The dream where you skipped class all year…

The dream where you skipped class all year…

Remember that dream where you get your finals schedule and you forgot to drop that class but you show up anyway?  Or a better analogy remember that feeling where you kind of dialed it in for a test or presentation, didn’t really prepare, but figured you’d do okay anyway?  Then you get the results and you pretty much get what you deserved, but mentally hoped or thought it might turn out better?  It’s kind of like that.  I have everything for which to be thankful, and I’m fully back on the positive vibe now.  But I can say with all candor that there was a part of me that was hoping for even better results.  Is that greedy? 

My whole family came with me to Houston this week for my MD Anderson tests.  They didn’t actually go with me for the testing, they went to the Museum of Natural Science and broke a door (more later).  I did the testing solo and the more I replay it all in my mind it was a fantastic visit.  First there is a new computer system at MDA.  Things are a little different and everyone is still getting acclimated to it.  But my phlebotomist (blood test nurse) was a total pro and nailed the vein like a sniper.  Perfect stick.  When you get stuck as much as I do, you start to judge and grade these things.  The CT scan phlebotomist also hit my other arm like a pro.  This was so they could inject the contrast radioactive dye.  Another bullseye.  The intake tech at the CT imagining center was amazing.  Turns out she had colon cancer, was in a coma for 40 days, is a devout Catholic and according to her “started her new life” six years ago.  I think we spent more time visiting than completing the paperwork.  She was very insistent that we only expect great news, and not allow even a modicum of doubt, “Don’t give the devil an inch brother!”

The butterfly whisperer
 

While I was doing this testing Nita called to inform me she had left her wallet in the car.  I took the car instead of a cab because after my tests I was going to visit a customer (that’s just how I roll).  Anyway, she and my daughter scraped up 11 dollars from my old backpack and hailed a cab to come meet me at MDA.  After a $19 cab ride, she apologized and swore she’d pay the driver back (which she did and then some – made his day).  Before she got in the cab, the condo my friend’s boss lets us use has a squirrelly door lock.  You have to jiggle the key to get it out of the lock.  Nita was in a hurry and frustrated so she succumbed to Connor’s continuous looping offer to help…and he broke the lock.  The family shows up at MDA for the hand off just as I wrap up.  So I offer to take them to the children’s museum.  Did anyone else know the Houston rodeo was in town?  I had 2 hours to go the 5 miles to the condo, change into presentation clothing, then drive to Aldine about 18 miles away.  I barely made it.  It literally took 30 minutes to go 1.4 miles from MDA to a sight line to the museum.  I say sightline because I finally gave in and allowed them to just exit the car in traffic (safely) to walk to the museum.  It then took another 20 minutes to go the remaining 3 miles to the condo.  Meanwhile my lunch was just sitting in the passenger seat.  I ate quickly and made it to my meeting and back.

That night we went to my wife’s uncle’s Italian restaurant.  Most of the family came and we had a great time. We laughed, ate, told stories, ate, talked about the tests and expectations, ate, explored the garden, and ate.  Josie was way out of bullets and Connor discovered the mint bowl around 9PM and frankly I was tired too.  It was time to leave, which is borderline offensive at an Italian gathering.  Additionally, Nita took the kids swimming on the rooftop pool before dinner so they were pretty tired.  And I was anxious! I was ready to sleep, wake up and get to MDA the next day to get my test results back.  Another nice treat was one of my baseball ex-college roommates volunteered to meet and sit with me while I was waiting for my appointment.  I showed up early to check in, then grab a coffee with my brother (about the time the locksmith finally called back to come fix the door).  The MDA receptionist said I couldn’t leave the waiting are, in case someone cancelled I had to be there.  So I cancelled my check in to keep my commitment. We joked about the old times, and parenting.  He has a new 18 month old and we both had a ton of stories to tell.  We then walked over to my wing, checked in and we shared a final hug when they called me back. 

As you can imagine, I was on pins and needles at this point.  I’m almost preparing to hear the words “cancer free” or “remission.”  I mean my CEA scores indicated that it was not out of the realm of possibility and might even be likely.  But it was not to be.  I had two doctors this time.  They both told me two very important things: 1. there was nothing in my test results that should be taken as negative; 2. I needed to remember that I had metastatic stage four cancer and there is no cure.  The second point was something they told me on day one.  I knew it, accepted it, and used it as bulletin board material for my fight. As excited as I was about my scores, I suppose I allowed it to drift away from me.  Sort of like shopping for mansions when you buy a ticket for a Billion dollar lottery.  You don’t think it’s likely…but there is chance.  But the odds are about the same.  Yes it can happen, someone has to win, but one must use care in pinning one’s hopes to a cure.  Back to the first point, I really did get great news.  My cancer is shrinking.   The drug protocol is working.  My tumors are getting smaller and some have gone completely.  There is no new growth.  Further, I would be able to go on a maintenance protocol.  I still have to get the pump every two weeks, but the Irinotecan would be dropped.  That is the most toxic (I think) and will give my body a little bit of a break during the routine. These are wonderful test results! 

While we were visiting, my old roommate and I spoke about religion, faith, mental toughness, and the fight.  If you remember from a few months back, this was the guy who was given a 10% chance to live, and there we were.  His wife became a believer during his return to health.  We both concurred that having that fight in you is what helps your body, mind, and spirit use the medicine to work more effectively.  That and faith, if you don’t believe, you can’t achieve.  I’m sure you’ve all heard it a million times, but I do believe, and the power of prayer has done more for me than you can imagine.  Again, believe or don’t, it won’t change my mind on this one. I’m good.  I’ve had too many great things happen in a row for it to be coincidence.  I’m in a positive place.  In fact during the initial assessment and intake stage of day two they asked me questions like: How is your nausea? What is your pain level? Any depression? Do you feel like hurting yourself? Have you ever thought about throwing your toaster in with your bath?  And my answer came from a friend who is living a better life because of my situation.  The answer is, “I’ve never been happier and I’ve never felt closer to my family.  I live like I am dying.”  Thanks Pete.  Another old friend said he got a colonoscopy because of me and they removed a couple of polyps.  He then mentioned that it shaved two strokes off his golf game, but this guy is a real comedian. Really.  Glad you did it Rodney.  Finally, we took the family up to the club for the St. Patrick's day party on Thursday.  I was quickly reminded how many people are fighting alongside me, praying for me, and generally willing to do anything to help.  It was exactly what I needed.

Left is from December; Right is from Tuesday March 15.  Bones are "lighting up" because of the WBC boost shots

The doctors went over my results and showed the improvements on the scans.  I very patiently listened as they showed the tumor sizes and numbers in my liver and lungs.  To describe what it looks like, picture a painter who dips a brush into the paint and then flicks it on the canvass. That’s what it looks like.  And when you really think about it back to that first day when it may have just been “appendicitis,” they didn’t just “notice” a couple of lesions on my lungs.  It must have looked like a black light in Charlie Sheen’s house. So realistically, I have known all along, and it was silly of me to visualize skipping out of the building with my “I’m cured” t-shirt.  I knew better, or should have known better.  I did ask about the possibility of remission and the head doctor said that realistically there was a four to five percent chance, but the fact that my body was responding so well was still fantastic news. You know what? I’ve been an over-achiever my entire life.  I’m not afraid of 5%.  I have no problem living in the 95^th percentile. None whatsoever. I’ve done it all of my life.  So if there is a five percent chance…that’s good enough for me.  Thank you all for your love and support.  Let’s win this! TeamMarco@austin.rr.com