Cancer Kinda Sucks...

  I’ve passed the halfway mark in my treatment. I can’t help but steal glances at the calendar, counting down the days, picturing home—my wife’s embrace, my children’s laughter. So why do I feel this unease? All this time, I’ve survived by taking it one day at a time. Sometimes, even that felt like too much—just one appointment, one step, one breath at a time. Looking too far ahead only made the weight of it unbearable. But now, the end of treatment is in sight. Now, I can imagine the best-case scenario. Now, the thought of finally holding my family again is overwhelmingly emotional. And yet… Not one plan can be made. Not until those scans confirm— that this worked. All I can do is hold onto hope that it worked.

The great news: I officially feel better than I did two weeks ago. That’s right — trending upwards and no longer feeling like a microwaved burrito. I’m eating solid food as I roll into Week 5, which means the odds of needing a feeding tube are looking slim. Solid food = solid victory. I managed to go three whole days without the magical, numbing mouthwash potion — and survived! Sure, I had to crawl back to it eventually, but progress is progress. Baby steps. Treatment scoreboard: I only have 6 rounds of chemo total and I’ve crushed 4 of them . Round #5 is coming up on Monday, and then there will only be one more to go! On the radiation front, I’ve got about 2.5 weeks left until I can officially retire my status as a human glowstick. After that, it’s the classic “hurry up and wait” phase while the docs evaluate. In other news… Brian Wilson made the trek up from South Carolina, and a few of the TKE crew got together for dinner — because nothing pairs with radiation upd...

  Caption: The poison that can save me. Lets talk Math....  This curve—this jagged, unpredictable, utterly unfair curve—is the best indication of what I expect from treatment. Week 4 is technically a midway milestone, but let’s be real: the hardest part is still ahead of me. And yet, here I am, still standing, still fighting, still making lists because that’s what keeps me grounded. My "I Can" Statements: ✔ I can eat solid food. (Chewing is still a skill I possess. Victory!) ✔ I can poop. (This is no small feat—many would kill for this kind of success.) ✔ I can still go on walks and hikes. (Take that, cancer fatigue!) ✔ I can still escape the confines of the hotel/hospital and soak in some fresh air. (Even if it’s just to glare at people eating food I can’t taste.) Sadly… ❌ I cannot swallow without discomfort. (It’s a fun game: “Is it pain or just ‘character-building’?”) ❌ I cannot taste 95% of foods. (Which means 95% of eating is now just a texture experiment.) ❌ I ...

I needed a break, and Russ and his wife graciously had me over for dinner again. It was a much-needed escape from the hotel, and I got to play with the dogs. These moments allow me to feel normal and not just like the sick guy at the hotel. Luckily, with the magic mouthwash, I’ve been able to continue eating solid foods. However, much of my taste has faded. I can still feel the texture of whatever I’m eating, but anything sweet is completely lost on my palate. A Reese’s peanut butter cup now tastes like straight cardboard. I can still taste salt, but any kind of sweetness is gone. One more round of radiation and a meeting to end my week, then a couple of days to recover again. I still have enough energy to walk back and forth to the hospital, and I’ve enjoyed those walks since the weather has been mild. This weekend, my sister has been my caretaker. I wanted to get out of the hotel for a bit, and the weather was perfect, so we headed to a place with outdoor seating. I still wore a hood...

I don't want everyone to feel I am stuck in a crazy hell with no fun.  I have designated care takers and I try my heardest to also ensure they aren't bored... if you know.....

  #LuckyMe This week kicked off with some serious discomfort. Over the weekend, my throat decided to rebel, making me so miserable that I was convinced I had thrush. Turns out, it’s just good old-fashioned mucositis—right on schedule, though maybe a tad early (apparently, I’m an overachiever in all the wrong ways). Luckily, I was prescribed a magic mouthwash, and—praise modern medicine—it’s actually working! On a more entertaining note, I’ve discovered a new party trick involving my neck. I can breathe just fine through my nose, but if I put a finger on either side of my neck and apply minimal pressure—BOOM—instant snore. To Mom, Amy, Russ, and Brent… I sincerely apologize. Apparently, a pillow achieves the same effect. Who knew I could turn myself into a human white noise machine? Silver Linings Three chemo treatments down, four to go. Not that I’m keeping score, but I am absolutely keeping score. It Takes a Village A special note of gratitude: Megan has been holding down th...

  Shrimp Tacos FTW!!! Friday during Lent, Brent and I swung by Banditos again for more Mexican food! After treatment, we strolled around Carytown.  I was disappointed with the new Specialized Concept store that Carytown bikes has become - but overall, we enjoyed the walk.  We hit up Thai for dinner (Shrimp Pad Thai) and then headed back to the hotel for the night.  Then the wheels fell off...  Last night was the second consecutive night of horrible sleep. I wake up constantly with a dry mouth I can't even explain.  Water barely helps. This morning my tongue is white-ish, I am exhausted, my head hurts etc... So the reality is kind of getting to me now.  I do realize it is all downhill from here. Meeting with Dr Song, we started discussing feeding tubes and possibilities.  We discussed when to make the decision and what to expect.  We have discussed how I should know etc... I am trying to enjoy what is going on as much as I can, however... This...

Week 2 is wrapping up, and I’ve got just one last radiation session left—cue the tiny confetti cannons. But I must admit, a slight existential crisis is creeping in. You think you know something, you believe in it, you trust it... and then—BOOM! Does life have meaning? For example, let’s talk about Bingo. You know,  the  Bingo. Was he actually the farmer’s dog… or was he the farmer himself?!  There was a farmer, had a dog… and Bingo was his name-o.  That phrasing is suspiciously ambiguous. My whole childhood was a lie. Speaking of mysteries, Russ and I finally solved the great unknown: the elusive bird my sister and I were searching for. Drum roll, please… it was actually just a bunch of speakers designed to scare smaller birds away from glass windows. Anti-climactic? Absolutely. But also, kind of poetic? Like an avian horror movie with a budget cut. But! Redemption arc—I did find an actual bird tonight, with Howard. So the universe hasn’t completely abandoned me. ...

  My morning was a packed one. I walked over to the hospital following my now-normal routes. I actually avoid the children’s hospital deliberately because it breaks my heart knowing that one is needed. I listen to the same hawk every day as it either sings or heckles me. It depends on my mood—sometimes it's a majestic soundtrack, other times it's just nature’s version of a backseat driver. I have had a wonderful team at the hospital rearranging things for me to get me out as soon as possible… Is this because they like me? I will pretend they do, but let’s be honest—maybe they just want my smart ass out the door before I disturb my neighbors. Today was no different. What was scheduled as an 8-hour day was shortened to 5 hours by some miracle of scheduling sorcery. This is more than I would have ever asked for, but exactly what I’d wish for everyone if possible. Efficiency with a side of “please leave now”—a winning combo. Now, let’s talk about the fun side effects of treatment! ...

My sister has been in charge of supervising me the past couple of days, and let’s just say—it’s been a rollercoaster. One minute, I’m full of energy; the next, I’m considering a nap on the floor. Sometimes I’m ravenous, other times, the mere thought of food makes me question my life choices. I’m doing my best to keep my spirits high, but as my body starts throwing me surprise plot twists, it’s getting a little trickier to stay in my usual sunshine-and-rainbows mood. Today, the weather was nice, so Amy and I took a walk to get some Indian food. Amy had never tried it before, so I took it upon myself to be her culinary guru. I demonstrated the proper way to eat it—which, of course, included making a glorious mess and possibly inhaling some spices too aggressively. A truly enlightening experience for her, I’m sure. Since it was Amy’s first dive into Indian food, we played it safe with the classics—Tandoori Chicken, Butter Chicken, and Samosas. You know, the “gateway” dishes to a full-bl...

  Week 1 of 7 is complete.  This was expected to be the easiest and other than being busy, it was not tough on me physically.  I have a small red mark on my neck from the radiation, but no issues with dryness yet and I am still able to eat and swallow as normal.  <- By week 3, it is expected that this will not always be the case, so I am eating while I can and walking around a bit while I am still mobile enough.  Where the port was put in just 4 days ago is still swollen and itches from time to time, however I have yet to scratch it even once. No naussua, so falling, no anything out of the ordinary they ask me about every appt. The only real change from last week is that I am more tired.  My mind is constantly on home and hoping everything is going well for Megan.  It know it is tough and it kills me I cannot be there to help her with the kiddos.  

  This week I have gotten my firsts out of the way.  Chemo is once a week.  Hydration is twice a week.  Radiation is daily.  So with one Chemo & Hydration and 2 radiations checked off the list.... I feel tired and occassionally a dry mouth.  So far everything has good as smoothly as I could have predicted.  The first time the port was accessed was completely pain free.  That is not the case for everyone, so it is definitely nice to know some things are going well.

  https://www.thedoorways.org/ The Doorways is my new home for treatment.  About a 7-10 minute walk to the hospital or I can just hop on the shuttle bus that runs back and forth.  The link has all the info, but it is just amazing that there is a place that won't make us go broke while getting treatment.  It also saves me from an hour commute each why during this time. 

  This morning at 830, it was time to get ready for my mediport. For those that don't know - here is a quick explanation... The port sits under the skin.  It is then routed to larger vessel for quicker abosbtion and stuff and stuff and stuff.... The part I care about? No more needles in my arm.  No more "whoops - I missed, lets try again!"   There is one spot that is ready to roll for the rest of this process. I was sedated a bit, they got me to sleep and I woke up with a new upgrade.  This little guy 8 hours after being implanted....  feels like it is not going to be my best friend, but after it heals up, I know it will makes things soo much easier.  Tomorrow treatments start... so one last night of felling normal-ish - but with an added tender little bump.