Now that it's working

Now that it’s working

I’m back home from Houston and suffered through another round of infusion (chemo) this week and frankly I suppose I can’t complain about the side effects too much.  The drugs are working after all, and that is the main goal.  Like any therapy or rehabilitation (muscle/bone/ligament) it’s going to hurt and take some work to get better.  So a little more nausea this time, meh, I can live with that.  Well, I said that initially, but Monday and Tuesday were miserable.  I wonder if it was because during my trip to Houston I either over did it a bit and zapped my energy, didn’t get my normal two bags of fluids and anti-nausea drip for the week, or both.  It’s funny how easy it seems to drink 8 beers during a round of golf and settling up bets after but 72 ounces of water in five hours seems impossible and damn near unreasonable.

As we mentioned last week, my buddy Bart said he’d take us to lunch in his plane.  So I went and fetched Connor from school and off to the airport we went.  The boy was all smiles and was telling anyone who would stop to listen about his pending adventure. The cloud cover kept us from touching down in Llano and getting our grub on, but we had an awesome time in the air.  Connor even morphed into his air traffic controller staccato robot voice.  We then flew home over the Austin skyline and Bart touched us down like a feather from a pillow in a 28 MPH crosswind, but what else do you expect from a former Marine helo pilot?   

Saturday night was our men’s golf association Christmas party.  I hadn’t been able to play much golf lately so it was a very nice treat to see all those guys.  Nita and the wives also had some nice chats.  Everyone was pretty excited to hear the news about the shrinking tumors.  But it was weird for a weird reason.  As a former “A” (single digit) golfer I had no problem telling these older guys what to do, where to hit, yardage, club selection, etc.  I'm also known to tell a story or joke at the club on occasion, but as a guy with cancer surrounded by older guys who were coming over to hear how I was doing, it was different.  This might sound stupid or odd, but I don’t care.  I was still telling my story, but I felt surrounded by support, caring, and true empathy.  And this is a group of stodgy old men, and here I felt a spiritual hug.  Surreal and neat, you never know when the next log will appear.

Sunday we were back at the golf club for brunch with Santa.  The kids ate without getting all the food on them this year and the pictures turned out nice.  Connor is finally comfortable around the big man, although a little nervous about some tomfoolery that has been going on during the year. He is firmly convinced that action – consequence is no joke and Santa doesn’t mess around.  Josie has always been fine with characters dressed up and Santa specifically.  She’s also the “good one” (don’t start, I don’t have favorites) and as such is not too worried about her haul each year.  We even have to make up things for her to work on like “eating more vegetables not just the meat.”  There were three more Christmas functions in between but I won’t bore you with those other than to say I was pretty worn out by the time I showed up for my infusion.

Another way we know the chemo is working is that my white blood cell (WBC) count is wrecked.  My numbers were just barely high enough to authorize chemo this week.  What that means is the drugs are attacking my cells, good bone marrow and cancer.  They’ll give me a couple of shots to boost the WBC count this Thursday and early next week.  I just need to take it easy and not put myself in a lot of social situations.  Which means making cameo appearances at Christmas functions or just hanging in the back trying to be a ghost.  I cannot afford to get sick(er) (I suppose, right?) while having a low count.  So this week I have our company Christmas luncheon, vendor/partner dinner, infusion, fluids, Josie’s Christmas show (Wed and Thurs), and…  My job is to see how many hands I can avoid shaking while not looking like a dick or an attention whore.  Part of me thinks I should wear a mask, jury is still out.  Everyone at work and Josie’s school knows, so it isn’t a shock, I’m just trying to be as subtle as possible while avoiding a medically induced coma for Christmas.  So I think you see my dilemma.

Monday infusion.   Nausea was much worse than the last few times.  Work drugs work!  It has been a pretty rough week with the neuropathy kicking in for good measure…and don’t even get me started on QB transfers (football, if you get it you get it).  Good news in chemo camp! Two fellow campers on what I call the “rowdy row” rang the bell (good ring, not my ring).  That means they have completed their treatments and are on to another chapter, but their bodies effectively get a break from the chemo.  Good for them, but I’m going to miss their cheerful banter and fashionable stocking caps.  God bless you Amy and Mimi.  Oh and chemo tip for the week: Costco sells an Imodium-like product in a 400 count for 1/10th the price of the brand name.  I remember just five short months ago thinking, "Why would anyone buy a 48 pack of Imodium?"  Then just a couple months later thinking, "Why do they only sell them in 48 packs?"

Live your life.  My best friend Pete has changed his ringtone to “live like you were dying” for whenever I call.  He came by the other day and he said that people are always asking about me.  His response, “He’s never been happier.  I wish you could understand that he really is living like he is dying and enjoying every minute of life.”  I may not go quite that far, but I definitely find beauty in a lot of things that used to be mundane.  As for parenting, I’m not really a daredevil and I suppose I was somewhat of a helicopter parent in the beginning.  Using a football analogy I have a theory that former athletes are like cornerbacks (who don’t get burned on a wheel route), while non-athletes are more like safeties who’ll bite on the play action.  I’m not passing judgment, just making an observation.  Without over simplifying because yes there are plenty of athlete moms who fit in this category…but for the most part dads are constantly guarding their “man” watching the child’s hips to see where they are going next.  Moms tend to wait for the play to develop and then react.  It’s why you see those pictures of people (mental or physical) with their hands on their cheeks like Home Alone while something is happening and dads are icing a hamstring because they sprinted and dove when they saw a collection of threats that might develop into an event.  Meanwhile everyone was left looking at them like they were insane…but we know don’t we?

As for now, I’m in more of a let them learn, they’ll heal mode.  I’ve been talking to my SEAL buddy more and he tells me stories of guys injuries and gunshot wounds like I would tell a joke.  The moral of the story is that the human body is amazing and has unfathomable healing properties.  The human mind is also amazing and it develops through experiences and helps in the healing process.  So my previous chirping to Nita, “Where is your man, cover your man” has died down considerably.  I think now it might be more valuable for the kids to have a bit less oversight, let them work things out on their own, and figure out what is a good idea and a bad one.  I’m obviously not going to let them play in traffic, but you get the point.  I can’t be there for everything, and well, more than likely I won’t.  So I focus more on the lesson after the event, instead of preventing the event.  Speaking of which, Connor has a little buddy that might join a wrestling program with him…stay tuned.

When I got the pump removed on Wednesday I was able to help get the kids to bed.  I read Josie a bible story and we talked about some other things at her school.  She seems to really understand how my situation is going and is very sensitive to making quality time together (can you believe she is barely five?).  Both kids had another wonders and worries appointment on Thursday.  Last time they came home with charts on types of blood cells and a bag of “plasma” made from rice, marshmallows, gelatin, and something else. This time they came home with "patient dolls" with gauze, scrubs, gloves, etc.  The intent was to make those things seem common and eliminate the shock value.  I’m sure they know what they are doing, but that seems pretty advanced for the average five and seven year old, how many teenagers even know what platelets are?  Oh well, better to know than to be in the dark. Connor also shares a lot about my situation to others.  But he's able to compartmentalize it a bit.  I'm also proud to announce he even won a "principal's pride" award on Monday."

Notice the ring on VP Page's hand?!

Thanks to all of you who purchased cookbooks.  According to Bill they should be shipping this week so you can try some new recipes for Christmas or ship them on to the intended recipient.  I even saw a few pop up on Facebook with friends proudly displaying their purchase. Quite a bit was raised and it will help tremendously with the medical bills. Further I made a pledge to donate 20% of whatever came in to the Marine Corps Law Enforcement Fund.  It creates college funds for fallen military families and first responders (fire, police, EMT).  The reason I chose this charity was they also have a 90+% payout, which means they don’t spend the majority of their money on fundraising, advertising, and administrative salaries…the money goes to the people for whom it is intended.

I’ll save the rest for the Christmas letter, but thank you all who read, care, send notes, call, pray, etc.  Your support makes a difference and here is how:  We’ve all either seen or been a part of an event where someone just has nothing left in the tank and there are one or more people screaming at that person to push farther, do one more repetition, take another step, etc.  These are common for military training, every gym you’ve ever been to, almost any sporting event practice, or races.  Well, you fine folks are that influence for me.  Anytime I feel a little down, I hear the hundreds of voices telling me to push through and do one more rep.  So thank you for that.  So if you ever wonder if you are making a difference in the world, or making a dent…you are.  Even if it is to help me.  I hope I am in turn helping some of you.  God bless you all, and Merry Christmas.  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com