All of my doctors were good this time around, sure, some of them were a little rough around the edges, but I don’t’ ask for diplomats, just professionals.

                                                               i.      My general practitioner, who has now had the pleasure of finding two major medical problems with me, and more or less rushing me out the door to get the help I need. The man is good at what he does, and right now I am looking forward to seeing him and having him say “there’s nothing wrong with him.

                                                             ii.      My surgeon: who biopsied the largest tumor and who called me the following Friday and broke the news to me. She’s been steadfast in her support, and nearly predatory in her advocacy on my behalf.

                                                            iii.      To my two oncologists (changed horse mid-race), you’re work is usually thankless, and I don’t imagine you are ever far from news of someone dying. Still, you were there every time, doing the job, hoping for the best, and honestly telling me “this is just going to suck, I’m sorry”… Thanks.

                                                           iv.      To the Ultrasound tech who did theorigionall ultrasound, assisted in the ultrasound-guided needle biopsy, and who did my echocardiogram… Your calm demeanor, conversation, and charisma were a calm in the middle of a storm that I needed. Thanks.

                                                             v.      Oncological nurses who managed my treatment in two cities over four months. They advocated for me, stood up for me, and went to bat for me when others did not take a moment to put a human face on a decision.

                                                           vi.      The fifty or so strangers who applauded the day I randomly announced to the waiting room “I’d cured.”

b.      Outside of the that…

                                                               i.      Everyone at Highland Park United Methodist Church banned together and prayed for me,  offering support and best wishes, and as far as I’m concerned, it all worked.

                                                             ii.      My friends in the SCA mustered behind me from the word go, offering encouragement, help, best wishes and worried looks all where appropriate. The SCA has been a second family for many years now, and this time that family banned together.

All told, I consider myself lucky. Know too many people who have beat cancer, and too many more who didn’t. As much as some people might want to say I beat it because of this attitude or that personality trait, the truth of the mater is what by the end, I was holding on by my fingertips, wondering how much longer I could keep it all together.

I think the best ending for this was my son’s reaction when he got home from school and I told him the news. He jumped up in the air, shouted “Yeay!” and then stopped and added “Can I play on the PlayStation now?”

A hot start (Epic week, part 1)

It's hard to decide where this story goes. It's as much about my friends and my family as it is about my medical condition, not to mention the SCA and all of the relationships I have formed there. This isn't a story of what went wrong, so much as what went right, and for what reasons. And still more, this is a story about adapting to change, overcoming the unexpected, and triumph in the face of adversity. My week didn't start on a Saturday, a Sunday or even a Monday. No, this story starts on a Wednesday, July the 4th, 2012 to be exact. I had the day off of work, just  like about 90% of the country, and we had afternoon plans with friends. I woke up late that morning, an indulgence I don't normally get with a job schedule that traditionally has me up at 4:30 in the morning.  I lumbered into the shower sometime after ten that morning, letting the ready supply of hot water wake me up.  I've found that showers are now down to about 5 minutes of running water thanks to the fact that I don't have hair to wash. An interesting tidbit of fact, that's all.

Just after three, my wife, son and our best friend loaded up in my buttercup yellow Aveo and headed off to the newly acquired home of Lord Lucas and his wife Adelaide.  Lucas and I met in the SCA several years before, and one of his more notable achievement is succeeding me as the champion bard for the Barony of Wiesenfeuer (Oklahoma city chapter of the SCA) before moving on to win the title of Kingdom bard not long after. A stout fireplug of man, Lucas had moved from Norman to Tulsa following a job a few years back, and that same pursuit brought him to the upper edge of Stillwater just a few weeks ago now. They had finished moving in just in time to celebrate Independence Day. They invited us up to their new place to enjoy an afternoon of conversation, grilled hamburgers, home made desserts and swimming before heading back south to watch the Stillwater fireworks.

The day itself was wonderful. I honestly hadn't had a chance to spend that much time with Lucas and his family before, so it was a wonderful chance to really get to know them. My son, Thomas, got along smashingly well with Lucas's  4-year-old, who in turn was ecstatic about having someone roughly his own age to play with.  The day went on beautifully, with everyone glad  to see everyone else, and all of us making plans for future encounters. All told, it was a good experience.

The fireworks that night were great, we were close enough that you could feel every "thud" and "crack" of the show. They wrapped up just after nine, and we wound up pulling out of there closer to ten after waiting for all the traffic to file out of the way.

When my wife and I got home, we realized that things weren't going to go as planned. I opened the door, and what should have been a wave of cold air from a climate controlled house was every bit as stale and sticky and hot as what we had been out for the fireworks. The AC had gone out, and we were looking at a long, hot night. The night was miserable for me, I slept on three towels to try and keep the perspiration away from my skin. It was a loosing battle for me. I took a cold shower the next morning, trying to pull as much heat off of my body as I could.  I normally have Thursday through Saturday off of work as it was, so with the 4th as a paid Holiday I had four days off to de-stress and decompress from work.  As it was, one of those was going to be spent dealing with a hot house and a bad AC unit during the first weeks of July.

The repair tech arrived the next day, we’d been through this before with the unit and I knew what numbers to call and who to talk to.  I had spent a good portion of the day working in my home office (a desk in the bedroom) on my writing and a few e-mails. When the heat became too much, I grabbed my car keys and made a b-line to IHOP. I'm not overly thrilled with their food, but the Stillwater location is a favorite haunt of college students, so another body in there using their wireless connection and nursing down a water didn't even raise an eyebrow. 

This year has been good to me in terms of writing. Ever since NaNoWriMo of last year, I have been on a bit of a tear with my latest creation, a contemporary drama/romance that was inspired by an off handed comment my wife made about maybe writing something in the ninja vs samurai genre. I beat Nano last year, and late on actually finished the book, which I have since revised three times and ultimately turned over to my wife for editing. Since then, I jumped on the sequel and  have been plugging along ever since, albeit slowly.

So, that was more or less what I was in the middle of when I got a call from my wife saying the tech had made it. By the time I got home, the tech had made a grim pronouncement; the compressor had died, and the only way to fix it was to replace it outright.

We weren't going to get air conditioning back anytime soon.

Part of the problem, unlike last year,  was that as grouchy as I was, I was also a lot more uncomfortable than previous hot spells, and having a lot more trouble sleeping. I realized that night that I was slowly slipping towards an honest-to-god case of heat stroke. The problem wasn't just the heat, but the fact that the house was holding it in, and that I wasn't able to get cool and sleep. I didn't put it all together until later, but the one factor that I wasn't accounting for was my chemotherapy, which they said would make me more heat sensitive during the treatment process.

I guess I probably should have seen this coming out of intuition is nothing else. As  a whole, my prognosis with my lymphoma has been excellent ever since I started treatments. Not only are the treatments working, but I am not suffering anywhere nearly as many side effects as I was told I would. It's not easy, mind you, but even on the first week, I wasn' t the lethargic, sick, dead-to-the-world victim they expected me to be. I wasn't cocky about it,  but I was getting used to the idea that Cancer wasn't going to beat the tar out of me. I had a good crew of doctors watching out for me, and a good group of friends rooting me on, I was confident t that the odds were in my favor.

In reality, part of that success story included the air conditioner, which now that it was out of the equation, the odds weren't so stacked anymore, With heat beating me down as the days got hotter, my prospects for a sane, let alone good, weekend off of work were quickly diminishing.  It wasn't like I was afraid of dying, but without any sleep, it was going to be a rough couple of days.

Realizing that the minor issue was going to be a long-haul battle, we all loaded up in the car yet again and retreated to Joseppi's (Local Italian) to enjoy cold drinks and air conditioning while we mapped out the next week.  There, we hatched a general plan that included taking my mother in law up on an offer of refuge from the heat. It wouldn't just be us, however, my family includes four cats and two dogs, including an elderly, but still loving and still determined Great Pyrenees male who was taking the heat even worse than I was.

There were catches to this plan, however. My in-laws live in Tulsa, which was every bit of two hours from my office. Commuting to work would not be an option, I would need a place to stay in Oklahoma city for the work week. Also, that coming Saturday would be the company picnic, where I had hoped to introduce my wife to some of my coworkers. Then, on Sunday I would have to work from home (or somewhere with an internet connection), while my wife ran our son up to his first sleep away summer camp.  Then… we were all supposed to make it to an SCA meeting in Enid… one out west of Stillwater, two hours from Tulsa.

Needless to say the schedule had to be modified. More or less, the SCA was out of the picture. We have a rule in the society that says "Real life comes first", and this was one of those weeks. I asked Meggan about the company picnic, and she gave a firm agreement that she still wanted to go, four hour round trip or not. For her, it was "one of those things you do" for work and a chance to meet cool people. In any event, though, we were agreed that we would go, along with Thomas, and see what Dell had to offer  by way of recreation.

So, all that was left was the evacuation of the house… and let's be clear, it was an evacuation. No, it wasn't quite Saigon, but still there was a lot to do, not a lot of time to do it, and really only one chance to pull it all off. Noah's ark (part 1) pulled out at about noon, as I remember, or there about. Meggan left first, with Herald (the Pyrenees) and three of our cats, as well as our son and all his camp supplies crammed into the van. I pulled out an hour later with Pippin (our troublesome Shiba Inu) and the second most docile but noisy of our cats.

Between Stillwater and Tulsa, we found out that Meggan's uncle was being emergency air lifted from his home near the Arkansas border to St. John's medical center.  My mother-in-law's sister would be driving out,  and two of my wife's cousins would be coming in as well. What had started off as a busy weekend for my mother-in-law (My father-in-law was out of town that weekend) was about to see her out at the epicenter of two family emergencies.

I arrived in the early afternoon, and moved my cargo of animals and my own provisions into the blessed cool of the central Tulsa, two story house.  My  mother-in law was at the hospital already with her sister, waiting for word from the doctor and the rest of the family. My son had commandeered the Nintendo Wii, arguably his favorite activity at my in-law's home, and my wife had set up her computer in the upstairs library. The animals were adjusting in their own way. Herald found a cool spot of tile on the floor and dropped on it comfortably. Pippin just curled up on a small rug and slept. Of the cats, the two sisters were hissing at nearly anything they saw out of spite from how mad they were over the move. The brothers, however, had taken it all in stride and were dealing with it quietly,  more or less.

The last real note of the day was that I called the warranty company and  spoke with an operator about the situation. They had the notes on the system, my phone number and notes from the tech. Once the review department got done with the notes they would order the part, and call me if they needed anything. It was as good as I was going to get on a Friday afternoon. 

All told, we made it to safety, and I don't say that lightly. Only once I was in air conditioning did I realize how hard the heat had hit me, and how beat up I was.  I don't want to dramatize things, but let me be clear, I was on my way to a very bad situation had we not found refuge, not to say anything for our pets. Even my son was looking a little worn out by the time it was all over, and I don't suspect the road trip was really part of it.

But that, I assure you, was only the beginning of our little adventure (more to come). 

A conversation with a pharmacist

I walked into the front doors of the Med Ex pharmacy for the first time in my life that Wednesday. What had once been a well regarded Mexican restaurant had been leveled and rebuilt to be the latest addition to the chain of discount drug stores. I wondered as I walked in the door where I was standing in relation to the tables and chairs my family used to frequent, but my thoughts wandered only briefly. I was already tired, more so that I needed to be, and I was already feeling the effects of seven hours worth of chemotherapy working its way through my blood. Drugs with names too long to remember and side effects that sounded more like chemical weapons that anything therapeutic hung in the back of my mind as I made my way to the back of the store.

A college aged tech met me at the counter with a big smile. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, I spoke with a woman just a few minutes ago about a prescription that the Wal-Mart Pharmacy couldn't fill."

"Ah, yes. That would be our pharmacist. She's with another customer right at the moment" He pointed towards the shelves that dominated the middle of the store and concealed anyone from view. "Can I help you?"

I explained my situation in brief;  a day of chemotherapy that had run long, a list of prescriptions that needed to be filled, and finally arriving at Wal-Mart only to find out that they couldn't fill the most critical of the orders, Phenergan gel, a topical anti-nausea drug any my only hope for keeping my stomach under control for the next few days. I was tired, sore, and more than a little scared. My first round of chemo had led to a week of torturous side effects that I wasn't looking forward to again. I wasn't just scared of the side effects, I was frankly dreading every second that brought me closer to the next morning and the unknown.

The clerk took my insurance card and my information with an understanding nod and a friendly smile. He wasn't just being polite though, I could see in his eyes the want to sympathize, and the need to get the job done. I didn't come there to be felt sorry for, and the best thing he could do was set everything up for the pharmacist's stamp when she got back.

A short time later a girl who didn't look any older than twenty-five and not taller than five foot four emerged from the maze of shelves, clad in a white lab coat. The clerk pointed her at me, and I did my introductions yet again. I was glad for the conversation. Talking took my mind off of the worry I was feeling. Her name was Melissa, and in one well-practiced schpiel I unloaded, yet again, my uncomfortable situation on her shoulders.

She went to work on filling the order at hand, again understanding that her job was the best thing she could do for me. I could see the energy in her eyes, youth doing its best to combat something as ugly as cancer, and frankly doing a good job of it.

Then, with the order halfway filled, I chanced a random idea.

"Actually, I have a question for you."

"Oh?"

"One of the nurses today said that my symptoms sound like one of the drugs might be causing my stomach to over produce stomach acids. Do you know of any over the counter drugs that could help me fight that?"

Melissa bit her bottom lip and leveled a worried look at me. "I'd love to help you, but I'm really scared of recommending anything without knowing what medications you're on." She shrugged a silent apology, clearly hating that she had to say that to a man whose only wish at the moment was some measure of comfort in the days to come. But I didn't dare blame her; of course she was cautious, that was her job, that was what she went to school for.  Good intentions didn't amount to anything when someone accidently gave themselves a heart attack or kidney failure because two drugs didn't play well together.

But I wasn't done, and I wasn't about to give up. The devil was in the details, and I had been paying attention.

"What if I could tell you all the drugs they gave me?"

She blinked. "Can you remember all of those names?"

"Sort of. Do you remember the CHOP R treatment protocol?"

She winced again. "Um… maybe? I think we studied it once in pharmacy school."

"That's okay. I think it's on Wikipedia, and I'll recognize the names if you say them."

And then, just like that the process took off. Suddenly we weren't just two strangers with a chance meeting. We were happenstance allies with a goal, a challenge, and  tools to use. For twenty minutes she stood on her side of the counter and I leaned on mine as she went line by line through the list of five drugs and checked them against no less than three different pharmaceutical databases, carefully taking note of any listed conflicts they might have. She read off the lists of medications, and item by item I confirmed each one, remembering the name from many lengthy conversations had about them.

It's easily now to look back and think of that time as boring. But it wasn't. it was fascinating to watch her work. Her hands flew over the keyboard, her lips formed half-spoke words as my ears heard bits and pieces of sentences said to no one. She asked questions, made jokes, we even talked about movies, but the whole time she was still also intently studying her screen like her life depending on it.

Then it hit me, it wasn't her life she was worried about. It was mine.

Eight thirty at night on a Wednesday with clear skies and warm weather, miles from any hospital or ER, and I was looking at someone who's next few decisions could very well ease, or endanger my very life.

"Here, I think I know what you need." She finally said, and lead me to the same shelves that had swallowed her up before my arrival. She didn't just walk up and hand me a box of pills like I had seen elsewhere many times. She pointed out name brands, and generics, discussed the differences and similarities, and even pointed out one drug and said "Whatever you do, don't get that one."

"Oh?"

"I didn't see it listed as conflicting with any of your drugs, but it does conflict with a host of other ones. In fact, there's still a big fight going on with the FDA about whether or not it should be over the counter or not. On paper, its technically safe for you to take, but on the off chance you forgot a drug in that list you gave me, I'm just recommending that you play it safe."

"No argument from me." I said. I recalled not a day before  telling a customer  to go ahead and 'play it safe' and spend  an extra seventy-five bucks on an external hard drive. All of his data was on his computer, a backup would help make sure that all of his small business's files didn't vanish with a single hard drive failure.

Now, here was this girl, easily five years my junior, telling me to spend an extra three bucks so that I didn't wind up in the hospital, or worse.

I picked up the recommended items, and the clerk at the pharmacy desk rang me out with a smile and best wishes.

When you study history like I do, specifically military history, one of the most common themes is strangers meeting  for brief moments of time to aid in a common cause. The infantryman from Nebraska who's mission suddenly depends on the cobalt engineer from Pennsylvania. The radioman from some small town in New Jersey who is suddenly the only way for a West Point educated general to finished what he started. The young, the old, the different, the similar. When faced with challenges, those who are willing to accept them will stand side by side, even if only for a moment, and do what they can before the necessary departures have to be made.

That night, Melissa and I stood shoulder to shoulder, and for a brief moment she was my council, my guide in that one moment of my fight against cancer. She did what she was trained to do, and watched me walk out the door, probably no more certain than I was that my next few days would be any better than their counterparts three weeks before.

That was two days ago.

The second dayfollowing my first chemotherapy treatment was hell, with my stomach hell-bent on torturing me beyond reason, and without mercy.

I just got home from work today, after pulling a full shift, and overtime. Full work load with no help or relief given, or asked for. I walked in there armed with the lessons of my first experience, and the advice of a good pharmacist.

And by God, I made it through that day with my head held high, and an honest, earnest, sincere smile on my face.

I'm no longer scared of what tomorrow brings.

In fact, I looking it in the proverbial eye and saying "lets see what you've got!"