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May 05-11

This Week

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Three Weeks In... the fight goes on.

 

Let me begin, as always, with gratitude.  Last week, I heard a phrase and it has been rolling about in my head ever since.  It was a thought waiting for a situation to bind itself to.  Simply put, it's "A community of neighbors."  At first glance, it could seem trite.  A cliché.  However, as I pondered it continuously, I realized how simply profound it is, and how perfectly it applies to me and my family...and how damned lucky we are to have our own Community of Neighbors.


This isn't, "It takes a village."  It's deeper, more meaningful.  A connection and sense of caring (wanting to care vs. feeling a compunction to care) that transcends typical community relationships.  

 

  • A special thank you to my mom, who came to care for and generously support me and the family.  It was wonderful to have her here, thanks Mom.   
  • Thank you to Keith and Diane (our literal neighbors), who have provided a seemingly never-ending stream of wonderful meals, words of encouragement, lifting of spirits (faithful and liquid), and a ramrod determination to see us through this difficult journey.
  • To Dot, Charles and Stacy, who's messages of support, dinners, and visits with needed hugs are wonderful.

 

And, to all of you who have become my Band of Brothers and Sisters, my community neighbors...thank you so much for reaching out with words of encouragement, prayers, delicious meals (I'm now living vicariously through my family, watching them enjoy the tantalizing food), wine and drink, and everything in between.  The support has been beyond anything we, as a family, ever expected and has touched us to the bottom of our hearts.  It will be a genuine privilege and honor to reply in-kind and beyond, with every one of you.

 

Some suggestions I've received, gathering everyone together to run a 5K, throw a blow-out Kansas City barbecue party (all keys to be turned in at the door/ and any tattoos received during the party cannot be blamed on the host).  Whatever we decide, please allow for my taste to return.  I ask for this grace for your benefit - you see, after getting COVID last year, I lost my sense of taste.  When I began cooking again, I was asked in no uncertain terms to let others handle the responsibility of seasoning, especially the salt.  Apparently, I was overdoing everything.  So, I am learning from previous mistakes and beg your kind patience.  Salt licks should never appear on any menu.

 

Yesterday, Monday, February 22, marks my second (and last) chemotherapy treatment.  It also marks three weeks of radiation treatments completed, the halfway point.  This is great news!  The treatment chain is shrinking!  These thoughts were running through my head throughout the day...then I met with my Radiation Oncologist.  To be clear, I think the world of my doctor.  He's a great physician, one hell of a supportive advocate, and he's curing me of cancer.  However, his direct approach of the next three-and-a-half weeks certainly gave me pause.  He celebrated my positive labs, keeping my weight loss to limited proportions, and overall approach to the first half of treatment.  Then he said, "you're half way there, but that was the easy half.  The hard half is here."

 

Well, as Hugh Grant said so eloquently in Four Weddings and a Funeral, "fuckadoodledoo."

 

On the way home, I tried to come up with a way of explaining this to my kids.  Something they can easily understand, and not scare the edge of hell out of them.  They want and deserve to know what's on the horizon, just sans the startling details.  Here's how we shared this with the kids.

 

"How's it?" to my Hawaiian ohana, Ke Kaua Maika'i

 

For those of you have ever braved a surfing board, you'll immediately get the references.  If you haven't, the references are just as easily understood if you've seen the 90’s preeminent film, Point Break.  As someone who has experienced surging, let me set the stage.  After paddling out into the surf, you typically sit or lay on your board waiting for your ride.  The waves are barely perceptible.  Then you see it.  The wave.  Your wave.  You hear Patrick Swayze in the back of your mind, "This looks like your wave Johnnie.  It's got your number."  Even if your name isn't Johnnie, you hear it.  

 

That's how I view the first three weeks.  Paddling out and waiting for a hell of a ride.  Now comes your wave...it grows bigger as you near the break, it builds before it crests, and now you're in it...no getting off now.  The effects of the second half of treatment don't diminish, but rather continue to build on themselves, the ride is going to continue all the way to the shore.  This ride will include vastly increased throat pain, damage to my voice, and fatigue.  There will be others, but no need to share the delightful details.  It's time to kau lewalewa e hakaka i ka hakaka maika'i - hang loose and fight the good fight.

 

Lastly, I've had some questions about the side effects, so a brief update on the prominent ones:

 

I'm getting closer to a reunion with my jaw line, and my abdominal muscles (I keep reminding myself that you can't have a six pack before you have a two pack).  I feel like being at the airport, eagerly awaiting Les' return, watching as each plane nears the landing strip, growing more impatient with each plane.  

 

In the "every challenge has a silver lining" category, my voice is nearly gone.  I'm down to sounding like a really bad Clint Eastwood impersonation.  Imagine Clint in his full-on western persona, but without the cinematic charm.

  

When I started this journey, a nurse told me that treatment will be like, "giving you a very nasty sunburn inside your throat on a daily basis."  They are achieving this goal with supreme gusto. See above side effect.

 

Fatigue continues to be a growing issue.  I'm not yet like a narcoleptic who did a weekend long binge on sedatives, which I take as a positive note.  That said, I feel slightly concerned that my family has created a warning sign that reads, “Caution: cancer patient with narcoleptic-type tendencies nearby, watch your step.” 

 

Thank you again one and all for your support.  It keeps me going!

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