There is No Crying in Baseball

There's no crying in baseball

 

a picture from the Without Regrets funded shoot in Maui this January

Who can forget the moment in A League of Their Own when Tom Hanks as coach is berating one of his players and she starts to cry.  He then gets frustrated explaining that you don’t cry in baseball.  Most of the mean stuff is just part of the game.  It’s as natural as the inside brushback pitch or the (more prevalent a few years ago) take out slide at the front end of a double play.

Needless to say, Josephine LOVES baseball.  So much that she begged us to let her go to the Round Rock Express baseball camp last week.  I didn’t think her skillset was quite ready, but after pleading her case, Nita and I were all in for it.  So off she went, prepared for four days in the dog days of summer.  The only caveat was that she finish all four days, because Martinez’ don’t quit.

Josephine stretching at the beginning of camp, she was one of three girls out of 100 total participants

The first day, I asked her how it went.  She told me that the baseball part was fine, but that some boys were teasing her about her skills and told her that she should be playing softball with girls anyway.  Nita was a little uncomfortable with this and said, "We need to go to your dad, he'll have a great retort in no time!"  I said, “Absolutely, this is right in my wheelhouse! Ragging is part of the game; let's get Josie some solid comebacks.”  So we started to work on one and role played it until she had it just right and with a lot of sass.

The next day she came home from camp all smiles, virtually skipping into the mancave. I asked her how the camp went and she said, “Great dad!  I did what you said and the baseball was good too!”  Her retort by the way was, “If I actually cared what you thought, that might hurt my feelings…BUT I DON’T!”  With extra sass on the “but I don’t.”  She said the boys told her that her hair looked like a boy and that she couldn’t throw well enough.  She dropped the line and said the boys were speechless.  She was emphatic when she said “speechless” as well.  She was so proud of herself, almost as proud as we were of her.

We gave her one more for the next two days and it also brought down the house.  “What, can’t compete with the boys so you have to pick on little girls?”  This one had the boys turning on each other after that.  Josephine loved the camp and is convinced that she is going to be the first girl to play major league baseball.  Well, I don’t know about that, but I love how much she adores the game.  From dressing in her uniform, to baseball cards; she’s even reading a book about Lou Gehrig.

Connor and Josephine both went to have therapy sessions with the Wonders and Worries team last weekend.  They are doing great, but Connor seems to have temporarily regressed a bit.  By that I mean instead of the mature 8 almost 9-year-old he was, he was using baby talk and doing a few things under his age bracket.  I’m glad we took him because it made me want to change my parenting style a bit.  As a result, I’ve been into more positive reinforcement than reactive to his mishaps, complete with explanations of consequences.  Connor really responded well to this new tactic and has been more affectionate and obedient than before.  He also appears calmer than he had been in the weeks that have passed.

I’m proud of him, he’s dealing with quite a bit and he still struggles at times with his Sensory Integration issues for which we had been taking him to an occupational therapist since he was three.  He still has some fine motor work to tighten up, but don’t we all?  I’m just happy that he is dealing with my situation in his way and it is a non-destructive way.  He understands my situation, but possibly not the severity of it all.  Josephine on the other hand gets it, she knows I almost died a month ago.  She has been very affectionate and spends a lot of time, just sitting and chatting with me.  I wonder if all the baseball is her 6-year-old way to connect or if she truly loves the game that much.  Either way, we’re having a blast together.

The week before this one, we were finally able to film the video for Without Regrets.  They are the organization that (with the help of my “Rocks” community and one of the Aggie Yell families) sent our family to Maui last January.  And as I have stated before, not a moment too soon.  Even though it seemed like a hair on fire trip, it was literally the only time we could have managed that trip during this entire year.  With all my surgeries, trial options and emergencies, pneumonia, spleen rupture, and shortness of breath, there is zero chance that we could have gone on a trip like that and done all the things we did.  They also set us up with a family photo shoot to add to the memories which was very nice.

They asked if we would come in and talk a little about what they did for us on camera.  Sure, no problem, right?  Well, with all my medical issues, previously I couldn’t speak for more than two minutes without coughing and gagging (which does not look good on camera).  Finally, after this latest surgery and recovery, I am able to speak to people.  So the family went down and we filmed the segment.  We were happy to do it and hope that helps others to support this fine organization so other families can enjoy “trips of a lifetime” like we did.

On July 7, I came home from the hospital still basking in my miracle.  Technically, I still am.  But we cannot forget that even though we rode through the storm and came out on top, I still have cancer.  And the cancer is stage 4!  My oncology team didn’t want me to take too much time recovering giving the cancer time to build any momentum.  So I had an appointment on Friday July 28, to get bloodwork, meet with my MDA oncologist, and with the clinical trial intake doctor (not originally on the schedule).  My buddy Omar drove me up and back and we even had a chance to stop at the family restaurant for dinner.  I gave signed copies of my new book to Uncle Sammy and his kids (Nita’s cousins).  I think Sammy was most impressed because his brother (Nita’s deceased father) was a writer.  And it somehow fit that I had written a book and married his niece.

Omar and I just leaving Buc-ee's, an obligatory stop

The nice thing about the ride with Omar was that we’ve been friends for five decades.  We had so much to share on this trip, but there was also no discomfort in the dead air (silence).  We talked a lot about a lot.  We brought up things from high school, family, church, and even how he is preparing for the PGA championship in a couple of weeks.  I always find it fascinating, even among close friends, how someone who is elite in something prepares to face off against others who are also elite.  There is another gear those guys have of which I am not familiar, and that is pretty cool.  Plus, two days with your best friend is always a good deal.

The meeting with Dr. Kee, the oncologist went well.  We discussed options and they made the somewhat emergency appointment with the clinical trial team.  He said that during the spleen rupture, another CT scan had been done and that the metastasized tumors in my liver and lungs both had grown since the last scan.  Therefore, they were taking the FulFox off the table since it was so hard on my body anyway and showed no efficacy.  He recommended Lonsurf which is another colorectal chemo drug, but isn’t really effective in shrinking tumors.  It isn’t a cure drug, it’s more of a don’t die just yet drug.  The reason was that he didn’t have any specific colorectal trials available and this might buy us a couple of months for one to come up.

He then sent me up to meet with Dr. Pant (pronounced pahnt) in the clinical trial area.  Since they were squeezing me in, the wait time was pretty long.  But when his PA came in, she went over all my surgeries, therapies, symptoms, and my recovery from the most recent rupture.  I mentioned that I shouldn’t even be alive with all the shenanigans on my spleen and she was quick to concur.  I also mentioned the CEA score diving to 10.  She said, very matter of factly, that it was back up to 60.6.  Remember anything under 100 is still treatable.  But I think we are getting a bit too close for comfort.

Dr. Pant came in and started talking about the medical history and I showed him my fresh zipper (scar).  We also talked about the statistics.  I told him that I was sincerely just happy to be alive and an active participant in the lives of my family.  He said, “Good!  Then you know the math!”  I said that I did.  I am over my limit.  Put another way, if I was a carton of milk…don’t drink me, I’m a bit past the expiration date.  He was very impressed, almost shocked by my recovery though.  He found it hard to believe that just a month ago, I was laying on a gurney with 3 liters of puss shooting out of my belly, yet here I was bouncing around ready for the next step.  He mentioned my positive spirit and was truly amazed at my attitude and my body’s ability to recover.  He also mentioned that my bloodwork didn’t have anything that (at this time) would preclude me from a trial.  Even my oxygen saturation was stellar in the 98% range.

Brief aside, last night I was talking to best friend Pete.  He said that momentum is huge in any endeavor.  We spoke at length about how it had affected the outcome of games, deals, work, etc. and he also mentioned my positive demeanor.  The biggest compliment I may have received in a long while was from him.  “No matter who I talk to, if I speak with you in the same day, you are the most positive person I will have spoken to that day.  No matter the subject or situation.  Your positivity is just infectious!”  Love you too Pete!

So Dr. Pant and I started to discuss options.  He said that he has and will always have a bunch of phase 1 trials available, but none of them specifically targeted for my cancer with my K-ras mutation.  Instead of the eenie, meenie, miny, moe technique, he said he was going to bring my case up before their review panel.  The panel consists of a bunch of oncology trial doctors who collectively look at the facts and decide what the best possible trial option should be.  This is kind of a big deal I think.  I have continually felt like I’m getting the best care possible and this did nothing to dissuade that feeling.

So they meet on Wednesday and I should hear by Thursday or Friday what the next steps are.  He did mention that Lonsurf is still an option to “check a box” for a couple of months.  So that might be the end of summer routine (which they can administer here in Austin).  I’ll also need to get a new baseline scan and we’ll see exactly how much tumor growth there has been.  I can tell you that even though my lungs feel better, my liver has been mildly annoying with occasional throbs of pain.

But I have faith.  Not necessarily that I will be cured, or go into remission, but faith that all of this time has been a gift.  And I have been careful not to squander it.  I very much feel like God has a plan for me.  Perhaps my five months of incapacitation was a set up for a summer of fun with the kids?  That this was the true gift from God.  Maybe I was meant to seize this new energy and do exactly what I’m doing with them?  I had a date with Nita the other night, I’ve been going out to restaurants with friends.  I took Connor to an arcade and we went to watch Josie’s awards ceremony after her baseball camp.  I even went to the neighborhood pool for a while a couple of weeks ago and was able to visit with a few of the guys I used to see almost daily.  Finally, we even had a dinner party with Connor’s best friend and his parents on Wednesday.  It almost feels like a normal life.

As most of you know by now, the book was published and is available on amazon.  We are going to do a book signing at Balcones Country Club in Northwest Austin on August 18, from 4pm to 7pm.  Please go to amazon to get your book, there will be very few available to purchase on site.  I will even tell the story about why the book is named 265 Likes for a Fart.  I hope to see many of you there.  More importantly, I hope that the lessons contained in the book, which I’ve learned the hard way, are easier for you to consume.  I hope some portion has made your family lives better, and possibly brought you closer to God.  All the best and see you soon.  Also, thanks to all who are posting copies of their book as they receive them around the country and around the world! TeamMarco.

 

 

 

It is always something

It’s always something

 

Just like Rosana Rosanadana’s dad used to say, right?  The weekend seemed harmless enough.  Saturday Nita took the kids to the Texas Military Forces Museum and the kids climbed in and out of different aircraft and armored vehicles.  They also shouldered a bunch of weapons including rocket launchers and a bazooka.  They had a blast.  Sunday, Josephine wasn’t feeling so well and was taken to a quick clinic visit.  She came home Strep positive.  Oh boy.  That’s all we need in the house, right?

Well Monday my throat started feeling scratchy, but I figured it might just be due to allergies and drainage.  But in my condition, there is no sense in messing around.  So we made an appointment and got tested.  The initial result was negative, but they ran a second DNA test and found that I was in fact positive for Strep throat.  Well that explains the sore throat, drainage and headaches.  But after a few days of antibiotics and a new humidifier, things started to get better. 

I joked with Nita that before the cancer and of course the trauma of June, I probably would have been in bed ringing a little bell whining for Nita to bring me soup and Gatorade.  Now strep is the least of my worries and is just one more thing to knock out on our way. 

Things are improving since I’ve been home.  My swollen feet no longer look like the stay puffed marshmallow man’s feet.  So now I have more balance and can walk greater distances.  I also feel like I have a bit more energy and am able to do more things for myself around the house and with the kids.  My lungs are improving and I’m using my little breathing anti-pneumonia machine more.  We also bought some humidifiers for the man cave and bed room and that seems to be helping with my dry nose build up.

The one major downfall is my joint pain.  The chemo, which has a cumulative effect, has done a number on my hips and knees.  I’m sure my catching and sports contributed a bit, but the speed of degradation seems abnormal.  I’m trying to stretch and I’ll go see my chiropractor next week.  Thank goodness for the pain meds.  It is something that can be toughed out, so it isn’t a huge deal, but something to keep an eye on.

My appetite is slowly coming back and I’m able to consume a little more.  I even had some urges to snack once in while which has been absent from my life for quite a while.  My weight loss has once again plateaued. And I’ve leveled off, which is nice.  That makes 75 pounds.  Now I see pictures of me from 2 years ago, hell even last fall, and wonder who the heck is the fat guy holding my kids.  I kind of like the new me in a way and will try to add some muscle, but see if I can keep the weight off.  Let’s hope it is a long-term issue to deal with.

On that note, it has been over a month since I’ve had any chemotherapy in me.  I called MDA and they are supposed to schedule a date and time for me to come and discuss some trial options.  I am pretty certain that I’ll be in a phase 1 trial before the summer is out, but at least my body should be healthy enough to withstand the brutal nature of chemo, especially a regimen that hasn’t been tested on humans before.   We can’t forget that even though I’ve been dragged through the fire and made it out, that I still had a bigger disease already working its magic inside me.

My shipment of promotional books came in this week.  I have given a few out to folks who helped with my tournament and of course some of the doctors and nurses who have been caring for me from the beginning.  Nita and Connor are still very impressed with the books and the fact that I am actually a published author now, with a tangible book to see and hold.  Josie is less impressed because her kindergarten class published a book of their “year in review” and it is on display in the school library.  She is very quick to remind everyone that there are TWO published authors in the house and that she was first!  I don’t see the point in letting her know about some of the business publications in my past, because her writer’s pride is so darned cute.

Josephine at one of her camps doing some rock climbing

I still feel like God rescued me from certain death a few weeks ago and am living accordingly.  I’ve spent a lot more time with the kids and trying to impart little lessons with them.  Which is probably why I got strep from Josie, from all the hugs and snuggles.  A small price to pay.  On Thursday night, Connor showed me his driving skills.  We have a golf cart and Nita has let him drive a few times since he is tall enough to work the pedals.  I went with him and he has pretty good touch on the pedals but, as we all were starting out, is pretty heavy on overturning the wheel.  Here is the tail end, coming into our driveway.  https://www.facebook.com/marco.martinez.5245/videos/1624421304298051/

I remember when I was learning, there was no power steering on one of our vehicles and you really had to crank on it.  Also, growing up in the country we had a little riding mower that helped me with my corners and avoiding trees and rocks.  Those were my driving lessons.  All in all, Connor did wonderfully and I told him how proud I was.  He replied, “This is the greatest accomplishment of my life!”  I laughed and gave him a huge hug.  I am not sure about that, but it was a pretty big deal.

Connor swimming at the iconic Barton Springs, a field trip from one of his camps

So it is starting to feel like a normal life around here, barring the aches, pains and future chemo treatments.  But I am encouraged that I may be able to assist with his basketball team again, and hopeful that I could even pitch for Josephine’s coach pitch baseball next spring.  A lot of that is dependent on how successful the trials are, but I am optimistic and have faith.

Oh, the book is available for purchase on amazon now.  In one week, we sold a little over 100 copies and are #44 in the “books on cancer” category.  Please encourage your family or friends who are battling or know people battling cancer to get and read the book.  I think it will help all of them and you to truly understand the transformation that a person goes through from being a “normal” person just doing their thing to a terminal patient with a death sentence.  Trust me, in spite of the humor and wit I apply to the situation, it is quite traumatic.  So please help someone adjust and get them the book.  https://www.amazon.com/265-Likes-Fart-Father-Battling-ebook/dp/B073XQJG6B

As I have said before, God has carried me this far, why would I believe that he would let me go now?  But that doesn’t mean squander the moments in between does it?  Of course not! So until those events, I will remain the loving, doting husband and father who tries to squeeze as much out of the time I have as I can.  God bless and may you all find more special times with those you love as well.  TeamMarco

Book signings are coming soon.

 

The Eye of the Tiger

The eye of the tiger

How do you follow last week?  Fighting for your life, miracles, working to get your systems back on line, getting settled in the house, and just adjusting to the normal ebbs and flows of our home.  I really have spent a lot of time trying to digest all the events of the past month, and technically the last five months.  With so many hospitalizations, surgeries, chemotherapy, and treatments it has been hard to really pin point any one tipping point.  But then I came to the epiphany that it doesn’t matter.  I’m here and I’m alive.  And it is nothing short of a miracle.  Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all preachy.  You can choose your belief system and I won’t try to talk you out of or into anything.  But this blog is about my life dealing with cancer.  And I have zero doubt that God intervened and saved me.

As I stated last week, if it were my time to go, June 22 (the day my spleen/cyst ruptured) would have been as good a time as any to end my time on Earth.  But God had other plans.  This miracle was wonderful news and should celebrated.  But I also want to remind everyone that I still have cancer.  The CEA drop was great and very encouraging, but we still need to bump a new CT scan against the last one to see where my tumor sizes are.  Without that second piece of data, we won’t know for sure where we are, but I can honestly say that I feel like something positive may have happened.

Both of my oncologists agreed that the FulFox wasn’t doing anything to shrink the tumors and in fact they had even grown slightly as of the last scan.  So the next course of action is for me to go back to MD Anderson and see what clinical trial options are available for me.  The main difference between this time and the last time is my lung strength.  My lungs have improved drastically since the surgery.  I wonder if being intubated blew out or suctioned out some of the junk that was clogging my airways.  I’m not sure how or why but I am no longer coughing after 2 minutes of speech.  And I’m certainly not retching my guts up (Thank God) every time I walk across the room.  I can’t tell you how painful that would have been on the heels of this surgery.  Even the nurses at St. David’s remembered my terrible cough from my last hospitalization on my birthday (April).

Me, Omar, and the PGA trophy

I was given a little lung exercise tool which is supposed to help guard against pneumonia.  Although the score isn’t very high on the meter, I still notice improvement in my airway production and recovery.  My oxygen saturation is around 97-98% now, which is almost 9 points higher than when they sent me home with oxygen tanks.  I was also given instructions to get up and move around more.  My muscles have atrophied quite a bit over the last few months and it will be a long road back, but I am actually looking forward to the work.  As my surgery heals and with my improved lung capacity I think it will even be therapeutic. 

Another advantage to the new body changes are I can finally make good on some earlier commitments.  If you have been following for a while, you might remember that our community and an organization called Without Regrets sent our family to Hawaii in late January.  After we returned they asked if we’d film a testimonial for them.  Of course we said yes.  They made the request on February 13, the day before my splenic embolism.  Soon after I had my first bout with pneumonia.  For the last several months, doing any sort of on camera interview was impossible.  But now, I can speak without hacking up a lung and I am looking forward to sharing the story and our gratitude for their organization next week.

I didn’t share this widely, but prior to the last month I was almost certain that I wouldn’t make it through the summer.  I just looked at the statistics, the medical options, and my body’s reaction to everything and figured that my time was almost up.  I wasn’t sad, it just was what it was.  A million people had been in my exact same position and the metrics weren’t on my side.  So because of that I didn’t buy things that one would normally go purchase.  For example, I lost 60 pounds over the last five months (much of it happening in less than two months) and most of my clothes wouldn’t fit.  But why go out and buy new clothing?  It seemed like it would be temporary and just taking money away from the family that could be used for other more important items.

But after this last incident, I am different.  I don’t just feel different, I know that something amazing happened.  It has given me confidence and I know that things have changed for me.  So on Wednesday my mother drove me to an eye appointment and I got new glasses.  Then to another store where I picked up some new clothes.  I don’t think the money was wasted, it could be considered almost mandatory to acknowledge the gift I was given.

Side effects and healing.  It almost seems silly to discuss aches, pains, allergies, ankle swelling, sleep issues, and discomfort after such a huge ordeal.  So I won’t.  Suffice to say that I’m taking my pain meds on schedule and working through the rest of it.  I may pick it up if anything spikes, but for now I intend to wait until we find a new trial and I start on that.  I’ll discuss what those side effects do for other cancer patients who are following and may be considering any of those medications.  But for now, it’s no big whoop.  When they take all the organs out of your abdomen and put them back in with a 14-inch incision straight down the center of your belly, stuff is going to hurt.  So you stay on the pain med schedule and try not to overdo the exercises.  I’m still losing a little weight, but not much.  I’m eating better and am able to hold down everything I’ve eaten so far.

Sunday my wife went on a much-needed boating trip with some of her oldest friends and best friend Pete came to baby sit me.  We had a great visit and it was closer to the old times than it had been in a long time.  It was very cool.  Thursday, best friend Omar came over and took me to lunch.  We went to Texadelphia at Lakeline.  It was the first time I’d been out to a sit-down meal at a restaurant in about four months.  The reason?  Because I had the confidence that I wouldn’t gross anyone out with my coughing and retching.  It was another nice visit and we talked a lot about his big tournament win ( I even took a picture with the trophy) and upcoming tour schedule.  Again, a lot like old times.  As an aside, a neighborhood friend owns the Texadelphia and while I was in the hospital he brought a cheesesteak tray to the nurses and technicians who had been taking such good care of me.  They were very appreciative and of course the food is pretty spectacular.

Connor and Sneaks the snake

On the home front, the kids are mostly the same.  Josephine spends a lot more time with me and snuggles with me quite a bit.  She also shares every single detail of her day which is awesome.  She is very in tune with the situation and even says, “Daddy, I’m so happy you didn’t die.  You mean everything to me.”  Connor is less understanding of the severity of the situation.  But he is still a super sweet boy and has been doing more and more chores around the house.  It would be idiotic to drag him into the trauma I’ve experienced just for the sake of his acknowledgement.  He’ll know soon enough.

Josie, my little shadow in the mancave

One funny thing is their sibling rivalry.  It manifests in so very many ways. I never had a brother or sister so I can’t relate, but I hear a lot of stories about fights, pranks, and some pretty cruel things that my friends and neighbors have done to their siblings, or had done to them.   Well a friend took the kids to the pool the other day and Josephine was getting in Connor’s kitchen when he just wanted to play by himself.  Apparently, she took it too far and he punched her in the mouth.  I sat them down and listened to each one’s account of the event.  They both admitted their culpability and hugged it out, apologized, and forgave each other.  Connor learned that we never hit girls, especially Josie.  Josie learned not to incessantly mess with Connor.  I told her that I was sorry she got hit in the face, but maybe that will let her know that Connor is serious when he says to leave him alone.  It worked out well with just a little blood and a good lesson for each of them.

I have so many things for which to be thankful, not the least of which is my life.  My family being a “normal” family.  My friends and community being there for us and never stopping their engagement.  Nita is doing great at work and running the house.  I am getting better each day with more and more energy and stamina.  In fact, I have been walking to check the mail and even cooked outside on the grill this week.  Things almost feel like they did before the cancer, except for one major thing.  I have changed my attitude dramatically. 

I want to be a better person, father, husband, friend, neighbor, and Christian.  I know that those things take effort and practice just like physical therapy does.  But I’m not afraid to put in the work.  So thanks again for all the thoughts and prayers.  Thank you for the time you have invested in me and my family.  Thanks to God for allowing me to have more time, I do not intend to squander it.  I wish you all the best and hope you too are enjoying the life you’ve been given.  God bless.  For those who didn’t get the title, it was from a Rocky movie and the band that played the song is called “Survivor.”

The book is ready and days away from launch

The book will launch next week.  I just approved the proof they sent me and it will be on Amazon both in digital and soft copy.  I don’t have a link yet, but the title is, “265 Likes for a Fart.”  It covers the entire first year of my cancer experience. I hope you enjoy it, can find inspiration in it, or help you understand a family member who is battling cancer.  TeamMarco.

 

Do you believe in miracles?

Do You Believe in Miracles?

During the week of June 12^th, I started feeling that pesky spleen pain again.  My oncologist and internal medicine doctors jointly had me checked into St. David’s North Austin Medical Center to get another CT scan prior to my chemo which was to be on June 19^th.  As they had seen on all previous scans there was a fluid pocket/hematoma sitting just off my spleen.  Almost all thought it was just some leakage from the splenic embolization surgery I had on Valentine’s day earlier this year.  They also thought that the body would absorb the fluid without incident.  Most were reluctant to go in and drain it because of the risk of infection, especially considering the reduced immune system I currently had due to the side effects of chemotherapy.

So we chalked it up to, “it’ll eventually get absorbed, off to Houston/MD Anderson we go.” On June 19^th, Nita and I patiently sat in our little room and had bag after bag of desensitized FulFox pumped into me.  Finally, around 12 hours later, Nita and I headed back to Austin.

On June 20, I started developing an ear infection.  They put me on a cycle of amoxicillin.  There was considerable jaw and ear pain.  On the 21^st, Nita took out the pump and flushed my port as she had been trained to do (dates important just to see how quickly this thing moved).  I was so tired and felt kind of crappy so I didn’t take a shower, even though I was riding the high of my best friend Omar’s PGA pro championship win.  He would now play in this year’s PGA as well as earn 6 tour exemptions over the next calendar year.  He called me and left me a message saying that the win “was for me!”  He had never done that before.

The next day, I was lying in bed with little Josephine watching a movie, waiting for my next pain med time.  All of a sudden, at 9:30 am I felt a huge surge of pain in my abdomen. I still had 30 minutes to go before I could take my hydrocodone, so I figured I’d just gut-up and wait.  Nita got the kids fed and off to the morning activities.  I stumbled to the man cave and waited for my drugs to kick in.  By 10:30, still nothing other than excruciating pain, the hydrocodone failed to put a dent in it. Around 11:30 Nita started getting lunch ready for the kids, prepping them for afternoon camps.  I sat uncomfortably in the man cave and shivered with chills and about four quilts draped over me.

She came to ask how I was doing and I told her that it was time to go to the emergency room.  She piled us all in the car and dropped me off.  I went into the ER and knew something was terribly wrong.  I’d texted some of my doctor friends and they came to check on me (each pushing on my belly). Another CT scan was performed. Finally, a bad ass doctor came around 5 PM or so and said we were going into surgery.  Nita came in to pre-op and gave me a kiss and said she’d see me after surgery.

They told me this was not a quick or minimally invasive laparoscopic job, they’d have to open me up.  When they got in, they discovered that the “fluid pocket” was actually a cyst that was the size of a personal watermelon wrapped around my spleen.  As soon as the doctor cut into the cyst a volcanic explosion of puss and fluid came gushing out, roughly three liters, even though it had already ruptured (at 9:30 that morning with my insides filling up with that puss). It went everywhere and the surgeons had to jump out of the way.  They had to use blankets to mop up the floor.  I found out later it was the wildest thing anyone of them had experienced.  My doctor had never seen such a thing in his entire career of surgery.

Still intubated

They did a quick patch job on me and took me to the ICU to discuss options.  I had already crossed the sepsis threshold and was on the clock.  However, due to the total timeline, for all intents and purposes, I should have died that night.  Nita and a couple of the “sister wives” (SW) from the tribe came into the ICU to see me.  Bear in mind that my surgical incision was still open and they would be going back into surgery within the next several hours.  Nita was understandably in shambles.  Had she just spoken to her husband for the last time? Was this it?  Was it time to call a Priest, or my cousin in the funeral business? In fact, she had these conversations with the surgeon.  My understanding is that she was almost in a fog as she explained what the doctors told her to my Pete and my mother.

About 24 hours later they went back in.  They decided to leave what was left of my spleen because it was so close to the pancreas.  The pancreas is so toxic, they didn’t want to introduce any new potential infections into my body.  Plus, my pulse and blood pressure were so erratic that they didn’t want to keep me open very long.  As it was described to Nita, “my heart was exploding out of my chest.”

When they resumed the surgery (in layman’s terms and literally) they took my internal organs out of my body, cleaned/hosed them off and stuffed them back into my abdomen.  So now if anyone asks if I’ve ever had an out of body experience…okay, you’re right, that was beneath me.

I was very lucky not to have gone into shock, again the surgeons, my wife, and the SWs all thought I was going to/should have died on Thursday night.  So after stuffing my organs back in, they took some cultures to see if there was an infection.  My white blood cell count had been crazy high for the last 8 weeks, but they assumed it was the chemo, the pneumonia, ear infection, or some combination of the three.  More on that later.  Needless to say, I survived and checked off what I consider at least one miracle.

On Friday the 23^rd, I woke up with an intubation tube down my throat, a Foley catheter, a JP (drainage) tube by my spleen, and a picc line (a catheter like a temporary port inserted in my biceps).  I had survived the second surgery. 

My hands were strapped to the bed and they couldn’t sedate me any further.  Apparently, I had exceeded the amount they could give me at that time. So I was wide awake and I needed to communicate.  My sign language was much to be desired.  I finally gave enough of a hint to have one arm un-restrained and was given some paper and a pen.  I could now communicate!

Within a few hours they had taken me off of the breathing tubes.  A few hours after that I was sitting up in a chair.  I am fairly certain that this second surgery and fairly rapid recovery qualifies as another or at least a piggy back of the previous miracle.  Believe or don’t, cool, whatever.  I’m telling you, I should be under ground, and yet here I am.

sitting up in ICU

Back to the story.  On Sunday, I was moved from ICU to 3 North, my favorite pod with the best nurses on the planet.  With my experience in business and now hospitalization, I am of the opinion that, like sales, nursing is a calling.  It is equal parts knowledge, art, and passion.  You can show up and go through the motions, or you can strive to be the best.  I feel the pod in 3 North is filled with those that have all three.

The Serbian woman who saved my bacon by getting me walking after my cancer surgery in 2015 was there and she was ready for another battle, she may be one of the better examples of art, passion, and skill.  She takes no shortcuts.  The doctors and nurses told me (which I already knew from a previous abdominal surgery) that in order to wake up my insides, I needed to walk, chew gum, sit up, and move.  This would first stimulate a fart (which would take me off of my ice chip diet), then poop, (which would move me to an all liquid instead of clear liquid diet, and eventually low residue diet).

Several days later I found out why walking helps.  One of the doctors explained that your intestines hang in your abdomen like theater curtains.  When you walk, they move, shake, and are agitated.  This stimulates movement and helps usher waste down the correct path.  So the more you walk, the better it is for your intestines to wake up.

Going for a walk with Connor, notice the big bag of gravy (TPN)

Meanwhile have I mentioned that my system coming back on line was quite painful?  Because it hurt. A LOT!  But, who am I to complain, I’m alive y’all.  But being still hurt, lying down hurt, sitting up hurt, walking the hall certainly hurt, in fact, everything hurt.  At least I had a constant drip of dilaudid with a quick boost button (that would eventually go away). 

The other issue with opiate pain killers is that even though they provide pain relief, it comes with a cost; constipation.  If you remember way back to the first surgery in 2015 it was done by a colorectal surgeon.  He used the Da Vinci device and then did a colonoscopy going over my colon inch by inch to clean out any impacted poop I may have had.  He also had a lot more time to do his work as I was not showing signs of cardiac distress and there was no leakage which might lead to septic shock.

I’m not going to make y’all relive every moment play by play, but cutting to the chase I needed to shower too.  I hadn’t taken a shower since Monday the 19^th.  My favorite patient care technician, Violeta, put protective film over my JP line, my incision, and my picc line.  She started the water and sat me down on the stool.  Now my incision was a straight cut from my diaphragm to just below the belly button, about a foot long.  Twenty three staples.  That portion included just about all if not all of my abdominal muscles.  Put another way, any direction I would turn, move, wash, etc. involved my core.  So I was putting immense strain on a muscle group with a big ole slice all the way through. 

Once I got out of the shower, was dried off, had my dressings replaced, and a new gown put on, I was wiped out.  Completely.  I was in pain and had zero energy left.  The good news is that I had already farted a few times and was able to sip some Gatorade, broth, and even some hot tea.  Mom and Nita came to visit and shared what the questions of the hood were.  It even hurt to facebook on my phone, so that was done at a minimum.  Imagine having all the time in the world to do something and zero energy or stamina to do and continue it?  My only activity was lying in bed, moving to my recliner chair, and walking the hall…with all my fluids and connections in tow.

23 staples

Finally, on June 29^th, I pooped.  It was not pleasant. In fact, it felt like I was passing baseballs. Once I started though, I refused to let go until the job was done.  I kept feeling like it was halfway in and halfway out, but we were going to do this! I used the stability poles on either side of the toilet like ski poles maneuvering my body back and forth trying to get whatever was stuck in my sphincter unstuck.  Now, I will never be so stupid as to even think that I have any idea what it is like to give birth to a child.  None!  But now, I sort of feel like I have slid a little further down the empathy continuum.

I could not over-push because my abs hurt and I was told not to put too much pressure on my stitches and tender insides, so I had to do what I could to get it out.  I finally finished the job and was as equally exhausted as the shower a few days earlier.  But at least now my diet would change.  However, the little appetite I had, did not translate into the ability to consume food.  I had a big TPN bag (IV nutrition to ensure my body was getting the correct amounts of nutrition during the healing process) which looked like a 2-pound bag of cream gravy that was providing my nutrition.  So my stomach was not incented to start stuffing itself out of necessity.  The body has several protective systems in place to guard itself after trauma.  One of those is moving bowels after major abdominal trauma, they are the last system to “wake up.” It gave the opportunity to move slowly as my system woke up, but didn’t provide relief.

On Saturday July 1, I had not repeated my past lavatorial victory.  But I was on an opioid pain med, which we know causes constipation.  I was told by one of the four to five doctors who visited daily that there was a drug called Relistor which would block the constipation effect while leaving the pain killing function.  Great! What could go wrong?  I asked my nurse to sign me up. 

So here is the thing, it involved a shot directly into the abdomen.  In the grand scheme of things…I am already getting my fingers lanced to check my blood sugar checked four times a day, plus all the other pokes, prods, blood draws, and general pain.  And it is hard to quantify the pain of stomach distension due to trapped gas and waste.  Okay, I’m in.  It wasn’t that bad.  In fact, about 2 minutes after the shot I started farting.  Then the crooked dog head move.  I needed to get to the toilet and immediately.  They had apparently given me the Dumb and Dumber turbo lax shot.  I would know for the next time that after the shot, I should go ahead and mosey on over to the commode.

I gripped the bars on each side of the toilet and I felt like I was hanging on for dear life.  My bowels emptied and I eventually felt better. This time it was the opposite of the first movement.  It came out quickly, loose, and in large volumes.  All the food on the new low residue diet I was eating and keeping down needed some place to go.  I had to give myself at least two separate courtesy flushes this time.

The next day Nita came without the kids and she helped me into the shower.  Bless her heart and soul she washed me all over so I wouldn’t have to expend more energy than holding onto the rails.  I was able to shave when I was done and change into actual clothing instead of a gown.  Now the goals were to repeat the process.  By that I mean eat and poop.  It wasn’t coming that easily even though I was on the low residue diet.  However, I was walking the halls without nurses now, and we had started working to modify my pain medications so I could have a sustainable pain management strategy with as little of a constipative (not a word, but it should be) effect as possible when I got home.  The doctors all thought my progress was amazing and that I was on track to be home by Friday July 7.

The date was significant because it would be the end of my antibiotic cycle.  I still needed to take my antibiotics via IV and my picc line was getting squirrelly at times.  For those of you asking about the port…don’t ask.  Did I mention that during the surgery they did cultures and discovered I had a staph infection on my spleen as well?  My immunologist said it was a one in a million shot and that I should consider a lottery ticket.  I told him I already bought one and cashed it in last Thursday and Friday.  I used it to stay above ground and as far as I know, they don’t sell winners back to back. 

To be honest, I used to play the lottery quite a bit.  Not large amounts, but I had selected some numbers that were relevant to the family and I’d donate five to ten bucks a month.  This week, when I had built up enough stamina to open up the computer and check on a few things, I was looking at my bookmarks and saw the “Texas Lottery” link.  But this time, I had no interest in it whatsoever.  Not even a curiosity to see what the jackpot might be.

July 4, would be my fourth holiday spent in the hospital.  But I am alive.  I have never been so happy to be alive!  Ever.  I thought I got it.  I thought I was living for the simple moments, but I discovered that there is another level.  My buddies and some family would come to visit me and even though it would zap my energy, I loved every moment with them.  It is hard to explain, but I had come to accept that I survived a major traumatic event.  The love and support of my community was almost palpable and I pledged to never take any portion of it for granted again. God truly saved me and I have no doubt, as previously mentioned, that there were angels and miracles involved. 

Certificate of flag flying in the F-16

The morning of July 3rd, I woke up with stomach distention and without a bowel movement.  I didn’t feel comfortable eating breakfast and filling my stomach with no predictable output from my intestines.  It was pretty painful even considering all the other issues that had been going on over the last week and a half.   I opted for another shot of Relistor and let the games begin.  This was a triple flusher, but I had anticipated the results and wasn’t surprised by any of it.  I had so many nurses wiping my butt, I felt like I was 2 at times.  Also, I had to use a barrier cream on my butt.  Being on my back and in the chair so long made me develop a kind of bed sore, but not an open oozing one.  With the cream it was manageable and protective.

After my turbo lax shot, July 3^rd would be a good day with food intake, pain management, walking, and visitors.  My cousin David was a munitions Master Sargent in San Antonio and had retired in mid-June.  As it turns out he asked for a favor as a gift to me.  He had an F-16 Fighting Falcon from the 182^nd fly over both the Texas Capital and Texas A&M University with a flag for me.  He came and presented me with the flag and certificate and I’ll be honest, I was moved to tears.

On July 4^th, I felt actual hunger pangs. I started to eat better and they would slow down the big gravy TPN nutritional bag.  However, there was still no bowel output which at this point were only stimulated by shots.  My night nurse gave me a glass of prune juice and finally, around midnight, I started to fart.  The relief was amazing. Even though I still had plenty of gas and a somewhat distended stomach, it was a start.  And the feeling was almost indescribable.  I wish I could do some sort of comparative video collage of having a splinter removed, hole in one, watching first child born, getting married, hitting the game winning walk off home run and any number of other things that make you smile years after they occur.  For a fart…technically several.  But it was like that. 

Before you judge on this one, consider that I’m bloated and I am in the hospital for a rupture.  Trust me, you don’t want to go through that ever.  So when something happens to alleviate those feelings, you are pretty stoked about the event…even a fart.  Finally on July 6 I would have three movements which were not induced by a shot or a pill.  I could finally eat and feel confident that it would pass naturally. 

As an aside, I had a lot of time to watch cable and check out a few movies.  I don’t want to artificially extend this blog another two pages to fit in correlations of Tombstone, Field of Dreams, The Punisher and Full Metal Jacket to name a few of the movies I watched.  But it would be easy to link my life, family, and experiences to some point in all of these movies, which I guess is what makes them meaningful.  By the way, if you are looking for a good binge watch: Shooter on Netflix/AMC is pretty awesome.  It uses the Marky Mark movie and takes it to another level turning a two-hour movie into a 10-hour series – so far.  But it shows his love for country and family as well as his unmatched talent as a sniper.  You have to have a little suspension of disbelief, but it is worth the watch.

I would also like to thank and say how proud of my wife I am.  Nita has kept the house running as though things are normal while dealing with work, technology issues, a zillion questions, a husband who almost died, and summer camps.  She has shown everyone what a Rockstar she is and I am lucky to be her husband.

I have some amazing news.  In the “what else could possibly happen” category and If you still aren’t convinced that this has been anything short of a miracle, try this on for size. 

Here is the deal, I have mentioned that statistically I thought this was going to be my last trip around the sun with all of you.  There just wasn't a path (outside of a miracle) to staying alive many months longer.  But with all that has gone on these past two weeks I felt that it wouldn't be crazy if something ELSE miraculous happened.  I don’t mean it in an expectation or entitlement sort of way, just that if I was going to be called home, it probably should have happened on the 22^nd.  I told Nita that I have felt the embrace of God and wouldn’t be shocked if one of the doctors came up to me and said, "We can't explain it, but..."

Well, for shits and giggles I asked one of the doctors to run a CEA score.  On the morning of July 5^th, my doctor came in and said that he ran it and it came back as a 10.0! Down from 45.4 on June 5th.  The doctors and nurses with oncology experience at St. David’s were all shocked and staring at me like they were witnessing something beyond medicine.  They were outwardly elated but I noticed the casual exchange of glances that were in the realm of shock.  There were even hugs and tears.

Before we get too crazy, this is just the blood marker score and not a CT scan measuring actual tumor growth or decline. But it is a time for rejoicing nonetheless. I cannot tell y'all how amazed, humbled, blessed, and honored I am to be on this path.  All of the other stuff has been worth it.  I love you, and hope to see y'all soon. I should be discharged on Friday July 7^th and am looking forward to getting back home.  I am still obviously working a few things out with my bowels, foot and ankle swelling, stomach distention, as well as a few other things...but I am alive.

All those thoughts and prayers were answered this week.  I refuse to discount the events I’ve been a part of, nor would I consider it “normal” or “lucky.”  I love and appreciate everything you have done for me and am looking forward to seeing you folks around, whether it be an Aggie football game, community pool, shuttling the kids around, or just walking the dog in the neighborhood.  The book should be out by the end of July (the first year) and I’m looking forward to that one.  There will be some signings for those that are interested.  But this year certainly seems to warrant another one.  Let’s see how it all goes. 

But for now, I have never been so happy to be alive.  God bless you all and may you never lose faith in the face of adversity.  Find courage and strength where you can and never ever give up.  TeamMarco