Friday, October 16th: Mr Clean Hath Arrived

I am a cancer survivor.

I got the results of my post-chemo PetScan, and it was all smiles from my oncologist, Dr. Ioana Hinshaw. Based on the report, all evidence of increased metabolic activity and malignancy is gone from my body. In a nutshell, I'm as clean as the Bald guy peddling household products from P&G, and with much less muscle tone, actually resemble him. I've earned the right to wear the yellow wrist band, but probably won't (too cliche, although Lance Armstrong's organization rocks).

I start my 3-month checkup cycle with Dr. H and go back to see her in mid-January. Thankfully, the little metal port under my chest gets removed next week - so no more wierd itchy third nipple that shows through my shirts. Don't get me wrong, having an artificial third nipple isn't all that bad, but the removal of this device is another signal to cancer that I kicked its' ass. If only it was a status symbol - then I'd keep it.

All isn't done with my treatments, as I started radiation on Thursday. Why do this, you ask? It's a precautionary measure to eliminate any microscopic cell clusters in my pelvic bones that may still be active. In a nutshell, they're nuking the sh*t out of the area to get the little purple invader out of there.

The way it works is that every day during the work week (3:15 pm ) I get to go to the cancer center at Pres/St Lukes and sit under a large star trek looking machine with my pants off (sorry about the imagery), my package pulled aside(via towel) by the friendly (and funny) technicians, and get a dose of radiation for 5-6 seconds 1000 times more powerful than an X-ray on the tumor site in my hip. The area of the 'beam' is about as big as your hand - they are bathing the acetabulum (hip joint) and part of the pubic bone (don't laugh) where the tumor used to be with 'golden rays of sunshine' (a.k.a. radiation). I'll have a total of 25 treatments. It's amazing how precise and accurate they are -there are some cool Star Trek lasers off the wall that line up with the tattoos on my hips, and then they 'click click click' for about 5 seconds and- voila! - back to the office!

I'm being told that at treatment 15 or so I'll get to have a little sunburn on the site. That's OK, as long as the little sumbitches are nuked right out of there. Nothing that a little aloe and talcum powder can't cure. My Radiation Oncologist, Dr. Daniel Chin, tells me that I've got a 10% chance that I might get another tumor in 15-20 years at the treatment site - I'll take that risk. After all, I only had a bit over 50% chance I was going to beat this, so 10% is nothing. The hope is that as I get re-activated with my cycling I'll be able to sense if something goes wrong early enough in the future to catch it.

The machine they put me under looks like this picture above - but the room isn't all tricked out this way with the man-cave wood paneling and beautiful sky ceiling. They did take out a couple of the 2x4 ceiling panels at the Cancer Center, and replaced them with some sky pics with fighter jets flying by. I'm not sure about the military theme - maybe its a subliminal way to tell your body thay they are nuking the sh*t out of you, just like these jets could launch a small radioactive device and wipe out some middle eastern village.

But I really have no control, so I'll just take every extra day I can take and live it to the max - risk of cancer recurrence be damned. I've got too much life to live to worry about this.

Carpe diem.
-Bill

p.s. Happy Birthday Mom!

Monday, October 12th: Should you really give a rat's ass about 2012?

You've seen it in the movie theater previews, and you've read about it through the freakazoid paranoid psychotics on the internet - December of 2012 is when the Mayans say the world is going to end - Doomsday, Baby

REALLY?

This has a strange similarity to Hale-Bopp(remember the Nike shoes?), Y2K, Obama's election, Dubya's election, Oral Roberts' "Jesus will take me home" fundraising campaign....- you get the drift. It seems that the Human species is always figuring out ways to freak itself out over the 'imminent end' of the planet, despite the fact that we've either been here for
1) a couple million years+/- (evolutionist camp)
2) 7,000 years+/- (creationist camp)

Either way, it seems a bit silly that we're freaking out about something that's a couple of years away, when we could be living our lives to the fullest, now - doesn't it? Don't get me wrong, I know it's important to get all lathered up over the future, our country, world, etc - but people, let me tell you something important - now, listen....ready?

It doesn't matter.

I had a great conversation the other night with my good friend Eric who just successfully kicked cancer's ass - for the second time. We were talking about this subject, and how everyone gets wrapped up in the minutia of life & politics. He summed it up in one sentence "Bill, none of this shit really matters." I've thought about what he said - and he's right.

The beautiful thing about having a life-threatening illness is the perspective that it brings. As I've sat in countless bland doctor's offices, been laying half-naked in a hospital gowns inside large machines making strange noises I've been able to mull over the details of life, the people and relationships in my life, and for the first time really 'observe' what is going on around my world - both in the present and recollections of the past.

I know that I've occasionally taken the sarcastic approach in this blog and called people 'douchebags' and ranted a bit, but you know what I've discovered through all of this? I've discovered that many people are focused too much on power, position, money, and being 'important'. I think about folks I encounter in my life now and in the past and it's like the fog has been lifted to where I can truly see their priorities. I am saddened by how many folks seem to be aimlessly trekking through life, wasting away their time in the pursuit of stuff - and not in the pursue of integrity & soul. Whether that 'stuff' is a fancy car, lots of money, the right house, the right 'school', or the right 'look' - it's all immaterial when a doctor looks at you and says "I'm sorry, but you have cancer."

I'm not going to hint remotely at anyone in particular - that isn't fair, and I have no right to judge. But let me tell you, when you have to think about the possibility of a premature death due to illness it really "clears your mental sinuses" and lets you know what's important. This illness has been a beautiful thing - I know, you're saying "Bill, you're beating it, and that's why you can take this positive approach.". You may be right, and I might not be saying these kind of things if I was dying. But it's not my time to go yet, so I have to assume that the pain, suffering, confusion, anguish, and hardships of the past 5 months are intended to push me down a particular path in the 'second half' of my life (see my Hoosiers entry in the blog.)

So, I've established that too many people are pursuing stuff rather than integrity & soul. So what does this have to do with the end of the world according to the Mayan Calendar? First of all, have we really established December 2012 as the end of the world, just because an extinct Central American culture, as my friend Craig puts it, "ran out of paper for their calendar?" For all we know, carving all those pictures in stone gave all the calendar writers carpal tunnel and they finally said 'screw it - that's far enough ahead." Or who knows, maybe the head calendar writing guy got sacrified because he lost one of those wierd life-or-death Mayan ball court games they talk about on the Discovery Channel:

http://www.library.umaine.edu/hudson/palmer/Maya/ballgame.asp

While it looks like this doomsday scenario is going to make a mean movie, I really think everyone should just calm down and smell the roses. Do you know the best thing you can do to alleviate your fear of the future? Life your damn life, and make a difference in the lives of others. Making a difference doesn't mean running around telling everyone through your facebook or linkedin account that you worked for charity, or raised money, or went to a 'charity benefit' with your picture on the social pages - don't get me wrong, these aren't bad, but go and do something that isn't public. Volunteer at a Rescue Mission, use your professional 'capital' to help a friend find a new job 'behind the scenes', spend some in-depth time with someone who isn't going to give you a big fat contract or advance you in business - just enjoy their humanity and learn from their life experience.

Enjoy your time, and don't worry about the future or if you're gonna die in a big-assed comet explosion in 2012. For the few months before my diagnosis and chemo, I experienced the pain of a cancerous tumor eating away at my pelvis - I'd much rather die in an instantaneous explosion than have to die a slow painful death from this disease. Those of you who've seen someone die of cancer or suffer through this disease understand what I'm talking about.

I'll take the Mayan solution in a heartbeat, if it means I have a couple of more awesome years enjoying life, drinking some wine, climbing a mountain or two, and enjoying the company of family & friends. There is a saying attributed to John Wesley, an 18th century priest in the Church of England who founded the Methodist Church, which I think summarizes what constitutes a good use of our time on earth:

"Do all the good you can,

By all the means you can,

In all the ways you can,

In all the places you can,

At all the times you can,

To all the people you can,

As long as ever you can.”

So get off your ass, and go make a difference. And please, make sure you're not being a douchebag while you're at it.

Carpe diem.
-Bill

p.s. My cancer diagnosis and treatment cost has now exceeded $188,000. Booyah!

Sunday, September 27th: My own version of the 'Milan Miracle'

Remember this classic story of a man who gets a second chance in his life, and the resulting 'second half' of his life story is possibly one of the greatest tales in all of modern sport?

That's right, Gene Hackman starring in "Hoosiers", which is considered one of the greatest sports cinema flicks of all time. And to top it all off, it's based on the true story of the "Milan Miracle" - the 1954 Indiana State High School basketball championship where tiny Milan defeated Muncie Central in one of the greatest basketball games ever played. As a small town Ohio boy who grew up in a similar community (which had a couple of runs at the Ohio Championship and finally won - Go Scots!), I could relate to the emotions and passions that this movie so eloquently portrays. Even though this movie is now 23 years old - I get goosebumps every time I watch it.

Now, granted the movie takes some liberties with the original story (the coach in real life really didn't have a questionable past like Gene Hackman's character), but still the parallels to my recent experience trend together. You see, when I returned from Boston, just a day or two after learning my cancer was not only in my hip but up in my chest and possibly in my skull, it was a pretty down time - the lowest of my life. Yes, I kept an optimistic persona about me to friends, co-workers, and family, but I knew deep inside that I was forever changed, and there was a possibility my odds weren't going to be so good. I even spent some time crying - a lot. Looking at the possibility of my end was frightening, and angering - because I love life, and for it to end before I was ready to end it on my terms gave me the feeling that I was in the midst of a true "David vs. Goliath" Story.

Most of you know I married into an Evansville, Indiana family with some history of basketball - between my Father-in-law as a former HS player and HS coach, with his brothers playing at the HS level, as well as a brother-in-law who was a heck of a 3 point shooter when in HS, coupled with their universal love of Bobby Knight and all things IU - you get the picture. On top of that, during my attendance at the "Harvard of the Midwest" a.k.a. "Testicle Tech" (that's Ball State to the rest of you) my alma mater had some good teams which whipped me into a full appreciation of Indiana basketball fever. Also, as I mentioned above, my small town in Ohio was the Buckeye version of this hysteria - so basketball references and allegories run strong in these veins. So how does this tie this back to my cancer experience (this is a cancer blog, right?) In basketball terms, when I returned from Boston with my uncertain future I got pulled into the locker room at "halftime" of my life (37 years) and got kicked in the unmentionables by cancer - hard. So hard that there was a 43% (ish) possibility that my chemotherapy wouldn't work and I'd be looking at not making the second half starting team.

So, there I am, first week in June, traveling to Lutheran Hospital in Denver to get a PetScan to see the extent of my cancer and just how bad it was. All the tests in Boston were not 100 percent confirmed, as this was the one final step in the diagnosis journey which would let my team of oncologists in Denver know what to do next, and what the options were. I knew this was the big test, and was scared beyond your wildest dreams.

I go in, and get injected with some radioactive dye which will pulse through my systems and show exactly what areas were affected and cancerous. After the injection, they have me go to a small room and wait for an hour while the dye pulses through my body. The room is dark, soundproof, has a large comfy leather recliner with a warm blanket, and a big flat screen TV with a remote. There were some movies there, and you know the first one I laid my eyes on? You guessed it - Hoosiers. There I am, in the biggest fight of my life, and the story of one of the greatest underdog stories is there to see. So I plugged it in, fast forwarded to the last hour (I've seen it at least 20 times already) and cried my eyes out at the end when they won.

Fast forward 3 1/2 months.....As I now enter a 3 week recovery from chemo, and prepare for my next PetScan on October 12th pre-radiation, I feel like it's all been a dream - an emotional, inspiring, harrowing, uplifting, and glorious dream.

So here I am, ready to go out on the floor for the second half of my treatment regimen at the hand of a little bit of radiation (daily for many weeks). I'm gonna defeat this Goliath, kick the b*tch in the nuts, and get on with the second half of life for my friends, my family, and my beloved Amanda.

Gene summed it up best at the end of this clip......

"I love you guys." Every last damn one of you.

Carpe diem.

-Bill

p.s. For those of you who want to watch the 'original' Milan Miracle, here's a link from the IHSAA's website to the last few minutes of the Milan Indians vs. the Muncie Central Bearcats in 1954: http://www.ihsaa.org/dnn/Media/Galleries/Videos/IHSAASportsVideos/TabId/61/VideoId/9/Final-Minutes-Milan-Vs-Muncie-Central-1954.aspx

Saturday, September 19th: Do*chebags to the left of me, do*chebags to the right of me......

From our friends at the Wikipedia:

"Douchebag, or simply douche, is considered to be a pejorative term in North America, the United Kingdom and some other English speaking countries. In some English speaking countries the term is not well known. The slang usage of the term dates back to the 1960s. The term implies a variety of negative qualities, specifically arrogance and engaging in obnoxious and/or irritating actions without malicious intent. It is generally used for males only."

Don't you just love the internet? Where else could you get a definition for the do*chebag insult composed in such a manner that you could read it aloud in a High School english class? For my fellow Fighting Scot alums, just imagine this being read aloud in Mrs. Rhoads' class.

Through a series of events and emails, I've decided to take a markedly different approach to this version of the CCSI blog, focusing on the increasing number of annoying humans who are using valuable oxygen on this planet, and really aren't giving much benefit in return. As you recall from a few blog entries back, I feel that I've earned the perspective of life and the right to 'call it like I see it' and quit sugar coating exactly how I feel. So, in the spirit of my fellow moronic annoying humans, I'm calling out some of our fellow homosapiens on their true identities as do*chebags - so here they are:

Dude at Sam's #3 Diner who knocked out my crutch:

• This week I had a business 'power breakfast' at downtown Denver's favorite diner, and was waiting for the other folks in the empty waiting area when this older guy (I'd say mid to late 50's) walks in after me, obviously looking for someone else. He was wearing a very expensive looking suit, and had a large bundle of legal files in his hand. Oh, and he had a 'fading-fast' combover to top the combo. So I'm standing there to the side by the cash register, leaning on my one crutch, and you know what this guy does? He freaking runs right into my crutch, knocks it aside, and just keeps walking. OK, you say, no big deal, right? I'm pretty tolerant and all, but this idiot just keeps walking through and doesn't even apologize, since whatever he's doing is much more important than the common courtesy his momma taught him as a kid. You know what I said? "Asshole", and with some volume as well. The counter lady with the big white fro got a good chuckle out of it. My only consolation is that I'm 100% sure that even as a pasty bald man I'm better looking than this idiot, who actually looked alot like this random internet photo you see to the right. DO*CHEBAG FACTOR: MODERATE. 80%

Governor Mark Sanford, South Carolina:

• As a moderate/centrist leaning Republican (I'm one of the three left in the party) I've been pretty all-around disappointed with my party, and how they've taken some of the more moderate members (a.k.a. John McCain) and torqued them into southern-pleasing righties with no common sense as of late. So, you can only imagine my disgust when "Mr. family values" Sanford decides to go off and hike his own version of a Mountain Trail....in Argentina. Seriously dude, what the !$#% is wrong with you? He has an intelligent, good looking wife, kids who aren't stupid, and a great job running one of the most bass-akwards states in the US, and he decides to take a mistress - IN SOUTH AMERICA? Come on man, you could have at least followed in the footsteps of your buddy up in New York and stayed closer to home. There are people who (illegally) provide those services for a nominal fee, Guv. DO*CHEBAG FACTOR: VERY HIGH. 95% (maybe his wife is mean, who knows? I'll give him 5% extra wiggle room on the d-bag scale)

Michael Jordan, Basketball HOF inductee

• We all know MJ was probably the greatest basketball player of all time. I know it, you know it, God knows it, heck - I'll bet space aliens even know it. So it wasn't much of a surprise to any human when MJ was inducted into the Basketball HOF in Springfield Massachusetts (my Dad's hometown, by the way) this month. Other members of the class included David Robinson, Jerry Sloan, and Vivian Stringer - all of whom are class acts in their own right. So, when the king of basketball walks to the podium how do you think he accepts his honor? By making fun of others, and taking pot-shots at other players some 10-20 years after the 'incidents' occured on the basketball floor. Then, to top it all, he jokingly threatens everyone that he's going to play b/ball again at age 50? Really Mike? I'd LOVE to see your flabbly middle-aged *ss on the court for some one-on-one with LeBron James. Heck, I'd even put money that the King would wipe your smart-mouthed arrogant HUGE melon-headed self all the way back to the Tar Heel State. How disappointing, to have confirmed in front of the world that you're nothing but a bitter has-been. David Robinson and the others were ALL CLASS and deserved their honor. You're going to go down as a whiner. DO*CHEBAG FACTOR: MODERATE. 89%

Kanye West, self proclaimed King of Music and Judger of All

• To think, I was getting ready to buy some of his music, and "Mr Cool" decides to embarrass a beloved teeny-bopper idol on national television. Believe me, I've heard both Taylor Swift's music and Beyonce's music and don't disagree that Beyonce probably has more talent and innovation in her right thumb than Ms. Swift does in her whole body - but seriously dude, who made you the music judge of the universe? The man has hundreds of millions, probably has all the immoral pleasures of Caligula at his beck and call, is considered one of the top music talents of a generation, and he has to go and get all 'critic righteous' on us? So, Beyonce didn't get an award - I'll bet she didn't really care - so Kanye, go find something to rap about and drop it, will you? DO*CHEBAG RATING: VERY HIGH. 97% Way to silence the moron, Jay Leno.

Nancy Pelosi, Speaker of the House.

• I tried as much as possible to limit this list to men only, but every action, word, and deed of this elected official who is third-in-line to the Presidency might as well be as annoying as running fingers down a chalk board. All of my PC friends may be offended that I put Rep. Pelosi on this list, but seriously folks, this woman is JUST AS BAD as Rush Limbaugh and will single handedly be responsible for the loss of one (or two) houses of Congress by the Democrats in the next election. Just about every Independent, Moderate, or Republican I know who voted for President Obama is annoyed by or detests her efforts, and her unwaivering commitment to partisanship. Seriously Ms. Pelosi, turn it down a notch - you need to turn down the San Francisco and turn up the Midwest. Let's just hope that the President can calm her down and let her know that she DOESN'T run the country before she makes the last 1/2 of his term nothing more than pure gridlock. Take a lesson from the late Sen. Kennedy, Speaker Pelosi and learn to reach across the aisle, regardless of how stupid it may seem over there. DO*CHEBAG RATING: MODERATELY HIGH. 91%

Rep. Joe Wilson, South Carolina

• OK, this was easy, but come on man - you don't yell at the president and call him a "liar". EVERYONE in that joint session of Congress was a liar. You may not like his politics, many of you know I didn't vote for the President (I confess that I voted for the ORIGINAL John McCain, not the re-doctored version they tweaked for the campaign), but I still think Mr Obama is a family guy and a good man. Heck, compared to Mr. Sanford up above Obama's a freaking saint. So Mr. Wilson, I hope to heck you get your sorry *ss voted out of Congress to prove a point that CIVILITY IN PUBLIC DISCOURSE IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN PARTISAN RANCOR. It's about damn time that people on BOTH sides of the aisle quit yelling at each other that their ideas are '100% correct' and everyone else is wrong. If you're 100 percent sure that your ideas are perfect, than how come you're not in charge? If you think you're perfect, then guess what - you're probably not. After all, if I was perfect, my face would be in stained glass, on buildings, and in books all over the world. "Bakerism" as the 5th major world religion has a nice ring, doesn't it? So Rep Wilson, get a life and shut your pie hole - maybe you and Pelosi could take a long trip to a foreign country and NOT come back. DO*CHEBAG RATING: HIGH. 96%

So, I hope you weren't offended, O readers of the blog. But if you were - tough. Get over yourself, and go buy a snow cone. None of us or our ideas are really that important in the grand scheme of things. The snow cone will be good for you, I swear.

Oh, and by the way - watch out behind you, the do*chebags are everywhere....

Carpe diem.

-Bill