Post 142 - Journey's end...but another begins!

I debated about using that video clip, but I wanted to end with a smile, and how can you not smile at Porky Pig? Look at that face...he really seems to have come to terms with himself and his limitations...he seems... well... happy, doesn't he? I dont think he's hiding behind a facade...Porky's just livin' in the moment!

The time has come to wrap up this one year journey/blog. I just re-read my first entry, posted on July 30, 2009, and here is some of what I wrote:

I am one day into my life with a diagnosed carcinoma...a metasticized, undifferentiated squamous cell carcinoma in my neck, to be more precise. I await the PET scan next week to give me a more specific diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment protocol.

I am not by any means at home with this awareness...but as the hours go by, so does the sinking in process.
I have another awareness, and that is an abiding sense of love...from God, from my family, from the few friends I've confided in.
I depend on scripture and poetry and calm morning walks to lift my spirit.
I seek to deepen the deep things of my life.

Wow, has it been a long and interesting year! I am amazed to be sitting here typing a year later, in such good spirits. I made it! And I fulfilled my mission with this blog. You know, this may sound like a cliche, but I only made it with the love and support of God, friends, famly and readers. I've been more transparent than I ever could have imagined a year ago. When I re-read the post from last July, I was writing that the diagnosis was "sinking in," but looking back, I know I was naive, minimizing, and still mostly in denial.

It seems that's how I always start "journeys." Had I really known what I was in for...it would have been more than I could have handled at that point. I am grateful that only God is all-knowing!

So here I sit, one year later, with a good prognosis and a clean CT scan. Those of you who have travelled with me through this know I've moped and whined through some of this past year, and rejoiced and sang through other parts of the year. Cancer is a bitch! I am not trying to be cute. I realize how fortunate I am to have come through stage 4 cancer as a survivor to this point...the title of this post could easily have been cut off after "Journey's end." But, by the grace of God, I get to start another journey. So I take a deep breath, give thanks, and pray that I take the deeper things and lessons I have learned on this journey with me. I pray I enter the next with more compassion for those who suffer, be it physically, emotionally or spiritually. Although I can't bear to imagine it, I know if the journey would have taken a different turn, God would have provided the grace to enable me to deal with that...as it happened, moment by moment. I am going forward with a lot of gratitude in my heart. How blessed I am! I am humbled by all I've received.

Here's an invitation. I am not ready to quit blogging. It's too much fun, and too good a way to procrastinate when I have paperwork I should be getting done at my office to just let go of. So I will start a new blog for another year.

There was no particular name that jumped out at me; I only knew I wanted "cancer" out of the name. I thought, since I am just rambling most often, "word salad" might fit...but that's not very original...then "whisper salad" popped into my head. Not real creative, but it's my idea...so I'll start off with that.

And, if you care to join me...here's the link:

http://blumswhispers.blogspot.com/

Thank you so very much for travelling with me. You just can't imagine how much it means to me!

God bless you, friend!

Deeper things - Bless you, bless you - moving on down the information highway

I've been thinking about this blog in light of the good news I had from yesterday's CT scan results. It has been such an incredible journey! When I wrote my first post, which was just about one year ago (7/31/09), there were several things I had no idea about...

1. Just how difficult, painful, and traumatic the "treatment" process for my stage four cancer would be...yes, the radiologist tech warned me that 35 days of radiation to the throat was about the worst place to be zapped, and the ENT told me it wasn't going to be easy and I'd be pretty beaten up before it was over, and my oncologist told me I might be too physically weak to handle the third round of chemo (and thank God for my weakness...I was too weak and was spared round three)...but I had nothing in life to compare that to. My oncologist promised me I'd survive this cancer, but, initially, the thought of NOT surviving never even crossed my mind. How could a young, healthy guy like me die from a little tumor? Further, I was resistant to getting a "feeding tube;" thank God he talked me into it. In my ignorance I thought I would be tough enough (though I also knew I was a coward when it comes to pain) to eat and drink with a "sore throat." HA! Little could I imagine that at the height of my misery, there were days when even pouring a cup of water into the feeding tube was too much for me to think about. Swallowing? No, way! The lining of my throat was completely burned off, my saliva turned into rubber cement, and eventually turned off altogether, taste buds completely shut off, and infections in my mouth and stomach along with chemotherapy nausea and days upon days of sleeplessness left me a shell of a being...I don't recall writing this, but deep inside, I started thinking I was not going to survive the ordeal...I became too weak to walk from the hospital parking lot to the radiation and chemotherapy torture chambers...so for a period of time I was wheeled in a wheelchair from car to radiation room, strapped to a table, head immobilized in a plastic mask that was secured to the table, zapped, and wheeled back. My chore was then to survive the 50 mile car ride home, nodding on and off and trying not to be sick in the car. Let me tell you, if you have never been in such a state...it very much becomes an altered state of being...almost a trance like reality when who one was before this, or who one will be after this ceases to exist, and time sort of gets suspended in a foggy, jellylike state of discomfort, pain, and dysphoria that seems to have no beginning and no end. I put acorns on my windowsill to symbolize each day's passing for the 35 days of radiation, and pine cones for the chemotherapy days. It sounded like a good idea at first, like I was going on some hiking safari and would count the days away from clocks and watches in the "wilderness" with each new adventure gazing at the acorns and marveling. Well...I kept at it, and ended with 35 acorns and 4 pine cones on that windowsill, but, truth be told, in some ways, I really HATED those acorns...those acorns are in a jar hidden away, and I still haven't been able to look at them since treatment ended. Maybe someday the symbolic element that I hoped for with those acorns will inspire me. We'll see. They are just still too much a reminder of the ordeal right now.

2. Kathy - I promised Kathy at the onset that I would keep the blog about me... after all, if I wanted to make my private life public, it was my business, but it was NOT my right to make anyone else's life public. So I have kept references to Kathy and our marriage to a minimum. But I have occasionally lapsed (like right here). I had no idea how strong Kathy could be. When I needed her strength, she was a rock. I could only pray that I would be half as loving and strong and compassionate if, God forbid, she should ever have such an unfortunate need.

3. My twists and turns with Jesus - I can honestly say I had moments when I never felt closer to God... and I had moments when I never felt more distant and alone. At it's best, I felt His love in a way that is difficult to explain. Just as I was getting ready to begin treatment, I had the very real experience of hearing a voice in my head reciting a verse from a Psalm..."your love is better than life." It filled me with such peace and comfort that I knew it was going to be OK...His love would never abandon me, in life, or in death; and that was all I ever needed. And to be honest, at it's very worst...I had doubts about whether God even existed, let alone was mindful of this little speck of a being. I had moments of fear that somehow I was being punished for a lifetime of sin and falling short of His expectations, or that He just never really did care about me after all, or He just simply did not exist. But, then, I'd get some encouragement, sometimes from a blog post I'd write, or a comment I'd receive, sometimes from a Psalm I'd read, sometimes from a hymn I'd hear either on-line or in my head, sometimes from having a prayer time, sometimes from scripture that would invade my thoughts out of "nowhere" (ummm...thank you Holy Spirit). It all only confirms for me that God was with me throughout. In spite of my wanderings, rebellions, spiritual journeys and adventures and eccentricities... in my heart of hearts, I know...I know I was made for God. I don't know how else to say it. And my life doesn't make any sense at all without Him. Believe me, I know that to be true. I was made for God. I can't escape that reality any more than I can stop breathing. Oh, I can hold my breath for awhile, but hey, at the end of that, I'm breathing again. I can wish it weren't true, I can wish I could forget all about Him, I can try to think of Him as some projection of my own neediness, but ultimately, when I come to the end of myself, He is there. Without beginning, without end. In all His majestic glory. As it should be. He's there. I can't escape Him. And I just know it. And I love Jesus. I can't escape that either (nor can I even imagine ever wanting to, but I suppose...if Peter could deny Him, certainly I could as well). I just love Him. And His love completes and compels me. I have no good explanation, outside of His amazing grace, that He should be mindful of this undeserving little Jewish kid from Long Island, but it is my highest desire to know Him and conform my life to His. And His love is...well, I'll just say it...His love is deeper than cancer.

4. This blog - OK, I hope I can say this right. At first I thought it would be therapeutic for me to journal my experience with cancer treatment. I had often thought of journaling, but never, as an adult, took the plunge. Until now. Then I thought, "wouldn't it be neat for me, such a low-tech person, to figure out how to blog." I had stumbled on a blog written by a woman who had leukemia (who, by the way, has become a friend). I thought..."I'll just write my journal in the form of a blog. Others do it, so can I." I was amazed when I actually got it figured out and wrote my first post. I had no idea anyone would actually find it and read it. So... imagine my surprise when I got my first "comment." To date there have been roughly 9,000 visits to the blog. And 33 people signed up as followers... (to be honest...I have no idea what that means). I am not so grandiose to believe that this is any kind of big deal. There must be a gazillion blogs, and I know a lot of those 9,000 visits are repeat visitors. There are probably blogs written by dogs and cats that have more "visits" and followers. Who cares. But let me tell you...it IS a big deal to me. I score very high on every measure of introversion. I am not one to reach out or ask for help. This blog has been a lifeline when I have been withdrawing from the world. I have had friends, family, and COMPLETE strangers reading and posting comments. There have been people who visit regularly from states I have never been to nor did I know anyone within their borders. I've had visitors from about a dozen countries across several continents. Some probably came to the blog via a typo on an address line. Who cares. I have been touched, encouraged and deeply moved by anonymous comments, along with comments from friends and families. There were days when I really wanted to give up, crawl in some hole and die, when I read a comment that completely lifted my spirit. I believe God's hand was in this blog as well. Maybe yes, maybe no, but that's my hunch. And I have been so deeply moved and uplifted by the kindness and compassion all of you have shown me. For taking the time to read. Or comment. Or thinking of me or maybe lifting up a prayer on my behalf.

From the deepest part of my heart... God bless you, friends. I love you.

CHECKING IN - SO HAPPY - Turning my wailing into dancing

The"tumor board" of 20 physicians reviewed my scan this morning, and results showed no evidence of tumor or cancer. My tonsils were assymetrical, with slight inflammation, but they said that was not a big concern at this point, and it could just be post-treatment inflammation or maybe I had a slight respiratory infection like a mild cold when I did the scan. But, NO TUMOR. Oh. thank you God. I am breathing again. I will follow up every 3 months, and maybe they'll do another scan in a year or so. WOW! WHAT GLORIOUS NEWS!!! I am between clients right now, so I need to keep this brief, but I plan to post again today or tomorrow.

Thank you so much for caring enough to read this, and helping carry me through this stormy trial. More on that later today...

Right now, I need to spend a few minutes on my knees thanking God.

-------- Psalm 30---------

1 I will exalt you, O LORD,
for you lifted me out of the depths
and did not let my enemies gloat over me.

2 O LORD my God, I called to you for help
and you healed me.

3 O LORD, you brought me up from the grave;
you spared me from going down into the pit.

4 Sing to the LORD, you saints of his;
praise his holy name.

5 For his anger lasts only a moment,
but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.

6 When I felt secure, I said,
"I will never be shaken."

7 O LORD, when you favored me,
you made my mountain stand firm;
but when you hid your face,
I was dismayed.

8 To you, O LORD, I called;
to the Lord I cried for mercy:

9 "What gain is there in my destruction,
in my going down into the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it proclaim your faithfulness?

10 Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me;
O LORD, be my help."

11 You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

12 that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.

checking in - part way there, good news thus far

Today I had my 9 months post-treatment CT scan...I've lost count of how many scans I have had, but I believe I carry enough radiation to power a mid-size city for a few weeks. I also had an exam by my oncologist and ENT (actually, my ENT's P.A., who seemed quite knowledgeable.)

Here's the good news...after being poked and prodded and had hands down my throat, the two physical exams both turned out great. NO signs of anything unusual, and my tonsils, throat, and neck seem to be all healing and happy and healthy. I have to wait on the CT scan results however, as the report wasn't yet done when I had the appointments with the docs. So I won't find out the scan results probably till Friday. I'm getting used to waiting, and I am not going to stress, but rather, just enjoy the positive comments I received regarding my recovery.

Here's the other thing about today. I really have come to appreciate human kindness and compassion in a new way. My oncologist has really been thoughtful and encouraging (and quite competent) every step of the way. While I've seen other competent doctors on this journey, they sometimes have lacked in the compassion/empathy/bedside manner that my oncologist has. It really makes an incredible difference. I told him how much I appreciate him today, because after my first PET scan came back with a "hot spot" in January, I kind of had a melt down in his office and told him I didn't think he was being straight with me when he was telling me not to worry. To his credit, he stayed calm, and again, re-assured me that he wouldn't tell me anything he didn't sincerely believe to be true. I love the guy!
Also, the woman who greets patients at the door of the cancer center of Methodist Hospital in Omaha and arranges valet parking for those too weak to make it from the parking lot to the entrance...Ethel is her name...just lit up when she saw me and gave me a big hug...I hadn't been up to the cancer center in three months, and she seemed genuinely happy to see me feeling well. She said she had a dream about me the other night. She greets hundreds of patients every day, but when she saw me she shouted "STEVE" and ran to embrace me. Then she gave me some more of her Ethel advice...(if you remember, I had a post during treatment about her telling me to "relax into this, hon" which for some reason really touched me.) This time, she told me that if I ever get sick again, to "make sure I don't let what's going on inside my body mess up what's goin on inside my head, cause if my head stays happy, my body's goin to get well much quicker." She's great.

I'm having a good day. And I am ready for more good news come Friday. (I'll even accept having to wait till Monday, just in case the phone doesn't ring on Friday.)

There's so much in the course of a day to thank God for...if I could only remember to just keep my head happy!

checking in -Trusting God, creeping anxiety

So, I go for a CT scan, my first in three months, on Tuesday. Please pray for a good outcome. Thanks. I know God is with me, regardless, but, of course, I also feel anxiety creeping in on the edges as Tuesday gets closer. If the scan is clear, that could be the last scan unless I begin having symptoms or the ENT detects something in a future physical. I so desire for that to be the case (a good outcome, that is).

I will be sure to post again on Tuesday evening. I'll keep this post brief, as I don't know what else to write. I've been feeling pretty good, and I feel I am getting my life back more and more each week that passes. Let's get this done.

Deeper things - morning magic

Graphics - Layouts - Photobucket

Another sign that I am returning to my old self...I am again waking up every day quite early (around 5-5:30AM). I've heard that as people age, they require less sleep...well, for me, I must have begun that kind of aging around 21. I am, simply put, a morning person, and I have been for over 30 years. As an undergraduate I was able to sleep the morning away, generally after partying ridiculously late the night before. It was not unusual to grapple with the decision "breakfast or lunch?" as my roommate and I would regain consciousness after a night of insanity sometime around noon. After college, I lost the knack of sleeping late (or as they say in Nebraska..."sleeping in.") I have previously written about the roots of my insomnia around age 9 (an entry made in August 2009..."morning walk of agitation.") Here's the link should you care to empathize:

http://sblumsblog.blogspot.com/2009/08/checking-in-morning-walk-of-agitation.html

Add to that my father's distaste for my sleeping late as an adolescent...I would spend weekends and summers living with him, the times most kids get to sleep late...his bedroom door was across the hall from mine... generally whatever time he got up, he decided was time for me to get up...he would pound on my door like King Kong himself was standing outside wanting in. To sleep late was to be a "lazy bum". If my brain ever did have the notion that it was permissible to sleep late, my father took care of that!

And while I did not want to be "a lazy bum," I also did not want to risk not getting "enough" sleep...Even though waking early has been with me for decades, it has often been accompanied by worries... "will I be tired all day"..."will I not perform as well because I am not rested"...etc. What silly things to be hard on oneself for... guilt about sleeping late, and worry about waking early. How neurotic!

ENOUGH of that nonsense...

Waking early is a gift... There is magic in the morning that you late sleepers no nothing about. It really is wonderful to greet the sunrise by being out walking, and it is wonderful to wake up with the stillness and quiet that accompanies early morning. (No one's pounding on my door anymore). Having a leisurely cup of coffee with breakfast and the morning paper (or better yet, a quiet time for devotions) AND time to exercise before work is wonderful. Getting outside and beating the heat of the day in the summer is luxurious.

Here is a poem I think I have quoted previously...I love the idea of starting the day intentionally with gratitude, kindness and happiness in one's heart... How I start the day is a good barometer for where I am in life... God, if I am to wake up before dawn, let me wake up with a prayer of gratitude on my lips and joy in my heart.

I remember reading somewhere of some guy who would wake up and yell "I'M BACK" to the world first thing upon opening his eyes. I haven't tried that yet, and I am sure Kathy would be less than delighted with her day starting that way...(but, hey, maybe once in awhile wouldn't be so bad...what do you think, Dad?)

Why I Wake Early

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety –

best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light –
good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

~ Mary Oliver ~