Thursday, November 26th: THE THANKSGIVING 'MAGIC EYE' IMAGE

Remember the 'Magic Eye' episode of Seinfeld? Take a look at this image below and focus on the middle - do you see it?

If you can't see it (I can't see magic eye images - so I won't judge you) I've interpreted for you:

One more reason to enjoy Thanksgiving 2009: Baby Baker coming this Spring to St Joseph's Hospital in Denver.....The best thing about beating cancer will be welcoming her into the world.



Carpe diem.
-Bill



p.s. 'Cancer Beating Soundtrack Song #2'


"Follow You, Follow Me" by Genesis. I saw these guys on their 'farewell' tour in '92 in Indianapolis with Kootch & Bogle - best concert I've been to, hands down. Enjoy this video from the 2007 "Hey we need more cash" tour. Go see them when they return - great musicianship & showmanship. Worth the tix prices.

Sunday, November 15th: A year in the life of Mr Toad's Tunnel

As I enter my last week of radiation treatments it's as if I'm nearing the light at the end of this particular tunnel of my life - a very dark, confusing, treacherous, yet simultaneously glorious time.

The past 12 months started with a lot of pain, a fun time working on some professionally rewarding projects back in Ohio, and a boatload of travel. I had no idea about this "Mr Toad's Wild Ride" when I entered the hospital in Vail thinking that my ortho hip procedure would result in a quick rehab and a pain-free hip.

Oh my, Life can take unexpected, unplanned turns that challenge you to the core of your being. But it will simultaneously teach you something about yourself, your relationships, and your world.

I've got what I wished for -a pain-free(relatively speaking) hip. But my path to this point was entirely different than planned. Let's just say that the light at the end of the tunnel got pushed back "a few months". You know what? This may sound crazy to all of you who haven't had an illness similar to cancer, but the lessons life-threatening diseases teach you are awesome. As my High School track coach and science teacher Mr. Harrell used to say: A DUBYA EE ESS OH EM EE - AWESOME! AWESOME! AWESOME! Those of you who hail from Sparta have a leg up on everyone else reading the blog, because you can hear him say it, can't you?

This year has taught me the importance of looking through the 'noise' of life and looking at your true inner being. Trust me, it doesn't matter how successful you are, how important you are, how many friends you have, what degree you have, or what kind of car you drive - when you are faced with the possibility that you will die you are instantly pulled into a 'second level' consciousness where all the stuff of daily life doesn't mean anything.

You look at your family, your friends, and your faith (if you have it) - that's it. In fact, I'll bet most folks who face this will gain an understanding of faith. You've heard the old saying 'there are no athiests in foxholes?" Well guess what, there aren't any at the receiving end of a chemotherapy drug line, either.

All the trappings of the 'stuff' go away, and you realize that we are all running to the 'next thing' to avoid thinking about the 'bigger picture'. Don't get me wrong, aspiring for success in life, careers, finances, and in your recreational activities is awesome - but I can really see how many people are unfulfilled and trying to give a meaning to their life based on stuff, substances, and power. I've been given the gift of an 'early sneak peak' of the one thing we can't run from - death. Facing the possibility of the 'd' word and being given the chance to return to a 'second half' (reference my earlier Hoosiers posting) is life changing.

I now believe that the secret of life is stamping your ticket, hopping onto Mr. Toad's little car, and following the tracks through the ups, downs, twists, and turns. While you're on the ride, you're supposed to savor the gift of every minute you have, cherish the people who cross your path, be honest in your relationships, and be true to your faith.

When I think about the past year, from last Thanksgiving in Breckenridge with Amanda and my folks, to this upcoming Thanksgiving here in Denver with both of our parents, I think about the hundreds of amazing people in my life - both old relationships and new - who've been instrumental in helping me stay focused on the task of defeating Lymphoma. Some of these awesome people include:

• Dr Philippon - the world renowned hip surgeon who discovered my tumor and delivered the cancer news with compassion & care.


• Terri - Dr. P's assistant who helped us get additional tests in Vail and arrange all of the appointments at Massachusetts General


• Rev's Dent, Slejko, and Marshall - The clergy at Trinity Methodist in Denver who went out of their way to show both of us kindness and support during my treatments.


• My new blogger friends - This blog has connected me to people all over the world who have been touched by this disease. They have inspired and humbled me, as I realize many of them are not as fortunate as I, and are at a more advanced stage of the disease - you all have been amazing.


• My old friends - phone calls and messages from Craig, Josh, Urb, Dave, Ben, Jeff, Tim, Nathan, Nicky, Kootch, Mike, Keith, Cindy, Barb, Bob, Kathy, Nancy, Tag & Jan, and hundreds of others have been overwhelming - all of you have made me appreciate our experiences together, and gave me the will to fight this off


• Family - can't say enough - Amanda, my parents, Siblings, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, In-laws, words can't express it, so I won't even try.

I've mentioned to many of you that a second version of my 'cancer soundtrack' is coming out to celebrate my apparent recovery. Instead of rolling it out all at once, I'm going to sprinkle the next volume of CCSI tunes over the next several posts - the first song on Volume II is a good 'syllabus' of what I've learned over the past year - how I've given out love in the past, and that "measure of my life" came back 10-fold in loving support from all of you during my treatment and recovery. The song is "Seasons of Love" from the 90's broadway musical "Rent."

I know that many of you reading this blog may have trouble getting past the subject matter of the show - there's all sorts of drug abuse, bohemian artists, alternative lifestyles, various people hooking up - it's pretty much a Jerry Springer artistic free for all - but the core message resonates with the lessons I've been able to learn over the past year. Check out some of the lyrics from this song, and then listen to the whole tune on the video below - it's impressive.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love? How about love?
How about love? Measure in love.

So take a look in the mirror and ask yourself - "if my doctor told me tomorrow that there was a 50/50 chance I might die - what would I change?"

And then go do it- NOW. You never know what the next year will bring.

Carpe Diem.

-Bill

p.s. Don't worry, I'm not getting all "new age hippy introspective" on all of you - I'm still the same old politically incorrect person you've always known, with a bit of a 'new dose of reality' thrown in.

Tuesday, November 3rd: Goodbye, third nipple, goodbye!

It's been a few weeks since I posted for all of you, and a lot has been going on as I've entered my new "thermonuclear phase" of treatments for my Lymphoma - daily treatments at the Radiation Oncology department.

The week after my last post was a monumental phase in my treatment - the removal of my "power port" injection apparatus/site - a.k.a. 'THE THIRD NIPPLE". Nothing like a little outpatient surgical action courtesy of your friends at Presbyterian/St Luke's Medical Center in sunny Denver, Colorado. I'll take the name of this hospital as a good omen, since I married a Presbyterian and am the son of a Catholic - even though I'm now on Team Methodist, the folks at P/SL are 'my peeps'.

It was a great step of progress - the removal of the port from my right chest. No longer will a third nipple be portruding from my right chest - the little three tipped (yes three) bump in my skin is now replaced with a Vietnamesque incision scar where they removed it. In the future, when the incision site heals, I've worked off my "chemo fat", am at the pool -I can tell people I got this 1" long scar "looking for Osama". After all, isn't the terrain of Afghanistan & Pakistan a lot like Colorado?

Back on subject - the port removal went well - I had forgotten how cool the nursing staff was in this area of the hospital. It was nothing but jokes all around. When I had the port put in, I was under some serious painkillers and minor anesthesia drugs, so the most I can remember from last time is laughing like crazy while they strapped me down and put it in there ( the port installation - get your minds out of the gutter!). Since I was only under a local this time, I could truly appreciate the humor of the nursing team. I wish I remembered their names - they all get a big 'thanks' for making another medical procedure in this journey reasonably pleasant. The worst part of the whole thing was when I heard a crunching sound - the doctor explained that my body had formed scar tissue around the port, and he was cutting through this 'shield' to be able to remove the device.

Lovely.

In other news, I've made it through 13 radiation treatments at the Cancer Center - so far no adverse visible effects - that is, if you don't count the daily blast of radioactivity 1000 times more powerful than a common X-ray. No sunburn, no chafing, and my 'boys' haven't fallen off due to their proximity to the beam. It's actually been pretty pleasant - the two techs who run the machine (Kierstan and Vivian) are pretty cool. It's pretty much a laugh fest in there all the time - we've been discussing the benefits of the show "Family Guy" and got a good chuckle out of my recently mailed gift from our good friend Craig in Columbus - the full banana body suit. Yes, folks - when you're beating cancer it's ALWAYS "Peanut Butter Jelly Time."

I am now the proud owner of a full-body banana costume. I'll wait to post pics until I can get the Slanket AND rasta hat on at the same time.

So what's the moral of this post? There is none. Do me a favor, savor every day - you never know when the doctor is going to look at you with sad eyes and serve you up one of life's big sh*t sandwiches.

Carpe diem.

-Bill

P.S. Who dey! Who dey! Who dey say gonna beat dem Bengals? NOOOOOO-BODY! Let's go boys- beat Baltimore.

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!