Never, Ever Give Up

Towards the end of my last blog post I surmised that perhaps I was nearing the end of this roller

coaster ride which I’ve been on for eight months or so. Well, as I’ve learned already, life doesn’t always unfold as I expect it to, nor, necessarily, as I want it to. However, as they say, “A bend in the road is not the end of the road. Unless you fail to make the turn.” So far, I’ve been able to negotiate every turn—albeit some with more gusto than others.

Never Cover a Totem Pole with a Green Stocking

I realize this is another one of those compound blog titles. They usually result from a combination of at least two things. First, an overloaded brain, which I find is a frequent experience for me due to the limited capacity of the one I have. (I’ve tried changing my mind now and then, but the other one doesn’t work any better.) And second, the inability to be decisive about the main point of the blog post. So I just stuff in a combination of everything. Then try to sort it out later.

By the way, if you’re just looking for a brief update on my health, here it is: “I’m better than yesterday and not as well as tomorrow.” If you want more, read on. I dare you to.

The Continuing Saga of This Mortal Body – Act 2

ACT 2, SCENE 1:

Having been scoffed at in no small amount by my boss last week, and being called various things that I think I remember coming from the movie Forrest Gump, on Friday morning I finally succumbed to the unbearable pressure. I called and made an appointment to see my family doctor about some low grade but constant pain in strange locations of my body. I was able to get an appointment for this morning—Monday. My boss stopped his rantings. (Advice for making your boss stop his rantings? Call your doctor. Worked for me.)

Of Drains and Dressings and Freedom from Them

[In my next few blog posts I plan to summarize some of the things I’ve learned over the past many months of dealing with cancer. Of course the learning will continue for the rest of my life, but alas! This blog post won’t! I’ve always said “Once you stop learning, you may as well be dead.” Well, I’m not dead yet, so here goes…]

But first an update on my health, since that’s long overdue (both update and health, that is). It was a few weeks ago that the drain, along with all its attachments, was removed from my upper left leg. I had no idea what the hidden part of this thing would look like. How thick was it? How long was the part that was actually inside my leg? What did it look like? What was it made of? 

Learning to Dance With a One-Legged Tan

Okay, I know that’s a crazy title for a blog post but I just had to. And that’s because there are several things that I want to tell you about and don’t know which one to include in the title. So, sometimes you just have to put it all in one mouthful. 

My almost-seven-year-old grandson totally gets that. When he’s hungry and the food looks so good, he just can’t decide which part to taste first. So he just stuffs it all in. Like a bad blog title. You just have to do it. But then that’s what freedom smells like sometimes. Do it now and deal with the consequences later. (Don’t ever tell him I said that. It’s just that I get it too.) I don’t condone that as a habit, but I know how it feels when you just have to, now and then.

Someone Left the Gate Open

Just in case I lose you because you don’t want to read any more of this update, here’s a summary of this past week: It’s been crazy!

Want more detail? Okay. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions. It started literally a few minutes after I’d posted my last update—the one where I finished with the late breaking news that all 20 lymph nodes that had been removed were clear. After I’d posted that update Dr. Bahl, the radiation oncologist, called me with more details on the results of the PET scan. It seems there are two more spots in the proximity of the original tumor removed from my lower leg that appear to be malignant. They’re not small, but not quite as large as my record breaker. These are both 8 mm in diameter and they are of concern to them. And the only way to rid my body of these is more surgery. Oh my! (Just another detour to the end, as my friend Lori observed.)

Don't Mess With the Good News

Chances are that you’ve experienced this a time or two. You have some really exciting news—something that has just made your day, or at least it’s certainly something that’s so important that you want to tell everyone about it. So you run to someone you thought was your friend and you gush it out.

But all you get in response is a strange look on their face. They wait for you to finish (or worse yet, they interrupt you), and then proceed to tell you a story of their own which they think is important. Sometimes it may be similar to yours, sometimes it bears no resemblance. Yet the reality is that from your perspective (which of course is all that matters to you at this point) you cannot imagine why anyone in the world (except, perhaps, their mother) would care even a little bit about their story.

Don’t you just hate it when that happens? It’s so annoying when your bubble gets burst. It can be so deflating.

I Think I Found the Cloud

First, the really good news: I’m out! I’m out of the hospital and on the road to recovery at home.

Sorry for the long delay before I write this update, but I’ve been waiting to see if my head would clear a little more. It doesn’t look like it will in the next few days (thanks to some very effective pain killing medication) so I’m going to give this a try. I just can’t wait any longer. It's understandable if some of this update doesn’t “esnesynaekam” to you. Just ignore that part.

Surgery finished, body all stitched up and stapled in the right places and minus several cancerous lymph nodes, I’m hoping it’s all the cancerous lymph nodes that are gone. But we won’t know that for sure until we talk to Dr. Granger, the surgeon who did the excavating. That will be on March 20^th at which time he will remove the 38 staples that are neatly decorating that part of my body.

Call Me Ezekiel

If you’ve been following my story from the beginning (the beginning of the leg part of my story, that is) then you may recall that the necessity of my having a PET scan has been kind of on again and off again. At my first visit to the oncologist I was told that I would have both a PET scan and a CT scan at some point in this whole adventure. A later visit with the surgeon indicated I would only have a CT scan, and that a PET scan would not be necessary.

Well, this last week I had a PET scan. It was an interesting experience. Quite relaxing, actually, because for much of the time I had to lie very still. So after the smiling and efficient nurse put an IV into me and injected some sort of radioactive liquid into my blood stream, I had to lie down quietly for about an hour so as to allow the whatever-it-was (the layman’s term for it) to flow throughout my body.

Golfing This Summer

The good news is that the only thing that’s going to get buried this summer is my golf ball. Right in that nice little white cup. Many times. With much enthusiasm and joy!

Well, maybe we’ll bury that piece of my leg they removed too. Why not? It deserves a dignified disposal don’t you think? (What do they do with that stuff?) After all, it served me well for over 63 years. Got a little lumpy towards the end, but then which one of us wouldn’t after being walked on for that long?

Seriously though (must I be?), my appointment this morning with Dr. Bahl, the radiation oncologist at the BC Cancer Agency, produced some very encouraging news. The CAT scan (or CT scan if you’re boring) that I had last week revealed that there are indeed no cats in my body. That’s a relief.

Is Bigger Better?

Nope. Yes. Well, maybe. Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. It all depends. You know how that goes. We’ve all wrestled with silly questions. If we’re talking about chocolate, or a slice of pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top, well then the answer is a resounding “Yes! Of course it is!”

But if we’re talking about the thickness (i.e. when measured from top to bottom) of a melanoma that’s been removed from your leg, then maybe not so much. You see, it all comes back to one’s perspective doesn’t it?

Well, that’s the scene that we’ve faced this past week. (I say “we” because Sharyn is walking—or hobbling—through this journey with me. As too are many other people.) We had two appointments with folks in our marvelous health care system on Wednesday—one with the plastic surgeon and the other for a CT scan at the Eagle Ridge Hospital.

Some Things I Know for Sure

[Originally written on January 26, 2015]

We were at my appointment with the surgeon, Dr. Granger, this afternoon and I know that many of you have been praying for me, and asking the Lord for good news—for a good report. Thanks for your prayers. I’m not entirely sure how to evaluate all the news that he gave us, but I’ve been reflecting on it over the past few hours. So these thoughts are current, if nothing else, and perhaps reflect something of the mood I’m now in.

In a world filled with uncertainty these days, there are several things that I know for sure. Some of these I have already known for a long time and have been reaffirmed now, and some are completely new. So here’s a list, in no particular order.

Good News, Bad News, No News

[Originally written on January 22, 2015]

Okay, you’ve heard all the “Good News, Bad News” jokes before. Many times. Ad nauseum. Like the poor patient in the hospital whose doctor came in to see him before surgery. “I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said. “The bad news is that we’re going to have to amputate both your legs. And, well, the good news is that the guy across the hall wants to buy your slippers.”

You see, so much of it is about perspective. And recognizing the silver cloud behind every lining. My Crazy Aunt was right! (Remember her from the last time I wrote?) So, as much as is possible in this puny mind of mine, I’m going to look for that silver cloud. Or lining. Or whatever it is.

Smile!

[Originally written on January 10, 2015]

One of the problems of being confined to a chair all day with my leg elevated, and not being under the influence of narcotic based painkillers (I’m restricted to nothing stronger than extra strength Tylenol since I left the hospital because they were interfering with my oxygen processing capacity) is that my brain is in better condition than my body. (At least it’s far more active right now.) Only those unfortunate souls who know me well enough to have observed the poor functioning capacity of my brain, even at its best, will be able to more fully appreciate the now helpless condition of this old body.

Update After Surgery January 5, 2015

[Originally written on January 5, 2015]

Well, the good news is that I’m home from the hospital already, at 8 pm on Monday. Not exactly in one piece mind you, because I left some behind and some has been sent to the pathologist for further assessment. But the rest of me is doing quite well, thank you very much.

The bad news… Well, you know, there isn’t really any bad news. Just some lingering questions and unknowns that will all come to light sometime soon. That’s all. We hope to hear the results from the pathologist’s report within a few days, which will give us some indication of whether or not the cancer has spread at all.

Making Progress

[Originally written on December 20, 2014]

Well, things are moving ahead quickly. I received a call yesterday to go in for a consultation with the surgeon in New Westminster this morning. It seems it must have been urgent because they told me I was double booked but the doctor would see me when he could. We were in and out of there in less than an hour. Wonderful!

BCCA and Me

[Originally written on December 26, 2014]

Here’s a little update and background to some recent developments in my life…

In the late spring of 2014 I noticed a small lump developing on my lower left leg (I mean the lower part of my left leg—both my legs are already set as low as they can go), just above the ankle. I didn’t think much of it because I had had three similar looking objects removed from my scalp over a period of a few years, at least ten years ago. They all turned out to contain nothing but harmless bits of gristle (similar to the nearby contents, I’m sure).