Update: I crossed over the 1 month post-surgery mark this past weekend, and I guess I’d say I’m feeling pretty good – I’m off pain meds and been working, walking 2-4 miles at a time, doing some “fast” walks (I mean just walking fast, not the actual dorky speedwalking kinda fast walking), etc. etc.. I started driving Saturday too and jumped on the mower for a bit (a maybe, kinda, possibly, probably stupid move?). I can’t get on the bike or lift anything for another month. I’m not the most vain guy in the world, but I gotta say my physique is really suffering – in my opinion, a 51-year old man should have some sort of pecs, even if they’re just straight-up man-boobs. I got nothing at this point. In fact, I’d say I somehow have perfectly FLAT man-boobs if that’s possible, just in time for pool season. As for the $64M “what’s the next step” question … I have a scan in 3 weeks to see what the tumors in my lungs look like … if they’re “stable” we’ll likely just hold tight and schedule another scan in a few months … if they’re growing we may have to jump right back on the offensive with what??? more surgery, radiation, different chemo??? I don’t know yet – we have the next 3 weeks to dig back into some research and come up with a plan. That started yesterday when I tuned into an international webinar on advanced thymic cancer (thrilling), which led to me getting an upcoming appointment at the National Cancer Institute. I also touched base with my Italian friend up in NYC, Dr. Giaccone, who told me he’s still working on my tumor (gene studies, growing in petri dishes and mice). And finally, I got an appointment with Georgetown’s proton (radiation) therapy department so I can learn more about what they can do for me, if need be. For the record, it’s rather depressing spending the better part of a day thinking about cancer, but I can’t shake the feeling the best defense is a good offense, so we’re gonna keep throwing punches …
The biggest thing I’m dealing with right now? Without a doubt it’s the reality that I’m going to have to learn to live with having cancer in me for the foreseeable future, because although surgery to get the big tumor was a success and amazing blessing, I still have nodules in my lungs, and we know chemo doesn’t seem to work too well, and it’ll be tough to treat all the nodules with surgery and radiation alone. It reminds me of that scene from the movie The Abyss, where the Ed Harris character gets into his deep-sea diving gear, puts a bunch of weights on his legs, and starts dropping into the deepest part of the ocean because he’s got to go down and disarm a nuclear warhead. He’s communicating with his crew above with some kinda keypad device, and his ex-wife (they’re still in love with each other, of course) starts crying and tells him he can still make it back up to the surface. He responds by typing, “Don’t cry baby. Knew this was one way ticket, but you know I had to come. Love you wife.” It’s a super cheesy scene in a moderately cheesy movie, but no matter how you slice it, Ed Harris is one cool badass dude, so that scene has always stuck with me. Anyway, I kinda feel like I’ve got a one-way ticket myself, at least until someone develops a systemic therapy to actually get rid of all the stuff in my lungs. I tell myself (and all the friends who come to drink a beer with me at the firepit) that of course, we’ve all got one-way tickets. None of us are promised tomorrow, right? No truer words have ever been spoken, and I say these things as if my faith is unshakeable and my wisdom knows no bounds. But the truth is, these are the kind of powerful, poetic words that are easy to write or say, but a little tougher to contend with moment-to-moment, day-to-day.
I’ve learned so many amazing things since last fall – been blessed with so many net-gain shifts in perspective and blissful moments of profound faith. Now I have to hold on to these blessings and build on them, keep evolving, keep growing in faith and courage. I have to find a way to live with a challenging level of uncertainty, not just in moments of connection with friends and family, but day in and day out, because I’m likely to be living scan-to-scan for a while – God-willing, for many, many years, in fact. I’ll be honest, it’s a tough mental space to occupy, but I’m working on it, buoyed by the fact God’s likely put this kind of uncertainty in my life because He knows I need it … in order to count my many blessings, appreciate the present moment, and stay close to Him. And hey, let’s not forget, in the end the Ed Harris character in The Abyss ended up just fine. If I recall, he disarmed the nuke, met up with a bunch of underwater aliens, rose to the surface with his new friends, and basically saved the world.
Damn. Wait, back up. I took a walk a few days ago and a song popped up on shuffle that sparked a fantastic digression. By fantastic digression I mean it just made me think of something, which made me think of something else, which made me think of something else, which made me want to write something pretty much unrelated to cancer. Anyway, when I opened my computer up today, my plan was to give a super quick update then just start riffing on what I really wanted to write about. Looks like I digressed from my digression (a digression-squared, if you will) and ended up with just a rambling update instead. That’s okay. This way the update’s outta the way and the next time I post, you’ll know it’s just me talking nonsense, and you can ignore it … WARNING: major digression on the horizon ….
Wow, this is getting confusing now, so I’d better wrap up … How many times can I thank everyone out there – for the prayers, the support, the help, the kind words, the friendship, the love??? A lot of times, all the time, every time. So thanks again, and God bless everyone who’s been tuning in and supporting us on this journey! Peace out …