Friday, March 28, 2014

One year survivor

March 20, 2013 the ENT doctor from Fort Bragg called and gave me the results of the fine needle biopsy. “You have cancer, blah, blah, blah.” I had prepared mentally for the diagnosis but it still hammered me emotionally. I did not process many of the words after “you have cancer.”
I went to work and let the client know I would be unable to fly with him. It was a teachable moment. The IMSAFE checklist is an acronym to assess the pilot’s fitness for flight. Illness, well that sucks, possibly legal to still fly. Medication: not at the moment. Stress: just a bit, and the show stopper for me. Alcohol: not yet, but sounds tempting. Fatigue: it explained a lot. Emotion/Eating: not sure how to handle the emotions, and I am not hungry.
My experience in the service helped me appreciate the fragility of life. Too many of my brothers died too early. Everyday that I wake up is a gift and is not taken for granted. I understood that the cancer diagnosis is not a death sentence unless left untreated.
Watching how it affected my loved ones was the toughest. My wife, my mother and my children did great. The fact that they can not do much to “make it all better” is hard to deal with.
Some people treat you with kid gloves and avoid talking about the realities of the situation. Other people only want to talk about it. My advice to the friends and family of someone affected by cancer is to let them know you love them and remember “they ain’t dead yet,” in other words all hope is not lost. Keeping a sense of humor is very important. Laughing and crying are fine responses and trying to keep up any façade falls apart under stress anyway.
The treatment was tough. My faith and my marriage became stronger. The bonds of friendship were essential to our success. Thank God for my many blessings. My wife is an awesome caregiver. My friends and family provided a support network that filled in the gaps when we were cracking under the pressure. I would name names but I know I would forget someone. Thank all of you.
I am so grateful that I am alive. The second year of cancer survival is going to have its challenges. The pain makes sleep difficult which adds to the challenge of establishing a good rest cycle. Weakness and fatigue are still issues. Lymphodema and peripheral neuropathy are lingering side effects. The stiffening of the scar tissues and possibly radiation fibrosis are additional side effects. Sticking to the physical therapy routine will help my recovery no matter the technical causes.
Diet and exercise are the foundations of any recovery program. Maintaining discipline is the challenge. Prayer helps. Thank God for all my blessings. I am getting stronger; I am teaching and flying again. Food is a source of pleasure again. This weekend we celebrate our 28th wedding anniversary. I am indeed one of the luckiest people ever.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Five months later

It has been about five months since my last treatment. Praise God I am alive and kickin’. The long road to recovery continues to teach me lessons. Patience, perseverance and gratitude are the main themes. I want to be as strong and healthy as I was before the treatment. That may or may not happen. Six months of treatment will probably take more than six months of recovery. The massive amount of abuse my body endured will take time to heal. Some of the after effects may linger for a long time. The neuropathy, the fatigue, and the missing parts still hinder my performance.
Sometimes I get tired of being tired and pissed off at being in pain. The solutions offered by medical science have crummy side effects. Chemical pain management makes my mind too slow to fly and ride motorcycles. Diet and exercise are the solutions that work. They take time. Rest is part of the recovery process. I have to remind myself that I am not a lazy bum but a recovering cancer survivor. I have been able to return to work and that is awesome. I have to closely monitor my fatigue level to insure I provide a safe and conducive learning environment and that I do not hinder the healing process.
I want to return to full time work but I am approaching it with caution, and without a medical certificate it is not really feasible. The FAA is moving at the speed of government. AOPA and I continue to try to track and expedite my medical. I have not started riding my motorcycle yet, so motorcycle safety is not an option. I do not think I could handle the hours or the physical demands anyway. Teaching college for Embry-Riddle is an option but the courses I am cleared for are not on the schedule.
When I count my blessings it puts it in perspective. I am alive. I have no evidence of disease. My wife is not pushing me around in a wheelchair anymore. I am not 127 pounds and puking my guts out. I am grateful they did not have to cut out more parts. Some of my cancer comrades at UNC lost parts of their jaw, their voice box, and parts of their face. Some of them lost the battle. My friends and family continue to shower me with love and support. I am one of the luckiest people on the planet.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Dawg Tarred

Ah um dawg tarred o this…
Yesterday Ben and I were supposed to start obedience training. The class canceled, again. I will have to seek another provider. Ben is reasonably well mannered but far from being a therapy dog. He is, however, the perfect dog for me. He has made the cancer journey easier and it would be nice if we could share the love.
My daughter has moved to Louisiana. She is trying a new adventure. It is a great opportunity for her and my mom to bond. There is a bit of culture shock. My mom lives in the woods outside of Gloster, La. The film ‘Water Boy’ is not too far off target. I loved living there. We moved to Riverside, California right around puberty. That was traumatic. I was a country boy in the big city. Among other things they made fun of my accent; “dude, say dog.”
The formative years set the stage for our personality. I tried hard to fit in. My music changed from Hank Williams to Kiss. Just as I was becoming accepted the disco craze started. I made a half-hearted effort to go with the trend but could not stomach the fickle nature of junior high social hierarchy. I figured out I did not want to make the effort to be “popular” if it meant pretending to like things I did not. I was still an idiot but I knew I liked bluegrass and punk, functional clothes and DAWGS.
Recovery continues. I thank God everyday for allowing me to be. Thanks for the prayers and support.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

New surgical oncologist

Last Friday I met my new surgical oncologist. He seems like a competent, caring skilled professional. He stuck the camera down my nose into my throat and did not see any evidence of disease. We discussed scheduling a PET scan rather than a CT scan for the next checkup. This would help establish a conclusive negative evidence of disease. The CT is limited in its ability to distinguish possible tumor re-growth from the scar tissue. A PET scan with a positive indication is not conclusive evidence but, a negative PET scan is as close to conclusive as it gets. I am not real excited about any additional exposure to radiation be it CT, PET or X-ray of any kind but early detection makes the battle easier. My next appointment is in April. No news on my FAA medical. AOPA can start bugging the FAA next week.
There are inspirational people who have touched me during this journey and it is time to start paying back. One of my friends at the Lineberger comprehensive cancer center gave me their assessment of the American Cancer Society. They are very helpful to the people at UNC. They provide excellent written resources, funding for research, and other services. A big endorsement was the fact that when she calls they answer and follow through on their promises. I think I will participate in the relay for life.
I volunteered for the Imerman Angels program. Last year, it was very helpful to speak to someone who survived the same kind of cancer. Weighing treatment options was easier knowing that the road(s) I was contemplating were successfully survived. It also inspires me to keep up on the physical therapy to improve my quality of life.
I am grateful to God for every breath. Sometimes I feel down and that is normal. Remembering the successful battles of the last year and my fallen friends and family keeps the self pity to a minimum. I am excited to be here and look forward with great expectations. Pain is just a reminder that I am alive and have work to do. Thanks for all the prayers and support.